Dorothy Speare

“ After he had gone, she went back and sang through the score of Marguerite as if she had had no interruption a little over an hour and a half ago. A little over an hour and a half—had so short a time passed since she had seen Grant, had decided so much, had let so much go out of her life? She could not evoke even a shiver over the blotting out of that vista of her dreams, nothing but a little impatient frown. Things had no right to get so dead, after having been so alive.
Lovely girl, that Félicie Durant; even if Jerry did call her a jellyfish. ”

“ Youth is tragic—every once in a while. Look you, Joy—you came this morning half determined to tell me you weren’t coming to me again—but you are. What would you do, else? Your impulse to love, let us say, has been awakened, then—diverted. Note, I do not say snuffed out, for that is an impossible thing. The impulse is still there—and if you turn it to music, spending it royally in terms of energy and power in work at your art, instead of in terms of love, you will be content, and you will become one of the greatest artists the world has known. ”

“ A full, perfectly poised voice, each word as flawless as if it had been engraved on a cameo. Joy turned, crimson with embarrassment and excitement, and straightway forgot both. The queen of music had a most understanding smile. Moreover, she did not look like a diva. She was not even large, as singers went, and certainly not of terrifying aspect. She was dainty as a little wren, standing by the doorway in a grey teagown, her head tipped to one side, her eyes—the eyes that looked so awe-inspiring in her pictures—surrounded by a network of little smile-wrinkles. ”

“ Joy and Félicie exchanged glances of despair. If there is anything a girl hates, it is a good, thick petticoat. But the ear-trumpet ruled, and they retired to bolster themselves out. Since Joy had been associated with Madame Durant, she had made allowances for many of Félicie’s characteristics. When they were starting out of the door, the penetrating voice that deaf people often acquire recalled them. Those little light coats weren’t enough. They must take long, dark coats and umbrellas. Félicie started to crumple, then remembered her starched dress and compressed her emotion into a waver. ”

“ The two weeks set by the doctor had not quite passed when, one afternoon, Joy tired of lying in bed. She felt perfectly well; there was no reason why she shouldn’t get up and walk as far as the living-room. She did not admit to herself that the cellarette was her real objective; but it had been a long time since she had taken a prescription. Sarah was out on one of her eternal tea dates; Jerry had vanished somewhere. She slipped into her little blue crepe kimono and pattered down the hallway, exultant in the power to walk so much and so healthily. ”

“ Jerry laughed, running her fingers through her hair with a satisfied sigh. “Don’t you think I’ve been through enough sieges of men and their lines, in my life, not to be able to tell a real thing from a line? The real thing just thumps out. You never can mistake it. A line can be finely spun, but it can’t thump. The real thing and a line can have the same words—that’s where we women get fooled—it’s manner and looks you’ve got to watch.”
“He’s awfully cynical about women,” said Joy. “And his face, Jerry—it’s so full of—so—experienced.” ”

“ Jerry’s mouth grew pale. “I do. I could never care for anyone else.”
“But how can you, when he has gone off and left you?”
“Grant has gone off and left you. Do you still care for him?”
Joy considered, and into her cheeks crept a startled flush. “Why—why—I don’t think I know.”
“Well, then you never felt the way I do. When you’ve lived with a thing like that for years—oh, it’s so blame all wrong! If I had been a man I could have gone out and hunted for the person I cared for—made her give me at least a chance! But what can a girl do but wait and hope and wonder—and wait!” She caught herself up. ”

“ Only a little after midnight—and she had to dance and smile until morning. She was exhausted. Her silver slippers were stabbing her feet in long jabs which went quivering all through her body. And the sweet singing in her heart had gone. Joy had had little experience with men, the youths in Foxhollow Corners preferring to try their hand at more willing material when amorously inclined. She had made of herself and all she did a temple, kept for the Unknown God who would surely come some day. And from almost the first moment, she had been sure that Jack Barnett was The One. ”

“ She watched Tom go back down the road, then sat down and pulled off her slippers. She couldn’t have kept them on another minute. Then slowly, painfully, she went in and upstairs.
The room was a wilderness of clothes and hairbrushes, powderboxes and wardrobe-trunk-drawers scattered here and there at inconsequential places, and she had hard work to guide her sore feet to the bureau. Her buoyant cheeks, waving twin flags of crimson joy while all the rest of her betrayed the weariness in which she was steeped, drew her first attention. ”

“ Nailed-down carpets, red velvet furniture with lace tidies, antimacassars and ponderous what-nots, cast a veil over jazz, jazzy flirtation, and jazzy routine of life—the sort of veil that enhances while deadening the sharpness of what it is thrown over. Time seemed to have halted some sixteen years ago in the Nelson household and rested with stationary breath among the old family portraits, with the death of Joy’s mother—a lovely, radiant mother, so everyone said, who would have been a sympathetic and understanding companion to her daughter during her girlhood. ”

“ She was silent in conjecture, and Félicie, too lazy to voice the triumph she felt, closed her eyes and worked her face down into the pillow.
Joy and Jerry had tickets for an Æolian Hall concert that afternoon, and now Joy went alone. The throngs always pressing ahead on the streets, exhilarated her, and she watched the faces of the people that urged themselves along; faces with success or failure written more or less plainly upon them. Most women, she supposed, succeeded or failed by proxy, as their husbands rose or fell in the foaming rapids of struggle. ”

“ Harry proclaimed joyously. “I do love deep discussions in frivolous places!”
“From my point of view, the man as he is to-day is the result of the modern girl,” said Greg, turning to Joy.
“If she is selfish, so selfish that she wishes to have everything, while giving nothing in return, so selfish that she looks upon the world as her debtor—she must mold the man’s attitude toward her. And men can no longer regard her with the chivalry and reverence in which men held women when women made the sacrifices that made the name of woman something to be worshipped.” ”

“ Inconsistently, she felt angry at Félicie.
“I can’t imagine being in love with a man and going off skating with a dozen others.”
“Oh, Joy, if you’re going to take Jerry’s side I shall just pass out!” wailed the lovely thing on the bed. “Being in love doesn’t stop you from wanting something new once in awhile.”
“Nothing seems to prevent anyone nowadays from going after a new sensation! Excitement-chasing! That’s what everyone’s doing!”
“It’s all very well for those who aren’t in love to theorize about what those who are in love should do. ”

“ He greeted her as if there had been no lapse of time in between, and they went down in the elevator to a waiting closed car.
“Where are we going?” she asked him as he began to fuss with the self-starter.
“Down to one of those summer-hotel dances, where I’m staying. It may be pretty stiff and boring, after Jerry’s parties; but on the other hand the novelty might appeal to you, and I’ve got rather an urge to see you in that sort of a place.”
“It won’t bore me,” said Joy; “you’re not a boring type.”
He laughed. “It’s awful to be in love with you and not know a thing about you. ”

“ Betty cried breathlessly. “That’s what’s been the dream of my life—to be a singer—but I can’t even keep on the key! What do you sing?”
“Nothing, yet,” said Joy; “I’m just studying.”
“You ought to hear her sing,” put in Packy. “She’s got everyone I ever heard surrounded.”
Betty fairly wriggled with excitement. “I must hear you! When will you sing for me?”
Joy had no time to expostulate, as the music struck up again and Packy whirled her off.
“Betty’s a crazy kid,” said Packy paternally. “Seems to me a girl between sixteen and eighteen has got absolutely no sense at all. ”

“ Jerry demanded.
“You don’t,” he told her; “you are neither young nor old; you are immortal.”
At length they rose, and Joy went with Jerry while Jerry threw everything into her suitcase and crushed it shut.
“It won’t be anything but so-long,” said Jerry; “I’ll be coming over to Boston soon to get the rest of my wardrobe.”
“I’ll send it to you.”
“No—I’ll want to come. . . . Joy—you’ve been the only real girl friend I ever had—and now you’ve given me everything that there is to hang onto in this world.” ”

“ Joy smiled back at her. “Don’t you think each case is different?”
“Well, take mine. I care more for Greg than anyone. But think if I should marry him now! Why—I’m only twenty. I’ve got at least four good years before me of fun and excitement, the best years of my life and looks, and why should I devote them to being domestic? After I’m married, I can never have the kind of a good time I have now. I may be fonder of Greg than anyone—but I’m fond of other men, too! I like the excitement of each new man, more than—more than——”
“More than marrying Greg,” Jerry supplied. ”

“ A man does not love a girl for what is in her. He loves her for and with what is in him. What could be greater honour than to have the love of a man such as he?
He took her to the door of Félicie’s apartment, and she went in to reassure Madame Durant with tales of how much Félicie had been able to talk and how comfortable, comparatively, she was. It approached the time to start in town for her lesson, and she gathered up her music from the little upright, with loving hands. All passes; Art alone endures. ”