Ladies Must Live Part 14

"Oh, a dream-lady," said Christine, and her eyes brightened a little. "No wonder you thought her too good for Ned. Well, that brings me to what I came to tell you. I have decided to marry Edward Hickson."

There was a blank and rather flat pause, during which Riatt took his cigarette from his mouth and very carefully studied the ash, but could think of nothing to say. The thought in his mind was that Hickson was a dull dog.

"Have you told Hickson?" he asked after a moment.

She shook her head. "No, and I shan't till I get more accustomed to the idea myself. It isn't exactly an easy idea to get accustomed to. The prospect is not lively."

"I dare say you will contrive to make it as lively as possible."

She smiled drearily. "How very poorly you do think of me! I shan't make Ned a bad wife. He will be very happy, and Nancy and I will be like sisters. By the way, you're not in love with Nancy, are you?"

"Certainly not."

"Good. They all say it's a dog's life." She yawned. "Oh, isn't everything tiresome! If I had had any idea my filial deed in going to find my father's coat would have resulted in my having to marry Ned, I never would have gone."

Riatt struggled in silence. He wanted--any man would have wanted--to ask her whether there wasn't some other way out; but knowing that he himself was the only other way, he refrained and asked instead: "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"There is," she responded promptly. "Rather a disagreeable thing, too.

But it will be all over in an instant, and you can take your afternoon train and forget all about us. Will you do it?"

He hesitated, and she went on:

"Ah, cautious to the last! It's just a demonstration, a _beau geste_.

It's this: You see, the situation, as I have discovered from a little talk with Ned, is more ugly than has yet appeared. They are holding one thing up their sleeve. Ned, it seems, noticed the track of your feet leaving the house, and it did not stop snowing until the morning. That was rather careless of you, wasn't it? Nancy can make a good deal of that one little fact."

"What people you are!"

"Rather horrid, aren't we? Did Laura keep telling you what a wonderful advantage it would be for you to be one of us? I wish I could have seen your face."

"Yes, she did say something of the advantages of belonging to a group like this. Do you know what any man who married you ought to do with you," he added with sudden vigor. "He ought to take you to the smallest, ugliest, deadest town he could find and keep you there five years."

"Thank you," she said. "You have achieved the impossible. You have made Ned seem quite exciting. Hitherto I have taken New York for granted, but now I shall add it to his positive advantages. But you haven't heard yet what it is I want you to do."

"What is it?"

"I want you to make me a well authenticated offer of marriage before you go for good."

"Miss Fenimer, I have the honor to ask you to marry me."

"I regret so much, Mr. Riatt, that a previous attachment prevents my accepting--but, my dear man, that isn't at all what I mean. Do you suppose Wickham and Nancy will believe me just because I walk out of this room and say you asked me to marry you? No, we must have some proof to offer."

"Something in writing?"

She hesitated.

"No," she said, "one really can't go about with a framed proposal like a college degree. I want a public demonstration."

"Something with a band or a phonograph?"

She was evidently thinking it out--or wished to appear to be. "Not quite that either. This would be more like it. Suppose I send for Nancy to come here now and consult with me as to whether I shall accept your offer or not. If I told her before you, she could hardly refuse to believe it. And you would be safe, for there isn't the least doubt what advice she will give me."

"You think she will advise you against me?"

Christine nodded. "She will try to save you from the awful fate she is reserving for her brother." She touched the bell. "Do you feel nervous?"

"A trifle," he answered, and indeed he did, for he knew better than Christine could, how strange this coming interview would appear to Mrs.

Almar after the conversation before lunch. He consoled himself, however, by the thought that train-time was drawing near, "and then, please heaven," he said to himself, "I need never see any of them again."

"Isn't it strange," began Miss Fenimer, and then as a servant appeared in the doorway: "Oh, will you please ask Mrs. Almar to come here for a few minutes and speak to me. Tell her it is very important. Isn't it strange," she went on, when the man had gone, "that I'm not a bit nervous, and yet I have so much more at stake than you have."

"You have a good deal clearer notion of your role than I."

"Your role is easy. You confirm everything I say, and contrive to look a little depressed at the end. Nothing could be simpler."

He hesitated. "Simpler than to look depressed when you refuse me?"

"No one really likes to be refused," she said. "Even I, hardened as I am, felt a certain distaste for the idea that Laura had been urging me on your reluctant acceptance. By the way, you did seem able to say no, after all your talk on our unfortunate drive about no man's being able to refuse a woman."

"Oh, a third party," he answered. "That's a very different thing. Had it been you yourself, with streaming eyes--" He looked at her sitting very cool and straight at a safe distance.

"I don't think I could cry to save my life," she observed. "Certainly not to save my reputation."

He did not answer. The situation had begun to seem like a game to him, or some absurd farce in which he was only reading some regular actor's part; and when presently the door opened to admit Mrs. Almar, he felt as if she had been waiting all the time in the wings.

Nancy stopped with a gesture of surprise, on finding that she was interrupting a tete-a-tete. Christine ignored her astonishment.

"Nancy dear," she said. "How nice of you to come, when I know how busy you were teaching Wickham piquet. Sit down. This is the reason I sent for you. As one of my best friends, I want your candid advice about this horrid situation."

"But Laura is one of your best friends, too," said Mrs. Almar.

"You'll see why I did not send for Laura. She is so ridiculously prejudiced in favor of Mr. Riatt. There's no question as to what her advice would be. In fact," said Christine with the frankest laugh, "she's advised it long ago--even before he asked me."

At these sinister words, Mrs. Almar gave a glance like the jab of a knife at Riatt.

"See here, Christine," she said, "every minute I spend here is a direct pecuniary loss to me. Let's get to the point."

"Of course. How selfish I am," answered Miss Fenimer. "The point is this.

In view of the gossip and talk, and your own dear little suggestion, darling, that I had frightened the horse on purpose, Mr. Riatt has thought it necessary to ask me to marry him. I say he has thought it necessary, because in spite of all his flattering protestations, I can't help feeling that he's done it from a sense of duty. But whatever his sentiments may be, I've been quite open about mine. I'm not in love with him. In view of all this, Nancy, do you think it advisable that I accept his offer?"

Mrs. Almar had never been considered particularly good-tempered. Now she jumped to her feet with her eyes positively blazing. "Have I been called away from the care of my depleted bank account to take part in a farce like this?" she cried. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Christine.

You know just as well as I do that that young man never even thought of asking you to marry him."

Christine was quite unruffled. "Oh, Nancy dear," she said, "how helpful you always are. I see what you mean. You think no one will believe that he ever did propose unless I accept him. I think you're perfectly right."

"They won't and I don't," said Nancy, and moved rapidly to the door.

"One moment, Mrs. Almar," said Riatt, firmly. "You happen to be mistaken.

I did very definitely ask Miss Fenimer to marry me not ten minutes ago."