"You're the only woman in the world he has any real liking for," said Sperry, earnest and sincere."Don't you ever doubt that, Mrs.Spenser."When they were seated in the cafe and he had ordered, he excused himself and Susan saw him make his way to a table where sat Fitzalan and another man who looked as if he too had to do with the stage.It was apparent that Fitzalan was excited about something; his lips, his arms, his head were in incessant motion.Susan noted that he had picked up many of Brent's mannerisms; she had got the habit of noting this imitativeness in men--and in women, too--from having seen in the old days how Rod took on the tricks of speech, manner, expression, thought even, of whatever man he happened at the time to be admiring.May it not have been this trait of Rod's that gave her the clue to his character, when she was thinking him over, after the separation?
Sperry was gone nearly ten minutes.He came, full of apologies."Fitz held on to me while he roasted Brent.
You've heard of Brent, of course?"
"Yes," said Susan.
"Fitz has been seeing him off.And he says it's----"Susan glanced quickly at him."Off?" she said.
"To Europe."
Susan had paused in removing her left glove.Rod's description of Brent's way of sidestepping--Rod's description to the last detail.Her hands fluttered uncertainly--fluttering fingers like a flock of birds flushed and confused by the bang of the gun.
"And Fitz says----"
"For Europe," said Susan.She was drawing her fingers slowly one by one from the fingers of her glove.
"Yes.He sailed, it seems, on impulse barely time to climb aboard.Fitz always lays everything to a woman.He says Brent has been mixed up for a year or so with---- Oh, it doesn't matter.I oughtn't to repeat those things.I don't believe 'em--on principle.Every man--or woman--who amounts to anything has scandal talked about him or her all the time.
Good Lord! If Robert Brent bothered with half the affairs that are credited to him, he'd have no time or strength--not to speak of brains--to do plays.""I guess even the busiest man manages to fit a woman in somehow," observed Susan."A woman or so."Sperry laughed."I guess yes," said he."But as to Brent, most of the scandal about him is due to a fad of his--hunting for an undeveloped female genius who----""I've heard of that," interrupted Susan."The service is dreadfully slow here.How long is it since you ordered?""Twenty minutes--and here comes our waiter." And then, being one of those who must finish whatever they have begun, he went on."Well, it's true Brent does pick up and drop a good many ladies of one kind and another.And naturally, every one of them is good-looking and clever or he'd not start in.
But--you may laugh at me if you like--I think he's strictly business with all of them.He'd have got into trouble if he hadn't been.And Fitz admits this one woman--she's a society woman--is the only one there's any real basis for talk about in connection with Brent."Susan had several times lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips and had every time lowered it untasted.
"And Brent's mighty decent to those he tries and has to give up.I know of one woman he carried on his pay roll for nearly two years----""Let's drop Mr.Brent," cried Susan."Tell me about--about the play.""Rod must be giving you an overdose of that.""I've not seen much of him lately.How was the rehearsal?""Fair--fair." And Sperry forgot Brent and talked on and on about the play, not checking himself until the coffee was served.He had not observed that Susan was eating nothing.
Neither had he observed that she was not listening; but there was excuse for this oversight, as she had set her expression at absorbed attention before withdrawing within herself to think--and to suffer.She came to the surface again when Sperry, complaining of the way the leading lady was doing her part, said: "No wonder Brent drops one after another.Women aren't worth much as workers.Their real mind's always occupied with the search for a man to support 'em.""Not always," cried Susan, quivering with sudden pain."Oh, no, Mr.Sperry--not always.""Yes--there are exceptions," said Sperry, not noting how he had wounded her."But--well, I never happened to run across one.""Can you blame them?" mocked Susan.She was ashamed that she had been stung into crying out.
"To be honest--no," said Sperry."I suspect I'd throw up the sponge and sell out if I had anything a lady with cash wanted to buy.I only _suspect_ myself.But I _know_ most men would.
No, I don't blame the ladies.Why not have a nice easy time?
Only one short life--and then--the worms."
She was struggling with the re-aroused insane terror of a fall back to the depths whence she had once more just come--and she felt that, if she fell again, it would mean the very end of hope.It must have been instinct or accident, for it certainly was not any prompting from her calm expression, that moved him to say:
"Now, tell me _your_ troubles.I've told you mine....You surely must have some?"Susan forced a successful smile of raillery."None to speak of," evaded she.
When she reached home there was a telegram--from Brent:
Compelled to sail suddenly.Shall be back in a few weeks.
Don't mind this annoying interruption.R.B.
