Katharine Brush

“ Nothing was important now but her delicate softness beside him, her perfume in his nostrils, her voice saying, "—unless you are there, Jock Hamill." The face of Parke Demorest of Demorest Motors flashed across his vision and was gone, without effect. He put his arms about Yvonne, and his voice shook a little in the force of its sincerity. "Darling—the only thing you could possibly say that would matter would be that—well, that there isn't any hope for me, ever. That would rip me up into a million pieces. But nothing else in the world could make any difference. Not any thing." ”

“ He paused, speculating. "Not so bad to have the girl you loved an actress, would it be? Because then you might see her in some of the costumes and against some of the backgrounds you like to imagine for her. Do you know, Yvonne, I've thought several times you're probably an actress."
"Why? What makes you think that?"
"It's logical. Somebody'd surely capitalize on beauty like that." He chuckled, in amusement and perfect content. "Just imagine loving anybody as I love you, and not knowing one thing about them except that they're the only person in the world!" ”

“ You're the best friend I ever had. Oh, Jock, take care of her, help her forget!"
The next few weeks were freighted with a melancholy so heavy that his whole inner being seemed to droop with the weight of it. And mingled with the melancholy there was a protest, violent and strong. Brad's going had been so futile! So unnecessary! It wasn't right that a man like that should go for a thing like that. . . . After the first chaotic hours he had reduced the situation to its fundamentals: Brad had died so that Eunice might drive a shiny new coupé and wrap about herself the skins of little animals. ”

“ It came to Jock that they had not shown him such friendly attention for weeks. "Look!" he said. "Right now I'm the most popular man in the fraternity, because I'm the only one who knows you." Pride swelled in him, and he tugged at Yvonne's little hand. "Come on, darling—come in a minute and let me introduce them."
"Mountain to Mohammed?" began Yvonne. But something about Jock's face made her yield. She got out of the limousine and stood, straight and slim and dazzling, on the pavement. "You just want to parade me," she accused, dimpling up at him, "—like a little trick puppy on a leash!" ”

“ She doesn't ask what you've done, She doesn't care what you've done. 'Love is the only thing that matters.' She loves you. Enough to leave everything and come to you, and tell you—she didn't have to tell you. ”

“ Bones said drearily, "you ought to talk to the boys about it. You ought to stick up for yourself. This damn talk that's going around—there's no sense to it—and it would only take a few words from you ta set it straight, with the fraternity at least. They don't want to think the things they're thinking, Jock! If you only knew why Brad did it, some logical reason that would let you out—but you don't, do you?" ”

“ Yvonne hesitated, her eyes straying from his. "There's a girl who's trying awfully hard to bow to you," she said, instead of an answer.
Jock followed her glance. Eunice . . . standing on the street corner, staring . . .
"Who was she?" Yvonne asked when they had passed.
"Nobody. Eunice Hathaway."
"She's very attractive."
"Yah," said Jock laconically. And dismissed Eunice forthwith. "What did you do with yourself, honey? Did you have a good time?" ”

“ Did you ever hear of the Mothers' Boat, Jock Hamill? When the big transports got in, sometimes they'd send a little tug down the harbor to meet them, with mothers, and sweethearts, and wives, I was on one of those little tugs. Early one morning. Foggy and wet and cold—in March, it was. You coufdn't see the land, nor anything but gray fog and gray water all around. They took the tug boat out a way and then they let it drift, and everybody stood so quiet and tense, staring all in one direction. ”

“ They talked of California, and the University, and New York. . . . "I've moved," Yvonne remarked, "I'm not living on Park Avenue any more. I moved yesterday." She gave him a new address, somewhere in the East Sixties, and he jotted it down with a fountain pen on the back of a tailor's bill. "As soon as I've graduated," he told her, "you'll move again, and don't you forget it!" And he smiled his twisted adoring smile, and she smiled back . . . drawnly . . .
Later she said, "That girl we saw—Eunice something, didn't you say her name was?—tell me about her." ”

“ Of course. Circumstantial evidence. Ken had called him to the 'phone that night. Ken had said, meaningly, 'Sounds like your friend Mrs. Hathaway.' Ken had listened while he talked to Eunice. . . . It seemed to Jock that he could see Ken yet with the eyes of his recollection, standing in the dining-room doorway, crunching crackers. . . . And naturally the fraternity resented the implication. Scandal in college was not an individual affair, it was a fraternity affair. This, a scratch on the cherished escutcheon of Zeta Kappa.
His determination to shield Brad never wavered. ”

“ You ought to read Schopenhauer, Eunice. 'To lay great value on what other people say of you is to do them too much honor.'"
Eunice was pressing a ball of handkerchief against her mouth, and now she spoke through it thickly. "It's all very well to philosophize—you'ah a man, and men don't mind things like that—they don't have to mind, because nobody cahes what they do. ”

“ Jock gloated secretly. "She's knocking 'em cuckoo!" Every admiring glance that fastened on her, every guffaw elicited by things she said, every small compliment added its tithe to his exhilaration.
He said little. Talk effervesced around him, and he stood silent for the most part, looking and listening, and thinking, "Lovelier than ever. She caught a tan in California and it's becoming. Gosh, what a smooth get-up! That white fur. She always looks like a million dollars, anyway. And maybe she doesn't know her groceries! Poise. Says just the right things. ”

“ He gesticulated with a hairbrush. "For criminy's sake, Jock, tell that female to lay off! How can you expect the chatter to pipe down as long as she calls up on the 'phone and sends you notes by special messenger?"
"Calls up? Did she call this afternoon?"
"Only seven times," said Bones testily. "I met Benny coming in and he told me to tell you. He said her 'Is Mis-tah Hamill theah yet' had worn bunions on his ear-drums."
Jock heard with rising irritation. Just like Eunice! That was his thought. So exactly like her to intrude herself now, and cloud the radiance of his horizon. ”

“ I thought I'd do it on the way home, but I couldn't, I had to see Eunice just once more and say good-bye. She wouldn't know it was good-bye, of course, until afterward, but I had to see her. That's why I came back. She's asleep now. With her hair spread out over the pillow and her eyelashes curling on her cheeks. I love her so, Jock. I love her better than anything in heaven or earth. You be good to her, won't you? ”

“ Bones was rattling on. "Wanted to see her, the worst way. They tell me she's right there, and over. Say, how's to loosen up and release a little dope? You've been silent as the Sphinx, you big bum! How long's this been simmering? And when's the great event coming off? I'll have to get me a new drinking suit, and begin hoarding hootch for a fit celebration!"
"You've got plenty of time," grinned Jock. "We aren't going to be married for a—for quite awhile." He had almost said, "For a year." That had been Yvonne's pronouncement. "We'll wait at least a year, my dear." ”

“ An impish voice in his ear would whisper, "Brad's dead. It couldn't hurt him. It can hurt you. It's hurting you now. You've got your life to live. Go ahead and tell them, you fool" . . .
But week succeeded dragging week, and he did not.
VI The Zeta Kappa staircase was so constructed that anyone descending came into sight piece by piece, like a sectional postcard opened lengthwise. At noontime of a mild spring-like day in late February Jock Hamill's feet appeared at the top of these stairs and proceeded to bring the rest of him slowly down. ”

“ Bones left his dresser and came to perch on the edge of the desk, from which elevation he looked down upon his roommate with anxiety. "See here, Jock," he began. "I get it. I get it straight. You're all gloomed up over this Hathaway thing, and no wonder, what with the way the boys are taking it and Bad News down the street bombarding you with notes and all. But listen, that'll straighten itself out if you give it time, and then——"
"That's not it," insisted Jock. "You're way out of bounds. I'd never let a little rumor hound me out of college if I didn't want to go, you ought to know that. ”

“ Eunice hesitated, running the tip of her tongue over her lips. "If you want me to be perfectly frank, Jock," she said at last," she looked a little bit passé to me. She must be yeahs and yeahs oldah than you, of cohse."
Jock started; then chuckled derisively. "In Defense of Women—no wonder it had to be written by a man! Honestly, Eunice, you burn me up! You wouldn't even give the devil his due if he happened to have a skirt on, would you?" ”

“ I'd made up my mind that money was more important than anything else in the world, a lot more important than a fickle will-o'-the-wisp like happiness. Money was so tangible. So—so there. A thing you could hold in your hand. I wanted lots of it. And it didn't matter much how I got it. Do you understand, Jock Hamill? It didn't matter how I got it.
"Well, there was a man who used to come to the club often, named Parke Demorest——"
"I know," said Jock unexpectedly.
The sound of his voice surprised him. He had spoken aloud without volition, for the first time since Yvonne began talking. ”

“ Bones grunted. "Why the devil won't she let him alone?" He brought the envelope to his nose and inhaled disgustedly. "All stink-o with perfume——"
He gave his own letter the cursory perusal young men invariably accord the communications of young ladies to whom they are related. Even Peg's declaration that she was contemplating matrimony failed to win from him more than a tolerant smile. Peg was always contemplating matrimony—merely contemplating. ”

“ Yvonne's voice began again, rather breathlessly. "I'm sorry. But you'll have to believe it now, because it's so. I've been his mistress for over a year. He gave me that limousine, and these rings, and the clothes I have on, and he paid for my apartment. . . . I thought I had what I wanted. Money; and everything money buys. But you see, I didn't leave room in my calculations for one thing, Jock Hamill. ”

“ Jock smiled wearily. "Be yourself, Bones. You're talking applesauce. I know there's something up—now what is it?"
Bones, caught, changed his tone abruptly. "Don't pay any attention to them," he begged. "They're a bunch of half-wits." He got up and began to stalk about the room aimlessly as he talked. "I suppose I may as well tell you, because as soon as you felt a little less low in your mind Carey Brown was going to have a talk with you about it, anyway." Carey Brown was head of the fraternity. "The fact is, Jock—well, remember what I told you back in the fall about you and Mrs. Hathaway?" ”

“ The chauffeur nodded, and the limousine lunged forward, a singing, winged thing. "We'll drive till we find a good inn," Yvonne continued, "and then we'll eat a lot of things—don't you always feel like eating a lot of things, weather like this?—and then we'll drive some more. How does that sound?"
"Too good to be true!" Jock leaned back, letting his body sink into the downy upholstery. ”

“ Rolls Royce" . . . "Say, they're stopping here!" . . . "Probably got the wrong place, no luck, boys, no luck" . . . "Well, don't tell her if she has. Let's kill the fatted calf and have her in" . . .
Upon entering the room whence emanated these peculiar comments, Jock perceived a group of his mates struggling for points of vantage at the front windows. He joined them.
A monstrous limousine, painted creamy white and agleam with polished nickel, was drawn up at the curb outside. A chauffeur in uniform presided at the wheel, and in the tonneau, like a glittering jewel in a showcase, sat Yvonne. ”

“ Eunice's next words slapped at his ears like an added reproof. "How could I, Jock? You don't think I ought to go around tellin' people poah old Brad was a bootleggah, do you? And that he sold poison liquah to a——"
"No, no, of course not!"
"It's bettah they should think I'm no good than that he wasn't," Eunice asserted piously. "He's dead now. I'm the one that's got to suffah."
Then Jock's spleen at himself shifted to her, redoubled a hundredfold. Eunice! Self-commiserating! "I'm the one that's got to suffer" . . . ”