第 三十 章 · The sullen, philosophic Lester was not so determined upon his

future course of action as he appeared to be. Stern as was his mood,

he did not see, after all, exactly what grounds he had for complaint.

And yet the child's existence complicated matters considerably. He did

not like to see the evidence of Jennie's previous misdeeds walking

about in the shape of a human being; but, as a matter of fact, he

admitted to himself that long ago he might have forced Jennie's story

out of her if he had gone about it in earnest. She would not have

lied, he knew that. At the very outset he might have demanded the

history of her past. He had not done so; well, now it was too late.

The one thing it did fix in his mind was that it would be useless to

ever think of marrying her. It couldn't be done, not by a man in his

position. The best solution of the problem was to make reasonable

provision for Jennie and then leave her. He went to his hotel with his

mind made up, but he did not actually say to himself that he would do

it at once.

It is an easy thing for a man to theorize in a situation of this

kind, quite another to act. Our comforts, appetites and passions grow

with usage, and Jennie was not only a comfort, but an appetite, with

him. Almost four years of constant association had taught him so much

about her and himself that he was not prepared to let go easily or

quickly. It was too much of a wrench. He could think of it bustling

about the work of a great organization during the daytime, but when

night came it was a different matter. He could be lonely, too, he

discovered much to his surprise, and it disturbed him.

One of the things that interested him in this situation was

Jennie's early theory that the intermingling of Vesta with him and her

in this new relationship would injure the child. Just how did she come

by that feeling, he wanted to know? His place in the world was better

than hers, yet it dawned on him after a time that there might have

been something in her point of view. She did not know who he was or

what he would do with her. He might leave her shortly. Being

uncertain, she wished to protect her baby. That wasn't so bad. Then

again, he was curious to know what the child was like. The daughter of

a man like Senator Brander might be somewhat of an infant. He was a

brilliant man and Jennie was a charming woman. He thought of this,

and, while it irritated him, it aroused his curiosity. He ought to go

back and see the child--he was really entitled to a view of

it--but he hesitated because of his own attitude in the

beginning. It seemed to him that he really ought to quit, and here he

was parleying with himself.

The truth was that he couldn't. These years of living with Jennie

had made him curiously dependent upon her. Who had ever been so close

to him before? His mother loved him, but her attitude toward him had

not so much to do with real love as with ambition. His

father--well, his father was a man, like himself. All of his

sisters were distinctly wrapped up in their own affairs; Robert and he

were temperamentally uncongenial. With Jennie he had really been

happy, he had truly lived. She was necessary to him; the longer he

stayed away from her the more he wanted her. He finally decided to

have a straight-out talk with her, to arrive at some sort of

understanding. She ought to get the child and take care of it. She

must understand that he might eventually want to quit. She ought to be

made to feel that a definite change had taken place, though no

immediate break might occur. That same evening he went out to the

apartment. Jennie heard him enter, and her heart began to flutter.

Then she took her courage in both hands, and went to meet him.

"There's just one thing to be done about this as far as I can see,"

began Lester, with characteristic directness.

"Get the child and bring her here where you can take care of her.

There's no use leaving her in the hands of strangers."

"I will, Lester," said Jennie submissively. "I always wanted

to."

"Very well, then, you'd better do it at once." He took an evening

newspaper out of his pocket and strolled toward one of the front

windows; then he turned to her. "You and I might as well understand

each other, Jennie," he went on. "I can see how this thing came about.

It was a piece of foolishness on my part not to have asked you before,

and made you tell me. It was silly for you to conceal it, even if you

didn't want the child's life mixed with mine. You might have known

that it couldn't be done. That's neither here nor there, though, now.

The thing that I want to point out is that one can't live and hold a

relationship such as ours without confidence. You and I had that, I

thought. I don't see my way clear to ever hold more than a tentative

relationship with you on this basis. The thing is too tangled. There's

too much cause for scandal."

"I know," said Jennie.

"Now, I don't propose to do anything hasty. For my part I don't see

why things can't go on about as they are--certainly for the

present--but I want you to look the facts in the face."

Jennie sighed. "I know, Lester," she said, "I know."

He went to the window and stared out. There were some trees in the

yard, where the darkness was settling. He wondered how this would

really come out, for he liked a home atmosphere. Should he leave the

apartment and go to his club?

"You'd better get the dinner," he suggested, after a time, turning

toward her irritably; but he did not feel so distant as he looked. It

was a shame that life could not be more decently organized. He

strolled back to his lounge, and Jennie went about her duties. She was

thinking of Vesta, of her ungrateful attitude toward Lester, of his

final decision never to marry her. So that was how one dream had been

wrecked by folly.

She spread the table, lighted the pretty silver candles, made his

favorite biscuit, put a small leg of lamb in the oven to roast, and

washed some lettuce-leaves for a salad. She had been a diligent

student of a cook-book for some time, and she had learned a good deal

from her mother. All the time she was wondering how the situation

would work out. He would leave her eventually--no doubt of that.

He would go away and marry some one else.

"Oh, well," she thought finally, "he is not going to leave me right

away--that is something. And I can bring Vesta here." She sighed

as she carried the things to the table. If life would only give her

Lester and Vesta together--but that hope was over.