For occasionally she looked her image in the face, judging it mercilessly. Dodo married, she believed, would not be Dodo reformed. She would still run after adventures, still hunger for admiration, still be tempted to play with other men--many men at once; and when she saw herself thus, she recoiled at the ruin she might cause him, at the thought of bringing another deception into his life, of offering him anything but a complete self. But when his rare letters came she devoured them, and answered them while yet his words were in her ears.

Then she thought to herself, since it could not be, at least she wished she could choose his wife--some one who would be worthy of the desperate battle he was fighting, of the big vision that was awakening, of the fineness and the gentle strength which glowed through every page and moved her strongly.

On the days his letters came, Dore could hardly control herself with Ma.s.singale; she was cruel beyond all reason, flying into a temper at the slightest imagined excuse. Occasionally they brought a reaction against the senseless fever in which she was caught, against these men of pleasure or craving who pursued her; and abruptly, throwing all engagements to the winds, she flung herself back into childhood, in long giggling, romping afternoons with Betty. With Snyder she never really conversed. Once or twice the woman had made as though to open her confidence, but there was something that lay between them, that each was conscious of, that could not be bridged. She had ended by telling her of her adventure with Lindaberry. He had even, once or twice before his departure, met Snyder in her room, and disapproved too strongly of the friendship. But Ma.s.singale was a subject they could not discuss.

In the last week of February two events of importance occurred. Ida Summers was married, and Mr. Peavey returned. The news of the engagement came to Dodo as a great surprise. In the last month she had seen little of the other Salamanders, except in the confusion of gay parties--having no time, and, besides, rather avoiding them. Of Winona not the slightest word had come. Miss Pim, who retained embattled possession of the trunk, had decided "suspicions," which Dodo did not share. For her, the worst of all fates had occurred: Winona had retroceded, gone back and given up the struggle, overcome. Ida Summers had somehow ceased to drop into the room, or rather their hours no longer coincided. Dodo was correspondingly surprised when, one morning as she was rising heavily and against the spirit, Ida, a vision of youth and health, burst abruptly in on her with the announcement that she was to marry Tony Rex, that the wedding was for that night, and that Dodo would kindly attend.

"Knocks you off your feet, eh? No more surprised than I am, Do!" she cried in her exclamatory style. "But, lord! what are you going to do when a human detective agency like Tony camps on your trail and shoos all eligibles away!"

"Tony Rex!" said Dodo, with a gasp of astonishment. She was studying the brilliant beauty of the girl, wondering to herself if she would ever know what chances she had missed.

"Tony, G.o.d bless him!"

"Why?"

"Can't help myself! He's my kind, and I can't fool him!" cried Ida. Then she continued enthusiastically: "I say, Dodo! I'm tired of all that other crowd--the stuffed shirt brigade, you know. What's the use? I don't belong! Lord! I'd rather link my arm in Tony's and trolley it to a hot dog and a gla.s.s of beer, where you can talk English, than to stiffen up and act refined with a Sa.s.soon or a Charley-boy, feeding me broiled lobster in a gilded caff! It's not in me. I don't belong--thank G.o.d!"

"Well, I never!" said Dore clutching a stocking.

"Now, just a word or two strictly on the Q. T.," resumed Ida anxiously.

"Tony is a most hot-headed native; I think it just as well to cut out all references to a few episodes in the past. Do you get it?"

"I do!"

"He tells me I'm a blue-eyed baby somersaulting through a wicked world, entirely too innocent and fragile to understand--ahem! If that's what Tony wants, why,--G.o.d bless him!--I wouldn't have him disturbed for the world! Besides--lord! Dodo! I've been an awful fool; such risks--whew! I wish one particular party--well, ahem! It's to-night, no fuss or feathers. That's Tony's way, quick, on the trigger. Gets me. He's got a best man: that'll make a party of four. Little Church Around the Corner, a good blow-out after--Mrs. T. Rex! Why don't you do the same, Do? Lord!

I feel so happy I could jump fifty feet in the air and bite the feathers out of the lulubird!"

The marriage was very quiet. The sudden solemnity of Ida at the last, the proud carriage of Tony Rex, the new sidelong clinging of the young wife to her husband, half protection, half proprietorship, the glow in her eyes, the gay dinner and the trip to the station to wave them G.o.dspeed on their mysterious journey into the new world--all this impressed Dodo strongly. At first it seemed a sort of treason: she resented Ida's succ.u.mbing to the impertinent mastery of Tony Rex--Rex, who always, with a shudder recalled to her that other figure who had once, in the forgotten past, domineered likewise over her. But the marriage service in the little chapel, the quiet of the party of four, the feeling of solemnity, the way Ida had turned for her husband's kiss, oblivious of them, had affected her curiously. She scarcely noticed the best man at her side. She was thinking of Lindaberry--how happy he would be if she should turn to him, if she could feel as Ida did! Lindaberry was in her thoughts all the evening, and again in her dreams that night.

The next day she refused to see Ma.s.singale at all.

Mr. Peavey arrived two days later, and the moment she entered the musty parlor where he was fidgeting before the mirror, waiting to take her out, she realized that a crisis was approaching. Luckily, another couple were by the window, impatient for their departure, talking in stilted phrases. Their greeting was therefore formal.

"Glad to see you!"

"Been an age, hasn't it?"

"Shall we go?"

They went immediately to his automobile, where it seemed to her that Brennon, the chauffeur, sent her a knowing glance from a malicious eye.

"I must leave right after for Boston," he said hurriedly. "I'm sorry, but I'll be back, the end of the week, for good. I broke the trip just to see you--first chance."

"What a lot of traveling you have to do!"

"Yes," he a.s.sented; "but it has been worth it. Things have worked out marvelously--better than I hoped. In a year I can retire: you've brought me luck! I'll tell you later."

He stopped, drawing a long breath, frowning but happy. The joy she saw on his face made her guess what he would have to announce, and set her busy imagination planning for some means to postpone an issue. They entered the restaurant of one of the quieter hotels. A table was already reserved, in a secluded corner, somewhat removed from the crowd, which had not yet begun to pour in.

While he busied himself with the ordering, she studied him, seeking some way to escape the proposal that she saw coming, as one sees an inevitable collision on a narrow road. Above everything in the world, she wished to prevent a spoken offer. She was sure that, for the present, he did not represent a possibility; but there were unsounded currents in the future of which she knew nothing. At the bottom there was in her a prudent streak: she did not like to burn her bridges.

Despite all the license she permitted her imagination, there was always back of it all a sober second sense. She wished to keep him as a friend until she was at least certain of other things--even perhaps as a refuge, if that were possible, for whatever turn fate might play her in the coming years.

She was not quite certain that it was possible to achieve this _tour de force_, but she intended to try; for, curiously enough, she doubted Ma.s.singale not so much now, in the impulses of his infatuation, but beyond, in the hazardous months that must succeed. Up to the present she had two refuges; Blainey, who would continue steadfast, and Peavey, who was a problem. They had always been fixed points in her moments of greatest recklessness. Youth was a madness; but, after that, what? And whom to lean upon? With these thoughts in mind, she looked at Peavey's honest simple features with a feeling of tenderness and wonder. If the end of the romance were tragedy and disillusion, would he forgive her?

Would she find there the charity--

"I owe you an explanation, Miss Baxter," Peavey began abruptly. Then he hesitated, and rearranged the knives and forks. "Your letter caused me great pain--the greatest! I would have come back instantly, if it had been possible without sacrificing things I had set my heart on."

"I was very much surprised; hurt, too!" she said gravely. "I have always thought of you--well, as different, don't you know?"

He bit his lip, and brought the knives over to the forks.

"I hope you didn't misjudge me?"

"I didn't know what to think!"

"I--I don't quite know how to explain. I did not realize Miss Horning's character. She confessed to me that she was in want; I thought of her as your friend."

"And you helped her?" she said, instantly alert.

"It was not much."

"It is true," she said seriously, "I introduced Winona to you. She has been a great deception to me, too. But why did you keep on seeing her without saying anything to me? Nothing wrong in it, but why hide it?

That's what wounded me."

"Of course," he said miserably, "that was wrong. I don't know how it came--"

"Sympathy?" she suggested, with a smile.

"I was sorry for her."

"She wished you to marry her, didn't she?"

"No, it was not that! It--was quite different!" he said, and his face crimsoned, while the knives were transferred hastily back to the right. He drew a long painful breath. "It's something very disagreeable--something I can't talk to you about! All I wish to say is, for your own good, Miss--Miss Horning is not a proper friend for you."

"She has been gone almost two months!" she said quietly. "Very well; we won't say anything more. You are too generous, too warm-hearted, Mr.

Peavey! Tell me about what you've been doing."

Her doubts had been suddenly confirmed, but it gave her a sudden feeling of horror as she thought of the desperation to which Winona must have been driven to have attempted such a stroke. Then she was afraid of the opening into sentiment which she saw before her, and changed the subject quickly, but, unfortunately, to her disadvantage.

"I have carried through a great merger of our interests," he said, his face lighting up. "The last formalities will be completed to-night, in Boston. It will be"--he stopped, not daring to look at her--"very profitable. In a year I shall be, not a very rich man, but quite rich--yes, quite rich, even as things go to-day! My intention then is to retire, to travel, to see the great cities of the world. I don't care for money myself, except--well, to give everything possible in the world to the person I care for."

He was speaking rapidly now, staring directly before him at her hand, which was playing with the gla.s.s. She looked about in terror. The near tables were vacant; they were still practically isolated. In another moment it would be all over. The arrival of the second course momentarily saved her. She plied him with questions, signaling the waiter on a dozen invented pretexts whenever the conversation turned to an intimate note. But at the end of the luncheon, as if overburdened with the strain of a great secret, resolved to end the torture, he said abruptly:

"Miss Baxter, it was not simply to explain I came here; I want to talk to you very seriously, on a matter that is everything in the world to--"

She drew back suddenly as if frightened, and her hand, apparently by accident, coming in contact with her gla.s.s, sent it tumbling over the table, drenching the cloth, amid a clatter of cutlery. The matre d'hotel came running immediately to her rescue, napkin in hand.

"Oh, dear! how awkward I am!" she cried, in great confusion.

"It's nothing--nothing!" Peavey said hastily, reproaching himself for having frightened her by the abruptness of his methods, here in a crowded restaurant.