Chương Chương 46 · It was while traveling abroad that Lester came across, first at the

Carlton in London and later at Shepheards in Cairo, the one girl,

before Jennie, whom it might have been said he truly

admired--Letty Pace. He had not seen her for a long time, and she

had been Mrs. Malcolm Gerald for nearly four years, and a charming

widow for nearly two years more. Malcolm Gerald had been a wealthy

man, having amassed a fortune in banking and stock-brokering in

Cincinnati, and he had left Mrs. Malcolm Gerald very well off. She was

the mother of one child, a little girl, who was safely in charge of a

nurse and maid at all times, and she was invariably the picturesque

center of a group of admirers recruited from every capital of the

civilized world. Letty Gerald was a talented woman, beautiful,

graceful, artistic, a writer of verse, an omnivorous reader, a student

of art, and a sincere and ardent admirer of Lester Kane.

In her day she had truly loved him, for she had been a wise

observer of men and affairs, and Lester had always appealed to her as

a real man. He was so sane, she thought, so calm. He was always

intolerant of sham, and she liked him for it. He was inclined to wave

aside the petty little frivolities of common society conversation, and

to talk of simple and homely things. Many and many a time, in years

past, they had deserted a dance to sit out on a balcony somewhere, and

talk while Lester smoked. He had argued philosophy with her, discussed

books, described political and social conditions in other

cities--in a word, he had treated her like a sensible human

being, and she had hoped and hoped and hoped that he would propose to

her. More than once she had looked at his big, solid head with its

short growth of hardy brown hair, and wished that she could stroke it.

It was a hard blow to her when he finally moved away to Chicago; at

that time she knew nothing of Jennie, but she felt instinctively that

her chance of winning him was gone.

Then Malcolm Gerald, always an ardent admirer, proposed for

something like the sixty-fifth time, and she took him. She did not

love him, but she was getting along, and she had to marry some one. He

was forty-four when he married her, and he lived only four

years--just long enough to realize that he had married a

charming, tolerant, broad-minded woman. Then he died of pneumonia and

Mrs. Gerald was a rich widow, sympathetic, attractive, delightful in

her knowledge of the world, and with nothing to do except to live and

to spend her money.

She was not inclined to do either indifferently. She had long since

had her ideal of a man established by Lester. These whipper-snappers

of counts, earls, lords, barons, whom she met in one social world and

another (for her friendship and connections had broadened notably with

the years), did not interest her a particle. She was terribly weary of

the superficial veneer of the titled fortune-hunter whom she met

abroad. A good judge of character, a student of men and manners, a

natural reasoner along sociologic and psychologic lines, she saw

through them and through the civilization which they represented. "I

could have been happy in a cottage with a man I once knew out in

Cincinnati," she told one of her titled women friends who had been an

American before her marriage. "He was the biggest, cleanest, sanest

fellow. If he had proposed to me I would have married him if I had had

to work for a living myself."

"Was he so poor?" asked her friend.

"Indeed he wasn't. He was comfortably rich, but that did not make

any difference to me. It was the man I wanted."

"It would have made a difference in the long run," said the

other.

"You misjudge me," replied Mrs. Gerald. "I waited for him for a

number of years, and I know."

Lester had always retained pleasant impressions and kindly memories

of Letty Pace, or Mrs. Gerald, as she was now. He had been fond of her

in a way, very fond. Why hadn't he married her? He had asked himself

that question time and again. She would have made him an ideal wife,

his father would have been pleased, everybody would have been

delighted. Instead he had drifted and drifted, and then he had met

Jennie; and somehow, after that, he did not want her any more. Now

after six years of separation he met her again. He knew she was

married. She was vaguely aware he had had some sort of an

affair--she had heard that he had subsequently married the woman

and was living on the South Side. She did not know of the loss of his

fortune. She ran across him first in the Carlton one June evening. The

windows were open, and the flowers were blooming everywhere, odorous

with that sense of new life in the air which runs through the world

when spring comes back. For the moment she was a little beside

herself. Something choked in her throat; but she collected herself and

extended a graceful arm and hand.

"Why, Lester Kane," she exclaimed. "How do you do! I am so glad.

And this is Mrs. Kane? Charmed, I'm sure. It seems truly like a breath

of spring to see you again. I hope you'll excuse me, Mrs. Kane, but

I'm delighted to see your husband. I'm ashamed to say how many years

it is, Lester, since I saw you last! I feel quite old when I think of

it. Why, Lester, think; it's been all of six or seven years! And I've

been married and had a child, and poor Mr. Gerald has died, and oh,

dear, I don't know what all hasn't happened to me."

"You don't look it," commented Lester, smiling. He was pleased to

see her again, for they had been good friends. She liked him

still--that was evident, and he truly liked her.

Jennie smiled. She was glad to see this old friend of Lester's.

This woman, trailing a magnificent yellow lace train over pale,

mother-of-pearl satin, her round, smooth arms bare to the shoulder,

her corsage cut low and a dark red rose blowing at her waist, seemed

to her the ideal of what a woman should be. She liked looking at

lovely women quite as much as Lester; she enjoyed calling his

attention to them, and teasing him, in the mildest way, about their

charms. "Wouldn't you like to run and talk to her, Lester, instead of

to me?" she would ask when some particularly striking or beautiful

woman chanced to attract her attention. Lester would examine her

choice critically, for he had come to know that her judge of feminine

charms was excellent. "Oh, I'm pretty well off where I am," he would

retort, looking into her eyes; or, jestingly, "I'm not as young as I

used to be, or I'd get in tow of that."

"Run on," was her comment. "I'll wait for you."

"What would you do if I really should?"

"Why, Lester, I wouldn't do anything. You'd come back to me,

maybe."

"Wouldn't you care?"

"You know I'd care. But if you felt that you wanted to, I wouldn't

try to stop you. I wouldn't expect to be all in all to one man, unless

he wanted me to be."

"Where do you get those ideas, Jennie?" he asked her once, curious

to test the breadth of her philosophy.

"Oh, I don't know, why?"

"They're so broad, so good-natured, so charitable. They're not

common, that's sure."

"Why, I don't think we ought to be selfish, Lester. I don't know

why. Some women think differently, I know, but a man and a woman ought

to want to live together, or they ought not to--don't you think?

It doesn't make so much difference if a man goes off for a little

while--just so long as he doesn't stay--if he wants to come

back at all."

Lester smiled, but he respected her for the sweetness of her point

of view--he had to.

To-night, when she saw this woman so eager to talk to Lester, she

realized at once that they must have a great deal in common to talk

over; whereupon she did a characteristic thing. "Won't you excuse me

for a little while?" she asked, smiling. "I left some things uncared

for in our rooms. I'll be back."

She went away, remaining in her room as long as she reasonably

could, and Lester and Letty fell to discussing old times in earnest.

He recounted as much of his experiences as he deemed wise, and Letty

brought the history of her life up to date. "Now that you're safely

married, Lester," she said daringly, "I'll confess to you that you

were the one man I always wanted to have propose to me--and you

never did."

"Maybe I never dared," he said, gazing into her superb black eyes,

and thinking that perhaps she might know that he was not married. He

felt that she had grown more beautiful in every way. She seemed to him

now to be an ideal society figure-perfection itself--gracious,

natural, witty, the type of woman who mixes and mingles well, meeting

each new-comer upon the plane best suited to him or her.

"Yes, you thought! I know what you thought. Your real thought just

left the table."

"Tut, tut, my dear. Not so fast. You don't know what I

thought."

"Anyhow, I allow you some credit. She's charming."

"Jennie has her good points," he replied simply.

"And are you happy?"

"Oh, fairly so. Yes, I suppose I'm happy--as happy as any one

can be who sees life as it is. You know I'm not troubled with many

illusions."

"Not any, I think, kind sir, if I know you."

"Very likely, not any, Letty; but sometimes I wish I had a few. I

think I would be happier."

"And I, too, Lester. Really, I look on my life as a kind of

failure, you know, in spite of the fact that I'm almost as rich as

Croesus--not quite. I think he had some more than I have."

"What talk from you--you, with your beauty and talent, and

money--good heavens!"

"And what can I do with it? Travel, talk, shoo away silly

fortune-hunters. Oh, dear, sometimes I get so tired!"

Letty looked at Lester. In spite of Jennie, the old feeling came

back. Why should she have been cheated of him? They were as

comfortable together as old married people, or young lovers. Jennie

had had no better claim. She looked at him, and her eyes fairly spoke.

He smiled a little sadly.

"Here comes my wife," he said. "We'll have to brace up and talk of

other things. You'll find her interesting--really."

"Yes, I know," she replied, and turned on Jennie a radiant

smile.

Jennie felt a faint sense of misgiving. She thought vaguely that

this might be one of Lester's old flames. This was the kind of woman

he should have chosen--not her. She was suited to his station in

life, and he would have been as happy--perhaps happier. Was he

beginning to realize it? Then she put away the uncomfortable thought;

pretty soon she would be getting jealous, and that would be

contemptible.

Mrs. Gerald continued to be most agreeable in her attitude toward

the Kanes. She invited them the next day to join her on a drive

through Rotten Row. There was a dinner later at Claridge's, and then

she was compelled to keep some engagement which was taking her to

Paris. She bade them both an affectionate farewell, and hoped that

they would soon meet again. She was envious, in a sad way, of Jennie's

good fortune. Lester had lost none of his charm for her. If anything,

he seemed nicer, more considerate, more wholesome. She wished

sincerely that he were free. And Lester--subconsciously

perhaps--was thinking the same thing.

No doubt because of the fact that she was thinking of it, he had

been led over mentally all of the things which might have happened if

he had married her. They were so congenial now, philosophically,

artistically, practically. There was a natural flow of conversation

between them all the time, like two old comrades among men. She knew

everybody in his social sphere, which was equally hers, but Jennie did

not. They could talk of certain subtle characteristics of life in a

way which was not possible between him and Jennie, for the latter did

not have the vocabulary. Her ideas did not flow as fast as those of

Mrs. Gerald. Jennie had actually the deeper, more comprehensive,

sympathetic, and emotional note in her nature, but she could not show

it in light conversation. Actually she was living the thing she was,

and that was perhaps the thing which drew Lester to her. Just now, and

often in situations of this kind, she seemed at a disadvantage, and

she was. It seemed to Lester for the time being as if Mrs. Gerald

would perhaps have been a better choice after all--certainly as

good, and he would not now have this distressing thought as to his

future.

They did not see Mrs. Gerald again until they reached Cairo. In the

gardens about the hotel they suddenly encountered her, or rather

Lester did, for he was alone at the time, strolling and smoking.

"Well, this is good luck," he exclaimed. "Where do you come

from?"

"Madrid, if you please. I didn't know I was coming until last

Thursday. The Ellicotts are here. I came over with them. You know I

wondered where you might be. Then I remembered that you said you were

going to Egypt. Where is your wife?"

"In her bath, I fancy, at this moment. This warm weather makes

Jennie take to water. I was thinking of a plunge myself."

They strolled about for a time. Letty was in light blue silk, with

a blue and white parasol held daintily over her shoulder, and looked

very pretty. "Oh, dear!" she suddenly ejaculated, "I wonder sometimes

what I am to do with myself. I can't loaf always this way. I think

I'll go back to the States to live."

"Why don't you?"

"What good would it do me? I don't want to get married. I haven't

any one to marry now--that I want." She glanced at Lester

significantly, then looked away.

"Oh, you'll find some one eventually," he said, somewhat awkwardly.

"You can't escape for long--not with your looks and money."

"Oh, Lester, hush!"

"All right! Have it otherwise, if you want. I'm telling you."

"Do you still dance?" she inquired lightly, thinking of a ball

which was to be given at the hotel that evening. He had danced so well

a few years before.

"Do I look it?"

"Now, Lester, you don't mean to say that you have gone and

abandoned that last charming art. I still love to dance. Doesn't Mrs.

Kane?"

"No, she doesn't care to. At least she hasn't taken it up. Come to

think of it, I suppose that is my fault. I haven't thought of dancing

in some time."

It occurred to him that he hadn't been going to functions of any

kind much for some time. The opposition his entanglement had generated

had put a stop to that.

"Come and dance with me to-night. Your wife won't object. It's a

splendid floor. I saw it this morning."

"I'll have to think about that," replied Lester. "I'm not much in

practice. Dancing will probably go hard with me at my time of

life."

"Oh, hush, Lester," replied Mrs. Gerald. "You make me feel old.

Don't talk so sedately. Mercy alive, you'd think you were an old

man!"

"I am in experience, my dear."

"Pshaw, that simply makes us more attractive," replied his old

flame.