Chapter 42
"Somebody had to. He lied to those poor creatures. I--I couldn't stand it!--" Her voice broke a little. "And if there is truly a G.o.d in me, as I believe, then I should show Christ's courage... lacking His wisdom," she added so low that he scarcely heard her.
Ilse, walking ahead with Brisson, looked back over her shoulder at Palla laughing.
"Didn't I tell you that there are some creatures you can't educate?
What do you think of your object lesson, darling?"
CHAPTER XII
On a foggy afternoon, toward midwinter, John Estridge strolled into the new Overseas Club, which, still being in process of incubation, occupied temporary quarters on Madison Avenue.
Officers fresh from abroad and still in uniform predominated; tunics were gay with service and wound chevrons, citation cords, stars, crosses, strips of striped ribbon.
There was every sort of head-gear to be seen there, too, from the jaunty overseas _bonnet de police_, piped in various colours, to the corded campaign hat and leather-visored barrack-cap.
Few cavalry officers were in evidence, but there were plenty of spurs glittering everywhere--to keep their owners' heels from slipping off the desks, as the pleasantry of the moment had it.
Estridge went directly to a telephone booth, and presently got his connection.
"It's John Estridge, as usual," he said in a bantering tone. "How are you, Ilse?"
"John! I'm so glad you called me! Thank you so much for the roses!
They're exquisite!--matchless!----"
"Not at all!"
"What?"
"If you think they're matchless, just hold one up beside your cheek and take a slant at your mirror."
"I thought you
"I thought I wasn't."
"Are you alone?" She laughed happily. "Where are you, Jack?"
"At the Overseas Club. I stopped on my way from the hospital."
"Y--es."
A considerable pause, and then Ilse laughed again----a confused, happy laugh.
"Did you think you'd--come over?" she inquired.
"Shall I?"
"What do _you_ think about it, Jack?"
"I suppose," he said in a humourous voice, "you're afraid of that tendency which you say I'm beginning to exhibit."
"The tendency to drift?"
"Yes;--toward those perilous rocks you warned me of."
"They _are_ perilous!" she insisted.
"You ought to know," he rejoined; "you're sitting on top of 'em like a bally Lorelei!"
"If that's your opinion, hadn't you better steer for the open sea, John?"
"Certainly I'd better. But you look so sweet up there, with your cla.s.sical golden hair, that I think I'll risk the rocks."
"Please don't! There's a deadly whirlpool under them. I'm looking down at it now."
"What do you see at the bottom, Ilse? Human bones?"
"I can't see the bottom. It's all surface, like a s.h.i.+ning mirror."
"I'll come over and take a look at it with you."
"I think you'll only see our own faces reflected.... I think you'd better not come."
"I'll be there in about half an hour," he said gaily.
He sauntered out and on into the body of the club, exchanging with friends a few words here, a smiling handclasp there; and presently he seated himself near a window.
For a while he rested his chin on his clenched hand, staring into s.p.a.ce, until a waiter arrived with his order.
He signed the check, drained his gla.s.s, and leaned forward again with both elbows on his knees, twirling his silver-headed stick between nervous hands.
"After all," he said under his breath, "it's too late, now.... I'm going to see this thing through."
As he rose to go he caught sight of Jim Shotwell, seated alone by another window and attempting to read an evening paper by the foggy light from outside. He walked over to him, fastening his overcoat on the way. Jim laid aside his paper and gave him a dull glance.
"How are things with you?" inquired Estridge, carelessly.
"All right. Are you walking up town?"
"No."