Decision is always a mental relief, hesitance a curse. Kitty, having shifted her burdens to the broad shoulders of Cutty, felt as she reached the lobby as if she had left storm and stress behind and entered calm. She would marry Cutty; she had published the fact, burned her bridges.
She had stepped into the car, her heart full of cold fury. Now she began to find excuses for Hawksley's conduct. A sick brain; he was not really accountable for his acts. Her own folly had opened the way. Of course she would never see him again. Why should she?
Their lives were as far apart as the Volga and the Hudson.
Bernini met her in the lobby. "I've got a cab for you, Miss Conover," he said as if nothing at all had happened.
"Have you Cutty's address?"
"Yes."
"Then take me at once to a telegraph office. I have a very important message to send him."
"All right, Miss Conover."
"Say: 'Decision made. It is yes.' And sign it just Kitty."
Without being conscious of it her soul was still in the clouds, where it had been driven by the music of the fiddle; thus, what she assumed to be a normal sequence of a train of thought was only a sublime impulse. She would marry Cutty. More, she would be his wife, his true wife. For his tenderness, his generosity, his chivalry, she would pay him in kind. There would be no nonsense; love would not enter into the bargain; but there would be the fragrance of perfect understanding. That he was fifty-two and she was twenty-four no longer mattered. No more loneliness, no more genteel poverty; for such benefits she was ready to pay the score in full. A man she was genuinely fond of, a man she could look up to, always depend upon.
Was there such a thing as perfect love? She had her doubts. She reasoned that love was what a body decided was love, the psychological moment when the physical attraction became irresistible.
Who could tell before the fact which was the true and which the false?
Lived there a woman, herself excepted, who had not hesitated between two men - a man who had not doddered between two women - for better or for worse? What did the average woman know of the man, the average man know of the woman - until afterward? To stake all upon a guess!
She knew Cutty. Under her own eyes he had passed through certain proving fires. There would be no guessing the manner of man he was.
He was fifty-two; that is to say, the grand passion had come and gone. There would be mutual affection and comradeship.
True, she had her dreams; but she could lay them away without any particular regret. She had never been touched by the fire of passion. Let it go. But she did know what perfect comradeship was, and she would grasp it and never loose her hold. Something out of life.
"A narrow squeak, Miss Conover," said Berumi, breaking the long silence.
"A miss is as good as a mile," replied Kitty, not at all grateful for the interruption.
"We've done everything we could to protect you. If you can't see now - why, the jig is up. A chain is as strong as its weakest link.
And in a game like this a woman is always the weakest link."
"You're quite a philosopher."
"I have reason to be. I'm married."
"Am I expected to laugh?"
"Miss Conover, you're a wonder. You come through these affairs with a smile, when you ought to have hysterics. I'll bet a doughnut that when you see a mouse you go and get it a piece of cheese."
"Do you want the truth? Well, I'll tell it to you. You have all kept me on the outer edge of this affair, and I've been trying to find out why. I have the reportorial instinct, as they say. I inherited it from my father. You put a strange weapon in my hands, you tell me it is deadly, but you don't tell me which end is deadly.
Do you know who this Russian is?"
"Honestly, I don't."
"Does Cutty?"
"I don't know that, either."
"Did you ever hear of a pair of emeralds called the drums of jeopardy?"
"Nope. But I do know if you continue these stunts you'll head the whole game into the ditch."
"You may set your mind at ease. I'm going to marry Cutty. I shall not go to the apartment again until Hawksley, as he is called, is gone."
"Well, well; that's good news! But let me put you wise to one fact, Miss Conover: you have picked some man! I'm not much of a scholar, but knowing him as I do I'm always wondering why they made Faith, Hope, and Charity in female form. But this night's work was bad business. They know where the Russian is now; and if the game lasts long enough they'll reach the chief, find out who he is; and that'll put the kibosh on his usefulness here and abroad. Well, here's home, and no more lecture from me."
"Sorry I've been so much trouble."
"Perhaps we ought to have shown you which end shoots."
"Good-night."
