Elisabeth Sanxay Holding

“ You really will be happy here, won't you—for this week?”
He spoke like a doomed man, as if this week was to be their last. He didn't even try to smile. Jacqueline could not bear it.
“Barty,” she said, “aren't you well?”
“Well?” he repeated, in surprise. “Of course I'm well! I'm always well!”
She hesitated for a moment. Then she got up and went into the parlor, barring his path, so that he had to stop short in his pacing; and she asked him the question that had been in the back of her mind all the time.
“Didn't Mr. Stafford like your going away, Barty?” ”

“ At first it seemed to Barty preposterous, and even a little annoying, that the alert and self-reliant Jacko should have got herself lost in this fashion. The trail up from the landing was perfectly clear and easy to follow, and Stafford had given her his flash light.
Barty went all the way down to the lake again, calling her name. Then, as he stood on the shore of the black water, the note in his voice changed. A fitful wind had sprung up, driving clouds across the face of the moon. The trees stirred and sighed. ”

“ Only by the strong arm of her man could the woman and her child live; but all that was over and done with. Where civilization was established, woman was the friend and equal of man.
Jacqueline moved a little, uneasy and resentful at the thoughts that came to her. Those half legendary loves that were the glory of the civilized world, those names which had, after hundreds of years, still the power to stir the heart—Romeo and Juliet, Hero and Leander, Paul and Virginia—magic names of imperishable glamour and beauty! ”

“ Certainly he gave a great deal, but it had always seemed to Jacqueline that Stafford got the best of the bargain.
He was one of the foremost architects in the city. It was an honor for the obscure young Barty to be singled out by such a man, to be taken into his office, and, just recently, to be asked to share a studio apartment with the great man; but in return he got all Barty's honest enthusiasm, his fidelity and gratitude. He had Barty's companionship, Barty's sympathy for the many affronts this rough world offers to sensitive men. ”

“ Indeed, Jacqueline thought, he had a most unfair share of Barty's life; but Barty did not see that, and she was not going to mention it. Not for any consideration on earth would she speak one word against Barty's hero. Not for any possible gain to herself would she tarnish his faith in his friend, or injure his prospects for the future. She simply spoke in a quiet, reasonable way of all that he owed Stafford. ”

“ No—he simply drove the car, and Miss Miles and Stafford sat on the back seat. He heard them talking. Miss Miles was not imperious now. She was so sweet, so gentle, so serious, so humbly anxious to be instructed. She seemed to possess such a surprising acquaintance with architectural terms!
And all the time Jacqueline was praying in her heart:
“Oh, let me make him like me! Oh, please, let me make him like me!”
If she could only win Stafford's unqualified approval, think what it might mean to Barty and herself! She had never wanted anything so much in her life before. ”

“ He loved her so much that for love he would yield, and she did not want that. A true friend, a good pal, would not stoop to managing.
“Barty,” said she, “let's sit down here and talk.”
So he sat beside her on a bench and listened. All the time she spoke, she saw—with dismay, and yet with a queer little thrill of delight—that her words made absolutely no impression. Of course, she spoke of Stafford, because Stafford was the dominant factor in their problem. If Barty were to marry now, it would seriously offend Stafford, and that would be the height of folly. ”

“ Odd, how people keep on existing, completely unaware how superfluous they are! Jacqueline turned from her contemplation of the moonlit sea to the vastly inferior spectacle of Mr. Terrill, and answered him as civilly as she could just then. ”

“ Indian and pioneer, warriors, hunters, killers—and behind them the faithful, patient shadow of the burden bearer, the woman. Squaw woman and white woman, carrying babies in their arms or on their backs, their own God-given burdens; and always with other burdens, too—the homely implements of daily life laid upon the shoulders of women, so that the hands of the men might be free for their weapons. ”

“ She felt sure that something would happen to prevent it, that Miss Clarke wouldn't let her go, that Barty would be detained by some important work.
Hers was the wildly unreasonable pessimism of a woman's love. She foresaw the direst misfortunes, and was almost resigned to them. She was tired, too, after a long summer of hard work, and Miss Clarke was increasingly disagreeable to her. She was worried about Barty, worried about all sorts of absurd little things, so that she did not sleep well, and could scarcely tolerate the meals in her hotel. A whole week away somewhere with Barty? ”

“ If this was what Barty wanted, very well, she was glad he had it. If it gave him any joy to waste what he had worked so hard to get, very well, she would not spoil his week by a single remonstrance.
He was walking up and down the parlor, with his hands in his pockets, and Jacqueline was in the bedroom, unpacking her bag. She had said all the things she could think of in praise of the suite. While she tried to think of some more praise, a blank little silence had fallen.
“Jacko,” he said, “you—you really do like this, don't you? ”

“ She wanted Barty—and, failing Barty, she wanted to think of him undisturbed; but Mr. Terrill continued to exist, unabashed.
“It's a curious thing,” he continued, “the transformation that certain qualities of light can effect. Of course, it's been pretty thoroughly studied in the theater; but to the average mortal—well, moonlight, for instance. I've seen your face in lamp-light and in the sunlight, but now, in the light of the moon—”
“It makes every one look ghastly, doesn't it?” Jacqueline interrupted hastily. “I hate it!”
“Hate moonlight, Miss Miles?” ”

“ Then he saw her, and there was nothing else in the world. She was coming down a side street with that eager, beautiful gait of hers, so straight and gallant, so self-possessed and debonair—and so touchingly slight and young. ”

“ She had turned toward Terrill, outwardly quite cool and self-possessed again, and was about to suggest their going on, when a man came in—a man so incongruous in Philipsville that she at once suspected his identity. He was a tall, lean man, fastidiously dressed in a theatrical sort of camper's outfit—a gray flannel shirt, tweed knickerbockers, and high boots, all fatally belied by his neat Vandyke beard, his delicate hands, his toploftical air. What was more, he was smoking a cigarette in a long ivory holder. It was scarcely necessary for Galloway to address him as “Mr. Stafford.” ”

“ Terrill?
“I've engaged a room,” he went on, “for Mr. and Mrs. Leadenhall. If we see any one we know, all right. I'm pretty sick of this hole-and-corner business, anyhow.”
It was then that she noticed there was something wrong with Barty—something very wrong. There was about him an air of grim recklessness, almost of desperation. He was trying to be jolly, but he achieved only a strained sort of hilarity utterly foreign to him, and beyond measure distressing to Jacqueline. ”

“ That silly, adorable girl must have had plenty of time to make her explanation to Barty. Stafford had sent her on ahead from the landing stage with an electric flash light. It was only a short half mile over a good trail, and he was only a little way behind her, never out of hearing of a call. He thought that she ought to see Barty alone. They must arrange their own affairs in their own pathetic, blundering way.
Whack! This time just behind the knee. Stafford flung the sack on the ground and began to drag it after him. Let happen what might, he had the tobacco safely in his pocket. ”

“ They understand how unimportant are tea engagements compared with careers. They understand that often a man simply can't get away at a certain time. Even if he is too busy to telephone, even if he forgets the engagement altogether, why, a good pal accepts all that cheerfully,
Still, Jacqueline did not think it necessary to be superfluously cheerful. She was sitting at a table near the window of a down town tea room, waiting for Barty to join her. ”

“ She meant only to do him good, to help him; but she was very young, and she was a woman, and she had all a woman's blind and beautiful and absurd determination that her beloved should have his cake and eat it, too. Barty needed her, and he should have her; and he needed Stafford, and he should have Stafford too. Barty should have everything—except his own way.
II
Good pals don't mind waiting. ”