Ladies Must Live Part 2

"Well, and what do you think of this new fellow?"

Christine's natural irritation appeared in her answer.

"I have hardly had an opportunity of judging," she answered, "but, watching your sister's attentions to him, I would say he must be extremely attractive."

Hickson looked a little dashed.

"Oh," he said, "Nancy does not mean anything when she goes on like that."

The only effect of this speech was to depress further Miss Fenimer's estimate of her companion's intelligence, for in her opinion Nancy's whole life was one long black intention. Feeling this, Ned went on:

"As a matter of fact, one reason why she's so nice to him is to keep him away from you and give me a chance."

"Not very flattering to you, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"The a.s.sumption that the only way to make a woman take an interest in you is to prevent her speaking to any other man."

"Oh, I didn't mean that--" Hickson began, but she interrupted him.

"That, if anything, Ned." And she turned to Wickham, who sat on her other side.

Wickham was waiting for a little notice and began instantly.

"I have been taking the liberty of looking at your pearls, Miss Fenimer, and indulging in such an interesting speculation. Here on the one hand, you are wearing round your throat the equivalent of life, health and virtue for half a hundred working girls, as young, as human, as yourself.

Are we to say this is wrong? Are we to say that beautiful jewels worn by beautiful women are a crime against society--"

"One moment, Mr. Wickham," she said. "My pearls are imitation and cost eight dollars and fifty cents without the clasp. But," she added cruelly, seeing his face fall, "you can say that same thing to your friend Mrs.

Almar, because hers are not artificial, though I have heard her a.s.sert sometimes that they are," and turning back to Hickson, who was laboriously trying to carry on a conversation with his host, she interrupted ruthlessly to say, hardly lowering her voice:

"Why in the world, Ned, did Nancy bring this Wickham man here? He's perfectly impossible."

"Nancy didn't bring him," answered her brother innocently. "I motored out with her myself."

"She said she wouldn't come unless he were asked. Still I know the answer. Nancy has always had a weakness for blond boys, and last week she was crazy about this one. Now she has turned against him, she wants to foist him off on us, but I for one don't intend to help her out--"

By this time Wickham, aware that he had been rebuffed, had found an explanation for it. The girl was annoyed at having been forced to admit her pearls were imitation. He decided to put everything right.

"Miss Fenimer," he said, and she turned her head perhaps half an inch in his direction, "I think you misunderstood me just now. My standards are probably different from those of the men you are accustomed to. To me the fact that your pearls are not real is an added beauty. I'm glad they're not--"

"Thank you," said Christine, "but I'm not." And this time he understood that he had lost her for good.

After dinner, Mrs. Almar, knowing that her innings were over, very effectively prevented Christine having hers, by insisting on playing bridge. She had an excellent head for cards, and always needed money.

Christine allowed herself to be drawn in, supposing that Riatt would be one of the players, and found herself seated opposite to Hickson and next to Jack Ussher.

Wickham, feeling very much left out and desirous of showing how well accustomed he was to the casual manners of polite society, consoled himself with an evening paper. Laura Ussher led Riatt to a comfortable corner out of earshot of the bridge-table.

"Now do tell me, Max," she said, "what you think of them all."

"I think, my dear Laura," he answered, "that they are a very playful band of cut-throats, and next time you ask me to stay, I hope you and Jack will be entirely alone."

The servants in a household like the Usshers' were subjected to almost every strain, except that of early rising. No one dreamed of coming down stairs before eleven, and most people not until lunch time.

The next morning Riatt was among the first--that is to say he was up early enough not to be able to escape a tour of inspection of the place under the guidance of his host. He had seen the stables and the new garage, and the sheet of snow beneath which lay the garden, and the other totally different sheet of snow beneath which was the soil in which Ussher intended next summer to plant a rose garden. He had gone over, tree by tree, the plantation of firs, and had noted how the tips of some were injured, and had given his opinion as to whether or not it were likely that deer had stolen down from the wild country near at hand and nibbled the young firs in the night.

"It's perfectly possible," said Ussher. "I have five hundred acres myself, and then the Club owns a huge tract, and then there's some state land. You see we have hardly any neighbors except the Fenimers and they're eight or nine miles away."

"They live here?"

"In summer--and then only when Fred Fenimer is in funds, and that's not often. A precarious sort of existence, his--gambling in mining stocks, almost always in wrong. Hard on the daughter--wish some nice fellow would come along and marry her."

"He probably will," answered Riatt rather coldly. "It's beginning to snow again."

Ussher had just had his pond swept so that his guests could skate, and now couldn't imagine what he should provide for them for the afternoon, so that his thoughts were instantly and completely turned from Christine's problems to his own.

At the house they found every one waiting for lunch; Mrs. Almar and Christine chattering together on a window-seat as if they were the most intimate allies; Hickson reading his fourth morning paper, and Mrs.

Ussher paying the profoundest attention to something Wickham was saying.

She had suddenly wakened to the fact that he was having a wretched time and that he was after all her guest. But he interpreted her actions differently, and supposing that he was at last being appreciated, he had launched fearlessly forth upon the conversational sea. It was this spectacle that had drawn Christine and Nancy together, in their whisperings and giggles in the window.

"This perhaps will ill.u.s.trate my meaning," he was saying rather loudly: "this is the difference in our outlook on life. If you say 'she dresses well,' you intend a compliment, but to me it is just the reverse. The idea is repellent to me that a woman wastes time, thought, money on her vanity, on decking her body--"

"One on you, my dear," whispered Christine.

"Isn't he tiresome?" answered Nancy, shutting her eyes.

"I thought he was your selection."

"n.o.body's infallible, my dear. Besides, I telegraphed him not to accept the invitation, but he says he never got my message."

"Why does he think you sent it?"

"Because I couldn't trust myself--"

They grinned at each other.

With the entrance of Riatt and Ussher they went in to lunch, and there manoeuvering for places for the afternoon immediately began.

Hickson supposed that by starting early he could secure Christine's company. So he at once asked her what she was going to do, and before she had time to answer he had suggested that she skate, take a walk, or go sleighing with him. Ussher explained that the skating was spoiled, and Christine under cover of this diversion managed to avoid committing herself.

As a matter of fact her afternoon was arranged. She had told Laura Ussher a pathetic story of having to go over to her father's house, and look up an old fur coat of his which had been left behind when the house was shut for the winter. Mr. Fenimer was known to be rather an irritable parent where questions of his own comfort were concerned; it was not impossible that he would make himself disagreeable if his orders were not carried out. Laura did not inquire very closely, but she agreed that the best way for Christine to traverse the distance would be for Riatt to drive her over in the cutter. Riatt sat next to Laura at luncheon, and she put it to him, when the general conversation was loudest.

"Would you mind awfully driving poor little Christine over to her own place to get something or other for that horrid father of hers?"

Of course Riatt didn't say he did mind; as a matter of fact he didn't. He might even have enjoyed the prospect, if it hadn't been for the slight hint of compulsion about it.

"It's snowing, you know," he said.