Susan laughed outright.Tea! Freddie Palmer proposing tea!
What a changed hooligan--how ridiculously changed! The other Freddie Palmer--the real one--the fascinating repelling mixture of all the barbaric virtues and vices must still be there.But how carefully hidden--and what strong provocation would be needed to bring that savage to the surface again.
The Italian in him, that was carrying him so far so cleverly, enabled him instantly to understand her amusement.He echoed her laugh.Said he:
"You've no idea the kind of people I'm traveling with--not political swells, but the real thing.What do you say to the Brevoort?"She hesitated.
"You needn't be worried about being seen with me, no matter how high you're flying," he hastened to say."I always did keep myself in good condition for the rise.Nothing's known about me or ever will be."The girl was smiling at him again."I wasn't thinking of those things," said she."I've never been to the Brevoort.""It's quiet and respectable."
Susan's eyes twinkled."I'm glad it's respectable," said she.
"Are you quite sure _you_ can afford to be seen with _me?_ It's true they don't make the fuss about right and wrong side of the line that they did a few years ago.They've gotten a metropolitan morality.Still--I'm not respectable and never shall be.""Don't be too hasty about that," protested he, gravely."But wait till you hear my proposition."As they walked through West Ninth Street she noted that there was more of a physical change in him than she had seen at first glance.He was less athletic, heavier of form and his face was fuller."You don't keep in as good training as you used," said she.
"It's those infernal automobiles," cried he."They're death to figure--to health, for that matter.But I've got the habit, and I don't suppose I'll ever break myself of it.I've taken on twenty pounds in the past year, and I've got myself so upset that the doctor has ordered me abroad to take a cure.
Then there's champagne.I can't let that alone, either, though I know it's plain poison."And when they were in the restaurant of the Brevoort he insisted on ordering champagne--and left her for a moment to telephone for his automobile.It amused her to see a man so masterful thus pettily enslaved.She laughed at him, and he again denounced himself as a weak fool."Money and luxury are too much for me.They are for everybody.I'm not as strong willed as I used to be," he said."And it makes me uneasy.
That's another reason for my proposition."
"Well--let's hear it," said she."I happen to be in a position where I'm fond of hearing propositions--even if Ihave no intention of accepting."
She was watching him narrowly.The Freddie Palmer he was showing to her was a surprising but perfectly logical development of a side of his character with which she had been familiar in the old days; she was watching for that other side--the sinister and cruel side."But first," he went on, "I must tell you a little about myself.I think I told you once about my mother and father?""I remember," said Susan.
"Well, honestly, do you wonder that I was what I used to be?""No," she answered."I wonder that you are what you _seem_ to be.""What I come pretty near being," cried he."The part that's more or less put on today is going to be the real thing tomorrow.That's the way it is with life--you put on a thing, and gradually learn to wear it.And--I want you to help me."There fell silence between them, he gazing at his glass of champagne, turning it round and round between his long white fingers and watching the bubbles throng riotously up from the bottom."Yes," he said thoughtfully, "I want you to help me.I've been waiting for you.I knew you'd turn up again." He laughed."I've been true to you in a way--a man's way.I've hunted the town for women who suggested you--a poor sort of makeshift--but--I had to do something.""What were you going to tell me?"
Her tone was business-like.He did not resent it, but straightway acquiesced."I'll plunge right in.I've been, as you know, a bad one--bad all my life.I was born bad.You know about my mother and father.One of my sisters died in a disreputable resort.The other--well, the last I heard of her, she was doing time in an English pen.I've got a brother--he's a degenerate.Well!--not to linger over rotten smells, I was the only one of the family that had brains.Isoon saw that everybody who gets on in the world is bad--which simply means doing disturbing things of one kind and another.
And I saw that the ordinary crooks let their badness run their brains, while the get-on kind of people let their brains run their badness.You can be rotten--and sink lower and lower every day.Or you can gratify your natural taste for rottenness and at the same time get up in the world.I made up my mind to do the rotten things that get a man money and power.""Respectability," said Susan.
"Respectability exactly.So I set out to improve my brains.
I went to night school and read and studied.And I didn't stay a private in the gang of toughs.I had the brains to be leader, but the leader's got to be a fighter too.I took up boxing and made good in the ring.I got to be leader.Then I pushed my way up where I thought out the dirty work for the others to do, and I stayed under cover and made 'em bring the big share of the profits to me.And they did it because I had the brains to think out jobs that paid well and that could be pulled off without getting pinched--at least, not always getting pinched."Palmer sipped his champagne, looked at her to see if she was appreciative."I thought you'd understand," said he."Ineedn't go into details.You remember about the women?""Yes, I remember," said Susan."That was one step in the ladder up?""It got me the money to make my first play for respectability.
I couldn't have got it any other way.I had extravagant tastes--and the leader has to be always giving up to help this fellow and that out of the hole.And I never did have luck with the cards and the horses.""Why did you want to be respectable?" she asked.
