Her usual expression of elfish impertinence was not there.She was the girl of the stolen meetings once more, the girl whose eyes reflected the open beauty of what Martin had called the big cathedral.For all that, she was the girl who had hurt him to the soul, shown him her door, played that trick upon him at the Ritz and sent him adrift full of the spirit of "Who cares?" which was her fetish.It was in his heart to say: "Because I adore you! Because Iam so much yours that you have only to think my name for me to hear it across the world as if you had shouted it through a giant megaphone! Because whatever I do and whatever you do, I shall love you!" But she had hurt him twice.She had cut him to the very core.
He couldn't forget.He was too proud to lay himself open to yet another of her laughing snubs.
So he shook his head again."I dunno," he said."It's like that.
It's something that can't be explained."
She sat on the arm of the chair with her hands round a knee.Alittle of her pink ankle showed.The pipe that she had dropped when his voice had come up from the street lay on the floor.
His answer had disappointed her; she didn't quite know why.The old Marty would have been franker and more spontaneous.The old Marty might have made her laugh with his boyish ingenuousness, but he would have warmed her and made her feel delightfully vain.Could it be that she was responsible for this new Marty? Was Alice too terribly right when she had talked about armor turning into broadcloth because of her selfish desire to remain a kid a little longer? She was afraid to ask him where he was when he had felt that she wanted him, and she hated herself for that.
There was a short silence.
These two young things had lost the complete confidence that had been theirs before they had come to that great town.What a pity!
"Well," he asked, standing straight like a man ready to take orders, "why did you call?"And then an overwhelming shyness seized her.It had seemed easy enough in thought to tell Martin that she was ready to cross the bridge and be, as Alice had called it, honest, and as Gilbert had said, to play the game.But it was far from easy when he stood in the middle of the room in the glare of the light, with something all about him that froze her words and made her self-conscious and timid.And yet a clear, unmistakable voice urged her to have courage and make her confession, say that she was sorry for having been a feather-brained little fool and ask him to forgive--to win him back, if--if she hadn't already lost him.
But she blundered into an answer and spoke flippantly from nervousness."Because it's rather soon to become a grass widow, and I want you to be seen with me somewhere to-morrow."That was all, then.She was only amusing herself.It was a case of "Horse, horse, play with me!"--the other horses being otherwise occupied.She wasn't serious.He needn't have come."I can't," he said."I'm sorry, but I'm going out of town."She saw him look at the clock on the mantelshelf and crinkle up his forehead.Day must be stretching itself somewhere.She got up, quickly.How could she say it? She was losing him.
"Are you angry with me, Marty?" she asked, trying to fumble her way to honesty.
"No, Joan.But it's very late.You ought to be in bed.""Didn't you think that I should miss you while you've been away?""No, Joan.Look.It's half-past two.A kid like you ought to have been asleep hours ago." He went over to the door.
"I'm not a kid--I'm not" she burst out.
He was too tired to be surprised.He had not forgotten how she had hidden behind her youth.He couldn't understand her mood."I must get to bed," he said, "if you don't mind.I must be up pretty early.
Run along, Joany."
He couldn't have hurt her more awfully whatever he had said.To be treated like a naughty girl! But it served her right, and she knew it.Her plea had come back like a boomerang.
"Well, have a good time," she said, with her chin high."I shall see you again some day, I suppose," and she went out.
It was no use.She had lost him--she had lost him, just as she had discovered that she wanted him.There was a girl with a white face and red lips and hair that came out of a bottle.Martin watched her go and shut the door, and stood with his hands over his face.
