NDUL TRANSFER
HN БИЧN D
THE
BREATH
OF
SCANDAL
EDWIN BALMER


P2
6 12.9.

VERD
HARVARD
COLLEGE
LIBRARY








THE BREATH OF SCANDAL


By Edwin Balmer
RESURRECTION ROCK
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
In collaboration with
William macharg
THE BLIND MAN'S EYES
THE INDIAN DRUM


win Balmer
Ion Rock
TH OF SCANDAL
aboration with
um Macharg
Man's EYES
N DRUM



D
She snatched up a letter; held it. Frontispiece.
See page 71.


BREATH OF SCANDAL
THE
BY
EDWIN BALMER
WITH FRONTISPIECE BY .
RALPH P. COLEMAN

EQVAM.MVLTOS
OS
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1922


PZ 612.9
COLLEGE
Copyright, 1922,
By Edwin BALMER.
All rights reserved
Published August, 1923
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL





THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
CHAPTER I
REGG MOWBRY, who had come home with
nothing unusual on his mind, Aung his new
brown overcoat on a hook in the hall closet,
tossed his hat after it, and was cheerfully whistling
on his way to his room when the maid appeared from
the rear hall and spoke to him shyly.
“Why, good evening," he replied in his pleasant way,
halting. “Mr. Whittaker home yet? ”
“No, sir; but he should be soon. He wanted early
dinner to-night.”
“ Mail or telephone to-day, Dora ? "
“I put two letters on your dresser. Mr. Hartford
called; and Miss Hale telephoned for you from Evans-
ton about five o'clock; she left her name and said to tell
you. A young lady — I think Miss Hale again, Mr.
Mowbry — called about ten minutes ago. She didn't
say her name that time,” the girl added.
“ Thanks," Gregg said. “No message then ? "
“Oh, yes, sir, a particular one. The first time she
called, she said would you please be sure to telephone
her when you came in.”
“ Thanks,” he said, and half turned for her to pass
him in the narrow hallway of the apartment; and she
went forward to bestow the inconspicuous attentions


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
which everywhere made life smooth for Gregg Mowbry;
she opened the coat, closet and carefully arranged his
overcoat upon a hanger and took out the evening news-
paper he had thrust into the pocket.
Gregg went on to his room which was the first of
three large bedchambers described, in the agent's em-
bossed booklet of Number — East Pearson Street, as
“ Master's Rooms.” These were on the east, facing
lakeward over a vacant, flat stretch of that newly made
promontory just north of the Chicago River and east
of the original shore of the lake. A few years ago,
indeed, there was only a sandbar upon which that pic-
turesque lake mariner, “ Cap ” Streeter, grounded his
schooner; there he squatted upon the emerging sands
and, with an eye to the exceptional advantages of real
estate in such a situation, he asserted title to the strip
by right of discovery and defended himself with his
rifle from behind his driftwood barricades. The old
skipper long ago was run out, of course, and, in the
manner of extending Chicago lakeward, many thousands
of cubic yards of refuse, tin cans, cinders, stone and
sand were carted in; upon these was spread loam from
the prairie; tall, well-designed, luxurious apartment
buildings rose on that land, so that now the captain's
“ Deestrict of Lake Michigan” has become the newest
and most preferred part of the new, ever-spreading city.
No place is more popular with young Chicago couples
possessing money and social opportunities; conse-
quently no place is more desirable in the eyes of those
people eager to appear to possess both. But besides
being fashionable, it is convenient and pleasant, so it
is chosen by many without ulterior purposes. Of these
was Gregg Mowbry, who was there, as he cheerfully
would have been almost anywhere else, because Bill


HE BREATH OF SCANDAL
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
ACT.
ton to his room which was the first of
edchambers described, in the agent's em-
t of Number - East Pearson Street, as
boms." These were on the east, facing
a vacant, flat stretch of that newly made
ist north of the Chicago River and east
| shore of the lake. A few years ago,
as only a sandbar upon which that pic-
nariner, “ Cap ” Streeter, grounded his
he squatted upon the emerging sands
e to the exceptional advantages of real
situation, he asserted title to the strip
covery and defended himself with his
I his driftwood barricades. The old
vhere made life smooth for Gregg Mowbry; ! Whittaker liked " the place”- this being, specifically,
the east apartment on the third floor of an expensive
fie coet, closet and carefully arranged his
building which otherwise was let to some of those young
in a hanger and took out the evening news'
married people, whose parents were helping them pay
| thrust into the pocket.
the rent, or else to middle-aged, established men with
families, each of whom could afford four or five thou-
sand a year for a few rooms.
William Whittaker liked the place, not solely for
its unquestionable value in the minds of persons you
met socially but even more because to live here evidently
was an advantage in his business; for Bill was a lawyer
and, though only twenty-eight, Whittaker undoubtedly
would be the next name to be lettered on the many doors
of Kemphill, James, Jones and Stern in the First
National Bank Building. Their clients were such
obviously successful people as lived within the new loop
of the Lake Shore Drive about “ Streeterville ”; and
Billy's father (who was a banker in Bay City, Michi-
gan), recognizing that it was an asset to a young lawyer
in Chicago to live in evident prosperity, sent regu-
larly the difference between what Bill earned and what
he necessarily spent. Gregg had no help from home;
and his salary and commissions seldom equalled Bill's
earnings; so Gregg had no business to spend so much
on living; but, persistently, it was Gregg who in the
council of two downright opposed the taking of a third
partner. He put it on the ground that they ought to
keep a guest room.
“You can't call a place a home where you can't put
up a man overnight,” he argued; but his real reason
was not to have others in but to keep another out.
Gregg and Bill had been together since they were fresh-
men at the University of Michigan. That was for
eleven years, now; and whatever their association meant
was run out, of course, and, in the
Eng Chicago lakeward, many thousands
refuse, tin cans, cinders, stone and
in; upon these was spread loam from
well-designed, luxurious apartment
that land, so that now the captain's
e Michigan” has become the newest
part of the new, ever-spreading city.
popular with young Chicago couples
and social opportunities; conse-
more desirable in the eyes of those
pear to possess both. But besides
is convenient and pleasant, so it
thout ulterior purposes. Of these
who was there, as he cheerfully
nost anywhere else, because Bill


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
to Bill, it meant far more to Gregg; for Bill had always
had brothers of his own in Bay City, but Gregg was one
of those only children who ought to have been born
in a large family. To come back to his own posses-
sions meant, to Gregg, to return to things shared by
Bill; he could never enter his door without at once
thinking of Bill; and to-night this was with special keen-
ness when he went to his room and picked up the letters
from his dresser.
The one which Dora had left on top was from his
father in Muskegon; and the sight of the familiar blue
paper and the firm, friendly handwriting gave Gregg
an image of the doctor, sitting at his old desk in the
office overlooking the lake, away up there on the Michi-
gan shore, and writing his regular Saturday letter.
Gregg opened it and glanced through its three pages
to make sure that everything was all right at home;
then he ripped the envelope addressed in the impulsive,
interesting-looking writing of Marjorie Hale.
His hand suddenly clamped upon the note and he
looked down, breathing a little quicker while he listened
to a strong, steady step which told him that Whittaker
had come home. Billy went on to his own room, so
Gregg read:
Dear Mr. Mowbry:
You knew me better than I; for I didn't like “ Aphro-
dite " a bit; but still I'm glad I saw it. And that's not
inconsistent.
But the purpose of this epistle is this: mother's hav-
ing a few people in for dinner before we go over to the
Lovells' dance; will you come? Mother or I've tele-
phoned mostly for this spur-of-the-instant gathering;
in comparison, this invitation to you is pompous. So
just 'phone and come.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
ther the lake, a regular Satu three pages
of the doctor, sitting at his old desk in the
oking the lake, away up there on the Micht /
and writing his regular Saturday letter.
ed it and glanced through its three pages
- that everything was all right at home;
d the envelope addressed in the impulsive,
king writing of Marjorie Hale.
uddenly clamped upon the note and he
reathing a little quicker while he listened
dr step which told him that Whittaker
Billy went on to his own room, so
II, it meant far more to Gregg; for Bill had alres Billy Whittaker's hand struck the door of the bath-
rothers of his own in Bay City, but Gregg was de room between the bedrooms and Gregg thrust Mar-
Ose only children who ought to have been ben jorie's note into his pocket.
arge family. To come back to his own poste “Hello, Bill,” he hailed casually, as Whittaker stood
neant, to Gregg, to return to things shared IT
return to things shared in the doorway. Communistic use of personal pos-
e could never enter his door without at one sessions, between these two friends. hadi
z of Bill; and to-night this was with special keer short of apparel by the fact that, though Gregg was
'n he went to his room and picked up the letter
tall enough, Billy was a big man. His light, yellow
hair, half upright in obstinate, boyish pompadour,
dresser.
whenever not recently brushed down, almost touched
ne which Dora had left on top was from his |
the top of the low doorframe; Billy's was a broad, good-
Muskegon; and the sight of the familiar blue
natured face, with steady and reliable eyes, hazel in
| the firm, friendly handwriting gave Grego
color. Billy usually seemed a little flushed, especially
when he was pleased and now he was warmly red in his
satisfaction over the note which he held.
“Mrs. Hale's giving a dinner to-night before the
Lovells' dance, Gregg,” he announced. “I told Mar-
jorie we were both going there; so she’s asked me to
dinner and told me to bring you along. You'll come,
of course.”
“ Why, I don't know, Bill,” Gregg said, temporizing.
“ Why not?”
“Hartford ”; Gregg recollected an excuse. “I
ought to see him to-night. If I'm going up to that
dance later, I'll have to get about to Hartford's place
for dinner.”
“ What have you up with that fellow now?” Billy
demanded, entering the room; and Gregg knew that,
temporarily at least, he had diverted Bill by a chal-
lenge to his dearest ideals of man's work and life.
“ You're not thinking of changing into another line of
business again to go with Hartford?”
“Why not?” Gregg this time inquired.
Billed which to quicker while note and he
ter than I; for I didn't like "Aphro-
1 I'm glad I saw it. And that's not
f this epistle is this: mother's har.
or dinner before we go over to the
ou come! Mother or I've tele-
Es spur-of-the-instant gathering;
nitation to you is pompous. So


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“ You know the reasons; the question is, why should
you?"
a line li
a more
doo
“ A couple of thousand more a year, Bill.”
“ To do what?"
“Market that new carburetor of his.”
“Do you want to market carburetors the rest of your
life?”
Gregg laughed disarmingly; it was always impos-
sible for Billy to get wholly angry with him, much as
the serious and conscientious Whittaker would have
liked to punch Gregg's careless, handsome head, if that
would put some sense of self-accountability into it.
“Look here, Bill; I don't really get any deep experi-
ence out of selling refrigerating machines; but I do it
— for seven thousand a year. Honestly, I don't see any
spiritual or moral difference, except for the possible
effect of shock on my creditors, if I'm able to pay 'em
by taking nine thousand from Hartford for boosting a
kerosene carburetor for Fords.”
“ Damn!” said Whittaker, who seldom swore. “No
one's comparing the moralities of refrigeration and
carburetors. We're talking about what you're doing
to your life in shifting about whenever you get a good
offer. If selling kerosene carburetors is what you want
to do to develop yourself, you know I say, 'Go to it.'
No matter what you want to do, find the thing that is
and stick to it. To do something else only for the
sake of taking in more money now is — " he halted
in the earnestness of his exasperation.
“ Say it, Bill.”
“ Selling yourself, Gregg; and you've no end of offers
for yourself. That's your trouble. Everybody likes
you, whether you care to have 'em or not. Everybody
wants to please you; everybody that's got something to



THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 9
Do you want to market carburetors the rest of your
you
bar
the
egg laughed disarmingly; it was always impos-
for Billy to get wholly angry with him, much as
erious and conscientious Whittaker would have
to punch Gregg's careless, handsome head, if that
put some sense of self-accountability into it.
Jok here, Bill; I don't really get any deep experi-
ut of selling refrigerating machines; but I do it
seven thousand a year. Honestly, I don't see any
13 or moral difference, except for the possible
If shock on my creditors, if I'm able to pay 'em
bg nine thousand from Hartford for boosting a
e carburetor for Fords.”
fin!” said Whittaker, who seldom swore. “No
You know the reasons; the question is, why should sell wants you to go with him; and a man who's buying
your line likes to wait to see you. There's no develop-
A couple of thousand more a year, Bill."
ment in that for you; just a little more money without
To do what?”
any more effort. Oh, you don't even know what I'm
talking about."
Varket that new carburetor of his.”
“Of course I do, Bill. You want me to be making
effort, for effort's sake, even when it's not necessary;
vi it was always impose you want
ory with him, much as But Bill had turned in his hopelessness and gone
ittaker would have back through the bathroom into his own room, pulling
handsome head, if that the door firmly shut behind him. Gregg, left alone,
put his hand in his pocket over the note from Marjorie
Hale, and he was standing at his window looking out
| at the lights by the breakwater and whistling quietly
when somebody tapped cautiously on his door to the
hall, opened it and looked in.
He was a compact, alert-looking young man, a few
years older than Gregg and Billy; Cuncliffe by name,
and the Chicago agent for an Akron tire company.
He was wearing a silk hat and had on a dark overcoat
above evening clothes, evidently.
" Come in, Jim!” Gregg welcomed him. “ When
did you drop up? I didn't hear you."
“Um!” Cluncliffe warned, shaking his head and rais-
ing his hand toward Whittaker's room as he came in.
"I came up during the discussion. What was that
Bill's all worked up about anyway, Gregg?”
“Oh," said Gregg. “ Just me; another round of
the ordinary riot we stage whenever we're bored.
Hartford - you know him — made a proposition to
me; I mentioned it to Bill and, of course, he thinks
I shouldn't go to selling carburetors unless I can feel
sort of religious about them; so I could go into a Billy
Sunday frenzy for kerosene combustion."
Imparing the moralities of refrigeration and
fors. We're talking about what you're doing
llife in shifting about whenever you get a good
selling kerosene carburetors is what you want
develop yourself, you know I say, 'Go to it.'
br what you want to do, find the thing that is
I to it. To do something else only for the
fiking in more money now is -- " he halted
nestness of his exasperation.
1, Bill.”
& yourself, Gregg; and you've no end of offers
lif. That's your trouble. Everybody likes
Jer you care to have 'em or not. Everybody
Jease you; everybody that's got something to


10
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
as he ti
think of
“AS
in the
"Nima
low. H
at the
came to
for the
shows.
it to me
Hale in
him who
his drive
“I know his line of thought; so that's all?" said
Cuncliffe, relieved. “ From the sounds that drifted
into the hall, I thought possibly he'd heard of the hell
to pay at the Hales”.”
“What hell to pay?" Gregg said quickly, his voice
now even more careful than his visitor's.
Cuncliffe lit a cigarette and tossed the box to Gregg,
who seated himself on the bed. “With Mr. Hale.
Don't you know anything about it?"
“What? " said Gregg cautiously.
“ Sybil Russell,” Cuncliffe replied, and turned toward
Gregg's glass; he took off his hat and laid it down and,
picking up Gregg's brushes, he busied himself smooth-
ing his hair.
Gregg said nothing for several moments; then he
went into the bathroom and made sure that Whittaker's
door was firmly shut; he returned and closed his own
door.
“ Yes; I heard Mr. Hale knows a girl named Rus-
sell,” he admitted at last. “She'd married a man
named Russell during the war. He came from Rock-
ford, and was in the army, wasn't he?”
“ That's the one."
“ She busted up with him even before his division
sailed, I understand.”
“Yes; she'd been out at Rockford with him, but she
came to Chicago and took a fat up north near Wilson
Avenue,” Cuncliffe informed, putting down the brushes
and turning around.
Gregg refrained from further comment; he merely
waited, holding an unlit cigarette in one ha. , the
other in his side pocket clasped, unconsciously, over
Marjorie Hale's note to him. He felt queerly unsteady
was the
Cunc
“Of
and he
to me a
hanging
Greco
he reper
"Die
a coup
he's no
also wi
Hale i
Хот у
kind to
Gre
shook
has a
some


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 11
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
-ven more careful than his visitor's,
took his her; he marine Mr.
seated himself on the bed. “With Mr. Hale. ! for
you know anything about it?”
That?" said Gregg cautiously.
vbil Russell,” Cuncliffe replied, and turned toward / H
"s glass; he took off his hat and laid it down and,
up Gregg's brushes, he busied himself smooth-
hair.
kg said nothing for several moments; then he
to the bathroom and made sure that Whittaker's
as firmly shut; he returned and closed his own
as he thought of Marjorie, and then he tried not to
I know his line of thought; so that's all?" said I think of her.
the sounds that drifted
“A salesman
“From the sounds that drifted |
“A salesman of mine, Nyman, lives up that way;
cliffe. relieved.
ly he'd heard of the hell in the next building, in fact,” Cuncliffe continued.
the hall, I thought possibly he'd heard of the hell ' in the nor
“Nyman's married; has a baby; a darned decent fel-
ay at the Hales”.”
Vhat hell to pay? " Gregg said quickly, his voice | lowo
at the markets up there; she liked her. Mrs. Russell
came to v
came to Nyman's flat a couple of times and listened
ncliffe lit a cigarette and tossed the box to Gregg,
for the baby while Nyman took his wife to picture
shows. Then they found out about her; he mentioned
it to me one day when he happened to recognize Mr.
Hale in our shop. Remember you told him I'd give
him wholesale prices on tires? He came down with
his driver to arrange about it, and Nyman told me he
was the man who goes to that flat.”
Cuncliffe hesitated and Gregg waited, silent.
“Of course, I told Nyman to keep his mouth shut
and be careful,” Cuncliffe continued. “But he talked
to me about it again to-day. It seems that Russell's
hanging around home.”
Gregg jerked and looked over at Jim. “Home? ”
he repeated, quickly. “That's Russell's home? "
“Didn't mean that. She got a divorce from Russell
a couple of years ago, I understand. Nyman says
he's no real claim on her; but he's down and out and
also wise to the situation with her; he's found out who
Hale is and he means to make something out of it.
Now you know Mr. Hale better than I do; is he the
kind to stand for a hold-up? ”
Gregg stared at Jim and, almost absent-mindedly,
shook his head.
“"en Russell is all set to start something. He
has an army pistol and he's in steady connection with
some one's private still. Nyman says the next time
1: I heard Mr. Hale knows a girl named Rus-
admitted at last. “She'd married a man
Russell during the war. He came from Rock-
# was in the army, wasn't he?"
t's the one."
bbusted up with him even before his division
funderstand."
Ishe'd been out at Rockford with him, but she
thicago and took a flat up north near Wilson
Cuncliffe informed, putting down the brushes
Ig around.
hefrained from further comment; he merely
Iding an unlit cigarette in one ha.., the
Is side pocket clasped, unconsciously, over
tale's note to him. He felt queerly unsteady


12 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Hale leaves his home to go out of town,' he's going
to get satisfaction or get Hale.”
Cuncliffe sat down and leaned over, flecking an im-
perceptible speck from his dancing shoe; Gregg lit his
cigarette, his slender, strong hands quivering in a man-
ner strange to him.
“ What are you telling me all this for, Jim? ” he de
manded directly at last.
“Nyman passed it to me, because I knew Hale and
the family.”
“ So you're passing it on to me.”
“I hardly know them at all; you're a friend of theirs
and didn't you say something about going to a dance
up in Evanston to-night?”
“ I'm going with Bill,” Gregg said. “He's the friend
there. I should think Bill would be the one to — "
but he stopped, ashamed of himself.
“ Bill take care of this? ” Jim said, smiling grimly
as he glanced toward the door which Gregg himself
had so carefully closed. “You don't want Bill even
to know about it, do you? You bet not; you know
Bill, Gregg. Can you just imagine him trying to tackle
this? First he'd be knocked absolutely flat; he'd take
the count; and when he came to, he'd have to start
reforming everybody concerned and work up a strong
penitential sentiment. Good old Bill; he thinks the
world can run on ten commandments and fourteen
points; nothing but open alliances, openly arrived at.
It's not only impossible for Bill but figure where it would
land him to cut into that mix-up; he'd lose his Marjorie
sure."
“ His Marjorie? "
“Where’ve you been recently? You never heard
of Bill looking twice at a girl before; but he's her



THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
13
his home to go out of town,' he's going
faction or get Hale.”
sat down and leaned over, flecking an im-
speck from his dancing shoe; Gregg lit his
is slender, strong hands quivering in a man-
to him.
-re you telling me all this for, Jim?” he de-
ectly at last.
passed it to me, because I knew Hale and
re passing it on to me.”
know them at all; you're a friend of theirs
you say something about going to a dance
ton to-night?"
g with Bill,” Gregg said. “He's the friend
buld think Bill would be the one to -- "
Jed, ashamed of himself.
e care of this?" Jim said, smiling grimly
bd toward the door which Gregg himself
fully closed. “You don't want Bill even
put it, do you? You bet not; you know
Can you just imagine him trying to tackle
The'd be knocked absolutely fat; he'd take
Ind when he came to, he'd have to start
krybody concerned and work up a strong
entiment. Good old Bill; he thinks the
kun on ten commandments and fourteen
picture next to his mother's on the dresser in there,
hasn't he? He's up in Evanston every time I hear of
him out anywhere; looks to me he has to have that girl,
Gregg, or he'll never have any one. If there ever was
a one-woman man, that’s Bill. Lucky she seems to like
him; of course she ought to, if she knows a good man
when she sees one. Now, do you want to slip him the
job of mixing into that affair? »
Gregg shook his head, hoping that the cigarette
smoke was hiding the redness of his face. “No, Jimmie
- but how the devil can I?”
“What’ve you got to lose?”
“I mean, how can a fellow like me mix into Mr.
Hale's personal concerns? Damn it, it's his own life.”
“You haven't got to argue it's not; no one's expect-
ing you to start a reform; you simply have to tip him
not to give Russell any opportunity for action just now.
Why, he'll thank you for it, Gregg. He has his family
to protect and his job to look out for, too. He's
worked up into a big position; making a lot of money,
but he hasn't a stock interest that amounts to any-
thing yet; and a man doesn't advance himself to be
general manager of a big company like Tri-Lake
Materials without pushing aside a lot of others and
making his enemies. Take E. H. Stanway, right there
in his company; he figured only a year or so ago there
was nothing surer in the world than for him to step
into the presidency of a ten-million-dollar corporation
when old Dorsett shuffles off or gives up; but here's
Charles Hale coming along so fast that, if Stanway
is vice-president, he knows that Hale's practically past
him. He don't want Dorsett to resign any more, unless
he can kill off Hale first. Now suppose Russell takes
a shot at Hale near that flat to-night or anything else
ng but open alliances, openly arrived at.
Impossible for Bill but figure where it would
hit into that mix-up; he'd lose his Marjorie
orie,
you been recently? You never heard
ho twice at a girl before, but he's her


14
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
happens to bring the police into the case and the
newspapers get hold of it, - that wouldn't do a thing
to Hale, would it? Stanway would use it so they'd
not only knock out all Hale's chances for the big job
but — to take no chances at all — Stanway'd see that
Tri-Lake kicked Hale out on the street right now; and,
after the way that'd be done, who'd pick him up? I'd
risk a word for his family's sake, and Bill's, if I was
going by his house to-night!"
Gregg walked to the window, his head down; and
slowly he came back. “Glad you told me,” he said
at last to Jim. “What direction are you going to-
night?”
“ South Shore Club.”
“I thought it wasn't in the direction of Evanston.
Have a good time, Jimmy."
“ 'Night, Gregg."
Left alone in his room, Gregg stared at the wall.
Suppose that this, which threatened, should happen;
suppose he stood by and let it, without making a move
to save any one. Bill? Gregg jerked, almost with a
shudder, as he thought of what that would do to Bill.
And what to Marjorie? Something too frightful for
Gregg to imagine happening to her. For to her, how
wonderful and honorable a man was her father; to
her, how wonderful and glorious and clean was life!
Gregg knew no one else who felt such faith in goodness
of living; to her, to be alive meant to be gay and con-
fident and unafraid. He could not think of her after
that, if it found her; Majorie in ignominy and shame!
Gregg straightened about, suddenly, as he did when
making a decision; he went through the bathroom, and
without ceremony, opened Billy Whittaker's door to


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 15
find Billy standing before his dresser with his photo-
graph of Marjorie in his hands.
"Oh, Bill," Gregg said carelessly. “Are you calling
up the Hales'? Then will you tell Mrs. Hale that I'm
coming for dinner with you?”
to bring the police into the case and the
bers get hold of it, — that wouldn't do a thing
, would it? Stanway would use it so they'd
· knock out all Hale's chances for the big job
, take no chances at all — Stanway'd see that
· kicked Hale out on the street right now; and,
: way that'd be done, who'd pick him up? I'd
ord for his family's sake, and Bill's, if I was
his house to-night!”
walked to the window, his head down; and
: came back. “Glad you told me,” he said
b Jim. "What direction are you going to-
Shore Club."
light it wasn't in the direction of Evanston.
pod time, Jimmy.”
1, Gregg."
Ine in his room, Gregg stared at the wall.
hat this, which threatened, should happen;
I stood by and let it, without making a move
V one. Bill? Gregg jerked, almost with a
he thought of what that would do to Bill.
to Marjorie? Something too frightful for
hagine happening to her. For to her, how
Ind honorable a man was her father; to
bnderful and glorious and clean was life!
no one else who felt such faith in goodness
her, to be alive meant to be gay and con-
hafraid. He could not think of her after
find her; Majorie in ignominy and shame!
lightened about, suddenly, as he did when
Ision; he went through the bathroom, and
hony, opened Billy Whittaker's door to


CHAPTER II
\HEY went out together in Gregg's car, which
was a new one, not fully paid for, but a good
deal better than Billy's. It was a roadster
with space for three on the wide seat, and consequently
Gregg, while he drove, had plenty of room to sprawl
comfortably, especially as Billy, who never let himself
be lazy, sat erect on the right. They did not talk much
about anything and not at all of Marjorie Hale or of
Gregg's offer from Hartford. The March night was
clear and mild for Chicago at the end of the winter;
a little snow had fallen the day before, and melted
that noon, and after sunset had refrozen, forming a
film of ice here and there on the roadway.
“ You ought to have chains on,” Billy advised.
“Oh, I like to slip a little How do you care
for the pick-up of this engine? Michigan's playing
Illinois basketball to-night.”
“ I saw; at Ann Arbor. How is our five, Gregg?"
Neither thought much about what he was saying;
each lit a cigarette and absorbed himself in his own
thoughts. As they proceeded from the promontory
of the new, “made ” land, they turned north beside
the lake on the Drive, which follows the line of the
shore where the perfectors of Chicago temporarily have
remained so indulgent to nature that they have merely
buttressed back the washing waters with a low, grace-
ful, concrete escarpment and planted a strip of park
between this stern beach and the Drive. Opposite, on



THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
17
CHAPTER II
Y went out together in Gregg's car, which
a new one, not fully paid for, but a good
'l better than Billy's. It was a roadster
for three on the wide seat, and consequently
ile he drove, had plenty of room to sprawl
y, especially as Billy, who never let himself
erect on the right. They did not talk much
Jhing and not at all of Marjorie Hale or of
fer from Hartford. The March night was
mild for Chicago at the end of the winter;
bw had fallen the day before, and melted
and after sunset had refrozen, forming a
here and there on the roadway.
the west side of the Drive and facing the lake, stand
a row of stone and brick and terra-cotta mansions,
each of obvious expense and, patently, so costly to own
and inhabit that this stretch of the Lake Michigan shore
is familiarly referred to as “ the Gold Coast.” These
huge and pretentious homes, known by the names of
many of the most wealthy and conspicuous families
of the city, always represented to Billy Whittaker a
certain end of ambition, spurring his determination to
work faithfully so that on some day, perhaps fifteen or
twenty years ahead, he might be able to purchase one
of these houses and move his wife and family to the
Drive. For long before he fell in love, Billy formed
the habit of thinking of himself with a wife and chil-
dren, whenever he imagined himself in middle age. Now
he thought of bringing Marjorie, and her children and
his, to live on this stretch of the lake front.
There was a large and particularly pleasant-looking
house a little above the Bordens' (which was one of
the few homes which Billy knew even by name) which
he hoped would be the one on the market when he
should be ready to buy; when he passed it, he dared,
for a few bold heart-thumps, to picture himself at the
door with Marjorie; then he came down to earth and
earnestly devoted himself to his serious preparations
to interest Marjorie that evening and to say the right
thing to her father, to whom he found it rather difficult
to talk. Billy never had any trouble with Mrs. Hale,
who had strongly favored him from the first.
In so far as Gregg ever made mental preparations,
he took thought for Marjorie's mother; for Mr. Hale
and he always got on without effort. To-night, of
course, was likely to prove a special case; but Gregg
and all there on is on.Bibw do you ring
ght to have chains on,” Billy advised.
ike to slip a little - How do you care
k-up of this engine? Michigan's playing
ketball to-night.”
at Ann Arbor. How is our five, Gregg?"
hought much about what he was saying;
cigarette and absorbed himself in his own
As they proceeded from the promontory
“made" land, they turned north beside
the Drive, which follows the line of the
the perfectors of Chicago temporarily have
indulgent to nature that they have merely
ack the washing waters with a low, grace-
escarpment and planted a strip of park
stern beach and the Drive. Opposite, on


18
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
believed in letting future difficulties look out for them-
selves.
He observed that the great castle of the Potter
Palmer home was still dark and closed; something
seemed to be going on at the Reynolds'; and at Victor
Lawson's house; and evidently there was a dinner at
the Cranes'; probably for those official French people
who were in the city, Gregg thought. The possessors
of some of the homes on the Drive were more than mere
names to him; for he had been a guest at an occasional
semi-public entertainment in certain of the mansions
he passed. But it never occurred to Gregg to dream
of owning one of them; indeed, his hazardings of his
future were altogether too vague to picture himself
founding a family. Gregg meant to marry, but the
thought of a girl never started such institutional ideas
in his head as belonged in Billy's.
Gregg expected only that some day he was to dis-
cover that he no longer could be satisfied with mere
friendship with a certain girl — with bantering, teas-
ing talks, broken by sudden, serious interludes of con-
fidences; no longer content with handclasps at greet-
ing and with the intimate, and yet so meaningless, em-
brace of a dance; no longer satisfied by an hour of
wandering beside the lake on an autumn day or by
an evening at her side in a theater. Some day the
reluctant, lingering good-by at midnight no longer
would be tolerable; and she and he together would agree
to explore that mystery of love which neither of them
knew.
In these days, when Gregg fancied what sort the
girl might be who would stand with him “in the
presence of God and this company,” to take the queer,



THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 19
letting future difficulties look out for them-
erved that the great castle of the Potter
ome was still dark and closed; something
be going on at the Reynolds'; and at Victor
house; and evidently there was a dinner at
s'; probably for those official French people
in the city, Gregg thought. The possessors
the homes on the Drive were more than mere
im; for he had been a guest at an occasional
entertainment in certain of the mansions
But it never occurred to Gregg to dream
one of them; indeed, his hazardings of his
e altogether too vague to picture himself
family. Gregg meant to marry, but the
a girl never started such institutional ideas
1 as belonged in Billy's.
ne of theor too vacant to matutional ide
e altoge Gregeted such lasa
old-fashioned oath of marriage, he imagined himself
beside a girl very like Marjorie Hale; indeed, when
he thought of her, he wanted her no different from
Marjorie; and yet he would not let himself think of
marrying Marjorie Hale; for, as Jim Cuncliffe had
said, she was Bill's and the only girl whom Billy had
ever loved. Gregg had cared about a lot of other
girls; and he knew himself well enough to believe he
was likely to care for many more.
Yet he had never felt for any girl as he was feeling
for Marjorie Hale now; as he drew nearer and nearer
to her, he found himself for the first time forgetful,
during long stretches of his musings, of the fact that
she was Billy's girl; he was thinking of her as the girl
whom he must protect from a blighting danger threat-
ening her of which Billy was not even aware.
When, with a start, Gregg came back to conscious-
ness of Bill, it seemed unfair somehow not to let him
know; then Gregg glanced at Bill's familiar, clean-cut,
obstinate face. Good old Bill! How little he let
himself know about the low in life; he simply did not
think of the low as existing for him or for his; and
now for Gregg to take him into this affair! Cuncliffe
was right; Gregg could not hand Bill anything like
that.
The car, having passed through Lincoln Park, was
rushing on beside miles of apartments, shops and
motion-picture theaters and soon approached a gay,
brightly lighted district of resplendent, garish build-
ings where, a few years ago, had stretched the wide
lawns and winding roads and patches of bush and
"woods” about family homes of which Eugene Field
had sung in his poems. Not far away to one side had
lived Eugene Field and over there had been the “ Waller
kpected only that some day he was to dis-
| he no longer could be satisfied with mere
with a certain girl with bantering, teas-
þroken by sudden, serious interludes of con-
þ longer content with handclasps at greet-
Jh the intimate, and yet so meaningless, em-
dance; no longer satisfied by an hour of
Ibeside the lake on an autumn day or by
Jat her side in a theater. Some day the
lingering good-by at midnight no longer
Terable; and she and he together would agree
that mystery of love which neither of them
Idays, when Gregg fancied what sort the
Ibe who would stand with him " in the
God and this company,” to take the queer,


20
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Lot,” where children had done those redoubtable things
told in the ballad which Gregg used to beg to be read
to him over and over when he was a little boy. Now
in their neighborhood and northward had crowded in
an amazing conglomeration of " new people,” eager
to live in new, compact ways; and thousands of preten-
tious apartments — three, six or sixty to a building —
were sprung up to shelter them; cafeterias and confec-
tioneries to feed them; movies and dance halls and
“ gardens ” to amuse them. Respectable people, most of
them, if extremely dressed in the most modern fashion
and if, by older standards of the vicinity, overfond
of their new, conspicuous surroundings or loud or
gauche in manner. For most of these people were
on their way up from obscure localities; some from the
blistered, grimy tenements of such dreary, west side
streets as Elston and Halsted and West Division, where
in the Italian or Polish or Scandinavian settlements
their immigrant parents had begun to prosper; some
from similar sections of Milwaukee or Toledo and such
cities; but the most of them were from towns and little
cities of Illinois, Indiana, Michigan and Wisconsin.
Billy Whittaker's practical mind largely ignored this
neighborhood which held small interest in itself for him,
as it represented no strata through which he had to
pass, since he had started in Chicago several layers
above this. But Gregg failed to think practically of
people by strata and it appeared to him that those about
here were working out for themselves a new way of
ordering their lives. He did not go far enough in his
thinking to decide that the attractiveness of such
localities as this was what chiefly was draining the
towns and the country and so enormously swelling the
city and therefore that, of all parts of the city, this


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
21
children had done those redoubtable things
ballad which Gregg used to beg to be read
and over when he was a little boy. Now
Eghborhood and northward had crowded in
conglomeration of " new people,” eager
ew, compact ways; and thousands of preten-
cments - three, six or sixty to a building -
g up to shelter them; cafeterias and confec-
feed them; movies and dance halls and
to amuse them. Respectable people, most of
tremely dressed in the most modern fashion
older standards of the vicinity, overfond
ew, conspicuous surroundings or loud or
manner. For most of these people were
ly up from obscure localities; some from the
was by far the most significant and portentous. All
he thought was that here was a place of new and
interesting manners; a lot of men, from everywhere,
living alone; a lot of girls, from every place, taking
the same elevated trains down-town with the men;
working in the same offices; coming back to patronize
the same delicatessens, cafeterias and picture shows;
some of them continuing absolutely independent; some
of them marrying and trying to carry into marriage
as much as possible of their independence and going
on just about the same as before; some of them attempt-
ing a home with children or one child, anyway. To look
at them and to hear them talk you would never suspect
them of sentimentalities; but they bought a great lot of
“Wynken, Blynken and Nod” and of Volland cards
and sentimental mottoes.
Gregg's undiscriminating acquaintance included
several people about here; and, not far off, now, was
the apartment where Cuncliffe's salesman, Nyman,
lived with his wife and baby; and, in the flat building
next them, lived Mrs. Russell. Other Mrs. Russells
inhabited apartments in different sections above here,
Gregg knew; he heard about definite ones in half-boast-
ful, half-ashamed • stories told him by some of his
friends. Gregg had accepted the fact of them as he
accepted other obvious occurrences in life, without
thinking about them one way or another. Women of
that sort did not appeal to him; they did attract a lot
of men, some younger than Gregg; some older; some
single, some married; some worthless loafers; some hard
workers and men of reputation and ability; some were
men whom Gregg did not like; but others, who “ lived ”
in the same way, he did like. The affair was con-
fusing and offered all sorts of inconsistencies whenever
rimy tenements of such dreary, west side
Iston and Halsted and West Division, where
Jan or Polish or Scandinavian settlements
frant parents had begun to prosper; some
sections of Milwaukee or Toledo and such
The most of them were from towns and little
Inois, Indiana, Michigan and Wisconsin.
Ittaker's practical mind largely ignored this
ld which held small interest in itself for him,
lented no strata through which he had to
The had started in Chicago several layers
But Gregg failed to think practically of
fata and it appeared to him that those about
Jorking out for themselves a new way of
ir lives. He did not go far enough in his
decide that the attractiveness of such
this was what chiefly was draining the
he country and so enormously swelling the
"wm that, of all parts of the city, this


22
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
you tried to think it out; so Gregg had bothered him-
self about the subject very little, even when he heard
that Mr. Hale was one of those who had his own way
of living. Gregg had wished, vaguely, that Marjorie's
father were different; at least, Gregg would have pre-
ferred to have known nothing about it, but he had not
considered it an alarming matter. For a man like Mr.
Hale, of course, would be discreet. Yet, sometimes,
even such a man lost control of the situation and the
explosive outflare of the thing concealed swept a sensa-
tion over the country. Gregg bent forward a little, to
better view the street he was passing; and suddenly
he was sick 'with the fear which gripped him as he
imagined Marjorie's father exposed in a public scandal,
for all the world to peer into, and Marjorie learning
— learning
His car sped into a quieter section of homes of men
recently successful and, on this north shore of the city,
imitating the older dwellings of the Drive; then a few
more miles of more modest houses and apartments
brought them to the first of the suburban towns, almost
as old as Chicago and, in spite of the great inflow of
recent arrivals, still recognized as staid, intellectual
and idealistic, a small, well-kept city of fine homes and
prosperous churches, of schools and a university.
As the car passed large, good-looking houses, far
back from the street and each set on a wide lawn and
surrounded by trees, Billy Whittaker felt the sort of
satisfaction with this beautiful suburb which he be-
lieved he ought to combat in himself; for to him Evans-
ton, however pleasant, meant an abandonment of the
road from East Pearson Street to the Drive. He
thought of men living here as lacking the ambition or
as conscious within themselves of want of ability to



THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
23
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
to think it out; so Gregg had bothered him-
the subject very little, even when he heard
Hale was one of those who had his own way
Gregg had wished, vaguely, that Marjorie's
tre different; at least, Gregg would have pre-
have known nothing about it, but he had not
lit an alarming matter. For a man like Mr.
course, would be discreet. Yet, sometimes,
a man lost control of the situation and the
þutflare of the thing concealed swept a sensa-
the country. Gregg bent forward a little, to
w the street he was passing; and suddenly
Ick with the fear which gripped him as he
Varjorie's father exposed in a public scandal,
world to peer into, and Marjorie learning
win their way into the front rank of city society. An
agreeable position in Evanston satisfied many, of
course; he thought of Marjorie's parents as thus sat-
isfied; but he would not let it satisfy Marjorie and
himself.
He hunched impatiently forward in his seat as Gregg
turned at last into the avenue which led to the Hales”;
Gregg swung the car between wide gate posts and,
crunching through the newly frozen crust over a
private driveway, he came to a stop at a porte-cochère
beside a big, brightly lighted, warm-windowed house
where a manservant opened the door at the top of a
short row of steps. Billy pulled back the catch of the
car door before he recollected himself and sat back.
“Get out, Bill,” Gregg bade.
“You're running back to the garage?”
“No; just up on the lawn there. I'll not freeze
up to-night. Get out.”
Billy complied and ran up the steps; Gregg drove
on a few yards, where he killed his engine and stepped
down, stamping his feet while he gazed up at the big,
white, wide-verandahed home of the Hales, always
friendly looking and welcoming Lights shone in
warm, inviting colors, and a dancing glow on some of
the window-panes told that wood fires were blazing in
the drawing-room and in the hall. Gentle currents of
the night air wafted down from the chimney the soft
odor of wood smoke, and it brought to Gregg memories
of an old, rambling, beloved home in Michigan; he
thought of his father coming in, tired and mud-spat-
tered from a long drive over winter roads, but smiling,
as Gregg always remembered him, when Gregg or
Gregg's mother met him at the door. Gregg recol-
lected how he used to go for his father's slippers while
sped into a quieter section of homes of men
ccessful and, on this north shore of the city,
The older dwellings of the Drive; then a few
of more modest houses and apartments
Jem to the first of the suburban towns, almost
Chicago and, in spite of the great inflow of
vals, still recognized as staid, intellectual
tic, a small, well-kept city of fine homes and
churches, of schools and a university.
tar passed large, good-looking houses, far
Ithe street and each set on a wide lawn and
by trees, Billy Whittaker felt the sort of
I with this beautiful suburb which he be-
baht to combat in himself; for to him Evans-
Ir pleasant, meant an abandonment of the
He
JEast Pearson Street to the Drive.
men living here as lacking the ambition or
within themselves of want of ability to


24
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
his mother brought a tray of hot supper to the little
table before the library fire, whereupon his father would
draw her down to him and kiss her.
A great deal of love, always faithful and constant
- Gregg liked to feel sure — had made his home. He
had always thought of love making pleasant this big,
gay home of the Hales ; for though he recently had not
thought of Mr. and Mrs. Hale loving as his own father
and mother did, yet there always appeared to be har-
mony between them, and a good deal of affection; and
they both loved their daughter as she loved them.
Marjorie seemed to adore her father, particularly.
He stepped quickly toward the house, where a door
was opened and a servant took his things.
“Good evening, Gregg,” Mr. Hale's hearty voice
welcomed him. “Mighty glad to see you. You came
out in the new car to-night, Billy says. How does she
act? ”
“Why, fine; all right, I guess,” said Gregg, giving
his hand to the warm, steady clasp of Mr. Hale and
feeling an agreeable stir within, as the older man looked
at him. Mr. Hale's friendly brown eyes had, as often
at a moment of meeting, an expression which seemed to
say, “ Well, I've not seen you for a day or two; any-
thing happened to you, meanwhile? Apparently not.”
Gregg always liked that look, and he liked, naturally,
the way Marjorie's father always seemed to mention
first the subject interesting the other person.
He was almost as tall as Billy, but he had the knack,
which Billy lacked, of never impressing his superiority
in height over another. To-night, he seemed to be in
something even better than his usual good physical
trim which he vigorously maintained by golf during
three seasons, and by squash or handball every second



THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
25
r brought a tray of hot supper to the little
re the library fire, whereupon his father would
down to him and kiss her.
deal of love, always faithful and constant
liked to feel sure — had made his home. He
I's thought of love making pleasant this big,
of the Hales; for though he recently had not
Mr. and Mrs. Hale loving as his own father
er did, yet there always appeared to be har-
feen them, and a good deal of affection; and
loved their daughter as she loved them.
seemed to adore her father, particularly.
ped quickly toward the house, where a door
u and a servant took his things.
evening, Gregg,” Mr. Hale's hearty voice
him. “Mighty glad to see you. You came
new car to-night, Billy says. How does she
day in winter. He was the sort of man who surprised
you when you saw him with a grown-up daughter and
made one wonder how young he was when he married ;
as a matter of fact, he had been twenty-four then;
so he was forty-seven now; but it was stale flattery to
him to say that he did not look it. He had possessed
the birthright of a sound, well-formed body and the
physical advantage of having been brought up in a
none-too-indulgent home in a town in northern Illinois ;
he had always had to work and, while working, had
educated himself. Until he had earned it, he never
had had more than enough of anything; and now, by
habit, he still worked hard and, in all obvious matters,
kept himself in restraint. So his brown eyes were
clear and there was no dragged skin in the firm, agree-
able lines of his capable face; his brown hair was thick
and little gray; his body was free of excess weight.
Gregg never quite liked his mouth, which had lips too
thick; but his mustache improved them and his mouth
was pleasant when he smiled. He had even, almost
perfect teeth.
Here was a man certain to understand the risks in
anything dangerous which he undertook, Gregg
thought; he could be counted upon to protect his family
and himself. Yet, if he mistook some element, what
a calamity for such a man to be commonly disgraced ;
and – Gregg thought — what an impossible man to
approach on a personal affair.
"Well, Gregg Mowbry, I did manage to get you
here!"
Gregg spun about; there was Marjorie. “Nobody
like you!” he exulted, almost aloud. He forgot her
father; forgot that he had been thinking of her in
danger and himself protecting her. He felt only the
um
fine; all right, I guess,” said Gregg, giving
the warm, steady clasp of Mr. Hale and
greeable stir within, as the older man looked
fr. Hale's friendly brown eyes had, as often
It of meeting, an expression which seemed to
, I've not seen you for a day or two; any-
Vened to you, meanwhile? Apparently not."
Iys liked that look, and he liked, naturally,
arjorie's father always seemed to mention
bject interesting the other person.
Imost as tall as Billy, but he had the knack,
lacked, of never impressing his superiority
Ter another. To-night, he seemed to be in
ven better than his usual good physical
the vigorously maintained by golf during
s, and by squash or handball every second


26
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
little, delightful jump which she always startled in
him, which he always expected and which, therefore, he
should have been able to discount; but it still surprised
him by its sudden lift in him. She spoke quickly yet
softly; all alive, she kept herself; and she made you feel
more alive, too, however fully alive you had thought
yourself the minute before. You could never keep in
your memory of her quite that quality of her voice,
Gregg found; again it surprised him; and the sight of
her surprised him, too.
She was, as always, prettier than he had expected.
A silly word, pretty, to run in your mind to describe
the cause of the pleasant sensation the sight of Mar-
jorie gave you; for she was never one of those stupid
girls whom people call pretty and beautiful. She
possessed certain, perfectly definite beauties; like her
hair; lovely, very fine hair and very abundant, dark
brown in color. She had not bobbed it but, in a
fashion which Gregg liked best since he observed it was
hers, she wore it dressed low and close about her head;
she had a broad, capable forehead, brown, definite
brows and blue, pleasant eyes; her mouth was a trifle
large, but her lips had none of the thickness of her
father's. It was a wholly agreeable, good-tempered
mouth suggestive of nothing more disturbing than a
disposition to independence and recklessness. Her
clear, white skin was one of her best features, and she
had beautifully shaped hands, which were strong and
well-developed for a girl who had never been obliged to
work with them. Her arms were well-shaped and so
was all her body. But Gregg seldom thought of her
as having a beautiful form; he thought of her as able
to do well all sorts of active, interesting things and,
by nature, requiring something active, and preferably
-
-
-
- -



THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 27
Lightful jump which she always startled in
ch he always expected and which, therefore, he
ave been able to discount; but it still surprised
ts sudden lift in him. She spoke quickly yet
Il alive, she kept herself; and she made you feel
we, too, however fully alive you had thought
the minute before. You could never keep in
mory of her quite that quality of her voice,
und; again it surprised him; and the sight of
und; him, too prettier thanr mind to Of Mar-
tice as always, to run in lion the sig nose stupid
is, as always, prettier than he had expected.
ford, pretty, to run in your mind to describe
of the pleasant sensation the sight of Mar-
e you; for she was never one of those stupid
om people call pretty and beautiful. She
1 certain, perfectly definite beauties; like her
ply, very fine hair and very abundant, dark
| color. She had not bobbed it but, in a
hich Gregg liked best since he observed it was
wore it dressed low and close about her head;
Ja broad, capable forehead, brown, definite
| blue, pleasant eyes; her mouth was a trifle
| her lips had none of the thickness of her
It was a wholly agreeable, good-tempered
bgestive of nothing more disturbing than a
to independence and recklessness. Her
le skin was one of her best features, and she
Jifully shaped hands, which were strong and
ped for a girl who had never been obliged to
them. Her arms were well-shaped and so
a bit dangerous, on which to spend some of her energy.
How she liked to get on a clear, country road and,
with nobody else in the car, set the motor humming!
She seemed to feel like that to-night and, not being
able to drive, she seemed to be finding some excite-
ment in shocking Bill, beside whom she looked smaller
and even younger than her twenty-two years. For
Billy, when with a girl, had a way of becoming mature,
particularly when he was shocked.
It was not difficult for Marjorie to shock Bill, Gregg
knew; undoubtedly her new dancing dress was enough
to do it. Of course, it was cut low, with only two slim
bands of blue silk over her white shoulders; blue and
opalescent silk clung to the roundness of her small
bosom, bound her slender, supple waist and fell into
a skirt of simple, graceful loveliness. Her arms were
all bare but for a bracelet of platinum and sapphires;
a tiny, glinting chain of platinum with a glistening
sapphire was about her smooth, white neck. As she
approached, and Billy came with her, Gregg saw that
her brows had been darkened a trifle and her lips
touched, unnecessarily, with a rouge stick-extra items
of usual and fashionable procedure but undoubtedly
designed to tease over-proper old Bill, and her greet-
ing to Gregg obviously was part of the same design.
“You managed to get him? ” Billy repeated, chal-
lenging her.
“ Certainly; but I had a terrible time. I wrote him
a special note; and then telephoned him twice, besides
begging you to bring him ; didn't I, Mr. Mowbry? "
“ Certainly,” Gregg said seriously.
“What?” demanded Billy.
“Oh, Billy,” she cried fondly, to let him know she
was teasing him; and Gregg laughed a bit foolishly
Ir body. But Gregg seldom thought of her
la beautiful form; he thought of her as able
all sorts of active, interesting things and,
requiring something active, and preferably


28 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
with Bill. Gone from Gregg was the stuffy feeling,
which had taken him an hour ago, that possibly Mar-
jorie Hale wanted him more than she did Billy. Gregg
now honestly had no idea how much she wanted him or
whether, to Marjorie, he was really no more important
than a lip stick, summoned to stir a rouse out of Bill.
Billy was appeased and left them together.
“Of course, I wanted you awfully to come, Mr.
Mowbry. You see, to-night is a sort of marker for
mother in Evanston,” Marjorie explained. “Ten years
ago this winter father moved us from our Irving Park
house of seven rooms on a fifty-foot lot; we had one
general housework girl, most of the time; father used
to take care of the furnace and carry out the ashes and
cut the lawn. This morning, about eleven, mother
casually called up Mrs. Severne Thomas Sedgwick and
mentioned that she thought she'd have a little informal
dinner for the young people and would Clara and Elsie
come? Mrs. Sedgwick immediately said, “ Certainly."
Ten minutes later she got Ethel and George Chaden
and Fred Vane. I don't think Fred had to ask his
mother to let him come; but if he did, it's safe to say
that she told him to come along. Now, the point is
this isn't a big, formal affair, where anybody'd look
in only from curiosity and without committing them-
selves to friendship with us. It's just that. Mother's
been rather high up about it all day.”
“Where’ve you been? ” Gregg asked.
“Oh, miles above all altitude records! Shouldn't I
be — when neighbors come in like that, though their
fathers inherited most of their stocks and bonds and
my father's just earning his for himself? Oh, it
seems to me silly for them to have to approve of him;
he's worth three of any other men about here; and the


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
29
sensible ones know it. He's the real energy and brains
in Tri-Lake to-day; he's the reason it's twice as big
as it ever was before and increasing when every other
business, just about, is dropping down toward the dogs,
and there's never a whisper about profiteering and
bribe-paying or anything else rotten in Tri-Lake these
days. Oh, I'm so proud of him! After mother tele-
phoned him about our party, and who was coming, he
brought home this for me.” Marjorie touched the
sapphire on the chain about her neck.
" It's beautiful,” Gregg said, “ on you."
“Wait until you see what he brought mother! She
got me this dress, which has simply scandalized Billy.
Do you think it's so awful?”
Gregg started because she had caught him think-
ing about it. On another evening, he believed he would
not have wondered particularly over it; but to-night
the bareness of her slender arms and shoulders and the
partial, studied exposure of her rounded, youthful
breasts in this new dress which her mother had bought
for her gave him a queer feeling. And the queerer
because Marjorie was so plainly almost wholly uncon-
scious of the final effect for which such a dress was
designed. Whenever Gregg thought about how much a
girl like Marjorie “knew," he realized very well that
girls to-day “know” almost everything; but he had
never thought before how little mere knowledge of
itself has to do with nocence or with innocence. Sud-
denly it struck him that, whatever she might “know,"
he was standing before the most innocent girl in the
world and for her very sophistication far more innocent
than girls of the generations before who had been kept
wholly ignorant. For they had known that there was
a vague, undescribed something to fear; but this girl


30 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
of the new innocence, thinking she knew all, feared
nothing, suspected nothing, least of all, suspected what
she had yet to learn.
“ You are beautiful in that dress," Gregg said, too
seriously, and swept by a surprisingly overwhelming
impulse to seize her as he gazed down at her. “ Only
a girl like you should wear that.”
“ You mean I shouldn't, either?”
“I didn't say that.”
“ No.” Suddenly she was fiery red, the hotness
spreading from her face down her white throat.
“I like you in it,' Gregg protested quickly. “ Bill
did, too. What he didn't like was to have »
“What, please?”
6 Me, and other men, liking you in it."
Marjorie stooped and, picking up a silk scarf
from a chair, she threw it about her shoulders. “ I'm
having it changed to-morrow. I didn't like it myself;
but when my own mother arranged it for me, I thought
- " she stopped. “When I got downstairs with
it on, and after the fun of Billy's first sight of me, I
just had to explain to you that I didn't choose it. You
see?"
“Of course,” said Gregg.
“ It gave father a jog. What I was going to say:
I'm awfully glad Billy and you could come; it's helpful
to have one or two others about who can remember a
father that took care of the furnace, if we're having
the Chadens drop in informally for dinner before we
all go to the dance.”
“ Then your father's going to the Lovells' with us?”
Gregg asked quickly; ever since entering the house he
had been seeking, sub-consciously, some excuse for
escape from the task Cuncliffe had forced on him.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
31
“No; it's too bad. He has to go to St. Louis
to-night.”
“Right after dinner? " Gregg asked, as casually as
he could.
“He's starting down town right after dinner. He
has to see some one in Chicago before taking the train.”
“ Oh!” Gregg said slowly. “I see.” Then there
were sounds at the door and other guests arrived.


CHAPTER III
RS. HALE planned this informal dinner to be
very formal; but her husband turned it as
far as possible into a comfortable sort of
family affair. He simply could not be stiff with
young people whom he liked; he knew the subjects
which interested them and talked in a way which
started them because he really was interested in
those subjects himself. There were ten at the
table, two girls and two young men on each side,
between Marjorie's father at one end of the board and
her mother at the other. Gregg and Billy were on the
same side with Marjorie between them, and with Mrs.
Hale on the other side of Billy. At Gregg's left was
Clara Sedgwick, whom he knew pretty well; she was
about Marjorie's age, a light-haired, pleasant looking
girl, almost pretty and with that agreeable ease of
manner which upbringing in a family of established
position gives a girl who has good sense. She talked
when she had something to say and listened when she
hadn't and never perpetrated those tiresome chatter-
ings called “ efforts ” and never tried to be clever.
Gregg liked her and thought her a nice, easy-going
sort of a girl who could always be depended upon for
normal, natural feelings and, being conservative, she
seemed a good “best friend” for a live one like Mar-
jorie. Across the table was Elsie Sedgwick, who was
two years younger than Clara, with the same upbring-
ing but with a quite dissimilar disposition. Elsie was


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 33
one of an Evanston set who took social affairs very
seriously and who consciously considered the Hales as
a little beyond the edge of " acceptance” by their
families. Seated between George Chaden and Fred
Vane and on the same side of the table with Ethel
Chaden, she was with others who more or less felt they
were initiating the Hales into society; so there was
plenty of vivacious effort on that side.
“ The Follies; yes — wasn't that perfectly frightful?
— Poiret model. — My dear, I saw her at the Casino
and she said. — No; Chick Evans will play — well, it is
absolutely certain they are engaged if not quietly mar-
ried - "
Gregg could keep in that sort of talk without using
his mind at all; usually he did so, but to-night he began
thinking about these people who were entertaining him.
He noticed that Mr. Hale, having put every one at
ease as much as possible, had himself dropped out of
the conversation and was contenting himself with fol-
lowing the lively, light-headed talk. Occasionally he
seemed to become abstracted and his thought to go
far from this table; but a word to him instantly drew
him back. He watched his daughter almost continually,
and Gregg, watching him, saw his eyes soften with his
pride; now and then, in a manner which made Gregg
think he was following an old, fond habit, he glanced
at his wife and waited till her eyes met his, when he
would smile in a way which seemed to say, “ This is
all pretty good, isn't it?”
One would say — Gregg speculated — that here was
a man well satisfied with his family life. If an outsider
were to judge from appearances, Mrs. Hale would seem
the one discontented with the domestic circle and striv-
ing for something else.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 35
left a man like Gregg as cold as though he were observ-
ing a perfect statue. Her slender, perfectly kept hand
in greeting always conveyed to Gregg cordial interest
in him but never gave feeling; certainly never anything
of warmth. Her eyes, large and deep blue and thought-
ful, also were beautiful without warmth; even her lips,
which naturally were full-blooded and red, suggested
to Gregg no passion. She was admirable for the mod-
eration in all things which was second nature to her;
so she kept herself in excellent health. Gregg had
never heard of her “lying down ” or as being guilty
of headaches such as punished other women who, in
spasms of spectacular energy, accomplished much less
for others than Mrs. Hale. For when at home, as she
had been for several months now, she was perpetually
active in her women's clubs, philanthropies, in her
church and in civic and cultural movements. She as-
sumed that young people really were concerned with
such things, if they were not made ashamed in admit-
ting it; and by enlisting Billy she at length succeeded
in turning the table chatter from Dorothy Gish to the
work of a hospital committee, of which she was a
member; and Gregg learned, consequently, that though
she was going to the dance, she was later to attend a
meeting of the committee at a neighbor's home.
“It's hardly a step from the club to the Cleves',
Charles,” she said to her husband, after she had men-
tioned the meeting. “So it seems ridiculous to keep
Leonard out here to run me only half a block. He
ought to take you down town to your train.”
Mr. Hale started, decisively. “ Leonard's business
when I am away is to take you where you wish to


36 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
go, and to see you safe home again, my dear. I'll take
the elevated into the city."
“ At least, you'll have Leonard run you to the ele
vated,” his wife persisted.
“ Very well.”
Mrs. Hale told the butler to instruct the chauffeur
to be ready to take Mr. Hale to the elevated train for
Chicago, before driving her to the club; a few minutes
later, they all arose, and after Mrs. Hale and the
girls had left the dining room, Mr. Hale excused him-
self from the men and went upstairs. Gregg delayed
uneasily and then, abruptly leaving Billy and the other
two, he went up to a guest room which was open and
lit for the use of the men. He was conscious of calling
this an attempt to see Mr. Hale privately, though he
could not help hoping that he would find no opportunity
for words alone with his host. But in a few minutes,
Mr. Hale passed the door and saw Gregg, and entered.
He had changed from his evening clothes to a sack
suit and he had reverted, also, to his business manner
of alert, practical speech.
“Gregg, Billy's told Marjorie and she's mentioned
to me that Hartford's making you an offer. Come
around and see me before you talk finally to him, will
you?”
“ Thanks; I'll be glad to," Gregg accepted, flush-
ing; and then, forcing himself on, “ You're going to
St. Louis to-night?"
He did not mean to make it a challenge; but some-
thing of his doubt of the fact of the trip got into his
tone.
“Why are you asking?" Mr. Hale said more
coldly.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 37
11 take
he ele
auffeur
“I was thinking I couldn't see you until next week.”
“ No," said Hale. “No; of course not.” He
seemed to suspect that Gregg had something difficult
to say to him; and he turned about and closed the door.
“What's up, Gregg?”
“Russell," Gregg said; and, having thus forced him-
self to go on; “It's none of my affair why he's talking
about getting you; but I'm to tell you he means more
than talk. Don't give him a chance to start anything
to-night, sir. If you have to go to St. Louis, wait a
while; and then let your own man take you down to the
Alton Station."
ain for
inutes
nd the
-d him-
Helayed
2 other
en and
calling
ugh he
-tunity
inutes,
atered.
à sack
manner
tioned
Come
Watching Marjorie's father, Gregg queerly experi-
enced respect and disrespect for him, together; for men-
tion of Russell's name brought not the slightest dis-
turbance to him. Mr. Hale's control of himself was
something to envy; yet Gregg had become certain that
he was involved with Russell; and Gregg could no longer
give him honor of the doubt of that which he previously
had thought true, and yet which had been, until now,
only hearsay.
Hale was studying Gregg silently. “ Thank you,
Mowbry,” he said at last, neither by tone nor word
admitting nor denying that he understood the warning.
"I appreciate your thought for me. Don't worry
about me, now or later.”
He turned briskly and opened the door; a minute
later, Gregg heard him saying good-by to his wife in
the hall. She mentioned some matter which he told her
not to bother herself about, but to leave for him to
attend to upon his return. He kissed her; she spoke
to him, fondly, and she went downstairs. Then
Marjorie came from her room and whispered to him,
n, will
fush-
ng to
some-
to his
more


38 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
and Gregg heard him laugh but forbid her, saying,
“ Don't do that, Sweetness.”
“ Why not?”
“ Why, it's all right enough; but I'm afraid it will
worry your mother; you must not worry your mother."
“ All right, then; I won't. 'Night, Daddy.” Mar-
jorie started away, and then, impulsively, came back.
“Father, dear.”
“ Marjey."
“ You're so fine! I love you so!”
“I like my girl. Kiss me, Marjey. Now, you're
going to change that dress to-morrow and keep that
scarf with you to-night.”
“Yes; father, did you speak to Gregg?”
“I told him to come see me before closing any deal
with Hartford.”
“ Then you don't want him to go with Mr. Hart-
ford?”
“ He mustn't be a changer; the boy mustn't spoil
his life.”
A moment later Gregg heard Mr. Hale downstairs
saying good night to his guests; the front door opened
and closed; outside a car started and Gregg knew that
he was gone. Probably in about forty minutes he
would reach that flat building, next to the one where
Cuncliffe's Nyman lived and where Russell would be
awaiting him; and Gregg, going back over his few
words with Mr. Hale and recollecting his tone and
manner, began to realize that Mr. Hale was bound
there to-night because he had known that Russell was
waiting for him; to-night he was departing, not with a
purpose of further betraying this home, but to attempt
to guard it from the consequences of what he already
had done. And he knew that involved dangers.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
39
Gregg went downstairs where he found the girls in
their coats. “If we really want to dance, we'd better
go over right away,” Marjorie said. “It's at the
club, but everybody will be there to-night and the floor
will be perfectly impossible pretty soon.”
“ I'll take you and Bill over," Gregg offered Mar-
jorie.
“ Oh, Fred Vane's room for us in his machine.”
“ I'll take my bus, anyway," Gregg insisted. “ I've
not too much dope in the radiator; it needs heating
up."
He wanted his car with him this night; so he took
Marjorie and Billy in with him.
As other cars crowded the road, Gregg had to halt
in the avenue when he came from the Hale's driveway,
and Marjorie bent forward beside him and looked back
at the lighted windows of her home beyond the black
boughs of the trees, and with the yellow glow on the
snow. The night had cleared to crisp, still winter,
with stars glinting in the deep blue above the white
roof; and it all made a picture of peace and content-
ment, such as children form in their first-heard poems
of home life, and see in their pictures of a happy
family home.
“ I love that place,” Marjorie whispered impulsively.
“ It's a wonderful home, Marjorie,” Billy agreed
emotionally.
Gregg took out his cigarette case. “Mind if I
smoke? "
Marjorie straightened. “Of course not; give me
one."
“ Have one, Bill? ” Gregg offered.
“ No,” Billy refused, emphatically.


40
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
He never smoked when Marjorie did; and Gregg,
holding a light for her, considered that he had never
seen her smoke except before Billy. He doubted
whether she really liked it.
“ Billy, you're almost as bad about my vices as
father,” she teased him gently.
“You don't smoke before him any more," Billy
returned.
“ No; neither does mother. Poor mother, she tried
it; and I think it's the one thing she's tried which
she hasn't succeeded in doing.”
“A pipe is the real smart thing now, Marjorie,”
Billy suggested, with heavy sarcasm.
Gregg left them at the door of the club and put up
his car at the end of a row in the street, where he
could get it out quickly. When he entered the club
and went to the dancing floor, the orchestra was play-
ing a fox trot; he found Ethel Chaden and danced
with her; and the warm liveliness of the ballroom, the
lilt to the music and the quick step, the sudden chatter
and hand-clapping all about, when the music stopped;
the nods and words back and forth with girls and men
he knew, and now the music and dance again, shook
Gregg out of the doldrums he had dropped into. He
danced with Clara Sedgwick, then fox-trotted with
Elsie; he got Marjorie away from Bill for a one step,
and danced again with Ethel Chaden; and it was not
until some time after Mrs. Hale appeared on the floor,
and Gregg went over to sit out a dance with her, that
he let himself get to thinking once more.
Mrs. Hale frequently gave dances and always
attended, at least for a short time, the dances to which
she was invited; but she did not much care to dance
herself; she seemed to value the music and the liveliness


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
chiefly as an invigorating accompaniment for talk
about matters that interested her. As the orchestra
started playing a slow waltz measure to the Barcarolle
from “ The Tales of Hoffman,” she described to Gregg
an innovation in hospital architecture which she had
observed during her visit to Paris in the fall. She
hoped to have it copied at “her” hospital in Chicago
before she returned to France in the spring. She ex-
pected to take her daughter with her, and this time stop
in Brittany for several months. She said it was too
bad that Mr. Hale's business never would permit him
to do more than take her across the ocean.
Mr. Hale — Gregg suddenly thought — by this
time must be approaching that building next to
Nyman's. Then Gregg drove his thoughts away,
listening and mechanically replying to Mrs. Hale while
he lost himself in the mood of the dance rhythm which
seemed to have no effect on her at all.
These are passionate, caressing measures of Offen-
bach's; and they stirred Gregg to respond to their
slow surge in dance; they made him long, not just for
a partner within his arm and responding with him, but
for one girl alone — for Marjorie. Since he could not
have her for this waltz, he was glad that he was not
dancing; then, while watching the floor, he saw Billy
dancing with Marjorie; saw they had made up their
little, teasing differences of the evening and were whis-
pering intimately together as they danced with Billy's
head bent over hers. Gregg could not get a good look
at Marjorie's face, but he saw her cheek was Aushed;
and Billy was red.
She had been keeping her scarf about her bare
shoulders; but now it slipped, and Gregg saw Billy
catch it, and he drew it back over her arms with a


42
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
new gesture so possessive that it shot a quick start
through Gregg.
“ Bill's !” he cried to himself, sharply. “ Bill wouldn't
touch her that way unless he has her. Bill's! She's
Bill's!” For a moment he could feel nothing; then he
tried to pull himself together and argue!
“Well, that's good, isn't it? Bill had to have her;
and Bill — he's the marrying kind; he'll give her a
home; make one for her; and keep it clean, too. That's
what she wants, of course; a home — like hers; like
what she thinks it is; and a damn good steady husband
she can depend on; Bill! Now I — I'd be a bird for
her, wouldn't I? I know; so I don't care — damn it,
I don't care. She's just the girl I like a lot just now;
an awfully good fellow. But there's more. That's a
rotten lie; no one like her; never was; never will be; no
one to look at you in just her way; and speak, her
way, right at you; into you. She'll still do that, of
course; I'll see her — a lot, if I'm not a damned quitter.
She'll be Bill's.”
He had never before that moment actually thought
of that; and it brought him up short with a start which
must have been visible. But the music stopped just
then; there was the storm of clapping for an encore;
the music was sure to start again, but Marjorie and
Billy were leaving the floor. Gregg soon lost sight of
Marjorie in the crowd and, in a minute, even Billy's
tall head disappeared and Gregg knew they had
reached the stairs.
Mrs. Hale had failed to observe them dancing, and
now she did not miss them; she wanted to know which
of the Raphaels in the Louvre Gregg preferred. He
was entirely innocent of the fact that Raphaels be-
longed in the Louvre, which he had never attempted to


44 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“Oh, mother's gone?" Marjorie asked, making an
effort to talk.
“ Just now, to the Cleves'. She said to tell you she's
going home from there."
“ That'll be long after we get back. She's deter-
mined to put her improveinent scheme through her com-
mittee to-night; a couple of the other members won't
have it, and she'll keep them all there until she suc-
ceeds.”
- She will? ”
“She always does; her determination is simply —
appalling. It's awfully inconvenient sometimes; but I
admire her for it. I didn't want you to think from
the way I spoke about mother buying my dress that I
was criticizing her. I only meant her ideas aren't
mine, on some things. I'm mostly like father; we've
always been particular pals.”
The encore ended and Marjorie, in looking for Billy,
forgot what she had been saying. Every one was
clapping and the music resumed; so Gregg was offer-
ing again to dance, when he heard some one saying:
“ Miss Hale! Excuse me, Miss Hale!” and they
turned and faced a club servant.
" Some one wants Mrs. Hale on the telephone," the
man explained. “I can't find her, Miss Hale; and the
lady said it was very important."
“Oh, mother's gone to Mrs. Cleve's, tell her," Mar-
jorie said; and the man turned away. “ Shall we
dance now?” she said to Gregg.
He recollected himself. “ Yes; please.”
“ That probably was one of mother's patient com-
mittee.”
“Probably," Gregg said; but the fear which had
come to him in his car, on the way from Pearson Street,


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
45
made him slow. He could not help watching the stair
and soon saw the servant reappear and look about the
hall for them.
“ Will you come to the telephone, Miss Hale? ” the
man asked. “I told the lady that Miss Hale said her
mother had gone to Mrs. Cleve's, and the lady said
that she couldn't look up another number; if Miss
Hale was here, she must speak with her at once."
“I'll come,” Marjorie said, suddenly pale. For the
servant had communicated to her alarm which he had
received from “ the lady” on the telephone. “You
needn't come down,” Marjorie said to Gregg; she was
looking about for Billy, but, not finding him at once,
she did not wait; Gregg went downstairs with her to
the booth, and as he heard her make reply he knew
that the thing he feared had happened; but, of course,
knowledge of it could come to her only slowly.
“ Yes; I am Miss Hale — the daughter of Charles
Hale; yes,” he heard her reply steadily. “My father
went down to take the Alton train to St. Louis. No;
he did not go there directly; he had an engagement first.
I don't know where — " her voice was beginning to
break, and Gregg clenched his hands tight while he
waited. No one was about that end of the hall but the
servant who had summoned them, and Gregg ordered
him away.
“What has happened to my father? Where is he?"
Gregg heard Marjorie's voice crying. “I don't know
where he is, or of course I would tell you. I want to
know where he is, myself. What do you know about
him? What — "
Gregg pulled open the door of the booth, and as
Marjorie turned about with the instrument in her hand


46 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
and stared up at him, he attempted to take the tele-
phone from her.
“Let me talk to them,” he begged.
But the voice at the other end was speaking and
Marjorie was hearing something which made her grip
the telephone in a spasm of terror; the voice ceased, and
she could not reply. Gregg saw her try to speak, but
her lips failed; she looked up at him. “Where's
Veerage Street? ” she cried to him.
“ What?”
“ Veerage Street, Gregg!”
“ Never heard of it; why? Who's there?”
“ Father! He's injured; at 4689 Veerage Street.
They've sent for Doctor Grantham for him.”
Gregg reached down and took the telephone from
her trembling hands, and he said into the mouthpiece,
“ Hold the line a moment, please.” A woman's voice
said, “ Very well," and Gregg placed the telephone on
the stand with the receiver off the hook. “Come out,
Marjorie,” he begged. “I'll talk to them.” He backed
from the booth and Marjorie caught at the side of the
doorframe, and pulled herself up and faced him.
“ Who was that calling? ” Gregg demanded of her.
“ Doctor Grantham's office; the one at his house; the
girl who stays there and takes his calls was talking to
me, Gregg."
“Yes, go on,” said Gregg. What she had told him,
had been almost a relief; he had feared she might have
been hearing more directly.
“ Doctor Grantham is the surgeon, a friend of
father's.”
“ I know Grantham,” Gregg assured.
“Gregg!” She grasped the lapels of his coat with
both her hands and clung to him in her sudden break


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 47
from self-control. “Something serious has happened
to father! Some one — a woman's voice it was —
called Doctor Grantham's home a few minutes ago.
She begged Doctor Grantham to come at once to
father at 4689 Veerage Street, third apartment; she
said it was a case of life or death and for the doctor
to come with his instruments. Doctor Grantham
wasn't home; but the girl knew where he was. She
called him and he's on the way home for his instru-
ments, and he told her to look up Veerage Street for
him. He didn't know it; the girl couldn't find it in
the guide, so she called our house. That's all they
know!”
Gregg took her hands and led her to a chair. By a
mercy, the encore to the last dance had been long, the
intermission short, and now another dance was playing
so that no one else was about that end of the lower
floor. “Stay here, Marjorie,” he begged compassion-
ately, “ I'll talk to her and see if I can find out any-
thing else.”
Her cold fingers clasped convulsively on his before
she relaxed and let him go; she gazed into his eyes, but
his now avoided hers; Gregg was trying to think at
the same moment of all sides and bearings of this which
had come; which, indeed, he had expected to come, and
yet which presented itself now suddenly with amazing
and unthought-of complexities. He entered the tele-
phone booth and shut the door; but instead of taking
up the receiver, he opened the directory at R and
swiftly ran down the column of Russells, finding no one
listed with an address on Veerage Street; but a Mrs.
S. Russell was residing at 4689 Clearedge Street.
Gregg jerked and look up Nyman; yes, there was one
at 4687 Clearedge Street. There was no longer any


48 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
doubt whatever of the nature of the disaster to Charles
Hale.
Gregg took up the telephone. “Doctor Grant-
ham's office ? "
66 Yes."
“Is the doctor there?”
“ He is just coming in."
“ Tell him the right address is Clearedge Street —
4689." Gregg started to hang up the receiver, but
could not. “And tell him for God's sake to get there
quick! ” Gregg cried in sudden bewilderment with him-
self, then he hung up and pushed the door to feel weight
against it, and he knew that Marjorie had been just
outside. She stepped back and let him out.
“ How did you know that? ” she said, trembling.
Gregg thought as quickly as he could. “ The man
your father had to see to-night lives there."
She suspected nothing of the truth, Gregg felt;
only her terrible anxiety for her father, in order to be
sure to get medical aid at once, was making her ques-
tion.
“Your father mentioned his name to me. I looked it
up just now; that was the address.”
“Oh, I see. Then — then I can call him. I can
find out what's happened; how father is. What's his
name, Gregg? The number!”
Gregg stepped before her, blocking her away from
the telephone booth till he had glanced in and made
sure that he had closed the directory. “No, that
wouldn't do any good,” he denied her. “ The doctor's
on his way there now, Marjorie,” he pleaded. “He
came in when I was speaking.”
“Why, Gregg! Mr. Mowbry; you're going to tell


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 49
me the number. Of course you are; my father's there;
injured — "
“ Marjorie, later I'll call up, when the doctor can
have got there.” Of course he was struggling only to
spare her, but he filled her with greater fear.
“ Gregg, did that girl tell you that father is —
dying?”
“No; no, Marjorie. Just what you know."
“ Then you'll tell me the name where he is! It's too
senseless, Gregg; I'm not a child.” Then she suddenly
defied him. “Why do you suppose you can keep me
from my father? I know the address; 4689 Clearedge
Street. I could make 'information give me the num-
ber there. But I shan't; it'll take too long. I'll go
there; where's Billy?”
She looked about, with an effort of memory recalling
where they were and what they had been doing. Music
and the quick rhythm of the dance came from above
and Marjorie gathered herself and made a determined
start for the stairs.
Gregg caught her wrist and turned her to him, while
he pleaded, “Wait here, Marjorie. I'll bring Bill
down. You mustn't go upstairs looking like that."
“ You will get him?" she challenged him, directly.
“ Yes,” he promised.
“ All right; I'll stay here. I must call Leonard, any-
way, and get him to come back here now; and I suppose
I must call mother and give her some sort of warning;
poor mother.”
Gregg's clasp on her wrist tightened. “ Don't!”
he said.
“Not call mother? Oh, of course, I'd rather not
just yet — till we know more. I'll just call Leonard,
then.”


50 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“ No; you mustn't do even that!”
“ Why not? Gregg, I'm going to my father.'
“Let Bill and me go for you, Marjorie.”
“ And I stay here when he's — Gregg, let go
of me! I must call Leonard; and if I can't find him,
I'll borrow Mrs. Chaden's car.”
She wrenched her arm from him and he realized he
could not physically struggle with her there; yet,
unless he stopped her, in a moment she would tell other
people and start for her father with them.
“ Just wait here, Marjorie. I'll bring Bill down,"
Gregg offered a promise. “ Then, if you will go, we'll
take you to your father.”
She accepted it for a promise. “ You'll hurry, won't
you? But don't let any one know anything's wrong,
Gregg.”
“Of course not.”
He endeavored to wander on to the dance floor as
casually as usual, but he found himself gazing at
friends stupidly and staring at strangers. He could
not think about these people; what a blow had struck
Marjorie and, unless he could save her, what another
was in store for her this night! The idea of it made
him first hopelessly weak and then made him feel fran-
tically strong. He felt like rushing down to her again
and seizing her in his arms and holding her to him
away from every one and everything else and bearing
her far, far off. But that wild sensation, of course,
was silly.
Suddenly he saw Bill's tall, blond head above the
others; and Gregg's shoulders shuddered up. He hadn't
been able to think of the blow this would be to Bill;
he did not know, until this moment, how much he loved
old Bill's idealism and the simple faiths about which he


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
teased Bill; he had not known how he wanted Bill to
keep them; why, they were Bill.
A flourish of the drums and saxophone warned that
the dance was ending, and Gregg slipped to the side of
the floor where that blond head was turning.
“Hello, Gregg,” Bill hailed, happily. “Where've
you been sitting out with Marjorie?”
“ Telephone call; can you come downstairs ? " Gregg
replied. He led Billy, not to the telephone near which
Marjorie was waiting, but to a corner of the coat
room.
“ See here, Gregg, what's up? " Billy demanded, fully
aware now that Gregg had some serious communica-
tion.
“ Bill, Mr. Hale's been hurt."
“Heh? Where? How? Gregg, where's Marjorie;
does she know it?"
“ Yes, old fellow. I was with her when she found
out. She's going to need you to-night about as much
as possible — maybe.”
“Good Lord! Gregg, her father's not dead?”
“I don't know; she doesn't either. No one here
does."
“ What was it? Street hold up? Taxi accident?
How did you hear?”
“When some one sent for Doctor Grantham. This
way:" and as unemotionally as he could, Gregg related
how the call had come, while Billy went white and his
eyes were wet when Gregg told him how Marjorie heard.
“ The poor little girl, Gregg! Where's she now? ”
“ Hush! Wait!” Gregg seized his sleeve and held
him. “You understand the doctor's girl bungled the
address; Marjorie didn't know where her father had
gone; so I had to tell the doctor."


52 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“I see; good you knew, Gregg I'm going to
Marjorie."
Gregg grasped Bill's sleeve and held him, but was
unable to say anything more for he saw that Billy
suspected nothing; and if he tried here and now to tell
the whole truth to Bill, what a smash he would make
of any chance he had of guarding Marjorie! What-
ever else might happen, to tell Billy now was simply
impossible; for Billy at first would be knocked out
absolutely flat, just as Jim Cuncliffe had said; he
would be useless and worse than useless to Marjorie at
this moment; and then, he would try to take the affair
into his own hands. No, to tell Bill was impossible.
Yet Billy must go with them; there would be no way
to avoid that. And if he delayed Billy here much
longer, Marjorie would come upstairs looking for him.
“What is it, Gregg?” Billy demanded.
“ I'm taking you in my car," Gregg replied, weakly.
“ You get your coat and send for Marjorie's. It's
better not to say anything to anybody and not to let
her, till we find out just how things are. You see?”
“ Of course."
“ All right. I'll be at the door for you in five
minutes."
u


CHAPTER IV
ARJORIE already had obtained her cloak and
had put it on and also had her carriage boots
over her slippers when Billy found her at the
end of the empty room where Gregg had left her. Billy
had put on his overcoat and was carrying his hat, which
he thrust on his head as he came to Marjorie, so he
could give her both his hands.
“Gregg's told you,” Marjorie said quietly, but her
hands were quivering as he seized them and attempted
vainly to reassure her.
“ Yes.” Billy released her hands and suddenly en-
folded her in his big arms, drawing her against him.
“Oh, Marjorie!” he whispered.
“Father will be all right, Billy!” she gasped, tears
blurring her eyes. “We'll not lose him. Did Gregg
tell you the telephone number?”
“No. He's gone to get his car. He'll take us
right there, Marjorie.”
“ That's best, of course,” Marjorie accepted, re-
leasing herself from him. “Gregg must be ready now,
Billy."
She started abruptly for the door and he followed,
confused a little as people now were pouring down the
stairs and seeing them. But Marjorie paid no atten-
tion to them, and Billy overtook her just as a boy drew
back the door to the carriage steps, outside which
Gregg's car stood.
Marjorie looked about, saw Billy behind her and,


54
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
remembering her argument with Gregg, she leaned for-
ward toward the car and asked Gregg directly, “ You'll
take me to father?”
“Yes," Gregg said; and she got in beside him; Billy
pushed in next her and closed the door.
“I suppose it was an automobile accident," Mar-
jorie said a few minutes after they had started.
“Yes," said Billy. “The roads are all ice to-
night.”
“Maybe.” Gregg objected. “But likely enough a
hold-up, I'm afraid. They're at it every night in the
city; and your father's not a man just to put his
hands up."
“No,” said Marjorie with pitiful pride, shuddering.
Billy put his arms about her; he was instantly angry
at Gregg for describing a more serious event when she
might have been satisfied with imagining some minor
injury from a skidding car.
Gregg suggested nothing more; he had felt that this
was a good moment to prepare Marjorie to innocently
explain to herself the sort of injury to her father which
he expected they would find; but he did not dare go
beyond that.
Marjorie soon relaxed and let herself lie against Billy
and she tried not to think and fear; she needed the feel-
ing of strength and protection about her — Gregg
knew — since that voice over the telephone had told her
that the strength and love, which had guarded her all
her life, was in danger of slipping away. Gregg ached
to offer her his strength; he gripped, tense and tight, to
the steering wheel to keep his hands from her; he dared
not even touch her now that Billy had his arm about
her; Gregg feared, if he did anything at all, he would
thrust Bill from her and take her for himself.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 55
“ It's the first time anything's happened to father,"
Marjorie said. “I've never known him to be even sick
before.”
“He'll come through this, dear little girl,” Billy en-
couraged her. But for a while she only became more
frightened.
Gregg, keeping to himself and trying not to think
too much about her, heard her whispering, “Spare
father!” It was a sort of a prayer.
Then Billy gathered her hands within his own and,
bending, kissed hers tenderly. “ Dear, dear little Mar-
jorie,” he said again, “ I'll see that everything possible
is done.” It seemed to him that somehow, with his size
and strength, he could stand between her and anything.
But Gregg was letting himself lapse to no illusions
of what might come up to him in a few minutes now;
and, as he thought of it, the idea that Marjorie's father
might be dead seemed to him a simple event to deal
with — provided the fact of his death was all that
Marjorie must learn. But he knew that the chances
were that, by this time, Charles Hale's private affairs
had become public property and that when Marjorie
and Billy and he arrived at Clearedge Street, they
would find a crowd of curious, babbling people about
the building where Mrs. Russell lived; they would find
a police ambulance and officers; reporters and flash-
light photographers. In that case — well, there was
nothing that he could do; nothing that any one could
do.
But if it were not yet known, he might be of some
use; and the fact that the woman who had sent for
the doctor for Mr. Hale had not called a local surgeon,
but had summoned Doctor Grantham from far away,


56
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
gave Gregg ground for hoping that she might have
concealed what had happened.
Gregg lit a cigarette and, without looking about, he
extended his case toward Marjorie and Bill.
Marjorie ignored it; in a moment she released her-
self from Billy and sat up in a reaction from her deepest
fears; she spoke almost with confidence that they would
find her father in no real danger. “He's always been
so strong,” she said; and she busied herself with the
small consequences of their flight from the dance.
“ Billy, did you make any explanation to Mrs.
Lovell?"
“No; sorry. I didn't see her.”
“ There's such a mob to-night she'll never miss us.
I'll call her and explain, after we've found that father's
going to be all right.”
They were reaching the gay, garishly lit area of
refreshment places, resplendent drug stores and motion-
picture palaces from which people were pouring from
the last show; they passed the tall new apartment
hotels and flat buildings converted into hotels and
turned into a transverse street of similar character;
then Gregg turned again and drove up a darker, more
quiet and respectable looking street with a big block
of small apartments on the corner and with six flat
structures beyond. Gregg stared ahead down the
street. It was all quiet, thank God! No lights but
the ordinary street lamps; no cars but a single one,
with red tail-light, at the curb; nobody about but a
man or two walking along in an ordinary way.
Gregg took a long breath and went on more slowly,
almost to the end of the block, where he saw 4689 in
the transom over the door of a good-looking, three-
apartment building which stood separated by eight or


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
57
ten feet from the flats on both sides. The first floor
was lighted; the second dark; the third lighted. The
car with red tail-light was standing before this num-
ber and a chauffeur in uniform paced up and down,
striking his hands together in the cold. Gregg drew
up behind the waiting car and Billy got out, helped
Marjorie out and clasped her arm as she turned toward
the building. The chauffeur approached them; and
Marjorie said:
“You're Doctor Grantham's driver? "
6 Yes."
“ I'm Miss Hale; do you know how my father is?”
“No, miss."
“ How long has the doctor been here?”
“ About fifteen minutes.”
“ Which flat are they in?”
“ The third floor, miss.”
Marjorie made for the building. “ You coming?"
she called nervously to Gregg, who was still in the car,
leaning forward.
“Lost my wheel key," Gregg said; and Billy im-
patiently left Marjorie and stepped back to him.
“You take her in that front door, Bill; ring there
and wait,” Gregg directed. “Don't disturb anybody
else if they don't let you in at once. Maybe they're
operating on him now.”
“What're you going to do? ”
“ I'm going around the back and try to find out
what's happened and how he is. Maybe, if it's bad, I'd
better try to prepare — "
Billy's big frame was shaking visibly. “Maybe,
Gregg,” he agreed. “I understand. All right.” He
hurried toward the building to catch Marjorie who,
unable to wait, was opening the entrance door.


58
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
· Gregg jumped down and took the narrow walk to
the rear of the building; finding there the usual, outside
stair to a tier of three back porches, he ran up to the
third and found himself outside an ordinary back door
of deal, with a glass pane in the upper half. A light
was burning on the other side but a yellow blind had
been pulled down over the glass. He heard a buzzer,
undoubtedly rung by Marjorie and Billy at the front
entrance. No one seemed to make reply; indeed, there
was no other sound from the apartment and when
Gregg pressed the button beside the door, he merely
set going another buzzer without rousing response; so
he tried the knob and found, as he expected, that the
door was locked. A window a few feet off at the end
of the porch also was locked and its shade was down.
Gregg returned to the door and pounded upon it, still
receiving no response and hearing only the continued
signal from the vestibule bell. So he picked up an
empty milk bottle from the porch and struck it through
the pane above the knob and reached in, unbolted the
door, opened it and stepped into the kitchen. He had
closed the door behind him and advanced half-way
across the room before a swinging door on the other
side was pushed open and a young woman appeared.
She was quivering with fright and her eyes were
red from crying; but Gregg hardly thought of her
state. For the instant, indeed, he was not chiefly
anxious as to whether Charles Hale was living or dead.
What was above everything else to him at that moment
was the type of woman he found here; and his pulse
leaped with relief at what he saw. He had not been
simple enough to suppose that all women, who lived
like Mrs. Russell, showed themselves for what they


60
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
heard his name and now recognized him, Gregg could
not tell; but something about his reply partially re-
assured her.
“ Is he living? " Gregg demanded of her, definitely.
“ Or is he dead?”
“He's living,” she replied, her mind now able to go
back from the inspection of this stranger to the man
she was trying to protect.
" But badly hurt? ”
“ Very badly," she said in such a whisper that
Gregg's voice, too, went lower.
“ I see,” he said, quietly. “Who are you, please? ”
“I?” Her mind had not come back to herself and
Gregg again.
“I mean are you Sybil Russell? ”
“ Yes; I am.”
“ Who else is here? "
“ Doctor Grantham and his assistant."
“ A man? "
“ Yes; another man.”
“Nobody else? ”
“ No. They're in there together,” she jerked her
head vaguely behind her.
Gregg stepped closer to her; she started again to
retreat but did not and stood holding the door open
and half supporting herself by it. Behind her was
ia dining room with a heavy, handsome rug and a wal-
nut table, — Sheraton, though Gregg recognized only
that it was of good design; over it was a light shaded
by a Tiffany bowl and showing a sideboard and chairs
of the same pleasing design as the table; a Japanese
bird cage with a canary hung before a window. No
one was in the room; and no voice was audible from


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
61
elsewhere in the apartment. But the buzzer in the
kitchen rang again and again.
“What's happened here?” Gregg demanded of Mrs.
Russell.
“ He shot him!”
6 Who? ”
“ George.”
“ You mean George Russell who was your husband ? "
She nodded, her hand tightening convulsively in her
grip of the door.
“ Then what did he do ? "
“He got out! I don't know anything more than
that!”
“ Where did he shoot him?"
She put a hand to her breast.
“Where were they? ” Gregg pressed on.
“In front."
“ Outside ? "
“No; in the living room. He'd just come
“ Mr. Hale, you mean?”
“ Yes; George was waiting for him here."
“You knew that?”
“Yes; he'd come in with me, George had. I thought
I'd better bring him in. I thought I could do some-
thing with him in here. I was trying to; I think I
could have but just at the wrong minute, Charles
came.”
Gregg winced and she saw it and stopped.
“ Go on," he commanded.
“ He tried to interfere for me, Charles did. He
thought George would hurt me. I could look out for
myself. I had; but Charles — "
The buzzer was sounding almost continuously and


62
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Gregg's thought jumped to Marjorie, pressing the bell
and listening for response.
“ Never mind! Did they hear the shot downstairs ? "
“ Those people are away."
“ Did any one else? ”
“ Nobody seemed to.”
“ All right.” Gregg stepped forward and passed her
and went through the dining room to the hall, where
he found a bedroom door open ; he glanced in and saw
two men in shirt sleeves working over Mr. Hale, who
was lying in bed with the upper part of his body
bared. Neither the man whom Gregg recognized as
Doctor Grantham nor the other looked up and Gregg
immediately went on to the living room.
This was a large room with a hardwood floor almost
completely covered by Oriental rugs of quiet patterns
and furnished with a pretty table in dark mahogany, a
lounge and chairs and a woman's writing desk, closed;
with a graceful, small grand piano and bench. The
lighting was from large, shaded lamps in soft colors;
and there were a few — and only a few — good etchings
on the walls; altogether it was an agreeable, pleasant
room in good, quiet taste, Gregg observed, while he
searched for signs of the attack which had been made
there. Mrs. Russell followed him and aided him by
staring with a shudder at stains on one of the rugs
near the piano. Gregg pulled up this rug, pushed
others about to cover the place and carried the stained
rug to a closet off the hall and thrust it in.
“Do you see anything else to be got out? ” he de-
manded of Mrs. Russell.
“ No,” she said, staring at him; then, dully, she
asked, “ Why?"


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
63
“Mr. Hale's daughter is below at the front; that
is she ringing."
,“ Oh!”
“She has to come up. There is no way to stop her,
without making things worse than they are. But she
must not know what has happened here. You can
understand that."
“ Yes,” Mrs. Russell said.
Doctor Grantham appeared behind her; he had put
on his coat and it was evident that he had done for
his patient all that he could do.
“How is he, doctor?” Gregg asked.
“ He is unconscious. We have a chance to keep life
in him,” Grantham jerked in his abrupt, practical way.
“But we must get him to an operating room. I've sent
for an ambulance. Who do you say is downstairs?
Marjorie?”
“ Yes, doctor.”
Grantham looked Gregg over; the doctor had no
doubt of what he had to do; he questioned only the
discretion of Gregg, whom he challenged:
“I've seen you at the Hales'; what's your name?”
“ Mowbry; I'm the one who talked from Evanston
to your girl. I happened to know Mr. Hale was here,”
Gregg explained himself. “Marjorie, of course, didn't.
Whittaker, who's engaged to her, is with her. He
doesn't know anything about this. Does your assist-
ant know Marjorie? ”
“ Carson? ” said the doctor. “No."
“ Would she know him? ”
“ I don't think so. Why?”
“ Then can't he be Russell for a few minutes? You
see what I mean, doctor. They've got to come up,
or they'll surely find out. Doctor, Mr. Hale told them


64
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
he was going down to meet a man on business; that
must be Russell. Your assistant, Carson, is he. He
and his wife were out; they'd been out for dinner; they
were just coming back when they met Mr. Hale out-
side and Russell — that's Carson — brought him up
here to talk business. They all came up together. The
flat here was empty; there was a man in it; they sur-
prised him when they came in with their key. He tried
to get out the rear and Mr. Hale and Russell — that's
Carson — chased him; he had to shoot to get away and
he shot Mr. Hale. Oh, it's full of holes, doctor; I
know it. But something like that's got to do! You'll
try it, sir! Marjorie won't be able to think much;
maybe we can put it over together! Anyway, I've
got to go down and let them in now, or no one knows
what they'll do.”
Gregg opened the front door and ran down the two
flights of stairs to the vestibule. Billy had begun to
pound upon the door to the stairway; he had succeeded,
indeed, in rousing the people in the first-floor apart-
ment; for their door opened as Gregg came by, but
it closed again at once. Billy, seeing Gregg, stopped
knocking; he stepped back a little and put his arm
about Marjorie. Gregg opened the door.
“ He's alive, Marjorie,” he said to her, almost
steadily. “Everybody up there was busy. Doctor
Grantham and Russell and his wife. That's why no-
body could answer till I got in the back way.”
“ What was it, Gregg? ” she demanded of him.
They were all on the stairs now. Of course Mar-
jorie could think of nothing else but the injury to
her father; now she could not question anything he
should say; but he realized that everything he said


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
65
Marjorie father'd come all ran up the
would stick in her mind, however completely she might
ignore impressions at this moment.
“A bullet wound, Marjorie. A man fired at him;
a man who was in the apartment up there."
So far he was safe; or, at least, if this were not safe
to tell her, there was no way for him to do better. For
those were facts which, in an instant, she must learn.
And he could not think again whether the rest of his
story for her would hold with her later; he had to give
some explanation immediately and, having nothing
better, he gave it as they all ran up the stairs.
“Your father'd come down here to see Mr. Russell,
Marjorie, you see. He was stopping in here to see
him on business before taking the train. Mr. and Mrs.
Russell had been out. He met them just as they were
coming back; they all came in together. They found
a man in the flat; your father and Russell went for
him and he fired.”
Gregg saved his breath; they were at the door of the
third apartment which Gregg had left unlatched be
hind him. They went in and Marjorie was grasping
Doctor Grantham; in a moment she was in the room
with her father. Billy went with her; but Gregg did
not. He dropped back into the living room and stood
there, intending not to hear; but he did hear Marjorie
trying to speak to her father. Her father, of course,
was still unconscious; he could not hear. Best for
him, Gregg thought; for Gregg, himself, went weak
and sick. He had not known, until this moment, how
much Marjorie loved her father; likely enough, he
thought, she had not realized it herself until now. She
would not have. Nothing had ever happened to him
before, she had said; she had never known him even
sick; and now to find him dying, probably! That fine,


66 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
big, happy, strong man who was her father! Faith
in him and unsuspicion; why they were so absolute and
natural to her that she could not even be aware of
them. For her to think of herself trusting her father
was to hold an idea of the possibility of the opposite
which never could have occurred to her.
“Father!” Gregg had to hear again her sweet,
steady voice. She made it steady when speaking to her
father; she would! And the sweetness of it seemed to
halt Gregg's heart. “It's Marjorie, father, dear; I'm
here now, father — father - " Then, “I know he
doesn't hear me, doctor. I know; but — " her voice
almost broke; and no one else spoke. She was kissing
her father, Gregg knew, for a sob broke from Billy;
and Grantham had to clear his throat.
“ Come now; come now," Billy managed in a minute.
Billy brought her out of the bedroom and Gregg
jerked himself together. “ Doctor Grantham's sent
for an ambulance to take him to a hospital,” he said
cheerfully. “ It ought to be here any minute now.”
“What hospital? ” Marjorie asked.
“St. Luke's, I suppose," Gregg replied, watching
her. She was gazing about the room but not critically
or even wonderingly. He felt sure she was not think-
ing about the apartment at all; or about Mr. and
Mrs. Russell who, she supposed, inhabited it; her eyes
merely wandered absently. She still was thinking
wholly of her father and now, after the shock of seeing
him, she was shaking so violently that she was scarcely
able to stand.
“ Sit down here, Marjorie; or lie down,” Billy begged
her, emotionally; and he cleared the silk cushions from
the lounge.
She stared at him and suddenly started up straight.


68
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
the man with Grantham was Russell; Grantham had
made no introductions when Marjorie came in to look
upon her father; and Marjorie was accepting every-
thing she found without question. Billy was not yet
suspicious; but his determination to take matters into
his own hands was sure to uncover everything.
“ Bill," Gregg said quickly, as Marjorie went back
into the hall, “ come here a minute!”
“ Why? I want to talk to Russell or his wife.”
Gregg did not argue; he jerked Billy back into the
living room. There was a sun parlor with glass doors
in front and Gregg opened one of these and pulled Billy
into the little room with him. As he shut the glass
door, he saw through it that Marjorie apparently had
forgotten the question for Mr. Russell; apparently, she
had not noticed that Billy and Gregg had left her; he
could see her standing outside the door of the room
where her father lay; she was looking in. No wonder
she forgot everything else.
“Gregg,” said Billy, “what in the devil — "
“ Bill,” said Gregg, turning about. “ There isn't
any Mr. Russell to this flat! Do you get it now? Do
you see?”
“ What?"
There was no light in the sun parlor but that which
came through the glass from the living room lamps and
a little which streaked up from the street; even if Mar-
jorie had turned about, she could not see Billy's face.
And she did not turn. So Gregg was able to appeal:
“For God's sake, Bill, keep your voice down; and
keep yourself together! Mr. Hale paid the rent on
this place; there was no one here but Mrs. Russell.
I mean, Bill, usually there wasn't. To-night Russell
- he used to be her husband, but they got divorced —


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 69
came here and shot Mr. Hale! That's what's hap-
pened, Bill! Grantham knows it all, of course; and
Carson - oh, for God's sake! Bill! Bill, if you care
a damn for Marjorie, pull up! Oh, old fellow, I tried
not to hand it to you like this! But you had to get it
or she would! Don't you see? We've all got to pull
together on this or — " But Bill no longer was hear-
ing.
“You're a liar!” he said, his big powerful hands
clenched on Gregg's shoulders. “You admit to me
now you're a liar.”
“I got up that burglar story to keep it from Mar-
jorie, Bill! Don't you see? I tried to pass Carson
off as Russell; but I couldn't pass him off on you."
Yet Billy still held his grip and could not believe.
“ Bill, get Grantham out of that room — and away
from Marjorie," Gregg suggested then. “ Ask him
what happened.”
That forced Billy to believe or go to Grantham;
and, faced this way, Billy had to concede to himself
his belief. He tore his hands away.
“ Oh, Gregg; Gregg!”
“ All right, Bill! It had to hit you that way!
Wouldn't give a damn for you if it didn't!”
“It's not me, Gregg. It's Marjorie! Oh, Gregg,
the poor little girl. Let me go to her! Let me by!”
“ No, Bill; not now! Go outdoors; you walk around
outside for a while."
“ You let me out of here now!”
“ It's for Marjorie, Bill; we have to stick together;
keep it from her; get her out of here before she sus-
pects. So don't you go to her now; don't try to say
a word to her. Go outdoors only till the ambulance
comes; then we'll all be out of here.”


170 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“ I'm all right now.”
“ Not yet, Bill.”
But Bill was able to take Gregg's hand from the
door; and Gregg was unable to oppose him too vio-
lently for Marjorie returned to the living room.
“ Billy!" she cried, looking about confusedly.
He opened the door and stepped to her, and Gregg
gazed into the street and prayed for the ambulance.
No moving car was in sight either way on the street,
but he stood with his back to the lighted room where
Billy now had Marjorie in his arms, kissing her and
reassuring her.
When Gregg heard some one else come, he turned
about and saw Mrs. Russell, and he stepped quickly
into the living room. Evidently she had been bathing
her eyes and otherwise composing herself and now had
appeared to try to play the part before Marjorie
Hale which Gregg had assigned to her. Why hadn't
she stayed in her room? Gregg agonized when he saw
her. Yet she appeared decent enough as she came
forward calmly; too decent. That was the trouble.
She made no move of her own to go to Marjorie but
Marjorie, desperately needing another woman just
then, started to go to her; and Gregg, realizing it,
jerked forward. Probably — as he afterwards thought
- he would have had to do something but he would
not have done what Billy did. For Bill reached for-
ward as though catching Marjorie back from the
furnace of hell itself. “Don't touch her!” he blurted.
“What? ” Marjorie cried, more frightened. “Why?
What's she done?” Marjorie stared from Billy to
Sybil Russell and back to Billy again. He then could
give no explanation and it was just as well that he
tried none, if it were any better for Marjorie to re-


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
71
main in ignorance for an extra minute or so. For
Marjorie thought that what Billy meant was that Mrs.
Russell had neglected some care or made some mistake
which had diminished her father's chance of recovery.
Idea of the truth could not seize Marjorie yet, though
this now further excited and roused her.
The woman's writing desk stood at the wall on Mar-
jorie's right; the top was closed and nothing was upon
it. Marjorie rested her hand on it when Billy released
her and she looked again at Mrs. Russell. Then
Gregg, watching, saw Mrs. Russell's eyes following
Marjorie's hand; almost instantly Mrs. Russell lifted
her glance but Marjorie seemed to have realized Mrs.
Russell's dread. Marjorie stared about and looked
down and suddenly flung open the desk, gazed down and
saw in a silver frame a picture of her father. She
snatched it up; dropped it. A letter lay on one side;
letters in handwriting she instantly recognized. She
snatched up a letter; held it; crumpled it; dropped it
and looked up.
Mrs. Russell was gone.
“Oh, Marjorie! Marjorie !” Billy cried and tried
again to gather her in his arms. But she caught his
big wrists in her little hands and with a strength that
amazed him, she thrust him back from her; so he soon
understood and made no more attempt.
“Gregg!” she faced about then, head up and calm.
“Who shot father here? Why?”
“Russell,” said Gregg. “He tried to blackmail, I
think, Marjorie. He wasn't Mrs. Russell's husband.
He only used to be." Gregg did not try to make it
plainer; and there was no use trying to make it less
cruel. Marjorie had it, whatever he said.
snatched. Silver froning open th


72
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Once her hands clenched. “Where is he now? Not
- not here?”
“No," said Gregg.
She did not follow thought of Russell for more than
that flash. Her hands relaxed; slowly she swung her
back to Gregg and Billy and stared at the hallway
down which was the room where her father lay. Once
she shrank shorter in a spasm; her tension had broken
at her knees; but she caught up and regained herself,
and not even Billy this time tried to grasp her.
She made not a move, not a quiver, not a gasp for
pity; but Gregg, watching her, was sorrier for her
than he had ever been for any one in all his life; and
prouder for her. He could not know then how he loved
her; love — it was hardly a thing to think about then.
But he seemed to feel something, fluid before, take form
hard and unyielding with him; and he knew that he and
his life were that girl's. Then he looked up and saw
Bill; but Bill did not see him.
Marjorie was turning about to them.
“ Billy,” she said, and then she looked by him to
Gregg and though she did not say his name, yet it
was to him she spoke, “I don't know what's coming
over me. I'm all right now. Don't either of you
worry. You see, I don't feel at all; I don't feel any-
thing at all. Why, a minute ago I thought the worst
thing in the world would be that my father would die.
And now, I can't care!”.
Billy breathed out, then caught his breath with a
sob.
“ Marjorie!”
“ Don't, Billy,” she begged. “I want to think; I
have to think! The police for one thing; I was won-
dering a minute ago when they would come; I was


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
73
going to ask if any one had sent for them. Of course
nobody did. We can't send for them now; we never
can. Mother, and father himself; his mother —
everybody, we've got to think of them! Why, wasn't
it funny! I almost telephoned mother a minute ago,
from here. I see that won't do now; but we have to
send some word home, Gregg; what am I going to
say?"


CHAPTER V
REGG turned away and walked to the window
in an effort to think quickly and clearly; but
he did not succeed well. “I don't know yet;
we haven't got to say it yet, Marjorie. When we have
to, you'd better not depend on me," Gregg admitted,
when he turned back. “I've bungled about everything
to-night; but we won't muddle this along any further.
Before we say anything now, we have to think of more
than your mother and your own people; we have to
figure out something that will stick with business men
— with men like Mr. Stanway, especially, and with the
newspapers, maybe, and with the police. I don't fool
myself that I'm competent to get that up; Bill's not;
you can't, Marjorie. Whoever does it has to be able
to think of a thousand things that can't possibly come
into our minds now. He has to have experience; he's
got to be an expert. And there are experts in these
things; with lots of experience. That's why more
things like this never come out; that's why this won't
come out. Bill, you're a lawyer; and it's a lawyer
who fixes everything. Who's the best man in Chicago
to fix this ? »
“Best man?” Billy parroted, dazed.
“ He means the worst man in Chicago, Billy,” Mar-
jorie explained, compassionately almost, as though it
were Billy, not she, who was suffering. “He means
who's the lowest lawyer you know, Billy; or the lowest


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 175
you've heard of? For you wouldn't know the sort of
man we need, Billy; thank Heaven!”
“ Lowest? ” Billy parroted again.
“ That's what we mean, isn't it, Gregg?” Marjorie
appealed.
Gregg had no course but to accept. “He mustn't
sell out his side, Bill. That fellow who got Leverell
out of that mix-up that the papers dropped all of a
sudden last fall, Bill; what was his name?
“ Felix Rinderfeld ? "
“ That's the man!”
“Good God!” Billy whispered to himself. It seemed
as if he had not been able quite to grasp what Marjorie
and he were involved in until Gregg connected Rinder-
feld with them.
“Do you know anybody better, Bill?”
That buzzer from the front door, which Billy and
Marjorie had sounded so long, vibrated again but only
for an instant and gently. Gregg stepped back into
the sun parlor and saw on the street a long, white-
topped motor-car.
“ The ambulance is here," he announced quietly.
“Go down, Bill, and let the men in ; stretcher, of course,
tell them.”
Billy obeyed, relieved at something to do; Marjorie
became whiter as her thought returned wholly to the
physical condition of her father. She went into the
bedroom and Grantham and Carson came out.
“ Any change, doctor? ” Gregg asked.
“ No.”
“ Where's that car from, sir?”
“I called Fursten; he's a private firm.”
“ You're not taking Mr. Hale to St. Luke's, are
something ned wholly into the
you?"


76 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“ No."
“Where to, sir?"
“ Mowbry, before Charles Hale lost consciousness,
he told that woman to send for me; he left word for
me to do everything possible to protect his family,
whether I found him alive or dead. So I'm taking him
to Fursten's sanitarium. It's much nearer than St.
Luke's." Grantham named the street and number.
“ There's a good operating room there; and good care.
He'll have as much chance for his life there as any.
where; and no questions asked, Mowbry, if I'm able to
pull him through. If I don't, of course, the State's got
to find out what happened. We're taking a chance
but "
The doctor halted; Gregg nodded.
“I see, sir. You know, of course, that Marjorie
found out."
“ Yes.”
“ There's a lawyer named Rinderfeld who sees
through things like this, doctor; fixes up the public
explanation and all that, sir. I'm going to talk to
him; he'll want to get in touch with you. You'll know
now who he is.”
“I think I've heard of him," Grantham acknowl-
edged. He moved back into the bedroom as Billy
appeared at the entrance door with the attendants from
the ambulance; Grantham sent out Marjorie and after
a minute, the men carried out her father. Grantham
led the way downstairs and Marjorie and Billy fol-
lowed. Gregg went as far as the top of the stairs,
where he heard Grantham explaining to the tenants of
the first apartment — whose door had again opened —
that Mrs. Russell's brother had suffered a “ stroke”
and was being taken to a hospital. From the front sun


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 177
parlor, Gregg observed the stretcher put into the ambu-
lance and he saw Marjorie and Grantham enter to
ride in it; Billy and Carson got into Grantham's car.
A few people had gathered to watch but they seemed
to Gregg idly curious. If they asked any questions,
they evidently were satisfied that the ambulance was
removing a man suddenly taken sick. The white car
drove off and the doctor's black one followed.
“ That's cleared,” Gregg murmured to himself with
great relief; but he let himself relax for only a moment
before he stepped to the closed door of Mrs. Russell's
room and rapped.
“ Where is the telephone?” he asked.
She let him in and showed him the instrument.
There was only one Rinderfeld listed in the direc-
tory; his name was Felix and he had both an office in
the loop and a residence number on the south side.
Gregg called up the latter and when Rinderfeld an-
swered, Gregg ascertained that he was the attorney
who had handled the Leverell matter so Gregg gave his
name and said:
“I wish to retain you on a case which has just come
up."
“ All right; when do you come to see me?"
“I would like to have you come here," Gregg said;
and gave the directions. He left the room and went
back through the apartment, which was all quiet now.
He locked the rear door where he had broken the glass
and he removed the key; entering the disordered room
where Mr. Hale had lain, he swiftly stripped the bed
and bundled the linen in a corner. He went forward
and ascertained that no one was loitering in front of
the building


178 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
After he had delayed for a few minutes in the living
room, Mrs. Russell came in.
“ Where have they taken — Mr. Hale? ” she ques-
tioned quietly.
Gregg told her.
She gazed at him, consideringly, and then she asked:
“ Why are you waiting here?”
“ I've sent for a lawyer named Rinderfeld; he'll be
here in about an hour. You must tell him everything
that happened here; and I think you had better tell
him anything else he wants to know.”
“ Why? "
“ He handles situations like this,” Gregg explained
shortly. “He'll know the best thing for us all to do.”
“Oh! Then we're to — act together.”
“Of course.”
Gregg dropped into a chair near the front window
where he could overlook the street. She took her place
on the piano bench on the opposite side of the room
and Gregg put her out of his mind after a moment; he
half-turned his back to her and, bending down, he gazed
toward the gay, new, tall residence hotels and two-room
apartment structures which were visible by lights
from their windows, and were etched in dim outline
against the glare rising from the streets before them.
In Gregg's mind, previously, the life about here had
represented to him, vaguely, a modern stage of
personal relationships, rapidly replacing the more
familiar sort in which he had grown up. He had never
bothered his mind about so silly a speculation as to
whether this stage “ought” to replace the other; his
brain did not function in such useless ways. He ob
served as a simple, obvious fact that the easy, irrespon-
sible-appearing way of living, which was represented


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 579
by this district, was becoming more and more popular;
the old-fashioned “home” with sober duties and ideals
was amazingly less so. If he thought at all of the
transition stage, he had supposed it to be easy enough
and natural, - merely a matter of choice for any indi-
vidual as to how he preferred to live. For nothing had
ever happened to Gregg to force him to feel anything
else. But here, in this room where Marjorie's father
had been shot and where a few minutes ago he had had
to stand by and watch her learn “it,” suddenly he
revolted with savage aversion to these great indulgent
buildings in such opposition to Marjorie's home and
to his own, where he had been happy as a boy. He
hated these places because they had hurt him and had
hurt Marjorie so.
Yet he was aware that, in the great number of these
rooms about, lived people who were married; right
next door here was Nyman with his wife and their baby.
The strange circumstance was that Gregg did not dis-
tinguish such neighbors as wholly different, in their
relationship with each other, from Charles Hale and
Sybil Russell. Gregg could not then figure out how
or why; the simple fact was that he did not feel it.
It was partly this, perhaps, which held him from
casting upon Sybil Russell that accusation of personal
infamy which Billy had flung upon her. He thought
that if she had never existed, in her place on that piano
bench near the spot where Charles Hale had been shot,
would be sitting some other young woman who repre-
sented to Marjorie's father the passion and the escape
from duty and responsibilities which had drawn Charles
Hale to this place. For to have his share in the life
about here -- the young, new, reckless independence


80
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
of this district — rather than particularly for her,
Charles Hale had come here.
Gregg sat back and straightened and, restlessly, he
arose and strode down the hall, thinking. Not about
Marjorie's father and Mrs. Russell; but about himself
and Marjorie. For Gregg was no hypocrite and what
he thought with himself was that if he married Mar-
jorie, as to-night he had longed to in a way he had
never desired anything else before, he would take her to
some such neighborhood as this; some such life as that
which went on about here would become hers and his.
For he wanted her to live with him as his wife but he did
not want to enter upon new duties and responsibilities
with her; he meant to escape such things as far as
possible to his wife and to himself.
“Good thing Bill's got you," Gregg muttered to
himself. “Good thing you have old Bill. Oh, damn,
damn.”
He returned to the living room where Mrs. Russell,
left alone, had become more frightened and was stand-
ing and staring absently about.
“ They must have reached the hospital by this time!"
she cried to Gregg.
“ Yes; probably."
She started past him and he caught her wrist.
“ Don't telephone there; don't send any call from here
to anywhere!”
For an instant she flared up, defying him: “ You
shall not tell me what I may do! I am going to know
what is happening to him! He's mine! I-I love
him, you — boy! Do you think that I- "
“I don't think at all,” Gregg stopped her calmly
and firmly," about you and him. That's not my affair.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 81
But other people are thinking. We will hear if any-
thing more happens. You'd better sit down there again,
hadn't you?”
She had good sense, Gregg noticed ; indeed, it was
extraordinary how well she controlled herself, how
little of the irresponsible she had indulged in. Now
that he took time to observe her, he found her dis-
tinctly a person of marked individualities. His first
impression of her as a woman lacking in the weakness
and pliability which might be presumed of one in her
situation had progressed to perception of more definite
qualities of will and self-reliance than he often saw in
women. Not for money, Gregg was sure, had she chosen
to do what she had done. She had said she loved
Hale; but, as Gregg went on talking with her, as
impersonally as possible about what the doctors had
discovered and about Mr. Hale's chances for recovery,
she offered none of the usual, stale, socialistic “free
love " excuses or arguments for her way of living.
Gregg was rather relieved at that; they always made
him disgusted; at least the sort of people who put them
forth always were to him a loathsome lot. This woman,
whatever she was, had nothing to do with that lot.
Her way of living asked for no approval of others;
it was her own for reasons sufficient to herself and
she did not trouble to defend or explain it further than
to mention that she was down town, regularly, on
business days; for she was a life-insurance agent.
Then, forming a sudden decision, she made her sole
direct reference to her life at the flat:
“ Charles Hale and I split expenses here and every-
where; he paid his; I paid mine. Fifty-fifty. That's
the one fact I care to have you, and members of his
family, know. We went fifty-fifty from the first. I


82
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
made seven thousand dollars of my own last year. Do
you believe me?”
“ Of course I do,” said Gregg.
A few minutes after that it was almost midnight
— Felix Rinderfeld appeared.
His arrival was by means of a new “ town car”
which either was a Rolls-Royce or so perfect a copy
that the difference was not distinguishable from the
third floor sun parlor. Rinderfeld proved to be a
young man, evidently not five years older than Gregg.
As his name suggested, he was a Jew and he was of
the type that keeps himself, while young, in vigorous
physical condition; a man of medium height and or-
dinary proportions, he had cultivated an emphatic
self-confidence of bearing sufficient to make most people
describe him as having“ presence." Gregg recognized
him at once as a man who, without doing anything
actually unmannerly, yet made it a custom to be con-
spicuous about such places as the Blackstone and the
Drake; once, Gregg remembered, he had almost asked
a waiter who the fellow was.
He was not embarrassed in the slightest about his
business nor did he expect his clients to be about theirs.
In fact, he entered as though he had dropped in upon
personal friends for a casual midnight chat and was
in no hurry to get to business. Gregg was. He in-
formed Rinderfeld carefully of Charles Hale's position
in respect to his family and also went into what de-
tails he could concerning Hale's situation in Tri-Lake,
his recent rapid promotions and the opposition of Stan-
way; he related the facts which Marjorie knew and
how Doctor Grantham had taken Hale with Marjorie
and Whittaker to Fursten's. Rinderfeld seemed to
approve heartily of Fursten's. Gregg submitted him-


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
83
self to the several questions which Rinderfeld put; then
he left the room while Rinderfeld talked with Mrs.
Russell.
It was nearly an hour before the final cessation of
murmurs told Gregg that Rinderfeld had obtained
from Mrs. Russell the information he needed and he
stepped into the dining room where Gregg was waiting.
“ All set now," announced Rinderfeld, reassuringly.
“Of course, two elements in this are temporarily out
of control. First, what George Russell may do. If
the fool gets overcome with fright and gives himself up
to the police, we'll have a somewhat difficult situation.
But she doesn't think he'll do that. However, I'm
going to have him found. Second, is Hale going to die?
I'll take that in hand myself now. I'm going to
Fursten's."
“ What's the best thing for me to do now? " Gregg
asked.
“Go home,” Rinderfeld supplied promptly; and he
made a note of Gregg's address and telephone number.
“ After I've had a look about Fursten's, I'll send word
if I've need for you."
He thrust forward his hand and, with more re-
luctance than Gregg could recall feeling at such a
formality, Gregg shook hands. Together they said
good night to Mrs. Russell, who plainly had her in-
structions.
In his car, Gregg followed the shining coupé of
Rinderfeld into Sheridan Road and down the boulevard
to the street for Fursten's. When the lawyer made the
turn, it was not recollection of his instruction which
kept Gregg from turning after him; what held Gregg
straight on the way to Pearson Street was thought of
Marjorie and Billy together at the hospital; Bill had


84 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
the right to be with her now; upon them Gregg had no
reason to intrude.
He put up his car and ascended to his apartment,
which was deserted at this hour; for Dora, the maid,
was the daughter of the woman who cooked in the
apartment below and she shared her mother's room on
the lower floor. Gregg went into Billy's room to make
sure that Bill had not returned; then, restlessly, he
strolled through the empty rooms. He opened a bottle
of whiskey and took a drink; he put a band record on
the phonograph and played it over and over, while he
sat stretched out in a Morris chair before it. A little
after two o'clock, he turned out the lights and shut
himself in his own room, where he lay on his bed with-
out undressing. He could not drive off memory of what
he had witnessed this night; and now he was not trying
to. For his mind had ceased to give him again and
again only the vision of that apartment on Clearedge
Street; of Charles Hale lying like dead with the doctors
bending over him; of Marjorie taking up her father's
picture and dropping it and looking from Billy to him
and learning. His visions were beginning to go back
a little to Mr. Hale greeting his guests at the wide door
of his home; to the dinner table with Mr. Hale at one
end, all friendly and easy; and his wife at the other as
she had been. And her voice seemed to come to Gregg
again as, deliberately and merely as a matter of fact,
she related incidents of her last long stay abroad and
as she went on to her plans for returning to Brittany
for several months “ with my daughter this time, I
hope. It is too bad Mr. Hale's business never permits
him to do more than take me across the ocean."
Gregg clenched his fists in a queer instinctive spasm.
He sat up. A few minutes later, he heard Bill's key


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 85
in the front door. Evidently Bill hung up his coat and
stood in the hall while he talked to himself:
“You wouldn't say it could happen! You
wouldn't — "
Billy trod heavily to his room where he moved about,
talking to himself. Gregg got up and opened the door
from the bathroom into Billy's.
“How's Mr. Hale, Bill?”
Billy had been undressing while he walked about;
he had his coat and waistcoat off and his collar in his
hand when he turned. If Gregg had not known that
Billy never drank, he must have supposed him drunk
from the redness of his face and of his bloodshot eyes.
“Oh! You here, Gregg?” He did not add ver-
bally, but he might as well have said, that he had for-
gotten all about Gregg. “We took Mr. Hale to a
hospital, Gregg. A private one; Fursten's.”
“ Yes,” said Gregg. “I know. I saw you start;
what happened when you got there?”
“Oh, Doctor Grantham operated. It was success-
ful, they think. They got the bullet. Probably Mr.
Hale will live.”
“ That's good,” said Gregg.
“ Good? " Billy repeated. “I suppose so. Poor
Marjorie! And Mrs. Hale, Gregg!”
“Oh, what about her, Bill? What have you told her?
You took Marjorie home, of course.”
Billy stared absently at Gregg and then nodded.
“ She was in her room, Mrs. Hale was; gone to bed but
awake. She hadn't expected Marjorie earlier. We
passed the club on the way; people were still dancing."
“ Then Marjorie didn't see her mother?”
“ Just called good night to her and she went to her
room, Marjorie did. I waited downstairs; I heard her.”


86
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“I see. Then you decided to tell her nothing to-
night. Rinderfeld wanted that?"
“ Yes, if we didn't have to say anything."
" Then how about to-morrow?"
Billy started to reply and then went to his coat,
from a pocket of which he extracted a sheet of paper
covered with distinct, black handwriting.
“ He wrote this out for you and me.”
Gregg took it and read, in the legible flourishes which
at each line recalled Felix Rinderfeld, these concise,
practical instructions:
“For Willam Whittaker and Gregg Mowbry.
“Up to the occasion of the telephone call which
reached Marjorie Hale and originated in Doctor Gran-
tham's office, there is no need to correct your recol-
lections.
“ The occasion of the call was this: for many weeks
Mr. Charles Hale had been aware of a soreness in his
left side. Having consulted Doctor Grantham, he
learned that there existed a pathological condition
which might of itself subside but which might, on the
other hand, suddenly become acute and endanger his
life. He concealed this knowledge not only from his
family but from his friends and business associates.
“His errand in the city last night, before the time he
intended to take the train, was to consult Dr. Gran-
tham, who examined him, discovered to his alarm that
the condition had suddenly become acute and that an
immediate and radical operation was necessary. Mr.
Hale objected to this, wishing to avoid prolonged ab-
sence from his office at this difficult time; but upon
Doctor Grantham pointing out that his life was in
danger, he agreed to undergo an operation, provided
the nature of it be kept secret. He believed that if it
became known that a radical operation was performed,


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 87
the directors of the Tri-Lake Corporation might be led
to think that his health was permanently impaired; this
presumption would be unjustifiable but, considering the
internal situation of the corporation, Mr. Hale be-
lieved that it would seriously affect his prospects for
promotion to Mr. Dorsett's position. Therefore, Mr.
Hale arranged that Doctor Grantham operate in a
small, private hospital and, during the period of his
convalescence, he would give out that he was ill at home
from an ordinary case of influenza.
“Doctor Grantham therefore took him to Fursten's,
instructing his girl to communicate with Mrs. Hale; she
telephoned to the Hale home, was informed that Mrs.
Hale was at the club where Mrs. Lovell was giving a
dance; and Doctor Grantham's girl called there, not
finding Mrs. Hale, but Miss Hale, who, with the advice
of William Whittaker and Gregg Mowbry, decided to
spare Mrs. Hale anxiety and not inform her until the
operation was performed.
“ Miss Hale and William Whittaker and Mowbry im-
mediately left for Fursten's and Miss Hale and Whit-
taker were actually present while the operation was
performed; this was successful and Whittaker took
Miss Hale to her home.
• The above constitute the essential facts. Com-
ment: it is not expected that the belief that Mr. Hale
is ill at home with influenza can be successfully main-
tained. However, this will be originally stated with
the expectation that, sooner or later, others will dis-
cover he has been in a city hospital for a surgical
operation. The truth' as above outlined will then
be reluctantly admitted; that will be found to satisfy
every one and nothing more damaging will be sus-
pected.”
Gregg looked up, as Billy came beside him impa-
tiently and broke out again, “ Good God, how could a


88
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
man do a thing like that? How could he — could he?"
Gregg could endure no more emotion. “Like this?"
he said, brandishing Rinderfeld's paper. “This is
Rinderfeld's business, Bill. He does it all the time; and
he's done us a good job, I'd say. That double lie alone
is worth his price — whatever he charges for it. Giv-
ing the neighbors something to find out that will satisfy
them when they've got it; now you and I, Bill, never
would have figured out that. It's got to come from
experience.”
Billy stared, not hearing. “I mean Mr. Hale,
Gregg! How could he do a thing like that?”
“Oh," Gregg said, as though recollecting. “Mr.
Hale was up against something, Bill. He had about
three things he could do; one and two others. I sup-
pose maybe he tried the first for a while and then got
tired sticking it or — something made him mad, maybe.
That left him the choice of the other two; and I sup-
pose he chose the one which he figured showed more
consideration to his wife.”
Billy gaped. “What did you say?"
Gregg repeated it; but Billy continued to stare as
though Gregg had gone mad. “Why, Gregg — "
“ That's all right and I'm all right too," Gregg
assured. “ I'm going to get some sleep now. You'd
better make a stab at it, too. G’night, Bill. I forgot
one thing. I'm glad, Bill.”
“Glad? You are crazy, then?”
“ About Marjorie and you, old fellow.”
“ Oh!”
“ 'Night, Bill.” Then Gregg withdrew and, return-
ing to his own room, for the first time he locked his
door against Bill; for he knew that pretty soon Bill
was coming to demand an explanation; and he didn't


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
89
care to talk or have to think any more before he had
a sleep. For he held no illusions that he was not in
for an adventure which, sooner or later, was bound to
try him out with himself and force him to find out what
he was and, also, what he might be. Gregg's philosophy
had never contemplated any such stirring up.
He reread the clear, succinct narrative of events
which Rinderfeld had supplied Billy, a simple enough
and a straightforward seeming story and one which,
so far as Gregg could now discern, covered all probable
contingencies. It was a good piece of work for Rinder-
feld and, for its very simplicity, far better than Gregg
or Billy or any other amateur in such affairs could
have composed. But it could not be proof against
every attack; indeed, at any moment a circumstance
might become public which would scrap the whole care-
ful scheme and thrust the truth into the open.
Well, suppose it did? Gregg, in his exhaustion of
feeling, scarcely cared; for him, the calamity which
he feared and which he had set himself to prevent, had
happened. Marjorie knew; and the addition of public
dishonor could hardly score her more. He thought of
her as he had last seen her, stupified, still, mercifully
unable yet actually to feel the full effect of the blow
which had struck her. But soon she must commence
to feel; and when she would, Gregg longed to be with
her. But he knew that he could not be; that would be
Billy's right.
Gregg lay down and tried to summon sleep. He
could not let himself think of her turning to Bill for
help in these next days before her. What sort of help
could Bill give; how could he aid her to understand?
No use bothering about that; Bill would be the one
with her, through these next days, and the result of


90
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
them upon her probably would determine whether she
was to become hard, disillusioned and reckless and do
the wild, unforeseeable things which Marjorie Hale
might do, or whether she would emerge from it all the
Marjorie that Gregg dreamed she might be. Well, no
use thinking about that; none of his business, anyway;
she was Bill's and with Bill she must become what Bill
and she would determine.


CHAPTER VI
CARJORIE began dressing about half-past nine
in the morning. She had been out of bed and
in many times during the hours since she un-
dressed about three o'clock; at most of these times she
had stirred purely from nervousness, but after dawn
she had assigned to herself errands such as gaining
possession of the newspaper, as soon as Sarah had
brought it in from the porch, and listening when
Martin, the houseman, answered a telephone ring.
The newspaper printed not a word about Charles
Hale, not a mention of the shooting on Clearedge
Street or anything about any one named Russell; and
the telephone brought no alarm. The big, warm, pleas-
ant house was as quiet and secure-seeming as upon any
other morning after her father had gone away and she
and her mother were sleeping late.
It was a quiet morning outside and the bright, yellow
sunlight, striking through the bare trees to the snow-
covered roof of the porch and shining upon the lawn,
bore enough heat to dissolve the whiteness into wet,
glistening patches; the sun brought the white and
purple pigeons fluttering from a neighboring barn and
set them to preening on the damp, steamy walk; and
a flock of brown sparrows came, cheerily squabbling
and chattering. When Marjorie again opened her door
at the ringing of the telephone, she heard the snapping
of a wood fire below; in the dining room, of course. Her
mother always liked a fire at breakfast in the winter.


92
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Everything was going on so exactly as usual, — and
nothing was the same; nothing could ever be the same
again.
Yesterday's world had been a friendly place, free
from fears and filled with pleasant neighbors preferring
you happy and wishing you well; to-day, what a
strange, hostile, threatening air hung over everything.
Marjorie Hale, who had never known what it was to
fear people, found herself afraid. If her friends knew
what she knew, how they would tear her down and
destroy her; they all might not want to; some of them
might, conscientiously, attempt to help her; but no one,
if he or if she found out, could really save her; in
spite of themselves, they must join against the Hales
and destroy her family.
This struck her, for long periods, utterly prostrate
and nerveless with despair and ignominy and then,
contrarily, it spurred her to a nervous excitation in
which she felt the presence of more power and will than
she had ever before possessed and in which she deter-
mined to fight that annihilating peril alone. For she'
was so alone that, though every one in every house about
had become a pitiless menace to her, the greatest dan-
ger of all lay in her home; it was in her mother. If
her mother suspected, then everything which yet was
left would instantly be gone. And Marjorie could not
bear the thought of more destruction. So she lay on
her bed, shivering with dread, when she heard her
mother moving about. Soon she heard her pro-
ceed downstairs and knowing that her mother would
inquire for her, but would not send to disturb her,
Marjorie remained in the refuge of her room and re-
frained from betraying that she was awake. The
program for this day, which she had accepted from
----
-
---
-
-
- ----


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
93
Rinderfeld, spared her as much as possible from the
ordeal of explanations; according to the arrangement,
Doctor Grantham was to call at half-past ten and
detail to her mother the prepared story of last night;
and, promptly, the doctor's car appeared and he en-
tered the house.
Marjorie crept to her door, opened it and listened
quiveringly to the voices below; perhaps “ something”
- that euphony for death -- had happened since early
in the morning. No; the doctor had come only to re-
peat the narrative of his friend's long-concealed
ailment, the sudden discovery last evening that an
immediate operation was necessary and the rest as
Rinderfeld had composed it. Marjorie closed her
door and went again to her window where she stood
staring blankly out until she heard her mother on
the stairs; she opened Marjorie's door and entered,
pale and with her large blue eyes looking darker than
naturally, as they did when she was anxious; but
otherwise she was controlled and Marjorie was swept
with miserable pride in her. For she knew that her
mother had heard Doctor Grantham's hard story and
without suspicion had accepted it.
“My poor child,” she said with compassion and with
her cold hands she clasped Marjorie's equally cold
ones. “You had that to bear all alone last night. But
you knew where I was, Marjorie; you knew I was with
Mrs. Cleve."
“ Yes, mother,” Marjorie admitted and she could
not help breaking down a little. She was not afraid of
her mother now; she was overswept with the degrada-
tion of what her father had done, of his falseness and
deception; and yet she also was deceiving her mother.
“I realize you acted only to spare me, child; that is


94
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
your father in you,” her mother said, with her arms
about her and kissing her once. “I know he considered
that he was sparing me by keeping that serious trouble
hidden so long and then going off by himself to look
death in the face. He always wishes to spare me,
doesn't he, dear?”
“ Yes, mother,” Marjorie said again, wretchedly.
“ He is quite, quite safe, Marjorie — Doctor Gran-
tham assures me. Doctor will take me down to see him
now. Of course, I understand your father's motives
for wishing to keep his operation secret even from his
friends. I realize I must not let my own feelings stand
in the way of his business future. Kiss me, Marjorie.
- There now, I'll go with Doctor Grantham; you
mustn't think of going, child. You've been through too
much already."
Marjorie was glad not to argue against her; Mar-
jorie scarcely trusted herself to be with her mother yet.
Her mother went to her own room and Doctor Gran-
tham came up.
“How are we this morning?” he asked, in his cheery,
impersonal voice. He was at the age of slow, imper-
ceptible physical change and except for his bearing,
which was naturally more assured, and his clothes,
which were better, he seemed to Marjorie exactly the
same as she first remembered him, coming in and asking
her that same question, in that same voice, every morn-
ing of those weeks when she was in bed with scarlet
fever when she was ten years old. That was when the
Hales inhabited the seven-room clapboard house on
the fifty-foot lot in Irving Park, and Marjorie's father
took care of the furnace, and Doctor Grantham had
his office above the drug store on the Montrose Avenue
corner. Of course, long ago, he too had moved away


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 95
and he no longer “ took” general practice cases of
scarlet fever and measles. While he had been becoming
a great surgeon, had he, like his friend, her father, also
become some one strange inside, Marjorie wondered?
The question caused her to stand stiffly as he came up
to her and while he lifted her hand and slipped his deft,
firm fingers to her pulse.
“You mustn't keep yourself going so, Marjorie,”
he reproved her, kindly, releasing her wrist. “I sup-
pose you haven't slept at all.”
“No."
“ You must sleep this morning. Your father is doing
splendidly; there will be no trouble with your mother.
You've been a champion, Marjorie. Now really try to
go to sleep; if you don't succeed, drop one of these in
a glass of water; drink it.” He took a couple of cap-
sules from his vest pocket and laid them on her table;
then he turned away, but he did not leave the room.
“ Doctor!” Marjorie suddenly appealed.
He swung about to her, as though he had been wait-
ing for what would follow.
“Why did he do it, Doctor Grantham? Father!
Why, oh, why did he? ”
Grantham shook his head; he intended undoubtedly
to convey to her that he could not make it out but he
failed in this; he succeeded in showing her only that
he would not discuss that with her.
“ You can take both those capsules an hour apart,
if you need two, Marjorie,” he said kindly. “Don't try
to figure out life in one day, girl; no brain can stand
it. Take one of those and lie down and count sheep —
don't think — relax; then, if you need, take the other."
He went away.


96 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“Relax! Count sheep!” Marjorie repeated to her-'
self with disdain, standing at the window and watching
her mother precede Doctor Grantham to his car; yet,
when they disappeared, reaction, if not relaxation, set
in; she undressed and went to bed so utterly gone that
she slept as if she were drugged, though both of Doctor
Grantham's capsules remained unopened on her table.
It was after five when she awoke and outside the sun-
light was gone; her mother was sitting quietly beside
her and, as soon as her head cleared and recollection
came, Marjorie discerned that her mother was still un-
suspecting; nothing had occurred at the hospital or
during her absence from the house to turn her mother's
pure, idealistic thought into channels of doubt.
"I returned shortly after noon, dear,” she said,
smoothing Marjorie's forehead with her cool, steady
hand. “Your father was comfortable and I have since
telephoned and they tell me he is sleeping. So we have
no cause to question his rapid recovery, dear - And
Doctor Grantham assures me positively there can be no
recurrence of the trouble.”
Marjorie had supper brought to her room but after-
wards she dressed and, going downstairs, she discovered
Billy, who took her in his arms. “I told Sarah not to
send my name up but if you came down, I meant to be
with you," he said emotionally and kissed her.
“Don't — just now, Billy,” she begged, but when
he released her in compliance, she held to him for a
moment, “ I need you so much but I can't want to feel
yet, don't you see?” she tried to explain.
He assured her that he did, but she realized, when
she kept away from him, that she was hurting his feel-
ings; how big and warm he was, and what a power of


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 97
to her-
catching
ar; yet,
cion, set
one that
Doctor
r table.
Che sun
beside
ollection
still un
bital or
nother's
ne said,
steady
feelings he had packed in him! And she did not
guess how much until he drew her into the seclusion of
the little den beyond the drawing-room where he shut
the door tight and then put his big, strong, blundering
arms around her again.
“Dear Marjorie, will you marry me to-morrow? "
It was so far from any feeling she could imagine
sharing that night that she cried out, “ What?”
He repeated it, pressing her to him and explaining,
“ I won't expect you to begin being my wife to-morrow,
Marjorie. But I want to feel you're mine, whatever
happens.”
That frightened her more. “Why? Is father
worse?"
Instantly he tried to reassure her. “Oh, no, dear.
It's only the danger of scandal; if it comes, I want you
to have my name.” .
She did not relax at that, as he seemed to expect; it
made her tenser. stronger, and she worked with her
fingers to loosen his hold upon her. “ Thank you,
Billy, but a name wouldn't change — disgrace.” The
idea of another name shielding her seemed so trivial that
she could not think about it, but she realized that his
offer meant much to him; and now he elaborated it.
“ If you come to feel need of my name or if I've any-
thing else in the world that can help you, Marjorie, it's
yours. Do you know, dear, how you're fixed for —
money?"
“No; I haven't thought of it.”
“ If your father's sick a long time, or if, for any
reason, he doesn't return to his office, you must know
that all I have is yours. I've fifty thousand dollars of
stock in father's bank in my own name, which I can get
ve since
we have
- And
n be no
t after
covered
not to
t to be
t when
for a
to feel
, when
is feel
wer of


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
99
There was nothing for him but to give in at last; he
demanded the right to accompany her; but this, too,
she refused and so they quarreled; and both begged for
forgiveness and they compromised on the basis that
Billy might meet her downtown and take her to Rinder-
feld's door and wait for her afterwards.


CHAPTER VII
T
H E office door of Felix Rinderfeld, attorney-at-
law, gleams in gold letters with his name and
estate alone. It faces a long white hall which is
on an upper floor of one of the modern office buildings
on Clark Street and, upon opening the door and glanc-
ing ahead through the wide, specklessly clean window
opposite, the visitor looks upon the gray, columned
façade of the Cook County Courts block.
It is not the most delectable highway of downtown
Chicago, — Clark Street. Michigan Avenue, with the
lake front park to its east, is at once the Fifth Avenue,
the Mall, the Avenue de l'Opera of Chicago, the boule-
vard of hotels and clubs, of jewelers and costumers, of
hatters and bootmakers, of tea rooms and confec-
tioners, of the Art Institute and Orchestra Hall, Mar-
jorie Hale knew Michigan Avenue well from the Black-
stone north. On Wabash Avenue, which lies next to
the west, she knew, of course, McClurg's bookstore,
Lyon and Healy's, Colby's and several other stores.
On State Street she was familiar at least with the
squares from Carson Pirie's to Marshall Field's; and
even on Dearborn, which is mostly a man's street of
commerce and contracts, she could identify a building
or two; but she was almost a complete stranger to
Clark Street in daytime when the theaters which occa-
sionally drew her there at night were closed.
She passed along squares where remain many of the
stiff, old and dingy structures erected in the seventies


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 101
during the first hasty rebuilding following the great
fire; and what chiefly caught her eye this morning, as
Billy escorted her, were lurid film posters, pawnshops
and cutlery displays; the huge, sooty colossus of the
city hall and county buildings did not, in her mind, ele-
vate the street. She had a feeling of being lowered as
she sought Rinderfeld's number; she had never thought
of herself as client of those who had business to do
about the divorce courts.
But there was nothing second-rate or deteriorating
to self-respect in the air of Rinderfeld's office; quite the
contrary; it was a Rolls-Royce - or at least an excel-
lent pseudo-Rolls-Royce -- sort of office, even in the
waiting room where Marjorie now found herself. If
he had ever luxuriated in the maroon ostentation of
heavy mahogany for office furnishings, he had learned
better and stepped higher to the repression of dull
walnut of delicate Chippendale-like lines in chairs and
in side table upon which reposed no ordinary five and
ten-cent weeklies, but Country Life, Field (the English
edition), the Spectator and the two volumes of Wells'
“Outline of History.” The girl who sat at a small,
Chippendale walnut desk near a door so obviously
private that it needed no label was no usual office attend-
ant; she was pretty, but repressed, pale without a
patch of rouge; she was almost nunlike in her black
dress, high about the neck and, as Marjorie noticed
when she arose, lower than usual in the skirt,
“ You are?” she asked quietly and without any ap-
parent personal curiosity.
“ Miss Conway,” Marjorie replied, using the name
that Rinderfeld had assigned her for her communica-
tions with him.
“ About ten minutes, I think," the girl said and re-


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 103
scandal threatened her. Rinderfeld was reassurance
and self-confidence itself.
" Come, sit right here," he invited for greeting, bow-
ing and turning the Chippendale chair at the left end
of his table so that it faced his own more directly.
“Good morning, Mr. Rinderfeld,” she replied ner-
vously, and sat down as bidden.
“ It is very good of you to call here,” he said, still
standing before her and estimating her. “We might
talk elsewhere, but here we are certain never to be dis-
turbed.”
It had been impossible for Marjorie to deliberate on
the night when he followed her to Fursten's, whether
this man was personally contemptible or not; she had
been altogether too dazed to think of him as a man
possessing personal qualities other than the knowledge
of how her father, her mother and she might be saved
from the morass of infamy threatening to rise about
them. She knew, of course, that Billy despised Rinder-
feld and that Billy was awaiting her outside rather with
an idea of disinfecting her, when she emerged from this
office, from the contamination of this man; but there
was nothing about the lawyer's manner which seemed
contaminating. He was affected, but with nothing
worse than over-courtliness in his manner; certainly it
was far better to err on that side than by over-famil-
iarity with a girl placed in her relationship to him. A
really coarse man might be expected to express himself
by putting his hand upon her; but Rinderfeld had so
wholly refrained from such contact that he had avoided
even offering his hand when she entered.
She appreciated this in him; she appreciated, too,
the perfect cleanliness and healthfulness of his appear-
ance. He was a bit overdressed; in what respect, she


104 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
could not see, for it was in no one respect; his blue
serge suit was perhaps too perfectly tailored; his shirt
too silky; his tie too perfectly arranged; his lack was
no more than a saving touch of the casual; he seemed
to realize that lack and to attempt to remedy it, as he
sat down.
“I hope I have not worried you by asking the priv-
ilege of this talk."
“ You mean nothing more has happened yesterday,
Mr. Rinderfeld?”
“Nothing in the sense that happenings are strokes
of fate completely beyond human control: but of course
the regular sequence of events proceeds."
He said that calmly, but it shortened her breath
again after the temporary relief of first seeing him.
“ What is the regular sequence of events, please? ”
Rinderfeld leaned slightly toward her, resting his left
arm on his desk; a dictation phonograph was too near
him and he pushed it slightly farther off. “ The people,
who knew, are talking more, of course."
“What people who knew - of what, Mr. Rinder-
feld?”
“Of the situation at the apartment on Clearedge
Street prior to the — accident of the other night.”
“ Oh; who knew of that?”
Rinderfeld smiled slightly; not an unpleasant smile
and not suggesting amusement at her innocence or
superiority over her. He was smiling to reassure her
before she heard his next words.
“ The other night, when I talked with you, I did not
know how many might happen to be informed; pos-
sibly they might be very few, so I did not discuss the
matter with you. Since then I have found that the
usual number of neighbors and others seem to have


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 105
fairly accurate information of events up to the shoot-
ing; they do not seem to know of that; they know
something happened night before last, but they have
not yet learned what.”
He smiled again in reassurance, but Marjorie gasped
and went weak. Rinderfeld straightened and waved his
hand before him as though brushing away a fly.
“ Think of them as flies, my dear young lady," he
said. “ Flies cause troubles, do they not? Do they
not?" he repeated and, as he evidently meant to force
an answer, Marjorie nodded.
“Exactly,” Rinderfeld agreed. “Now, where are
they to be found in their season? Everywhere out-
doors; is that not so? ”
When again he waited, again Marjorie nodded,
“Now what do we do about them? Do we go out
to exterminate them? No; we screen against them,
knowing if we keep them out of our houses we are safe.
Only if they come in are they capable of causing us
trouble. That is the way with these fly humans who
know what we might wish they do not; keep them out
and, no matter what they know or say, they cannot
harm you. It is as simple as that.”
“Of course you understand,” said Marjorie, “ that
is not quite clear to me.”
Rinderfeld nodded. “I am going to ask you, for a
few moments to think accurately or, at least, to follow
me while I assign to the different items of conduct and
reputation the exact values which they possess — in
distinction from the values which we like to pretend we
hold them at. You read the papers, of course."
“ Yes."
“You cannot have failed then to have become familiar
with the fate of a certain prominent gentleman in New


106 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
York City who, by the publication of scandal against
him, found it advisable to resign a position which was
one of the most important in the world. Now what, in
your opinion, forced him out? "
“Why,” said Marjorie. “What he did. When his
associates learned that, they could not keep a man of
his character in his position.”
Rinderfeld nodded, not in agreement; he was telling
her merely that she had said exactly what he expected
her to say.
“ His character had nothing to do with it. How
many of his associates, do you suppose, were surprised
and shocked by the morning papers? My dear young
lady, let us think. What a veritable cloud of wit-
nesses his wife produced against him, and the news-
papers interviewed — servants, sailors, clerks, jewelers
and what not. The number of people in every layer
of society who suspected his character was extraor-
dinary; you would have said, if you had known it, half
would have been more than sufficient to ruin him but,
until his wife brought charges against him in court,
they were all harmless. They could whisper; undoubt-
edly they did; they could wag their heads; but they
could not strike him.
“He could have snapped his fingers at them all —
in fact, for several years he seemed to have been snap-
ping his fingers at them — and he could have continued
to do exactly as he pleased had he kept guard over the
gate to court action against him, which was through
accusation by his wife.
“ That immediately turned his most private affairs
into the most public of property. Perhaps you have
been amazed, in reading in the papers of the scandal
of other men's lives, how the newspapers so quickly


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 107
gathered the facts which they publish. My dear young
lady, in most cases they have been known even to the
newspaper men for months or years; but the newspapers
were helpless to handle them until court action started
by somebody makes proper and publishable known facts
which, before some one complained in court, would have
been libel. Of course the publication in no way alters
the man's character -- merely his reputation; and it
does not alter even his reputation with the people
nearest him, who had known about it before. But now
they discover they must cast him out, because every
one else knows too. It is not, you see, the unforgivable
sin which destroys him but the no-longer-concealable
scandal. If it were the former, there would not be
many - pardon me; you will say I am cynical instead
of merely experienced. But now we may, perhaps,
proceed to a more businesslike estimate of our imme-
diate needs than might have been possible a few minutes
ago.”
He arose, and crossing to a table upon which stood
a silver carafe with a couple of goblets, he poured two
glasses of water and returned with them on a small
silver tray.
Marjorie gazed at them as though not recognizing
what they were for; they were beautiful, extravagant
goblets with silver applied on the glass; but the expen-
siveness did not impress her now and did not remind
her of the probable extortion of Rinderfeld's fees. In
her sickening fright, she could feel only dependence
upon this man, so assured and expert in her troubles.
He spoke to her twice, urging her to drink, before she
was able to refuse, whereupon he drained one glass and,
resuming his seat, placed the other goblet on the desk
near him.


108
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
identified in regular
Poses the
“ You may now see that it is relatively unimportant
that twelve or fourteen neighbors of Mrs. Russell may
be aware that all has not been regular with her and
that they may have identified the man. For all prac-
tical purposes they are harmless; some of them un-
doubtedly feel sympathy for them both; some feel it
is none of any one's else affair; a few, unquestionably,
are shocked. But very few people, without some
motive of self-advantage, take the trouble of disci-
plining others. They merely take it out in talk. There
is one chance — perhaps as large a chance as one in
a thousand — that some busybody from Clearedge
Street may visit your home. I may say the chance
exists only if there happens to be a neighbor who lives
by the profession of morality. I mention this solely
that when it may occur to you, you will disregard it.
“ To discover who may be dangerous, we have merely
to reckon who may consider himself benefited by ruining
your father; as well as I have been able to calculate
so far, there are only two. One is Russell. He tried
blackmail which he rather in judiciously backed by a
flourish with a revolver which he fired, I believe, in
excitement and not intentionally. Undoubtedly now
he is frightened; when your father recovers and re-
turns to business, he may again be heard from — but
not now unless in connection with the man whom we
have immediately to guard against, Stanway. Un-
questionably you know Mr. E. H. Stanway.”
Marjorie nodded; her lips were very dry and she
longed now for the water at Rinderfeld's elbow, but
she would not ask for it.
“ I've known him all my life,” she said. “He em-
ployed father, who started as his clerk, Mr. Rinder-
feld.”


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 109
“ Exactly, and who now is Mr. Stanway's most
dangerous rival — in fact, his only dangerous rival —
for the presidency of the Tri-Lake Products and
Material Corporation. I have only had a day to go
into details of their present organization, so I will be
glad if you correct me in any misconception. Stan-
way has never been a real worker; he inherited from
his father a stock interest which got him a sinecure
position in a then unimportant department of the com-
pany. He happened to employ your father, and his
department began to grow till it was doing the biggest
part of the business of the company. Stanway was
a figurehead; but as he and his relatives held the con-
trolling stock they kept him in office, though, to keep
your father, they had to pay him more than Stanway;
then Stanway succeeded in transferring your father
to another department and instantly Stanway's end
began dropping and the new department jumped up.
A few years ago, there was nothing to do but make
your father general manager and again greatly increase
his salary. To satisfy Stanway, they raised him to
vice-president, but did not increase his pay. As gen-
eral manager, your father has made a remarkable
record, not only during the boom of the war, but since.
I am told that Tri-Lake Products and Materials actu-
ally employ more men to-day than last year; their out-
put has increased and they have not missed a dividend.
“Nominally, this has happened under the administra-
tion of Dorsett, the president, but his health has been
bad for years; his contribution has been chiefly in pro-
moting and backing your father against the Stanway
family interest and keeping him a free hand. Stanway,
as vice-president, and therefore nominally a superior
to your father, has so far succeeded in saving his face.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 111
feld stopped abruptly and more eloquently than by any
words he could have said he suggested that which
flashed into Marjorie's mind. He seemed to see, by
watching her, that he need not say it.
“ You mean, Mr. Rinderfeld,” she repeated again
her address of him, “ that Mr. Stanway — caused
that? »
Rinderfeld turned and picked up the second goblet
from his desk and sipped the water sparingly.
“ Causation, my dear young lady,” he said, clinging
to his abstention from even once repeating her name
or her father's, “ is always difficult to prove. If you
ask me whether I think that Mr. E. H. Stanway's desire
to insure his own election to the presidency of the Tri-
Lake Products and Material Corporation and the
sudden and as yet unexplained recrudescence of interest
of Russell in his former wife, whom he deserted and
who divorced him, are purely coincidental as to time, I
would reply to you that, in my opinion — as yet un-
sustained by material evidence - they are not.”
Marjorie's fingers clenched tightly on the edge of
Rinderfeld's desk; she was hot now, tense and eager to
fight. She forgot entirely, for the moment, her father's
contribution of guilt toward his own undoing. Stan-
way, his enemy — and hers — had planned the dis-
grace or, at least, planned to profit by it. For the
moment she was stirred against Rinderfeld and almost
angry at him for being able himself, when so arousing
her, to keep so cool. And Rinderfeld realized this, as
he seemed, after a moment's reflection, to realize every-
thing.
“ To you, it is, of course, terrible,” he said, putting
down the goblet carefully on his silver tray. “To me —
in what state would I keep myself if I allowed myself


112
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
to be torn up about such things? But do not imagine
too much; our friend undoubtedly fell far short of ex-
pectation of the shooting. There was to be a scene,
undoubtedly; that should have been all; that should
have been enough. Now, though what has happened has
unquestionably exceeded expectations in certain re-
spects, in others it has brought about embarrassments.
Russell is not at hand; the rôle of the accuser is there-
fore vacant. It is never an over-agreeable rôle. The
law may have commanded that the sinner be stoned,
but when it was suggested that he who was without
sin cast the first stone, the crowd melted away, you
may remember. Stanway will do nothing openly or
directly, however much he knows; he will call, I feel
quite sure, upon your mother.”
Marjorie stood up because she could sit still no
longer. “Now, I know why you sent for me."
Rinderfeld glanced up at her and inclined his head
slightly. “ Obviously I can not prevent that call; as
obviously I can not be at your home to meet him when
he comes. You can and you can render him harmless
simply and easily, if you will.”
“ How can I?”
“ He will arrive with the idea that he is the bearer
of news; you will meet him and when he starts to hem
and haw over his story take it up for him and finish
it — and him.” Rinderfeld suddenly indulged himself
in a laugh. “I would like to see him when he finds that
he has no news; when he finds that you know, he will not
imagine anything but that your mother must also
know — and that she is complacent. Then, what can
he do?”
Marjorie stared and, in a moment, nodded and
Rinderfeld arose. “He has one more barrel to fire,”
-
-
- -


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 113
he confessed, “ but leave the pulling of that charge to
me. If I prove mistaken in the expectations I have
given you — or if anything else out of the ordinary
occurs — communicate with me at once. We under-
stand each other, I am sure, perfectly.”
Marjorie nodded again; she recognized that he
wished to end their interview, but whereas, before enter-
ing this room, she could not have dreamt of wishing to
prolong her talk with Rinderfeld, now she would stay.
Not because she failed to understand or because she
was curious as to what was the other charge of Mr.
Stanway's which Rinderfeld planned to pull. She had
thought all she could about the threat of Stanway;
suddenly it had sunk to secondary importance, and
what overwhelmed her was that which had caused her to
cry to Doctor Grantham yesterday morning; why had
her father done what he did ?
Doctor Grantham had avoided answering her; if he
himself understood, he would not tell; and now Marjorie
doubted the fullness of the doctor's comprehension. She
had not even put the question to Billy; and now she
thoroughly realized why she had not; for Billy, though
a man, was almost as unequipped with experience in
such affairs as she. But here was a man with experi-
ence beyond any other whom she might meet and who,
where he might have been personal and unpleasant, had
preserved perfectly the professional throughout this
difficult conversation with her. As she thought back
upon it, she was amazed at how he had got through it
without personal offensiveness and yet imparted to her
what he had; she felt she could ask him anything and
he could keep it impersonal; and she felt that, when
he answered, he could tell her the truth.


114 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“Mr. Rinderfeld!” she said with a sudden appeal,
but then stopped.
Rinderfeld glanced at her and waited and, when she
did not proceed, he said, “ Why did he do it? That is
what you want to ask, I know.”
“ Not Mr. Stanway, Mr. Rinderfeld; I mean "
“I know whom you mean,” Rinderfeld finished for
her. " That is what every woman, who comes here for
the first time, wishes to know. Wives they are, usually.
I used to try to answer that question; now, I know it
is useless; a person who has to ask it admits that she
is incapable of understanding the answer. I am very
sorry; but I am sure that it is so.”
“Why can I not understand? It's not enough to
tell me it is because I have to ask that question.”
Rinderfeld evidently was not accustomed to so vigor-
ous a rebuttal and, as evidently, he liked it. "No," he
said. “You're right; it's not. Though I can't attempt
to tell you the other, I can tell you — if you wish —
why, in my opinion, you are incapable of understanding.
Undoubtedly you consider yourself at least acquainted
with men; undoubtedly when you have spoken of your
friends, you have said that many of your closest were
men and you considered yourself upon as easy a basis
with them as with girls; there are men, probably, who
— you say — would tell you anything frankly and to
whom, you would say, you could tell anything. Is that
not so?”
Marjorie startled a little and flushed. “ Please go
on," she begged.
“ Whereas, the fact is that no man you have ever
talked to has told you even so much as half the truth.
They have told you, probably, how they have felt
toward you and your sort, but never how they feel


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
115
toward what we may term, for convenience, other
women. For you are a good girl; all your friends are
good girls, living in prosperous, honorable, protected
homes. A man of the sort you meet would consider
himself lower than a dog — and his friends would put
him down below the lowest cur if they let him live at
all — if ever once he adopted within himself an attitude
toward you which he may, without loss of a single
friend, persistently hold toward other women. When
such a man marries a girl like you, one of three things
is bound to happen; either he has fallen into the pas-
sion which we may call pure love and at least tempo-
rarily — and perhaps permanently — he abandons all
other attitudes except the one he maintains toward
you; or, in another case, he maintains both his former
attitude toward you and his other former attitude
toward other women, or, in the third, he shows his wife
both. In either of the latter instances, I am very likely
to hear from some one soon.”
He had not avoided her while speaking; but now his
glance shifted from her to the dictation machine on
his desk. It was plain he considered he had said all
he wished and he desired her to go. “ Thank you,” she
said, subdued. “Thank you very much. I am what I
am — so ignorant that I can not even understand an
answer as to why my father has done what he has —
because I live in a prosperous, honorable, protected
home, you said. Then, if I did not, I would soon become
able to understand?”
Rinderfeld looked up so quickly that he almost
jerked. “Too soon,” he said sharply. “ The women
like you who never understand make the world worth
living in, I think; I'm not sure," he qualified honestly.
“ It is one of the anomalies of life I'm trying to make


116 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
out purely from a philosophical standpoint. It has
nothing to do with my business. At least, don't you
try the understanding; leave that, as you leave other
unpleasant items, to men like me. We'll handle it for
you."
His hand moved slightly on his desk; she did not see
him touch a button, but she heard behind her the almost
inaudible buzzer on the other side of the wall in the
waiting room; and she knew that the signal was given
to show in the florid-faced, gray-haired man. Rinder-
feld moved, in courtly manner, toward the farther door
directly communicating with the hallway.
“At any time telephone me, in emergency, here or
at my home number; some one always knows where I
am.” He had returned wholly to business; and she
made a business-like reply and stepped into the hall.


CHAPTER VIII
EFORE departing from Clark Street with Billy,
Marjorie experienced a further enlightening
sensation. Billy's presence had nothing to do
with it; in fact, it was in opposition to his efforts that
she had the experience, for Billy was doing his best to
return her as rapidly as possible to her familiar environ-
ment of Michigan Avenue and the boulevard route home
to Evanston, and to re-immerse her in the formal modes
of thinking and feeling which had been hers. But she
had no wish to reënter so immediately her world of not
even so much as half the truth; and her further experi-
ence on Clark Street was suddenly to feel, by one of
those flashes of perceptivity which amaze one with a
demonstration of one's dull narrowness before, that
Clark Street and the streets beyond — west and north
and south, in their endless number — concerned her.
How vitally and with what intimacy had Clearedge
Street concerned her! She wanted to stand on the
sidewalk and gaze about at the people passing and
think of the men as men of the manner Rinderfeld
knew. But Billy had kept a cab waiting for her and
he helped her into it.
“Well, Marjorie,” he demanded, as soon as the car
started. “What did he have to tell you?” So she
repeated to him Rinderfeld's analysis of the danger
threatening them.
“ Of course, I never thought of it that way before,"
she finished. “ But you must have, Billy; you're a


118 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
lawyer. Why didn't you explain to me how it would
come out — if it does?”
“That's Rinderfeld for you!” Billy countered.
“ You couldn't have a much better show-up of him;
what does he care about the right or wrong of any
case? Try to cover up; scrape yourself clear of the
consequences; that's Rinderfeld's Bible. He doesn't
correct a thing.”
“Probably he doesn't,” Marjorie admitted. “But
he does try to suggest a way in which you may be left
alone to settle your own family trouble without the
whole world interfering. And I don't believe he thinks
I'm trying to scrape out of consequences.”
Billy sat away from her, feeling injured and that
she had held him cheap; then he saw her face, saw her
lips tremble as she tried to steady them, saw her catch
herself up bravely, and he was ashamed of himself; he
called her name and he caught both her hands between
his own big ones.
“Oh, Marjorie, Marjorie, don't you suppose I'd
have told you all that, if it could really do you any
good? But you'll find out, it won't put off even Stan-
way! And if it does, it can't save you from facing
what's before; and you'll — we'll only make it harder
and harder, dearie, by putting it off !”
He drew away one of his hands and hastily pulled
down the curtains of the cab and then he put his arm
about her and begged her to rest on his shoulder.
But she could not. The confidence which she had
gained when with Rinderfeld was vanishing. “I'm
going to see father now, remember,” she reminded
Billy.
He had forgotten, though Marjorie had told him,
that her given reason for her journey down town to-day


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
119
was to visit the hospital. When she arrived, she learned
that her father's improvement continued and that she
would be allowed to see him for five minutes.
She found him very white in his narrow, white bed
in the little, private room, with a nurse beside him;
but he was conscious and his head was clear and, indeed,
he was not unlike himself. His eyes met hers and gazed
into hers in his old, loving manner; his lips smiled at
her in fond reassurance.
“ I'm going to be all right again soon, Margy," he
said, clasping tighter on her hand which she slipped
into his.
That weak pressure almost made her cry; and she
tossed back her head and shook her tears away. How
could he have sinned, as he had, and kept his conscience
so clear? Yet it was not strange that his manner toward
her had not changed, she reflected after a minute; for
she was certain that Doctor Grantham would not yet
have informed him of her presence at Clearedge Street;
and he was not more guilty to-day than last week or
last month or before. The change was in herself, be-
cause she had learned; and she wondered if she had
never known him with a clear conscience or whether,
if she knew the world as Rinderfeld did, she would believe
that men like her father regarded his sin so lightly that
it cast no cloud over their consciences and that its
effect upon them was only the fear of scandal.
She would not let Billy accompany her home; and,
starting away alone in the taxicab, she passed another,
approaching the hospital, and having one passenger, a
woman. Marjorie had only a glimpse of her and more
of her figure than her face, but she half leaped from
her seat in the certainty that the woman was Mrs.
Russell.


120 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Marjorie stopped her cab and waited until she saw
that the other car halted before the hospital and the
passenger got out and, evidently having told the driver
to wait, went into the building. But now she did not
look quite so much like Mrs. Russell.
“ No,” Marjorie argued with herself. “Mrs. Russell
would not dare. Rinderfeld would not let her.”
She had not mentioned Mrs. Russell to Rinderfeld,
yet she had no doubt that he was in charge, too, of
Mrs. Russell. Besides, if that woman were Mrs. Russell,
what could Marjorie do? She told her driver to go
on, and, returning alone to Evanston, she underwent a
new emotion as she drove through wide, beautiful ave-
nues of her neighbors' prosperous, honorable, protected
homes.
Instead of experiencing merely a renewal of the dread
of her neighbors, of their mercilessness if they “ found
out,” she was swept with a sharper pang of shame for
the unworthiness of her home to stand among theirs;
and the conduct of her father became betrayal, not only
of his family, but of all their friends. No wonder
Evanston had been slow in accepting newcomers; by
choosing to live in a place like Evanston, you made a
more definite profession of certain ideals than by going
about the business of residing in a different sort of
community; you displayed at least a desire for decent,
family life and for the more sober and less fleshly en-
joyments. So when one did as her father had done, he
harmed more than himself and his own; he took advant-
age of decencies and self-restraints practised by other
men — restraints which had made his neighborhood
attractive and desirable -- and he had betrayed them.
For the moment, Marjorie ranged herself on the side
of these other families which had not proved false; and


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 121
despairingly she longed that hers might have been one
of them.
She had late luncheon at home, for her mother had
left for the hospital a few minutes before her arrival.
As neighbors were beginning to hear of Mr. Hale's
illness, the telephone rang frequently for inquiries; and
several calls came from the office and from his friends
down town; flowers were delivered and some people
stopped in at the house. Marjorie let the servants
continue the repetition of the information which the
family was giving out; but when Clara Sedgwick
called, Marjorie had her come in.
She brought the news that some people were saying
that Mr. Hale was not at home, but had been taken to
a hospital in Chicago for a serious operation. She
was not a gossipy girl, Clara, and she did not try to
trick Marjorie into telling more than she wished, but,
after frankly relating what she had heard, Clara asked
if the Hales wanted it denied.
Marjorie said, yes; probably it was better to deny
it, but that it was true; and after Marjorie admitted
this, it was plain that Clara was satisfied and suspected
nothing more; so Marjorie gained another proof of
the astuteness of Felix Rinderfeld who, having a serious
secret to conceal, had not made the mistake of publish-
ing a story which hid nothing, but who had supplied
a less serious secret for curious friends to discover.
Clara stayed and made an effort to interest Marjorie
by going into the details of favors for a dance set for
next week; then she launched upon the novelties which
were being suggested to the entertainment committee of
the golf club to vary the usual monotony of golf for
men and bridge for women, on Saturday afternoons
through the approaching season. Somebody had sug-


122 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
gested a scheme for combining a husband's golf and
his wife's bridge score; but George Chaden had a better
idea, and one much more applicable to the unmarried;
any girl or woman, to be eligible for a bridge prize on
Saturday, had to qualify by making a certain golf
score during the five days previous; but if she didn't
golf, she could — under certain elaborately amusing
rules — get a man to qualify her.
Marjorie honestly attempted to become interested
but she could not; what filled her mind was amaze-
ment that fripperies like these had previously fascin-
ated her and that the planning and performing of them
had given her satisfaction. To chatter at teas with
girls as like as possible to herself; to dine between two
men who had passed the tests of admission to your
set; to play bridge with them, sometimes gambling
mildly; golf with the same ones and, in the same com-
pany, perhaps motor; to go down town in your
limousine — or in a neighbor's — to spend two hours
weekly in winter in one of the seats in orchestra hall,
to which your mother subscribed every year, listening
to a Tschaikowsky overture and French and Italian
concertos; to sit, also in carefully selected, subscribed-
for seats surrounded by your own set, one night a week
for the ten weeks of “ opera "; to go with your mother
or with Clara or Elsie to pick out dress materials at
Field's or pick up something ready made in a Michigan
Avenue shop; otherwise to spend your days dropping
in on your neighbors, or receiving them when they
dropped in on you, or idling along Davis Street unless
somebody like Lord Dunsany or Tagore had been cap-
tured for the afternoon's sensation at the Woman's
Club, in which case you'd drop in to look at him and
hear a word or two to save you the trouble of reading


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 123
his books to see why he made such a stir; — thus Mar-
jorie was totaling her life. In order to instance to her-
self a single extraordinary event, she had to call up
the twenty minutes she spent in an airplane flying over
the city and the lake from the hangar just west of
Evanston. No wonder Rinderfeld found her so
ignorant of the world that he realized it was useless
to try to explain what had happened to her; no wonder
that the few men, with whom she held anything ap-
proaching a conversation, satisfied her when they spoke
to her in never so much as half-truths concerning them-
selves and their world.
It astounded her now suddenly to begin realizing
how small and shut in was the world of the daughter
and wife of a successful man. Sitting by her window
one morning while she watched, fearing the approach
of Mr. Stanway or of Russell or some one from Clear-
edge Street coming in attack upon her home, she
counted the delivery wagons which stopped, - the
grocer's, the butcher's, the ice van, Marshall Field's,
Carson Pirie's, Lord's, a florist's boy, Borden's Cream-
ery, a laundry wagon, one from the cleaner's and a
runabout bringing a man to estimate on the decorating
to be done soon: eleven bearing to the house materials
and service to supplement the service of the three maids
and one man established within and to further obviate
necessity of effort on the part of her mother and her-
self. They — Marjorie thought — need not make a
single move. As a matter of fact, they frequently tele-
phoned orders and personally purchased some of the
articles delivered, but Marjorie could not honestly
assign to their activities a higher value than one of
furnishing diversion or a feeling of satisfaction at doing
something. For she knew that, if they never made a


126
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
floor and long oak bar behind the screen and, in back,
a fair-sized, liquor-and-tobacco-reeking room with six
round tables and a couple of small, one-table private
rooms opening off it. “Kilkerry's" was the name in
raised, partly peeled gilt letters on the board over the
door from which the draft beer advertisement and the
formal“ Ale and Porter ” plate had been torn in defer-
ence to the eighteenth amendment; but everybody knew
what Kilkerry's served. It was only for decency's
sake that he let his name peel and his clapboards
blister; when clearing four times the profit on bad
whiskey and gin you ever rung up on good, only the
foolish man would forget to look as though he were
sunk to ruin on sarsaparillas and vichy waters.
Across those cigar-scorched, dented tabletops Russell
had made his original boasts to his companions that
he would get satisfaction or Hale; and the patrons of
Kilkerry's, having read in the newspapers of the sud-
den illness of the general manager of Tri-Lake
Products and Material Corporation on the same night
that Russell disappeared, put two and two together,
audibly and often; and openly they announced the
answer.
“ Sick!" puffed one Simmons, from a chair where,
he said, Russell had sat when he, Simmons, occupied
the seat Gregg was in. “I bet that bird took sick sud-
den! The
- What's matter wi’ Russell,
damn fool? Doesn't he want to collect? Struck oil
somewhere, has he? Maybe Uncle Bim died and he
don't need no money. Not a peep in the papers, d’you
see that? Hale's sick; that's all they dare tell. Say,
can Georgie Russell collect? "
So Simmons expected Russell back; all the regulars
at Kilkerry's expected him; for there he had boasted;


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
127
in back,
with sis
e prirate
name in
over the
and the
in defer
ods knew
Hecency's
apboards
on bad
only the
he were
s Russell
ons that
trons of
there he would come to gloat when he considered it safe.
At first Gregg looked in at Kilkerry's only a couple of
times a day and, between visits, made a few perfunctory
calls on possible prospects for refrigeration systems;
occasionally he dropped into the gymnasium of an ex-
pugilist, a middleweight, who struck hard and taunted
his pupils to hit harder. Gregg had boxed a little in
college and when in the army; but he was not wasting
time brushing up on boxing now. He wanted only the
swing of a hit and to regain the knack of taking a
blow.
When he became more of a regular at Kilkerry's, he
noticed another stranger who was in the process of
regularizing himself, also, — a heavy man, tallas
Gregg and twice as thick through. He bought just a
bit too freely for others, and talked not quite enough,
Gregg thought; but nobody else seemed suspicious of
the fellow who made himself known by the name of
Hershy.
Happening not to be at Kilkerry's when Russell re-
ported, Gregg came into the back room about seven
o'clock one evening to find them all together — Sim-
mons and seven or eight of the other regulars, Hershy,
who was buying just then, and a big, black-haired,
black-browed man who must be Russell. Sybil Russell
had chosen physically powerful men, Gregg thought,
when he looked over this man who was big as Hale and
much younger and with large, strong hands showing
black hair on the wrists. Hershy was handing him
raw, yellow whiskey and already Russell was drunk;
Simmons was spluttering drunk. Hershy was pretend-
ing to be drunk.
They had reached the stage in which they were pro-
claiming Russell as a great moral agent:
the sud
T'ri-Lake
me night
cogether,
aced the
r where,
occupied
ick sud-
Russell,
Cuck oil
and he
s, d'you
Say,
gulars
pasted;


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 129
Gregg did not make the mistake of trying to lead
him; he merely let Russell keep his hold and walked on
away from Hershy's cab, leaving Hershy nothing to do
but follow when they turned down an alley in the next
square beyond Kilkerry's.
It was dark there behind the buildings and nobody
about; it was as good a place as could be found for
settlement of differences with Hershy, representing -
so Gregg was sure — Stanway and polite business
blackmail, even lower in its essential than the ugly
affair Russell's friends advised.
“ Get along, Hershy,” said Gregg. “You're not
invited.”
“Yeah!” agreed Russell.“ Get along!”
Hershy's hand came down on Gregg's shoulder and
tried to pull him from Russell. Gregg squared around
and Hershy struck him on the side of the head.
Gregg's right arm went down; his knees bent; all
at once he got together; his arm came up hooked; his
knees straightened; and as his whole body was thrust-
ing up, the heavy hulk of Russell's weight slipped off
his left side and Gregg almost leaped as he struck
Hershy's jaw and knocked Hershy's head back and
dropped him in the alley.
“Ka-yo!” gurgled Russell with delight. “Ka-yo!
Prop him up and hitimagain."
But Hershy was propping himself up; he was not
knocked out, for he moved, feeling for a gun, maybe,
Gregg thought, as he got Russell quickly past an ash
barrel, up through an area, and went out on the street,
with Russell lolling on him in maudlin admiration.
He had to endure the admiration as he supported the
big man along. Where? Gregg had never had any too
definite destination; now none of those which he had


130 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
tentatively fixed on satisfied him. He wanted to take
Russell far away, as the first consideration; and he
had seen the result of Hershy's attempt to get him
into a motor car.
The puffing and bell of a switch engine caught Gregg's
ear; a headlight gleamed across the street and gates
went down with warning clangor. When Gregg brought
Russell to the crossing, he started down beside the
tracks without positive intention at first; chiefly he was
keeping Russell moving and interested. Then he
observed that they were beside a string of box cars,
empty probably, which were being made up into a
train for return to the west. One car had the door
open and, halting, Russell thrust both his hands in
the straw on the floor of the car; then, exerting his
strength, he sprang up and thrust himself into the car.
The fellow could have had no purpose but, perhaps,
to lie down in the straw and sleep; for that was what
he did. Gregg, satisfied, got into the car and sat
beside him. In a few minutes came the shock and jangle
which told that the engine had picked up this string of
cars; the train started and, as the car passed the city
street lamps, streaks of light entered the door, slowly
swept over Gregg and the sleeping form of Russell and
left them in the dark again. Then the train gathered
speed; the clanging over crossings ceased and the
streaks of light were rare and dim; the train was out
of the city and, evidently a fast, through freight, would
make few stops. The train crew apparently were un-
aware that any one was in this car; when a brakeman
passed on top he never halted and no one had looked
into the door.
For Gregg's purpose with Russell, he could hardly
have chosen a better place; yet Gregg, as he reviewed


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 131
that purpose, never doubted it so much as now. He had
heard that Russell was big and strong, yet he had not
expected quite all the man he had found; and Russell,
when he awoke from this stupored sleep, undoubtedly
would be ugly; also he would be rested while Gregg now
dared not rest. He had to sit up and watch.
There were other ways to do for Russell, Gregg could
not help thinking; but only one sporting one, — one
way, that was, in which Gregg Mowbry could do it, or
try to do it, and live with himself afterward. If he
failed, probably he wouldn't live at all, so there was
no use bothering about that. Though he had said
nothing to any one else about what he had taken on, he
had taken it on with himself; and he wasn't going to
quit. So, as the night went darker and colder, he sat
beside Russell and watched him. Once Gregg felt over
him, found a loaded revolver — likely the one with
which Russell had shot Mr. Hale, Gregg thought — and
he broke it, strewed the shells beside the track and
tossed the weapon down into a river. Then, thinking
of Marjorie and of .Billy and of Mr. Hale and Mrs.
Russell and Marjorie again — Marjorie - he sat on
the floor beside Russell and waited for him to wake.


CHAPTER X
ESIDE a country station, about midnight, the
train halted and switched and backed with a
banging jolt against a string of cars which it
was coupling on.
As the shock reached Russell, he sat up. “Whoinel
done that to me? ” he demanded belligerently and blear-
ing at Gregg in the streak of light from the depot.
“ Say, dudyou do me that dirty trick? ”
His geniality and his admiration of Gregg were
entirely gone; he did not recall his companion at all.
“ Say, whoth'ell are you? What you want? Where-
am I?"
“Go to sleep,” said Gregg; and Russell stared
about, evidently discerned nothing particularly dis-
turbing and lay down again with eyes open for a while
and mumbling to himself; but when the train went
on, he soon was asleep.
It was almost daylight when Russell next awoke and
the train was running about thirty miles an hour, Gregg
guessed, through a broad, level farming section with
widely separated stations, and those only in small
country towns and villages — sometimes little more than
a crossroads and watertank — which the freight had
been passing with whistle screaming and without even
slowing. This time Russell was clear in the head; in
fact, before he stirred at all or even opened his eyes
wide, he had been conscious for some minutes, Gregg


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 133
suspected, and he had been trying to place himself and
estimate his situation.
At this, he soon succeeded at least to the point of
deciding that it was not risky for him to sit up.
“ Good morning,” he said soberly and cautiously.
Gregg rose to his feet to warm himself and lessen
his stiffness from the long chill of the night; a few
minutes before he had felt tired and weakened and slow;
but his pulse was tapping rapidly now and pounded
with fuller flow as Russell, wary of being taken at dis-
advantage, also got to his feet. He faced Gregg, who
had his back to the side of the car forward of the open
door; Russell backed to the closed door opposite and
spread his arms wide along the wood to steady himself.
He had long, powerful arms and he was a good two
inches taller than Gregg as he drew himself up; but, in
any emergency which might confront him, he evidently
meant not to depend solely on his physical superiority,
Suddenly he dropped his right arm and his hand went.
to that trouser pocket from which Gregg had removed
the revolver. Not finding his weapon, his hand quickly
shifted to other pockets and he glanced at the floor
where he had lain, darted his gaze to the corners of
the car and then he looked at Gregg.
“ You got that? ”
“I took it,” Gregg said; and quietly, without
ostentation, he put his hand in the side pocket of the
light overcoat he was wearing and, when his hand was
hidden, he straightened his forefinger toward Russell
and bulged the pocket.
“What in hell do you want? " Russell said next.
“ Do you remember me?"
Russell drew his brows down as he gazed at Gregg
and deliberated what to say. “No," he answered first;


134 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
and then, sullenly, “I suppose you were in Kilkerry's
last night.”
“ Yes; that's where we met.”
“ You took me out of there, eh? ”
“ No; another friend of yours took you out; I got
you from him outside."
Russell considered this for a while; evidently he had
no recollection of Hershy. “ 'Nother friend of mine;
call yourself a friend of mine, do you? ” he challenged.
“No,” said Gregg, flatly.
“Who the hell are you? Say, have you got a drink
about you? "
“ No.”
“ How about water?"
“ No.”
“ Where're we going?”
“ West; the last town I noticed was Foseca ; I sup
pose it's in Illinois or southern Wisconsin."
“ Well, what's the big idea?”
“ Mowbry's my name; I'm a friend of Charles Hale,
whom you shot, and I'm more a friend of his daughter."
" Oh."
“ There's no use my wasting time telling you what
you're trying to do; we both know it; and there's no
use wasting time talking to you about it. I'm going to
beat you up first.”
Gregg stopped and stood as steadily as the swaying
of the car allowed, while Russell stared at his face,
stared down at his bulging pocket and stared up again.
Russell, of course, did not yet understand.
So Gregg told him: “ I'm going to beat you up, fair
if I can; if you fight dirty — I suppose you will —
we'll have to go at that. I'm going to beat you up, I


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 135
said, first thing. I've been waiting for you all night.
Let's go.”
“Go? ” said Russell, bracing himself back against
his door and otherwise not moving. There was a trick
somewhere, he was sure; this smaller, more lightly built
man, of refined face and bearing, was going to cripple
him first, Russell thought; either by shooting him or
holding him helpless with the revolver while he did what
he planned.
“Go, I said," Gregg repeated. “If I wanted just
to beat you up, I had all night to do it in.” He slipped
off his overcoat and suit coat together and dropped
them on the floor, his hands coming out bare and
clenched.
Russell saw that and lunged forward to catch him at
that instant; this Mowbry, Russell thought, had made a
slip and for a second was unprepared, having lost hold
of the revolver. Probably he expected Gregg to side-
step and dodge. But Gregg did just the opposite thing.
As Russell came, he stepped toward him and came up
under and inside Russell's arm and caught him with
right fist full on the jaw.
It was a harder blow than the one, like it, which had
dropped Hershy; it was hard as Gregg could hit. But
it did not drop Russell. It did not even send him back;
it stopped him, confused him for the instant in which
Gregg stepped free from the clench of Russell's big
arms and recognized that he had a job before him even
bigger than he had thought.
“ You — - ," said Russell and spit. Gregg
rushed him, hit his face once, hit his wind and got
knuckles on his own head, — the left side of the head
and then the right; in the neck; then, when he saw
Russell start to rush, Gregg gave way.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 137
trying to strike, trying to hold. Breath went out of
Gregg; he was underneath; weaker, much weaker than
Russell in such crushing grapple; Russell's hand
grabbed his neck and Russell's fingers closed on his
throat; and even when Gregg raised the big bulk of
Russell's body off his chest, breath now would not come
in. Gregg was choked and knew that Russell meant
to hold on and would throttle him. For an instant the
shutting-off of breath, along with that realization,
made Gregg weaker; then he concentrated his strength;
turned over, turning Russell with him; he got on top
of Russell but did not break the hold of those big, broad
fingers on his windpipe; but Gregg's arms were free
now and he beat with his fist on Russell's mouth, smash-
ing in something — teeth; he pounded and pounded
again. Russell couldn't stand that. He almost let go
of Gregg's throat; anyway, Gregg got a breath and
for it beat harder on Russell's face, smashed his mouth
again, and his cheekbones, his brows, drawing blood;
it was hot and sticky on Russell's face and on Gregg's
knuckles when he struck, and Russell at last let go.
Gregg freed himself and got up, Russell rolling the
other way, also raising himself; so they faced each
other half the car's length apart, with the open door of
the freight car on the side between them.
The train was running on, whistling; the car swayed
and Gregg, going dizzy, put one hand to the wall to
steady him; Russell did not so need to brace himself;
but he was a frightful sight with blood over his face
from a break over his left eye and from his nose and
from his mouth; blood had even streaked into his black
hair when he rolled over; but Gregg knew that, bloody
as he was, Russell was marked more than hurt. Gregg
was hardly marked at all, but half his strength seemed


138
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
gone; partly he'd spent it; partly those minutes — for
it was minutes — of lung-breaking breathlessness had
exhausted him; partly it was stun from blows on his
head. It was of his head that he was most conscious;
it was heavy and now light-feeling; then heavy again.
The car seemed to swirl and swing about an endless
curve; his eyes closed of themselves and he had to make
conscious efforts of will to keep them open; his knees
wanted to weaken and let him drop and lie on the
floor.
“ This man will kill me now," he had to remind him-
self to keep up. “This man will kill me, if he can.
Now he's coming to do it.”
For Russell was advancing on him; and Gregg jerked
his head up and straightened. He raised his left aim
for guard and Russell, having no plan to strike,
grabbed it and pulled back, swinging Gregg toward the
wide-open door.
“ He's throwing me out!” Gregg recognized, and
tried to pull up on Russell and clench with him as
before; but this time Russell stopped that or Gregg
was too weak. Russell pulled back farther and got
Gregg swinging; so Gregg let his knees go and let him-
self drop. This brought him nearer to Russell ; but not
near enough, for Russell was able to raise him as he
swung and keep him almost clear of the floor. Russell
pulled up higher to swing Gregg entirely free; he had
him almost to the door now; and Russell let go and
flung him. Too soon; a half of a half-second too soon;
for Gregg struck the side of the car at the very edge of
the door; he bumped back and slid down directly at
the opening, and Russell, following, kicked him to send
him out; but Gregg grabbed the leg. Gregg's own legs
went out over nothing — out the door that meant —


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
139
as he hugged to Russell's leg and held on. Then Rus-
sell began going down; his other leg went out from
under him; for a dizzy, spinning instant, Gregg grabbed
to nothing which had any support; they were going out
the car door together, Gregg thought; and he closed his
eyes, waiting the crush of them together beside the rails.
Then Russell came down on the car floor and Gregg
crept up on him, pulling himself within the car again.
Russell was the weaker one now; Russell was the dizzier
one; for he'd come down and banged his head on the
car floor.
Gregg got up and stood over him. “ Get up!” he
said; and Russell got up; and, as he reached his feet,
Gregg struck him and knocked him to the left; struck
him with all his strength and knocked him to the right.
“Get up!” Gregg threatened him again; and Russell
got up; for he would have murdered Gregg; he had
tried to kill him; and he could imagine nothing but that,
if he lay there, this Mowbry, friend of Charles Hale,
would kill him. So, on the right side of his head and
then on the jaw on the left, Gregg gave it to him again.
“ Get up!”
Gregg never quite knocked him “out”; perhaps he
could not have done it even now, so stubborn and endur-
ing was Russell's strength; but he was not trying to;
he knocked him down a dozen times that he counted and
then he kept on punishing him while Russell, still sure
that he meant to kill him, kept coming up to fight; so
Gregg pounded and cut and beat him — “beat him up,"
as men say — till Russell at last, though still con-
scious, was helpless and done, utterly finished. Gregg
himself was almost as exhausted.
It was an unforgettable, bloody business, at the end
of which Russell lay flat on the floor of the car, his


140
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
st finish ked and as Gregg mense. Not
face and almost his whole head swollen and spongy red,
his eyes almost closed, his lips immense. Not possibly
could he ever forget it; as Gregg moved now and spoke
to him, he jerked and quivered. Gregg himself was
almost finished from his own terrible effort; he felt
sick and his swollen, bleeding hands ached torturously.
But he had won; and that meant more than the mere
knowledge that from this savage encounter he had
emerged with Russell at his mercy; he was sure now
that, as he had dreamed and had planned, Russell could
never completely recover from this beating. Physically,
he would recuperate, of course; within a week he would
be strong as ever; but Gregg believed he had cut
through the mere physical into the morale and had “ got
Russell's nerve”; Russell would never be the same man
again. One who has been utterly beaten, never can
“ come back," fighting men say.
So Gregg let Russell lie a while and look up at him
and wonder what was to happen next, and then, as he
quivered and shrank again when Gregg moved, Gregg
said loudly and slowly and distinctly:
“ You know why you got that; if ever you show up
in Chicago again or open your mouth about Charles
Hale, you'll run right into the same, only more of it -
the same, you understand; just exactly the same but
more. I'll prop you up to keep hitting you next time;
prop you up and bring you to and prop you up again.
By God, I feel like it now, you — ”
At that Russell screamed, “No!” and, not daring
to move for fear of drawing the blows on his swollen
head, he lay just quivering in stark, man's hysterics ;
and so Gregg believed he had “ got” Russell.
It was over and done; and Gregg turned away and
stood at the edge of the door, gazing out over the


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 141
black, harrowed fields edged by grass and bushes bud-
ding green, over which the April sun was rising; and
he tried to think about what he had done.
This was, after all, a good deal what he had hoped
for, though it had proved worse, — harder and more
savage and brutal than he had expected; and yet he
should have known that it would be. But, however
revolting to him, it had to be done; there was no other
way he knew, short of actually killing Russell, which
would save Marjorie from the shameful shadow of
blackmail as the alternative to open, published disgrace
and scandal spread before all the world. There was
no end to blackmail, once you started paying it; each
payment, instead of clearing you, only got you deeper
in the toils of the blackmailer; and to think of Mar-
jorie paying Russell to keep silent, of him coming to
her with demands which she dared not refuse — no,
horrible as this had been to Gregg, he was glad he had
done it.
All but exhausted as he was, yet a new exhilaration
sustained him and surprised him. He had beaten up
Russell so that Russell would never be the same again
without thinking that he, from the inflicting of that
same beating, also must change; he had roused and
loosed from within him a power of passion which he
had not suspected he possessed and which now he could
not down; nor would down if he could.
He thought of the Gregg Mowbry of a few days ago
almost as a stranger to this bruised, aching, spent man
clutching to the side of the freight car; and he thought
what a boy he had been when he had imagined that he
could take on this fight for Marjorie and, when he had
finished it, feel satisfied to have done something for her.
He was never so unsatisfied in all his life as now, never


142 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
so certain that, whatever the cost, whatever the penalty,
he was going to face life fully; he had to laugh at the
Gregg Mowbry who, a few days ago, was dodging desire
of what he might not have for the fear of the hurt to
him.
He kept tight hold of the edge of the door, sucking
in the clean, cool morning air; and his mind came down
to practical matters. Here was Russell out of the way
and, for the time at least, useless; and Mr. Hershy, of
Kilkerry's and the alley “ kayo,” was probably to have
a bad half-hour reporting to Mr. E. H. Stanway this
morning. But, without Russell, was Stanway helpless;
or had he another move?
A move —- whether Stanway's or not, was uncertain
-- already was in the mail which was delivered at the
Hale's door in Evanston about ten o'clock that morning.
Before this hour, Mrs. Hale had gone out as she always
made an early start of her day, particularly since now
she had added a visit to the hospital to her routine;
her letters therefore were placed on a stand in the
hall and Marjorie, passing by, noticed an envelope
addressed to her mother in peculiar characters evi-
dently formed by an adult but printed by a pen. There
was no clue to the sender other than the postmark of
Chicago, but it was such an unusual looking letter to
come to that house that Marjorie picked it up. She
never had opened a letter addressed to another, but she
did so now and stared at a plain sheet of paper upon
which was printed by pen:
If you don't want to keep your eyes shut to what Mr.
Hale has been up to, and if you care to know what ails
him now, ask some neighbors about Mrs. (?) Sybil
Russell, 4689 Clearedge Street.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
143
This was unsigned.
It was Marjorie's first experience with an anonymous
letter and the cowardice of it filled her with loathing.
She crumpled tight the envelope and enclosure and
burned both immediately. Going out to a public booth
where she might not be overheard, she telephoned Felix
Rinderfeld, who approved her action and expressed the
belief that nothing more dangerous was likely to follow
from that anonymous source. However, he added that
he was very glad to talk with her for he had been about
to send her word that one of the events which he had
been anticipating was soon to happen; affairs were so
working out that Mr. Stanway was to be expected to
call in person to see Mrs. Hale. Rinderfeld could not
be certain of the exact time, but Stanway might arrive
this afternoon; he would not be later than to-morrow.
-
-


CHAPTER XI
TT proved to be on the second day, which was a mid-
1 April Tuesday, rainy and cold, as it happened,
with a raw wind from the north. Mr. Stanway's car
appeared shortly after four-thirty, and Marjorie, upon
recognizing it, stood at her window and watched it
come up to the house. She had been waiting for it
and she was dressed so as to be able immediately to
meet Mr. Stanway but, as she observed his approach,
she was seized by such a paralysis as one experiences
occasionally in nightmares; she felt as if threatened
with annihilation and knew she must move but she could
not.
The approaching motor was a trim, dark maroon-
enameled coupé of the town car pattern, which exposed
the driver to the pouring rain without even a projec-
tion of the top to shelter him, while the single pas-
senger, of course, sat in the perfect dryness and com-
fort of the upholstered seat behind the glass. The
ostentatious use of such a car on such a day always
angered Marjorie, particularly when she knew the
owner possessed other cars; and it always had made
her father indignant. He never let himself be guilty
of such disregard of any one in his employ. When
Leonard drove in bad weather, it was in a Berline, which
protected him, too.
Marjorie suddenly found herself freed from her
seizure of helplessness and she hastened into the hall


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
145
in time to hear Mr. Stanway ask for Mrs. Hale in his
crisp, affected voice.
He always spoke with an "English" inflection to
which he added an air of aloofness in his manner of
standing and gazing at one; and he strove for – and
undoubtedly to some, he attained — distinction in his
clothes. Marjorie had never seen him, even about the
office, in a practical business suit such as her father
wore in daytime; and now his tall, ascetic-looking
figure appeared more disdainful than usual in a but-
toned black cutaway coat of the severest English fashion
with gray and black striped trousers without a visible
wrinkle. He did not — when in Chicago, at least —
go so far as to assume a single eyeglass, but he sug-
gested the effect by wearing about his collar a narrow
black ribbon which went to pince-nez, usually in his
waistcoat pocket, but which he took in his hand and
held up toward his thin, narrow nose when he wished
to be impressive. Marjorie had never seen the glasses
actually in place on his nose since he had begun carry-
ing them about five years ago when his hair first showed
gray.
He pulled them from his pocket now as she neared
him and held them up in his usual manner as though,
without them, he could not recognize her.
“Ah! How do you do? ” he replied to her in one
tone, after she had spoken his name. “How do you
do? You are Miss Hale, undoubtedly; of course I
know you, Miss Mary Hale; or is it Martha?”
“My name's Marjorie,” she told him, and was furi-
ous at herself; he always at first was doubtful about
her; always forgot her name; and, always, as now, he
patronized her afterwards.
“Of course, I remember well when you were born;


146 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
your father was working in my office, I recall. No one
had appreciated him then but myself; I soon became
sure he had a great future. That was nineteen years
ago, was it? Or twenty? ”
“I am twenty-two,” Marjorie said; and again was
furious.
“ It doesn't seem that long ago. Where is your
mother? She is in?"
Marjorie led him to the far end of the drawing-room
where ordinary tones could not be overheard and where
no one could approach them without being seen.
“ Mother has gone out,” she said. “But she may
return soon. Do you want to talk to me while waiting
for her, Mr. Stanway?”
She had embarked, with those words, upon her pre-
pared plan, and they sounded rehearsed and forced to
her; she sat down, without waiting for him to be seated,
and she glanced up at him to see if he was sensitive to
the falseness of her tone. It was true that her mother
was away from the house, for Marjorie had ma-
næuvered that; it was also true, in the sense that it was
possible, that her mother might return; but Marjorie
had no idea of permitting him to wait till the time of her
probable return. He, however, seemed to suspect noth-
ing. He had dropped his glasses into his pocket and
was peering with apparent interest about the big, well-
furnished room. He would like to find something showy
or in bad taste in this home of his equal, who had been
his clerk, Marjorie thought; and she glowed warmly
with triumph that he could not so pronounce anything
he saw; her mother's taste in furnishing had been re-
strained and good; and her father, too, liked the really
graceful and beautiful more than the merely conspicu-
ous.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 147
“ It is the first time I have had the pleasure of being
in your home,” Stanway said at last, sitting down and
evidently abandoning his quest of bad furniture.
Marjorie ignored that remark, which only admitted
his persistent refusal to recognize her father as his
equal. “Equal?” she repeated to herself; this preten-
tious, supercilious incompetent, who was determined to
obtain for himself the rewards and honor of work with-
out doing the work himself — indeed, while disdaining
to look and act as if he ever worked. He was no equal
to her father.
Her father really worked and he was proud of it; he
looked like a worker and he wanted to; and she swore
with herself that, whatever else happened, this man
should not seize for himself what her father had created
and earned ; not he who dared not himself openly throw
the stone of scandal at her father; not he who had
first endeavored through Russell — so Felix Rinderfeld
at least believed — to ruin her father so that he could
put himself in her father's place; not he who was here
now to set her mother to his task for him.
“ It is impossible for me, I suppose, to step upstairs,
while I am waiting, to see your father?” he said, with
a slight, dubious rise of his voice.
“ Impossible,” Marjorie replied quietly, closing her
lips firmly and bracing herself with her hands on the
sides of her chair. “ Did you come here expecting to be
able to see him, Mr. Stanway?”
“I have heard, of course, that he is much improved ;
but I have heard also that his condition was originally
much more serious than at first given out.”
“ It was; what else have you heard, Mr. Stanway?”
He gazed at her, blinked and fingered for his glasses.


148 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
-
-
“What else, Mr. Stanway, have you come to let us
hear?”
“Let you hear? ” said Stanway.
Marjorie stood up. She felt little; and she wished
for height. She had not felt small in the chair; but
now she longed for tallness and strength, not perhaps
to put her hands on him and show him out, but at least
to stand, more dignified, before him and not so much
shorter, as he too got to his feet.
“We know what you have come to tell us, Mr. Stan-
way,” she said, resorting again to a phrase she had
prepared. “We knew even that you were coming this
afternoon to tell us. That is why my mother is not
seeing you; I have undertaken to meet you in her place.
But to save you trouble, please believe me that I know
everything you do. I am quite sure.”
She looked up at him directly and with steady eyes
and tight-shut lips and with burning face. For an
instant, as he gazed down at her, a wave of fright swept
her. Suppose Rinderfeld were wrong; suppose this
man did not know, or, at least, had not known, what
had she told him? What had she put into his hands?
But she continued to look into his small, crafty eyes
and her terror passed. Finish his story for him — and
finish him, Rinderfeld had said; and so she went through
with it.
“I mean, particularly, about George Russell and
about the Mrs. Russell who used to be his wife, Mr.
Stanway,” she said in a low voice but distinctly, “and
the particular number on Clearedge Street which you
have in mind. We do not know all we would like about
your own connection with Russell ; if you want to tell
us about that, we will be very glad to hear you. Other-


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
149
wise, you will excuse me, I am sure; and you will con-
tinue to excuse mother.”
It was not quite what she had prepared; it was
formed from parts of a longer declaration with phrases
picked out here and there. She had prepared nothing
to say after it; for she had not thought of anything she
could say; he must go at once, she thought. When he
did not, but merely stood gazing down at her, his
glasses on his nose at last, she went white and weak
under his scorn as his thin, contemptuous lips parted
slightly and he smiled; then she flamed red and furious,
— so furious that, if she had been a man, she would
have run him out of the house but, being a girl and
small, she herself fled upstairs to her room, where she
fung herself on her bed and cried and cried.
Below, doors opened and closed, and from outside
came the hum of a starting motor. Mr. Stanway had
gone; but the fact that she had succeeded in sending
him off did not lessen her despair at her own self-degra-
dation. She had never before sunk to such dishonor;
she had not even imagined herself one of those capable
of resorting to such baseness; and so, perhaps because
of this, she had actually prepared her meeting with Mr.
Stanway along lines which Rinderfeld had suggested,
without realizing how she was involving herself. For
not till after she had actually said her words to him and
found him gazing down at her in a way he never could
have before did she feel how she had degraded herself
and demeaned her mother.
Mr. Stanway had said not an audible word to her
when she had finished; but the curl of his thin, super-
cilious lip and the contempt in his little, gray eyes would
live with her — she was sure — forever. For she, not
her father, had brought contempt upon her family; she


CHAPTER XII
(T was earlier than usual for him on a week-day
evening, but her mother had telephoned him from
- the hospital, inviting him out to dinner.
He had received a telegram from Gregg from Free-
port, Illinois, blandly informing that Gregg would be
home that night. Of course it relieved Billy, as he
supposed Gregg meant he was all right, but Gregg had
no right to go off like that without a word to him.
Billy was in reproachful mood and he continued it with
Marjorie. “You do nothing but mope about the house,
your mother says,” Billy reproved her fondly, as he
held her before him after kissing her. “ You must be
out more and doing things.”
“What things?” said Marjorie; and Billy did not
particularize. His big, tender heart was feeling for
her all it could, these days; and his conscience seemed
crammed with a cargo as heavy and sinking as lead.
“Of course I understand," he said, gazing down at
her beside him as she led him, somewhat as she had
Mr. Stanway, away to the far, quiet corner of the
drawing-room. He longed to lift her small, soft body
and hold her against him and cradle her in his big,
strong arms; but she did not like such physical con-
tact, he knew. Sometimes he wondered if she would
ever like it; or if she would have, if that paralyzing
disclosure of her father's sin had not come to her on
the night they became betrothed. He believed she
would; for naturally she had strong, physical feelings


152 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
and she used to express them. Yearning for her as
she had been, and as she might now be with him, he
put more emphasis in, “ You can't feel like yourself,
and I can't feel like myself, Marjorie — I'm not even
doing my work right at the office — as long as we're
hiding from other people and from ourselves, dear.
Sweetheart, we're just putting off, from weakness, what
we know we have to face and we're making it harder
for ourselves and every one else, when we have to do
it in the end.”
“Do what?” said Marjorie miserably, wanting no
answer for of course she knew. So, for answer, he
took one of her hands and held it, soft and yielding,
in his own. They were sitting together on a lounge.
“ Concealment, dear, is about the most dangerous
thing in the world, besides putting those who help con-
ceal almost in the position of — of the one who did the
thing concealed, Marjorie,” he went on. “ It is con-
cealed, suppressed acts or even only suppressed ideas
and fears which bring about all sorts of abnormal
states of morals and mind and even of health, the psy-
chologists are finding out now. You can't live a lie,
even if you think you're doing it successfully, without
something about it getting you. And, Marjorie, you
can't live with concealed — sin."
He clasped her hand firmer at that, but she let hers
lie as limp and relaxed as before. She heard what
he was saying but she was not thinking about it; she
was thinking about him, and flashes of feeling for him,
alternating with queer, dull periods of almost antag-
onism, surprised her. How big and healthy he was,
and all clean. She was not religious; as a child she
had attended Sunday school, as a matter of habit,
where she had learned the ten commandments and the


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 153
catechism and, of course, heard a good deal of the old
testament and most of the new; but it had been a matter
of rote or formalism. When she was about sixteen, and
undergoing the spiritual emotions common to that age,
she had been sufficiently gratified by the forms of the
Episcopal Church so that she had become “con-
firmed ”; but soon afterwards she had ceased attending
oftener than at some occasional service. Religion -
that was, the belief in a just and judging God, a dis-
penser of rewards and of retribution -- had not become
a part of her; it is the modern fashion to dismiss
superior “ judgments” and fear of retribution as
superstition. And Marjorie was modern. When Billy
expressed a belief of that sort, she could not help feel-
ing superior to him at the same time that, also, she
envied him. He was religious ; every Sunday morning
he was to be found in one of the pews of the big Pres-
byterian church on the Drive near East Pearson Street,
In an indulgent sort of way, she liked that in Billy;
it was a reassuring fact about him — to have his re-
ligion sincere - but she never quite saw what benefit
it gave him. Now she did; for he had something, which
she had not, to cling to. You couldn't cling to what
she had — a perfect verbal memory of the ten com-
mandments and articles of faith which you didn't
believe. Yet she did not agree that Billy was right.
People did live with concealed sin; it was only a child's
tale that they could not. Rinderfeld's prosperity was
an open denial of such superstition; for his business
was, after all, the successful concealing of sin and the
prevention of punishment.
“ Can you live better with scandal, Billy? ” she said,
trying to keep her voice from being hard but not
wholly succeeding.


154 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“Much better, Marjorie, in the end. Oh, sweetheart,
I feel the awfulness of it, too; but we've got to go
through it or — "
“ Or what?"
“We can never be happy, you and I; your father
can never be happy; or your mother.”
“ Mother's happy now -- now that she feels father
will be well again. She's planning again to go to
Europe, just as she used to, only on the second May
sailing of the Aquitania instead of the April.”
“ That's false happiness, as you perfectly well
know,” Billy said with a difficult effort to keep patience.
“How much happiness is, Billy? I have been moping
about a lot, recently; but moping means thinking some.
My home is dishonorable; but it required at least four
accidents, all to happen together, before even I could
suspect it. First, there was the accident — for it was
no more than that — that Mrs. Russell had been mar-
ried and so Russell was in a position to cause trouble ;
second, the accident that he was of the disposition to
threaten; third, that father was in the position to make
it worth his while; fourth, Doctor Grantham happened
to have a new assistant who bungled the address and
knew no better than to call me. If any of these first
chances had fallen the other way, I'd be happy as ever;
and if they all fell as they did, and Doctor Grantham
hadn't a green girl in his office, to-night I'd be worrying
only about father's health.”
“But it would have been false happiness, Marjorie.”
“ Are you sure we can spare false happiness, Billy?
Is there enough of the other to go all around?”
His hold on her limp hand had been relaxing; now
he let go entirely. “Marjorie!” he whispered in
horror.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 155
“Four or five thousand men working for Tri-Lake
Products and their wives and children can stand a little
more false happiness this year, I'll believe, if you could
ask them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Father; and concealed sin; and false happiness.
Mr. Stanway has been here this afternoon, Billy, to call
on mother, his first call at our home, so he could tell
her about Clearedge Street and have her start the
scandal for him which would force father out and put
him in father's place. Mr. Rinderfeld told me he was
coming so I sent mother out this afternoon, and I saw
him and spiked his gun by telling him that I knew all
about it.” She gasped at her memory and then, “I
told him that is, I as well as told him — that mother
knew, too. That was false; a direct, black, low lie,
Billy. It slandered mother. I could have bitten my
tongue out for it after I said it. If she'd come in, I'd
have told her everything. But then I got thinking
again of Mr. Stanway in father's place — after he put
Russell up to making that trouble; that's what he did,
Mr. Rinderfeld thinks. Did I tell you that the other
day? "
“ No,” said Billy. “What difference does it make?”
“ Whether he put Russell up to it? Billy! ”
“I meant, what Rinderfeld thinks. That man's
absolutely depraved. I wish you'd never refer to any-
thing he said.”
“I think of what he said any number of times a
day.”
“Why?"
“Because he's told me so much that's true that I
never heard before. Because he looks on people as


156 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
they are, I think, Billy. He's helped me more than any
one else.”
“Rinderfeld!” Billy breathed with redoubled loath-
ing.
“Oh, Billy, you and I can't go together on this; for
· it hasn't done the same to you and to me. It really
hasn't made any difference to you at all.”
“What do you say?” Billy turned directly to her
and with his strong fingers seized her small shoulders
and held her facing him. “You've no right to say
that; you must be mad, Marjorie. There's never hap-
pened anything in my life — "
“ That has made you feel as much,” Marjorie
finished quickly. “Oh, that I know; but it hasn't
started you thinking, Billy; it hasn't twisted everything
around for you and forced you to find yourself all
over again. You're — going on just as you used to.
You're separating people, as the Sunday-school cards
used to show pictures of God doing, into a flock of
sheep and a flock of goats; you see a person, Billy, as
good, or you see him as bad. That's an awfully easy
and convenient way to class people — as long as you
can let it satisfy you. I mean, as long as you can make
it work. It tells you just how you ought to do; to
know the good people, of course, and admire them and
make them your friends and do business with them and
to avoid the bad. Now you used to suppose that father
was good; and when this happened and you found out
you'd made a mistake, that was a big surprise to you
and a frightful shock; but it didn't do any more than
shock you, Billy. It didn't drive you out of yourself
to make over all your ideas; for you simply had to slip
father, in your mind, from the side where you keep
your list of good men, whom you admire, to the side


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 157
of the bad whom you don't want to have anything to
do with. But that arrangement's too easy for this,
Billy; it won't work with me."
Her breath gave out but not her will or her courage;
he was holding her so rigidly that he hurt her, but she
scarcely knew it. She kept her eyes straight on his
and rushed on.
“Father's been false to mother and false to my ideal
of liim; but he's not been false to his business and the
men — the thousands of men with their families — who
have work this spring, when millions of men just like
them are idle. They have that work because my
father's a big, able, useful man. He has absolute honor
in his commercial contract; he's a better leader, a better
executive and he has more foresight and courage than
any other man who would step into his place, if he were
ruined. And the world never needed a man like him
more than now, when most concerns are laying off men
by the thousand or shutting down entirely, and Tri-
Lake is taking men on. That's not nothing; that's a
big, invaluable quality! It's easy enough to say he's
bad; but, in all but one part of his life, who is better?
Knock down father and who, besides Mr. Stanway,
would thank you? Anyhow, I'll not see Mr. Stanway
taking his place. But I was almost ready to wreck
everything, for the sake of feeling right, when you
came.”
“ Then why in the world aren't you now? "
“ Because you're so sure it must be right; and right
isn't always the best ; it's only always the obvious thing
to do.”
“Rinderfeld,” said Billy, “I suppose, taught you
that.”


158 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“No; I just saw it for myself, after talking with
him.”
Billy became conscious of the rigor of his hands and
he relaxed his grasp of her. “You've made me per-
fectly sure what I must do, Marjorie. I knew you'd
been — deteriorating under this terrible strain. It had
to damage you; no one could stop that; but I can stop
the damage from keeping on. Therefore, when your
mother comes in, I shall end this deceit and conceal-
ment."
“You mean »
6 I shall tell her."
Marjorie threw herself forward so quickly that she
freed herself from his hands but only to seize the lapels
of his coat with both her own. "No, you won't!” She
fought him and tried, with her small strength, to shake
him. “You won't; not now after I've lied to Mr. Stan-
way to-day and beaten him and got him off; and after
I've seen Rinderfeld and — and after everything else
I've done. You shan't tell her. Not now. What you
have not said, you can always say, Billy; but when
you've said it, you can never take it back. So tell me you
won't; tell me you won't; tell me - " Her voice
suddenly was gone; her strength, which she had gathered
all together in the attack of her hands on him, also was
gone; her arms dropped; her head fell forward and she
gasped and choked, deadly sick; so Billy grasped her,
calling her name and crying for help in his alarm.
“No," she whispered. “ No.” She managed to mo-
tion to forbid him calling in a servant. “I'm all right.”
“ Marjorie!” he besought her, in his fright. 6 What
have I done? What can I do for you? Tell me!”
“Go!” she whispered. “Go, Billy; just go! Leave
me alone! Don't do anything but — go!”


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 159
She got upon her feet and led him to the door, and,
obeying her in fright that, if he did not, she would be
stricken again, he went.
She lay on the lounge for a while after he had de-
parted but soon ascended to her room; she had bathed
her face and arranged her hair and changed her dress
before her mother entered the house and came to her.
“ Where is Billy, dear? ” she asked. “Martin tells
me he has been here and has gone.”
“Yes,” said Marjorie. “We had a quarrel, I'm
afraid.”
Her mother kissed her. “People in love have little
difficulties, dear. They'll smooth out, you'll find. I've
good news to-night. Your father is so much stronger
that he can come home to-morrow.”
Marjorie started.
“ Why, what's the matter, Marjorie.”
“Nothing, mother. I was wondering if it was per-
fectly safe; that's all.”
re and ha. She asked. come to her.


CHAPTER XIII
ILLY drove cityward, worrying and feeling in-
jured; his worry had so much the ascendant
during the first of his journey that he stopped
at Devon Avenue and telephoned to Marjorie; after he
heard her voice reassuring him about herself, but not
asking him to return, he proceeded with deeper feeling
of injustice done him. He had tried to do right and
tried to make Marjorie do the right and also, he was
sure, the best for her in the end; and he was discouraged
and baffled by the result.
He did not feel like eating so he put up his car and
went to his apartment where he had been alone now for
four nights. As he approached the building, he wor-
ried about Gregg until he saw lights in the windows
which convinced him that, true to the telegram, Gregg
had returned; then Billy felt more injured.
If Gregg's disappearance had happened suddenly,
Billy would have consulted the police long before; but
Gregg's going had been a gradual process. For several
evenings — these were the ones when Gregg had been
watching at Kilkerry's — he had stayed out late and
had refused to discuss his doings with Billy when Bill
had told him he had no right habitually to keep him-
self up so late in the night that he incapacitated himself
for business the next day. When Gregg finally stayed
away all night, Billy put that down as Gregg's ob-
stinate and irritating way of replying to criticism; it
angered Billy but did not really worry him, for he was


162 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
the other night; to tell the truth, I heard where he
might be and I got hold of him — I had a little trouble,
you see — but I took him out of town and left him up
near Freeport. It seemed better to get him out of the
way.”
And Gregg lightly sketched his combat with Russell
and explained what he hoped would be the result.
Billy came to him and grasped his arm and felt over
him with anxious affection to make sure that he really
was as “ all right” as he claimed to be.
“ You shouldn't have tried anything like that,
Gregg; Russell might have killed you. Then what good
would it have done?”
“Well, he didn't,” Gregg reminded, manifestly.
“No; but, Gregg — I hate to say it when you took
all that trouble and might have got killed trying to
help — but I can't see what good you've done. You say
you've beaten up Russell, but really you've only shown
him again that we're afraid of him — afraid to come
out in the open, afraid to accuse and prosecute him for
shooting Mr. Hale. You're just trying to do what
Marjorie is — cover up and conceal; she thinks she can
work out something that way. But she can't; she'll
only get in deeper and deeper. I told her so to-night,
Gregg; and she - she sent me away. I've quarreled
with Marjorie; she told me to leave her house! Mrs.
Hale invited me to dinner and Marjorie asked me to
go; she didn't want me with her!”
With his hand still on Gregg's shoulder, he had for-
gotten Gregg's injury in new immersion in his own
misery. And Gregg, too, forgot as he felt Billy's
wretchedness. No one else could become so wretched
as Bill and his bigness made it worse.


164 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“ Do? Do?” stammered Bill, backing away.
“ Gregg, you haven't seen Marjorie, have you? You've
no idea what Clearedge Street and Rinderfeld have done
to her. She's not the same girl at all. But oh, my God,
I love her so, Gregg; I love her so much more when
she's in this frightful trouble which is doing things
to her things she can't realize at all. Why, Gregg,
an hour ago when I tried to show her that what she'd
done wasn't right, she answered me that right didn't
make any difference; she said right was only the obvious
thing to do, as if any one was a fool who did it.”
Gregg stared from Billy down to the floor, and he
was shaking from his constraint. Poor Bill, he felt;
and poor, dear, dear little Marjorie, shut in there at
home with the revelation of the flat on Clearedge Street
behind her, with disgrace and scandal suspended on
the thinnest of hairs above her, and having no one to
help her through these weeks but Billy and Felix
Rinderfeld, — Bill with his blunt, blind, utterly reck-
less morality and Rinderfeld with his comprehensions.
No wonder she turned to Rinderfeld who offered her
explanations, false and degraded, perhaps, but yet
explanations. He gave her something for her mind to
seize and accept or attack and supplied her with
mental occupation at a time when she most desperately
needed it, while Bill, of course, offered her feelings
when she could but revolt at the stir of passion.
He, himself — Gregg — what had he to offer her?
He did not know; but, whatever it was, he was going
to offer it against Billy and — against Rinderfeld.
He had never imagined Rinderfeld a contestant for
Marjorie; and he recognized that Billy honestly did
not consider Rinderfeld as a rival to him for Marjorie,
because Billy could not put Rinderfeld on the same


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
165
plane with himself. But what Billy had told about
Marjorie telephoning Rinderfeld and obeying him and
quoting him suddenly gave Gregg a jerk of that alarm-
ing sensation known as “the creeps," which returned
to him, in harder seizure later, when lost in one of those
frank, picturesque, illuminating and self-informing
pageants of hopes and fears which people call dreams.
In his room, Billy Whittaker lay awake long into
that night, worried and utterly miserable. In his room,
Gregg slept but dreamt horribly of Marjorie in a mire,
- a black, steamy bog of Auid earth such as once, on
a canoe trip into Canada, he saw suck down a fright-
ened deer which had fled into it. His dream showed
him Marjorie in that mire; it had caught her up to
the shoulders; he could see her arms striking out as
she attempted to swim. He could see her shoulders —
her bare, white, lovely shoulders as they were that night
of the Lovells' dance; and he knew that she was dressed,
under the mire, in that new, beautiful, extreme dress
her mother had bought for her and to which her father
had objected in almost his last words before he left
home for Clearedge Street. The black mire streaked
her white shoulders but had not yet spattered her face;
though it was up almost to her lips, he could see her
face clearly and her hair arranged as it had been that
night.
Now, in his dream, Gregg struggled to aid her ; but
he could not move for some one was holding him back.
He fought and found that big arms clasped him and
held him helpless; Russell's, they were; then they
changed and became Bill's. And Bill overpowered him
and pushed him away and picking up a scarf — that
scarf which Marjorie had carried the night of the
dance — he threw it over her shoulders; then, as Mar-


166
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
jorie cried out again, Rinderfeld appeared and, as she
sank, she held her arms to him and — Gregg awoke.
It was one of those dreams so real that Gregg, after
awaking, sat up, not sure that it had not happened; of
course, he quickly realized; but the terror of it did not
leave him. Was it — in its essential — to be true that
Marjorie, sinking in the morass, could appeal as vainly
to him as to Billy and that, before she went under, she
must turn to Rinderfeld? It kept him awake quite a
while; and, in the morning, added intensity to the busi-
ness he had assigned to himself and which took him,
a little before noon, to the hall of the building on
Monroe Street where were the offices with which Sybil
Russell was connected.


CHAPTER XIV
YT was a cool, sunny April morning - one of those
perfect spring days when a steady, pleasant
breeze blows from the lake, clearing away smoke
and dust and lifting even the city heaviness from the
atmosphere; a day of lightness and lilt, characteristic
of spring in Chicago; and, of those who were entering
the big office building from the walk, no one seemed to
feel fuller response to the invigoration of the day than
the woman whom Gregg at once recognized as Sybil
Russell.
She came in from the street a few minutes after
twelve. Her energy and aliveness were the first notice-
able qualities of her; as Gregg had commented to him-
self on that night, when suddenly she confronted him
after he had broken into her apartment on Clearedge
Street, she seemed consciously to avoid playing up her
physical attractions. Her regular features were almost
handsome; her brown hair pleasing; her figure was
good; but it evidently was her preference in business
hours, as it had seemed to have been her choice that
night at Clearedge Street, not to obtrude her body.
She was dressed smartly in a blue, rather new, tailored
suit with a small, smart blue sailor; a trim, new gray
glove covered her slender, capable looking hand which
clasped a medium-sized brown leather portfolio. She
drew men's eyes; every one passing glanced at her; but
no one's eyes dwelt upon her as men's eyes lingered on
far less handsome and well-proportioned girls going in


168 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
and out the building. Almost all of them sought obser-
now contrasting with her; a stenographer, probably;
in all likelihood, a “nice” girl and not nearly so
good looking as Mrs. Russell but, in comparison with
Sybil Russell, the other girl sought observation and,
when she gained it, rewarded it without suggesting in-
ward barriers to acquaintance. Even the man behind
the cigar and candy counter opposite the elevators
seemed able to imagine himself making progress with
the dark-haired girl. But Sybil Russell was one whom
the business men who passed her — lawyers, insurance
agents and such — invariably noticed but as invariably
put out of their minds because she showed, plainly, that
she bore nothing for them.
She had not seen Gregg when she entered for it was
evidently not the habit of her eyes to rove over men
standing about, but during the moments while she
waited for a descended car to empty, she half turned
and suddenly recognized him. He saw her startle very
slightly and then, when he believed she was not going
to speak, she nodded to him.
He raised his hat and stepped forward. “How do
you do, Mrs. Russell,” he said, and instantly realized
that she perceived he had come there to find her. She
stepped back from the group entering the elevator.
“ Do you want to talk with me?" she asked in a low,
controlled voice.
“I'd like to,” Gregg said.
66 Where?"
He had expected no such directness as this and he
admitted it. “I hadn't thought of that, Mrs. Russell.”
“Do you want to come up to my office? We can talk
in a private room."


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
169
“ No, thanks."
He did not at all desire a talk of that sort; in a pri-
vate room, secured for a private conversation, they
must become stiff with each other — too self-conscious,
at least; and self-consciousness breeds opposition.
Gregg did not think this out but he felt it; and, having
rejected her suggestion of her office, they had as alter-
native the hall or the sidewalk or a restaurant. That
was the obvious resort for this hour, though it only now
occurred to him, in spite of his having come here to look
her up at noon. He had merely thought, “ I'll prob-
ably find her at noon and have a chance to speak with
her,” without realizing, until he saw her, how many and
difficult must be the words required.
“ Couldn't we talk over a table?” he asked, in his
pleasant way.
“Where do you mean?”
He discerned that she was testing him to see where
he would take her, so he named the most thoroughly
reputable hotel restaurant near-by.
“Yes, that's a good place,” she agreed slowly, as
though considering the restaurant; but of course he
knew she was sizing him up as he was re-appraising
her, checking his present impressions with those he had
carried from that night on Clearedge Street.
Although it was more evident this noon that her
years were few, if any, more than his, she held toward
him the air of one older in experience or comprehen-
sion, at least. Partly that was defensive, he thought;
but it was the only hint of the defensive in her manner.
She was no nearer to accepting the status of a Mag-
dalene than she had been that night; and she was as
completely free now, as then, from that disgusting, slick
assumption of superiority pretended to by the few indi-


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 171
the young woman who sat at the table opposite him.
In her office, she had done the dozen little things, no
one of which a man can discern but which all together
freshen a woman and make her younger; and perhaps
part of her transformation was that, when she sat down,
she ceased the assumption that she was older than
Gregg; but she did not depart a jot from her principle
of independence.
“ We will have two checks,” she said to the waiter, as
she took one of the menus and, without consulting
Gregg, ordered chicken, cocoa and a salad. He ordered
a chop and coffee, started to ask her, “ That's all you
really want ? " but remembered in time and laid down
the menu and smiled.
“How's business? ” he asked her, as the waiter van-
ished.
“You have to go get it,” she said. “ But I'm ahead
of last year, even on new business. How's yours? "
“ Rotten, recently,” Gregg admitted heartily. “I
guess I'm not a go-getter.”
“Your business is different from mine; when people
feel insecure, they can be sold more insurance; but ice-
machines require investment outlays that people are
putting off just now.”
Mr. Hale told her about me, Gregg thought; and the
image of Marjorie's father having discussed with her
Marjorie's friends — discussed Marjorie, likely, and
his wife — gave Gregg an unwelcome reaction. Mrs.
Russell observed it and immediately and with entire
coolness informed him that she comprehended it.
“You will not have to tell me much about the per-
sons concerned, Mr. Mowbry,” she said, bringing him
directly to the matter for which, she knew, he had
sought her. “Nor about how they have been affected.


172
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
What your friend Rinderfeld has not mentioned to me,
I may imagine from what I knew before of the family.
Besides knowing something in general of Mrs. Hale, I
saw her once in Field's with her husband, of course I
saw their daughter that night at my apartment. I fully
understand that Mrs. Hale does not share the disillu-
sionment which has come to her daughter."
No mention of Marjorie by name; twice, indeed, de-
liberate avoidance of it; Gregg appreciated the tact of
that though he said nothing, because she left him, at
this moment, nothing to say. She had gazed directly
at him while she had been speaking, but now she looked
down in attention to drawing off her gloves; as she
pulled them out smooth after she had them off and still
pulled at them, Gregg watched, not her face, but her
hands; for, though she herself was gazing at her hands,
she was unconscious of them and of the sensation they
betrayed. Long, well-shaped hands, she had, not soft-
looking; hands of a determined character, faultlessly
clean and well-kept without being over-manicured;
hands capable of expressing restraint but just now off
guard and warm and pink and pulsating. She could
put passion in them and equally in the warmth of her
grasp of another's hand or in the almost untouching
softness of her caress; for now she ceased to pull at
her gloves and, as she laid them on the cloth, she drew
her hand away with her finger tips lingering on the soft
suede.
Gregg looked up at her suddenly and much better
understood her and much more fully comprehended
what had happened. He found himself comparing her
with the woman she had just mentioned, with the other
woman who, at one time, had greatly attracted Charles
Hale; and Gregg appreciated what this woman and


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
173
Mrs. Hale had in common, — self-constraint and re-
serve. Hale, himself, wanted these qualities; he was a
man constantly expressing himself, enjoying feelings
and liking to stir others to feelings; so a girl, such
as his wife had been, must have come to him as a sort
of challenge. She had been beautiful and constrained
and reserved; and he had set himself to make her show
feeling.
Thought Gregg, probably he — having so much feel-
ing of his own — never imagined that a person could
exist without as much; probably he was sure, when he
married, he could kindle that cool, self-assured, re-
served girl who, by her very constraint, allured him.
But at last, thought Gregg, he found he could not.
Gregg recollected the stiffness of Mrs. Hale's hand
when in his own and he realized — as subconsciously he
had understood before — that she had not been making
her handclasp meaningless for him; it always was a
meaningless formality with her — a rite of tactual sen-
sation which she did not desire and which, probably,
actually offended her.
Gregg could not imagine Sybil Russell making her
handclasp meaningless, if she tried; she might express
dislike of a person by it, as surely she could convey
much feeling; but she could not keep sensation out of
the contact; for she compressed passions below her
exterior of reserve.
He pictured her standing in one aisle at Field's
while, in another, or a little away in the same aisle, Mrs.
Hale made her thoughtful, deliberate purchases with
her husband at her side; and Gregg wondered whether
Charles Hale saw Sybil Russell and, if he did, whether
the two spoke.
“Of course it is the daughter,” Mrs. Russell com-


174
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
mented quietly, gazing up at Gregg,“ who is in the hard
position. I've been thinking about her a good deal. I
would have liked to go and talk to her, if that were
possible. Of course it has not been. So that was why
I was glad to see some one — besides your friend
Rinderfeld — who has access to her.”
“What has Rinderfeld told you about her? ” Gregg
asked too quickly.
Mrs. Russell made no betrayal motion of surprise but
the intensity of her gaze at Gregg seemed suddenly to
deepen.
“Nothing to me,” she replied, quietly, "except that
we must always remember that, although the daughter
knows, she is as much to be protected from consequences
as her mother — more to be protected, in fact; more."
The repetition and emphasis of that evidently was
quotation from Rinderfeld; and the hearing of it sent
hot blood through Gregg's veins. But he offered no
comment.
“I presume that you, too, are more interested in
protection of the daughter than of the mother,” Mrs.
Russell went on calmly. “For her, you came to see
me.”
“I am," Gregg admitted and gazed from her down
at the table in silence for a moment. “ Too,” the word
kept bothering him. Then he shook off this obsession
about Rinderfeld and said:
“She's trying to salvage something from her home
— that girl up in Evanston whom we're both thinking
of — without a chance in the world to save much. Her
home's gone; she surely realizes that; she wouldn't
have it go on as before; she knows her father and
mother must separate. But a man can't tell her to give
up the hold she has on what's left until he can show


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 175
her something in its place. Whittaker, whom you've
seen a little of ” — Mrs. Russell Aushed slightly —
“ seems to have been offering her a home of her own
with him; but she hasn't been able to really consider
that yet; otherwise, he hasn't suggested much beyond
the smashing of what she has left and scandal and
divorce and disgrace. Rinderfeld has been advising —
I don't know exactly what yet, but in effect he's trying
to preserve the status quo, at least temporarily. Of
course, as a permanent proposition, that's impossible;
and he knows it. I — I'm going up to see her to-night,
Mrs. Russell; and I've got to bring her something be-
sides flowers. You said you were glad to see me because
I can go to her; what word did you want to send to
her? "
“What did you come to me to ask me?"
“ About her father,” Gregg answered directly.
“ What about him?"
“ What happens to him — next?”
“ You mean, will he be in danger again from George
Russell?”
“ You know what I mean.”
“Yes; will he come back to me? Why don't you
ask him that? Or, if she wants to know, let her ask
him; her mother and she are taking him home now."
Mrs. Russell glanced down quickly at the small,
octagonal watch she wore on her wrist, “ Yes; this is
about the time; they probably have him home again
with them now.”
“I didn't know that,” Gregg said quietly, not en-
deavoring to counteract her sudden bitterness. “ But
of course it makes no difference; his daughter can't ask
him that. He's not the one to ask; you are, when the
question's put a bit differently. Are you going to take


176 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
him back? Of course, he'll go to you. That night, I
tried to stop him from going down to you. You see,
I'd heard, and so I told him that probably he'd be
shot, if he went. So I reckon he went to you a little
more directly than if I hadn't spoken.”
Gregg stopped; Hale hadn't told her that, he dis-
cerned, as he watched the tightening of her lips and
the quick, half-clenching of her hands.
“When he was shot,” Gregg went on, “ that was
another effort to prevent him doing what he wished;
he will recover from that effort, and wish as before.
What are you going to do? ”
Sybil Russell kept her eyes steadily on Gregg's, and
he had the extraordinary sensation that, by her eyes,
she was trying to hold his from examining her; from
witnessing the working of her lips, the prolonged hold-
ing and then the sudden inspiration of her breath lift-
ing her bosom quickly and the pulse which visibly rat-
tatted in her neck. A flush flowed over her face, van-
ished and resurged hot and red, and for the moment
Gregg could not think of any one but of her who had
given herself in marriage four years ago to one big,
powerful, vital man, Russell, when he had been a soldier,
finding — well, not what she had undoubtedly deluded
herself to expect. But now, with another man, she had
found it, and some one was asking if she would give it
up.
“ The word I wanted to send to his daughter, if it
were possible for it to mean anything to her,” Mrs.
Russell said deliberately and with almost perfect con-
trol, “ was that her father came to me because he loves
me; I keep him for that and for no other reason."
She said “keep ” without a loudening or describable
change in her voice, but Gregg thought he had never


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 177
heard a word uttered with equal determination; she put
in one breath“ neither life nor angels nor principali-
ties nor powers nor things present nor things to come
nor height nor depth nor any other creature” should
balk her; and it left Gregg nothing more to ask or to
say. They talked when the waiter brought their
luncheon and they ate, but neither returned to mention
of the Hales; for Gregg had his answer and she had
said what she had wished.
Arriving alone in his car at the Hales' that evening,
Gregg did not go up the driveway as he had on the
night of the dance; instead, he stopped at the curb a
short way from the house and got out to walk up and
down a minute before going in. He had flowers in a
box under his arm and that, after all, seemed to him
to form about the total of what he was bringing Mar-
jorie; and he rebelled at going to her with no more
upon an evening which, in some ways, must be the
hardest in all her life.
Up there in her father's room was a light and beside
it undoubtedly was her father in his bed, with her
mother watching beside him, fond and solicitous and
wholly unsuspicious. How strange, Gregg thought,
that the house could appear identical to-night as upon
other nights, that it could seem to any casual passer-
by a secure home, when in reality it was rent from top
to bottom; and not even the mistress of it knew.
Gregg stopped beside one of the big trees in the
parkway between the walk and the avenue and was
standing in the shadow from the nearest street lamp
when a car approached and slowed and finally halted
almost opposite the tree. It was a new, shining road-
ster with only the driver on the seat, and he turned to


178 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
the Hales' and leaned forward to have a better look
at the lighted windows.
He had not noticed Gregg, who at first failed to make
out the man's features ; Gregg caught only his posture
and said to himself, “ Here's some one who knows some-
thing.” Then Gregg's reactions ran on, “He knows
that home's broken; he's come to see what he's to have
out of the smash; he's not trying to take it now; he's
willing to wait because he knows — by God, he's Rinder-
feld ! "
Gregg almost called that aloud; he was not sure he
did not; he did move and betray his presence, for
Rinderfeld's aquiline outline was gone; gears sounded,
the motor moved off. And Gregg stood staring after
him, the box of flowers on the grass.
“Rinderfeld !” he repeated in fright with himself
and felt the return of that stark terror by which, in
his dream, he had been helpless to move to save Mar-
jorie from sinking in the mire. “Rinderfeld's waiting
outside for her, to get her when we've fallen down at
doing anything for her and her home's gone. Rinder-
feld wants her!”
More than that, indeed, Gregg had caught in that
flash of recognition of Rinderfeld's features in the rays
of the arc light, but he could not say the whole of it
even to himself; it was, “ Rinderfeld knows how he will
get her.”
Gregg was watching the tail-light of Rinderfeld's
car which turned the corner next and did not seem to
pick up speed after completing the turn. Gregg re-
ceived the idea that Rinderfeld was stopping around
the corner and he was about to follow to ascertain the
truth when he heard the front door of the Hale house
open. A girl appeared in the oblong of light — Mar-


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 179
jorie! What a jump she gave Gregg suddenly showing
herself like that! She was coming out alone and, evi-
dently, secretly; he saw her look quickly behind her, as
if to make sure she was not observed; then quietly she
closed the door and hurried down to the walk.


CHAPTER XV
ANARJORIE!” Gregg called carefully and he
stepped from the shadow.
She started back and, in the dim light, he
saw that she was quivering, — she who had never known
what it was to possess an unsteady nerve. She did not
recognize him at once; she seemed slow even to put her
mind to the process of recognition, so intent was she
in her errand from the house. Then she said, with an
audible expiration, “ Oh, you're Gregg !”
This was something of relief; but he could not feel
that she was glad to see him; he realized that at first
she could not think about him personally at all but
that she only debated whether he would interfere with
her.
“Where're you going?” he asked, advancing.
“Not far; you've come to see me, Gregg?”
“ Yes."
“I want to see you — after a while; I want awfully
to see you. You've been away doing something for me,
Billy said; he hasn't told me what. I've not seen him
- just telephoned. We've had trouble, Gregg."
“I know," Gregg said; still he could not feel that
she was really thinking about him; she seemed to be
speaking to put him off so that she could proceed about
her errand. He seemed to mean nothing to her at the
moment when he longed to be everything to her and to
put out of her mind everyone else and, most particu-
larly, that man whom she was on her way to meet.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
181
Here he had her again beside him. Marjorie! And,
as always, she surprised in him a wilder impulse than
he had expected to feel, wilder even than he had hoped
he might feel. Hers, hers he was; whatever would help
her, he would do. He had not known how she had been
hurt; Bill, having seen the change come upon her day
after day, could not have appreciated. “How they've
hurt you !” Gregg agonized with himself. “My darling,
how they've hurt you!” But his dry lips uttered only
the words, “I know.”
“ Wait for me, please, Gregg,” she asked him. “ I'll
be back in a few minutes; just wait outside, please;
don't go into the house."
She had come out with a sleeved cape over her dress
and without a hat; she looked littler than usual in that
big, loose cape; she was littler, Gregg thought, the
buoyancy gone from her and, in its place, fear! Not
fear alone; she had taken on, too, a nobler quality which
he could not describe, something he had never felt in her
before and which was the surprise inflaming hotter his
rills of blood.
“Rinderfeld was just here in his car; he stopped be-
fore the house," Gregg said. “ You knew that ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ You came out to see him?"
“ Yes; I sent for him.”
At last Gregg let himself touch her, grasping her
arm under the clumsy cape.
“ I'll go with you to him. I think he's around the
corner.”
She looked up at him, but not yet was she thinking
about him but of how he could aid her purpose.“ Come
to the door with me first,” she asked. “Speak to
mother and tell her we're going out together.”


182 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
He acceded and went with her into the house.
“ Mother!” Marjorie called.
Gregg stood just inside the door gazing at her under
the hall light which showed him pitilessly the change
in this Marjorie from her who, a little time ago, kissed
her father fondly here when he started “ to St. Louis ”
and who so gaily and lightly set out between Bill and
himself for the Lovells' dance. Her face was thinner;
no doubt of it; her skin paler; she needed now a lipstick
but she had not used one. Not beautiful as that other
Marjorie, this girl; yet Gregg, even if he could have
had that other girl back, would not have exchanged her
for this Marjorie with strange, constant tension at the
corners of her mouth, with her blue eyes bigger and
brighter with unceasing, nervous excitement.
Her mother came down, and how little was she
changed; emerging from her husband's room, she was
calm and composed as ever; over her dress she wore an
apron, — a perfectly fitted, linen apron with a tiny
red cross embroidered in silk, undoubtedly one of the
aprons she wore when managing a room of women
rolling bandages during the war. It was the chief sign
by which she showed that something had happened;
but on sight of Marjorie, she stirred to uneasiness
about her daughter and she was almost demonstrative
in her greeting of Gregg.
“I'm very glad you came to-night, especially since
Billy is not here,” she said, giving her cool, formal
hand. “Mr. Hale is very much better; he really has
been in no danger for several days; but I am beginning
to be worried over Marjorie. I've never seen a child
feel a parent's illness so; of course she adores her
father and the sudden discovery of his serious condi-
tion was an unusual shock. But now she should realize


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
183
his danger is over; and she must go out more among
people.”
When Gregg said he was taking her for a walk, Mrs.
Hale urged him to do it.
Around the corner, they found Rinderfeld's car with
hood lifted and with Rinderfeld on the curb and lean-
ing over the motor, wrench in hand, as though making
an adjustment. He glanced about when they ap-
proached but again addressed himself to the motor until
they left the walk and crossed the grass strip to him;
then he straightened and turned as though they might
be strangers stopping curiously or to offer him advice.
“ Mowbry? " he questioned in a low voice.
“ Yes,” said Gregg.
" What has happened? ” Rinderfeld immediately
questioned Marjorie.
Gregg drew back a step and it was Rinderfeld who
detained him. “ There's no need of Mowbry going, is
there?” he quickly asked Marjorie.
“No,” she said, but it was plain to Gregg that she
was scarcely thinking about him.
“Stay, please,” Rinderfeld requested. “ She tele-
phoned me less than an hour ago; obviously I would
not have chosen these circumstances for a conference;
but she said it was necessary now. What is it that
has happened?” he asked Marjorie again, turning to
her.
“Father's home!” she uttered in a whisper.
“ Yes; of course," Rinderfeld replied instantly and,
it seemed even to Gregg, with deliberate chilliness. “I
know that.”
“Mr. Rinderfeld, I can't bear it! He's back in his
room with mother reading beside him as though nothing
had happened — nothing had happened — "


184 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“Stop!” said Rinderfeld with amazing force in his
scarcely audible voice. “ That is all you sent for me
for? "
“ All? ” Marjorie gasped.
“ Whenever anything occurs which I may not know,
please inform me at once; if necessary, send for me.
When what is happening is merely in accordance with
my direction,” Rinderfeld continued in his cold tone,
yet with a flourish,“ do me the honor, please, to believe
that I have taken into account the contingencies. He,
as you say, is again home; but he is still a sick man;
one or the other of my nurses is constantly in attend-
ance and will remain until, a week from to-morrow, you
and your mother leave Chicago for New York on your
way to Europe."
He turned about, with a gesture of the dramatic, and
lowered the hood of his car, flung his wrench into the
tool box on the running board, and opened the door to
his seat.
“I'm not going to Europe next week nor any other
time, Mr. Rinderfeld !” Marjorie whispered in protest
to him, grasping his sleeve as he started to get into
his car.
“No?” he rejoined, freeing himself from her quietly.
“ You understand that, when I have to object to your
suggestions, it is not for regard for my own conveni-
ence but your own protection. Good night,” he said
to her, starting his engine. Then, when he had the
car going, “ Good night, Mowbry."
Gregg returned the parting word, the first he had
spoken — the first, indeed, which he had had oppor-
tunity to speak — since he acknowledged Rinderfeld's
recognition of him. What would have passed between
Marjorie and Rinderfeld, if he had not been present,


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 185
Gregg wondered; what would have been said, if he had
not surprised Rinderfeld in that off-guard moment be-
fore the Hales' home? “ Smooth!” Gregg said to him-
self. “The smoothest proposition I ever saw. He has
her coming to him; he's going to keep her coming to
him! Europe! He knows she's not going to Europe;
but she thinks he wants to send her away; thinks he
doesn't want to see her, except when necessary on busi-
ness. And he's all her affairs right in his hand — well,
that was my big idea; I got him for her because I knew
he was the smoothest proposition in Chicago.”
He looked down at Marjorie who, thus deserted by
Rinderfeld, seemed at a loss what to do.
“ You want to go home? " Gregg asked her, expres-
sionlessly.
“ No.”
“You really want to walk?"
“ Please! ”
He hesitated and then he clasped her arm as they
started.
“ You've no idea what a relief it is to have you come,
Gregg," she said, as though just now able to appreci-
ate his arrival. “Being with other people is like —
well, suppose you and Billy and I had been to the war
a few years ago and come back to people who hadn't
heard of it and didn't even know anything had hap-
pened. That's what being with other people is like for
me these days, Gregg. I can't talk to them about any-
thing which seems real or get anything from them
which means a snap of fingers to me.”
Her voice wavered up and down in her difficulty of
controlling it; and he noticed now how it had altered
in quality, too; more of the woman's voice than Mar-
jorie's ought to be; and the wretchedness in it struck


188 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
man in the world and will keep on being so – if I don't
disgrace him or let others ruin him.”
What a distortion of this girl's wrestle with herself
to say that she was not trying to do right, Gregg
thought.
“ Here we were, Gregg, just about ideally happy,
any one would say,” she went on. “Life seemed a per-
fectly plain, pleasant matter for us; we were all well
and normal; father was doing wonderfully well in busi-
ness; he was coming along awfully fast and making
lots of friends ; everybody was talking about him and
saying he could do anything and go anywhere! Mother
was accomplishing what she liked and was making
friends and everybody said what a wonderful woman
she was. Why, if I'd been a boy, I'd have been sure
the way to make my life a success was to follow in
father's footsteps; being a girl, I supposed my mother's
ways were just about right. I hadn't meant to follow
her particular tastes, of course; I had my own; but
I had meant to become a woman -- a wife - in much
the way she had. Why she — he — we three seemed to
have absolutely everything; and then came that tele-
phone call — and it's gone, Gregg; it's all gone, just
like that."
“ All what?” demanded Gregg.
Your confidence in the ideals you'd held before you
and which you came to suppose were the biggest and
most attractive in life; for another sort of attraction
has beaten them. Of course, I'd heard about that. I'd
read newspapers full of how men, who had everything,
ruined themselves for it; but I always believed there
was something held back in those stories and something
not told about the men. Anyway, I never dreamed it
could appeal to a man like my father. I simply


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 189
couldn't imagine him setting that above everything else;
and now that I've seen it with my own eyes, I under-
stand it less than ever. It seems so actually impos-
sible for my father to put that woman we found in that
flat above honor and decency and mother — and me
and every one else, Gregg. But he has ! ”
“No, he hasn't!” Gregg denied so suddenly that his
voice was louder than he intended; and he looked about
in alarm to see if he had been heard by people passing
on the other side of the street. Marjorie looked too
and, though they gave no sign, she asked in a whisper
which was almost a gasp, “ How hasn't he?”
Gregg gazed down at her and she, glancing up and
seeing his face, cried in a whisper, “ You look at me
like Mr. Rinderfeld when he said I couldn't know about
father because no man has ever told me so much as
half the truth about - men !” And Gregg, in that
flash, caught the power of Rinderfeld over her; he
realized that, while Billy had been trying to lead her
back through the break in the barrier about the tree
of knowledge, Rinderfeld, finding her within it, had set
himself to guide her in the way she was bound to go,
with him or without. For return to innocence is, of
course, impossible; no longer was she to be satisfied
with pretty fictions and child's tales of what lay within
the wall; she had seen something of it for herself; and
if, when she demanded understanding, her friends merely
told her to bind up her eyes and forget, why they
simply played her into Rinderfeld's hand.
“ The half of the truth about men which you don't
know, Marjorie," Gregg said, as they both halted,
staring at each other, “ isn't what men do; you know,
every woman knows what men do; the half you don't
realize is how little we think of it. You've just shown


190 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
this when you claimed that your father, in doing what
he did, put Mrs. Russell above every one and everything
else. You think that because a woman — most any
woman — to do it, would have to take the point of view
you've expressed. A man doesn't. Good God, Mar
jorie, I'm not going to be any use to you putting up a
bluff about things. I've seriously considered going in
for that sort of thing — whether I have or not. Every
man I know either has gone in for it or at least has
considered the pros and cons of it. You don't know a
girl who ever has even thought about it the same way
or who ever could; for it's an overwhelming matter to
your sort of girl, make or break to her character;
likely enough it's life or death for her. But it's not to
a man if he goes in for it; it's not even the biggest
thing in his life, if he's much of a man, as your father
was! It's just something else in his life, along with all
the other things in it. That's all Clearedge Street
meant to him. And he never set Mrs. Russell in his
mind above your mother and you.”
“How frightful!" Marjorie breathed. “How much,
much more awful!” And she started to walk again,
more rapidly and nervously than before. He accom-
panied her, of course, and, not consciously choosing
direction but merely following the street, they came to
the lake near the campus of Northwestern University
and proceeded along the path in the campus and by the
edge of the bluff above the water and the little strip of
sandy shore. It was darker there, away from the street
lamps and, though now and then a couple from the
University passed them, mostly they were alone with
the big, black trees and looming buildings of North-
western on their left and on their right the lake, limit-
less and black too, except for the glint of reflected stars


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 191
and the yellow and red reflections of far-away mast-
head and side lanterns.
“ The three of us are separated forever, I know —
papa and mamma and I,” Marjorie suddenly ended the
long silence in which she had walked beside Gregg
almost as in a dream. “My family, we've come to the
end of that. There's no use for any one to figure how
we can keep together; the best any one can do is help
us to go apart and each of us keep something — some-
thing of what we used to think of each other and feel
back there in that house on — on birthdays, Christ-
mases — most every day, Gregg! It seemed so per-
fect and so happy! It was happy, Gregg! Father was
happy! He couldn't have made me so happy without
being happy himself! And he didn't lack anything!
He couldn't have wanted anything else!”
Gregg clutched her arm and held it tight as he felt
her convulse in her effort for self-control. He did not
try to answer her; reply would be surplusage when her
father so certainly had wanted and gone out to gain
something else. She had stopped and he stood with her
in the dark of the path and patted her gently as she
felt in her cape pocket for a handkerchief and wiped
her eyes.
“ I'm sorry, Gregg," she apologized.
“ Don't say a word of that to me!” he forbade her
with queer gruffness in his voice. “ You've been won-
derful, Marjorie. No one like you ever in the world.
Oh, my God, I wish I could do something."
“No one can, Gregg. What a humpty-dumpty
thing honor is; and love and — what holds a family
together! It's up there on the wall and you think it
solid and safe as the wall; then something tips it; and
derfuseer grote Word of


192 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
all the king's horses and all the king's men can't do a
thing for you."
She turned and as she gazed to the south down the
long, dark stretch of the lake toward Chicago, she was
caught by the mighty, yellow night aurora spread
across the southern sky over the city; it always is
there, of course, but upon certain nights it glows
brighter and seems so tremendous that you think it can
not be the mere irradiation of millions of man-kindled
lights; it appears too fundamental, too spontaneous
and uncompelled. This was such a night, and the sight
of it struck Marjorie almost with awe for the city which
cast this aura.
“ One family isn't very much, is it? ” she said slowly,
“ when you see that. But we can't help being awfully
important to ourselves.”
“ You’re important to everybody," Gregg assented
quickly.
“Yes, maybe. Our trouble means another broken
family; and the family, they say, is the unit of civiliza-
tion. Break up families and where would any one be?
Where would that be?” She stared at the glow. Gregg
hesitated and then decided to object.
“ That's mostly smashed families, Marjorie; at least,
families that aren't what they used to be. There I go;
and whenever anybody else carries on like that, I men-
tion the remark they say Lincoln made; or maybe
it was George Washington — or George Cohan. Any-
way, it was in answer to the lamentation that “ I'm
afraid Bill Brown ain't the man he used to be !” “No,"
said George, “ and I'm afraid he never was.” I guess
that if families aren't now what they used to be, the
chief trouble is that they never were. We're all work-
ing out something there, Marjorie, I guess."


ya
193
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“Something right? "
“Right? " said Gregg, almost impatiently. “What
in the devil is right?” He did not reply to himself
for a moment; he had turned away from the glow of the
city; glancing toward the university buildings, he found
that they had come opposite the dormitories where
lighted windows proclaimed the rooms where boys were
studying or gathered in groups, talking. “ There's
where they're bickering about what constitutes right —
between friendly little arguments on the prize fight and
baseball schedule," Gregg said. “Anyway, that's the
way we used to do in the Phi Kap house of the U. of M.
Only it's a little early in the evening now; about mid-
night, when you're lying about in some other fellow's
room, is when you really get worked up about phil-
osophy and such. There's usually a theoretical
Buddhist in the bunch and, before the war, you could
count upon at least one German rationalist; then of
course there was Bill with good sound ideas — we'd
have a pretty competent discussion winding up, usually,
with a rather general feeling that there wasn't much
right — absolute right, I believe the professor's word
was — but that what was the greatest good for the
greatest number was right; and if that wasn't right,
there wasn't any use bucking it; for it was going to
happen. So cities are all right, Marjorie; they have
to be; they're happening everywhere. And the way
we're beginning to live in them must be right, for we're
most of us coming to live that way. But I know a little
how you feel; I felt some of it myself that night down
at Clearedge Street,
“ It seemed to me for a while that everything about
there was rotten - married people and all, Marjorie;
it seemed to me they were all rotters and quitters and


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 195
there, you ought to know, wasn't entirely paid for by
your father. Mrs. Russell supports herself.”
“Do you mean my mother ought to have worked?
Why, it would have been so absurd, it was so unneces-
sary."
“ To buy bread for the family, yes; but not for other
reasons. You simply can't ignore Mrs. Russell, Mar-
jorie; for she not only took away your father but she
has no idea of giving him up; she's going to use every-
thing she has to hold him."
“How do you know? ”
“She told me so to-day in plain English.”
“ What? You talked with her, about father, to-
day? "
“ Yes; we had lunch together.”
“What? "
Gregg repeated it; but Marjorie seemed yet unable
to believe. “ You and she!”
“ Yes,” said Gregg.
For an instant she stood stark, staring up at him
in the dark; then, without a word, she turned from
him and started down the path they had walked to-
gether. For a few moments, he watched after and then
he followed, slowly overtaking her but never coming
quite beside her until they reached the walk at the end
of the path; then side by side but without a word, they
continued to her home.
How he had bungled it, Gregg accused himself in his
dismay, as he realized he had spent his chance with
her and had failed her — failed, in his way, as abjectly
as Billy had failed in his, and by what he had done
and said shut himself off from power further to influence
her as finally as Billy had.
Reaching the house, Gregg followed Marjorie upon


196 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
the porch where, at the door, she turned and spoke to
him, at last. “Good night, Gregg,” she said quietly,
without offering her hand.
He was shaking now and his lips trembled so that
he had to make an effort to speak. “I'm going in
with you,” he said and himself turned the knob and
opened the door.
When she preceded him into the hall, he witnessed
a spasmodic tightening of tension in her which caught
him up with more piteous yearning to serve her. She
scarcely seemed conscious of what she was doing. It
had become so much of a habit for her, immediately
upon entering her home, to strain every sense in appre-
hension of what might have happened during her
absence.
Very gently Gregg took her cape from her; he
dropped his own overcoat. “ Come in here.” He led
her into the drawing-room, which was empty but
lighted, and at the farther end of which a fire was
burning on the hearth. There was a lounge before the
fire and Marjorie, taken to it, sat down; but Gregg
remained standing.
“You said to Rinderfeld you're not going to
Europe with your mother; what do you mean to do?"
She refused him answer; so he demanded, “ You'll
stay here with your father?”
She looked up at that. “No."
“Why not?”
“I was here with father when he found — Clearedge
Street.” And she turned from him and from the fire
also and stared off.
“ Where are you going?” he asked and, still, re-
fused answer, repeated it twice. Then he said:
"You can keep from telling me but you can't keep


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
197
whatever you do from affecting my life more than any-
thing else that could happen. Of course, you know you
own Bill, too. There's a lot of girls that are pleasant
and good-looking who can do whatever they want with-
out stirring other people much; but you're not one of
them. You're a girl that a man, whoever's had a chance
to know you, can never forget. Who will know where
you are? Bill?”
“ No.”
“ Your father?"
“ No."
“Who? You can't drop entirely out, you know;
that is, I don't think you want to be out of reach if
“ No," she said again, and this time interrupting
him.
" Who will have your address ? "
“ Mr. Rinderfeld's office.”
That shot a start through Gregg, although, in a
certain sense, he should have expected it; yet it con-
fused him so that he almost aggravated his bungling
of a few minutes ago by speaking of Rinderfeld; but
he saved himself from that.
“ Thank you,” he said ; then, “ Good night.” And
he departed.


CHAPTER XVI
ARJORIE set out for Clearedge Street before
nine the next morning and, determined to make
this expedition wholly as a free agent, she left
home on foot and took the elevated train cityward from
Evanston. For five or six miles she gazed from the car
window down upon pleasant, rectangular back yards
with fresh, green grass and occasional spots of yellow
crocus and with budding lilac and bridal wreath bushes
set against the rear and sides of seven and eight and
nine-room houses of brick and frame and stucco, with
garages associated; and now and then there came into
sight larger, and usually older, dwellings of ten or
twelve rooms, with wider lawns and gardens.
Red and yellow and dun flat buildings loomed here
and there; even in Evanston were blocks of apart-
ments, but the flat did not prevail. Most of the
Evanston apartments, and most of those in the northern
fringe of Chicago, were of six rooms or larger, and they
offered sufficient space physically to permit, if they
could not be said to foster, an approximation of the
“ home " life which Marjorie considered normal. But
soon, not only the green back yards and the lilac-girt
houses disappeared, but also the six-room, six-flat semi-
detached structures ran into solid blocks of smaller,
residential suites side by side in uniform strata. What
back yards these buildings boasted were preëmpted by
newly washed sheets, pillow cases and underwear and
stockings flapping in the April breeze; for though the


200
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
State upbringing and tradition and, particularly,
from such old Puritan towns as Salem. The impulse
of the pioneer as well as the blood of the Puritan de-
scended to them who built their separated, independent
homes and preferred few neighbors and feared not the
coming of children. In one house the caller would see
the sword of a Sheridan cavalryman in its sheath on
the wall; in the next, where the father had been too
young to have ridden in the Shenandoah, the Harvard
oar which he had pulled against Yale hung over the
hall mantel. These people thought in terms of Amer-
ican families of English descent in Chicago and Boston
and New York; it was the age when Mrs. Potter Palmer
reigned in Chicago society and when to be received at
the castellated Palmer mansion on Lake Shore Drive
was the proof of position; when the Chicago newspapers
boasted of triumphant marriages of Chicago girls to
English noblemen and heralded that the leader of Chi-
cago society was received at the English court and
was entertained at English castles. This all supplied
to girls like Corinna Winfield, on the fringe of Chicago
“ society," a perfectly definite and orderly scheme of
social advancement, starting from where you were and
progressing through acquaintanceship with older and
more established families here, through older families
in Newport and New York and on to England. She
was simply following this scheme when she married
Charles Hale, a young man not of superior social posi-
tion but certain to be more successful than her own
father and certain to be able, with her, to win higher
place; and this was the scheme of life which con-
sciously, or subconsciously, underlay every effort in
Marjorie's upbringing and in accordance with which
Corinna Hale had moved the family to Evanston. For,


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 201
from her point of view, which she also made Marjorie's,
the old section of suburban homes north and south of
Wilson Avenue was being “ ruined.”
The trouble was that the immigrants crowding Chi-
cago — the Italians, Bohemians, Swedes and Danes,
Germans, Ruthenians, Croatians, Poles, Magyar, Irish,
French, Jews — the vigorous, vital, enterprising
peoples who a generation ago supplied you with ser-
vants, laborers, bootblacks and tradesmen and who
kept themselves conveniently and picturesquely in
foreign colonies, “ slums” and ghettos, were forget-
ting their proper “ place.” For their children were
growing up; and these new Americans felt small need
for the old-world associations to which their fathers,
feeling themselves at a disadvantage in a strange land,
had clung, comforted by the sound of their native
speech and encouraged by papers printed in the old
language. These were the children who had learned
American in the public schools and, for the most part,
refused to speak their fathers' tongue; eagerly they
fitted themselves for and boldly entered trades, busi-
nesses and professions never aspired to by their fathers;
they succeeded, mixed again and met and married out-
side their own race and struck out for the American
community which lay along the lake north of the city.
To accommodate them, 'an elevated railroad, with
electric trains running at intervals of minutes, par-
alleled the rusty rails of the old suburban spur and,
instead of slighting Wilson Avenue, it made a terminal
in a meadow there; and upon the old American families,
each in its separate home at intervals along the oak-
wooded shore, the Chicago melting-pot began to pour.
To the end of those elevated rails also traveled boys
and girls and husbands and wives come to Chicago


202 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
from Frankfort, Manistee and a hundred other little
towns up the Michigan shore; from Lafayette, De Kalb,
Ottumwa, Lincoln and LaCrosse and the thousand
other little cities and villages of the surrounding
States. These may actually predominate in the present
population of Wilson Avenue but, in so far as their
tradition is that of the American pioneer in his isolated,
independent home, dark and quiet at an early hour
of night, they have exchanged it for the more delightful
customs of the new Americans, bred in the city, whose
inherited instinct is a composite not of Anglo-Saxon
frontier rigors but of continental reflexes brought from
centuries lived in European walled towns. They built
up the modern Wilson Avenue, — and by “Wilson
Avenue” the Chicagoan means a wide district north
and south, which the actual avenue bisects from the
lake west, —- making it the exaltation, not of the kitchen
and the sitting room, but of the inn and the street; not
of the sewing room and the meetinghouse, but of the
shop and the theater.
Marjorie Hale could thrill to the gayness, the lilt
and élan of such life when she met it in Paris on the
Rue de Rivoli and the Boulevard des Italiens, in
Brussels on Boulevard Adolph Max and when she found
it in Milan, in Prague and Rome, The “ continental”
abroad pleased and exhilarated her; but here in Chi-
cago, where people were so aptly learning the art of
living in a city, it offended her; for her Chicago should
be a sort of transplanted New England and these
people, seizing on a section which satisfactorily had
been 'progressing before, were transforming it into new
almost-anything-else. They disregarded all her con-
ceptions of social advancement; they not only failed
to understand the scheme to which she had been born,


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
203
but they seemed even to be unaware of its existence in
their absorption in ends and aims of their own toward
which they were striving by rules they were making for
themselves.
Of course, Marjorie did not think this out; it reached
her through feelings as she responded, in spite of her-
self, to the allure and exuberance of the smart display
in the shop windows, to the enlivenment of a splendid
theater front and the luxuriance of a tea room which
would have been the envy of her Rumpelmeyer's of the
Rue de Rivoli. They all were new as, in that neighbor-
hood where twenty-five years have heaped values of
millions upon the meadows of violets and black-eyed
Susans, everything is to-day's and to-morrow's crea-
tion. Nothing which was conspicuous either obviously
possessed a past or — by imitation of old architecture
- brooded on the past of other places. The people
apparently brooded not at all on their pasts, whatever
they might have been.
It was morning, and though these streets are not at
their best early in the day, Marjorie was sensitive to
the animation of the people passing her; and she was.
particularly unwilling to feel energized by them,
especially by the girls and the women from nowhere
that she knew and headed to nothing that she could
discern. But too undeniably they possessed something
which she and her own friends, who fitted into her
scheme of things, had not; they displayed positive
qualities which — to their minds, at least — not only
compensated for whatever lacks she might find but
which endowed them with a sensation of a certain
advantage of her, as they noticed her. It irritated
Marjorie that they recognized her instantly as differ-
ent from themselves and, by a glance, could set her


204 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
apart from them, — and not above them; not obviously
below them, either. They seemed to Marjorie — these
girls, living in flats and hotels and rented rooms, in
restaurants and cafeterias, many of whom were on
their way to work — to strike a sort of balance in their
valuations of Marjorie and themselves, conceding to
her traits they had not and conscious of their posses-
sion of an attribute she wanted.
She could not define it, but it was something freer,
certainly, and something which engendered confidence;
Marjorie felt she had never been in the atmosphere of
such aggressive confidence. It was in her attempt to
reassert her own superiority that she thought again,
definitely, of Mrs. Russell and reminded herself that
it was on a street a little farther along that Mrs. Rus-
sell lived. It was not until the instant later that Mar-
jorie aggregated with this the fact that her father also
had been involved there.
She turned to Clearedge Street and as she neared
Mrs. Russell's number, she felt her feet and her hands
become light and unsteady in her excitement; she could
not think now what she was doing or recall even the
exact details of the procedure she had planned during
the night. Though she was on the odd-number side
of the street, she crossed over to the opposite walk to
look up at the third-floor apartment. A woman, or
some one, was behind the curtains, Marjorie was sure,
as she abruptly recrossed the street and entered the
vestibule where Billy and she had rung and waited so
long.
White daylight was now illuminating the cream and
pale-green tiling and the glass-paneled inner door with
the pale-green curtain at which she had stared under
the yellow glow of the electric bulb that night. There


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
205
was the row of three brass-lipped letter boxes with the
buttons beside them, with the cards of the tenants of
the first and second floor and, on top, the card with
the name of Mrs. Russell. The sight made Marjorie
sicken, but she pressed the third button.
Almost immediately — in contrast with that night -
the buzzer at the lock announced that the catch was
being released and she pushed open the door and
climbed the stairs up which Billy and Gregg and she
had run. But her sensations now suddenly jumped
from repeating her terrors of that night; and she
thought of her father treading this stair carpet on
previous occasions, sometimes with Mrs. Russell beside
him — doubtless — and sometimes arriving alone; and
her mind attacked wretched details such as whether he
carried a key to the door below and to that ahead or
whether he had always rung to be admitted.
The door at the top swung back when Marjorie
reached the third floor and, catching breath as she
looked in, she confronted a large, competent-looking
matron of gray-haired fifty.
" Come in ! ” this woman instantly invited and Mar-
jorie entered and let the matron close the door.
Marjorie glanced toward the bedroom where her father
had been carried after he was shot; for a moment she
was in the grip of her emotions when she found him
there unconscious and apparently dying; then they let
go of her and her mind, without bidding, jumped again.
“ Who are you?" she demanded of the woman.
“ Who did you come to see? ” the matron returned.
There was almost nothing distinctive about her; just
woman, about a hundred and sixty pounds in a brown,
“ stout” size, ready-made suit; broad sensible shoes ;
big hands, clean but marked by work. Her face was


206 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
commonplace, except for a little more set to her mouth
than ordinary and a bit of glint of I'm-used-to-relying-
on-myself in her gray eyes. On second glance, those
eyes did not seem to Marjorie to accord with the rest
of her at all.
“Is Mrs. Russell here? ” Marjorie asked her.
“ No; who shall I say called ? ”
“ Mrs. Russell still lives here?”
“ Yes.”
“ Then I'll come back,” Marjorie announced, staring
about. There was the desk in which she had discov-
ered her father's picture and the letters from him; she
could breathe the close air here no longer. She flung
back the entrance door and stepped out, the woman
making not the slightest objection.
Not until she was again on the street and had fled
some distance away from that building did Marjorie
connect her impressions of the woman sufficiently to
become convinced that the matron was no mere friend
of Mrs. Russell's nor co-tenant nor was she in the
apartment on any ordinary employment. She was a
sort of sentinel, Marjorie was sure, waiting for some
one not a girl like Marjorie Hale.
Looking up, she noticed a sign on the front of a
six-flat building — or a structure which originally
must have been six-apartments — which proclaimed:
“ Rooms to rent; also rooms with bath and kitchen-
ette."
Marjorie halted and then started up the short walk
toward the entrance, but the effect of her call at Mrs.
Russell's was too strong upon her; she merely noted
the number on Clearedge and went on. Farther along
were similar signs, and the streets crossing Clearedge
and parallel to it supplied her a dozen addresses. The


208
TO
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
rooms, chiefly," he announced and smiled, evidently
feeling a smile was indicated; with equa) willingness to
fit his expression to an occasion, he would have groaned,
Marjorie felt. He glanced up and down her once more
with complete dispassion and then, looking behind him
as though to make sure no one else was watching, he
asked, “ Do you want to know about some of these?”
Marjorie nodded, diverted by this narrow-faced
young man who had the air of one so aged in experi-
ence.
“ All right,” said Mr. Dantwill and, picking up a
pencil, with sudden force he drew it through the fourth
address she had written; then he drew the pencil back
through it, raised the point to his lips, wet it, and
vehemently leaded over her writing.
Marjorie felt herself flushing hotly when he looked
up at her. The number, she remembered, was on Clear-
edge Street about two blocks from Mrs. Russell's flat;
what would Mr. Dantwill have done — she wondered --
if she had brought to him the number 4689? What was
the matter at this number he had so emphatically
obliterated? Something worse than the matter at
4689? Well, what was worse?
“ Thank you very much," she whispered to Mr.
Dantwill and abruptly recovering her list, she turned
and left the office.
For suddenly she realized that, by erasing that ad-
dress, Mr. Dantwill had told her exactly what she
wanted — though she had not been conscious of the
want. For she had approached Mr. Dantwill, in the
ordinary way, to learn from him which was the best
place on her list; but she did not want to go to the
best; she wanted to go to a place not recommended, if
she was to end her epoch of protection during which


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 209
she had been kept so ignorant of life that she not only
had failed to suspect the secret of her father's but had
utterly failed to comprehend it when, by accident, she
had discovered it.
And she realized that Mr. Dantwill, in obliterating
that address through which she might meet knowledge
of the forbidden, was continuing what men had been
doing to her all her life, — protecting her, keeping her
from what they knew and would not have her know. But
here she was because she meant, now, to know; so
surely the most stupid act possible was for her to step
from her protected home to another protected and
approved shelter merely in another locality.
From the sidewalk, glancing back through the plate
glass, she saw Mr. Dantwill still at the counter and
gazing after her, although another woman was standing
before him and trying to get his attention; and Mar-
jorie hurried on.
Retracing her way to Clearedge Street, she found
the forbidden number to be — as she recollected —
a six-apartment building, recently made over into the
sort of hostelry which, in France, Marjorie would have
denominated a pension. Here in Chicago she did not
know what to call it; evidently it was not exactly a
hotel, neither was it a boarding house. If she did not
know what to name it, neither did its proprietor seem
to; for it bore no designation at all on the front except
the street number and the sign “Rooms to Rent.”
Inside the door was nothing but the ordinary flat vesti-
bule with six letter boxes surviving from the epoch when
but six families domiciled the premises; but five of the
card spaces were empty and in the sixth was the name
“ J. A. Cordeen.”
A bell was below this, but Marjorie did not ring, for


210 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
the door to the hall stood wide and, inside, was open
a door to the front room on the right which, from its
position and decoration, evidently had once been the
“ living room” of the first floor flat south, but now,
from its furniture, was a sort of office.
Marjorie walked in.
A “day bed ” of the familiar pseudo-couch pattern
was against the wall directly opposite the door; beside
it was a row of neat, mahogany drawers, quite as sug-
gestive of domestic as of any business use and giving
Marjorie the impression that upon occasions, if not
customarily, some one slept in this room; but filing
cabinets in mahogany — which almost covered the spot
on the wall paper where an upright piano had once
stood — a telephone and a large mahogany roll-top
desk, with its back to the door, created the office atmos-
phere. At the desk was sitting a trim, alert-looking
red-haired woman of about forty. She did not look
up at once but finished reading a typewritten letter
which she held; she placed it with her other mail and,
when she glanced up, it was with a complete dis-
missal of what she had been doing and with a whole-
ness of attention to the fresh matter in hand which
made Marjorie appreciate that, whatever else this
woman might be, she attended to business first.
“ I've come to see about a room,” Marjorie addressed
her.
The woman's glance over her applicant was quick
but amazingly comprehensive; Marjorie felt not only
her clothing estimated but a shrewd guess made at her
underclothing; not only the new cleanness of her gloves
observed but the fact that, upon her gloved fingers, she
wore no rings.
“ Single or double?”


212
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL ..
to permit use of the inside hall without entering the
front room. There was a door through the partition
toward the front and Jen Cordeen, opening this, dis-
played a clean and attractive room with twin mahogany
four-poster beds close together, a woman's dressing
table and a man's dressing stand, two wardrobes and
two chairs and a bookcase, empty. It had a blue imita-
tion Chinese rug in good condition and heavy, expensive
paper on the walls, – a tapestry-like paper of good
design with gray herons standing in pale brown grasses.
The three windows, all in the front, faced west over the
street.
“I have this one double; I have one single - third
floor, this side, that used to be a maid's room,” Jen
Cordeen said, making it plain by her tone that she would
not waste time by showing this caller the single room.
“How much is this room? ” Marjorie asked.
“ Fifteen a week for two. There's a bath,” Jen
Cordeen half opened the door and displayed it. “Have
you got a friend?"
"No."
“ I've got a girl who's been waiting for some one to
split this room with her. She asked if anybody else
came single to let her know. Her name " she
hesitated for a fraction of a second, “is Clara Seeley.
Looked like a real nice girl; she's demonstrating here
this week, she said. You'll find her at the drug store,
two blocks that way, one down.”
The idea of rooming with a girl to be found here
startled Marjorie when first put to her so calmly; but,
for the purpose which brought her here, how could she
start better than by making a friend at once? What
harm, at any rate, in looking at Clara Seeley?
Arranging with Jen Cordeen to “hold” the room
to let ) herShe waiting for


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
213
for half an hour, Marjorie went to the drug store de
scribed to her.
It was, as are most of the extraordinary establish-
ments which we still call drug stores, an emporium for
a multitude of wares far more conspicuous than medi-
cines and to-day the most conspicuous, beyond any
rivalry, was face powder. For, in a sort of booth,
arranged just within a front window, a dark-haired,
handsome girl, with a remarkably well developed figure
displayed in a tight, black, knitted dress, was “ demon-
strating.”
When Marjorie had worked her way into the circle
about the window, she looked at the girl before paying
attention to what she was doing. She had such mar-
velous hair, for one attraction; black, it was, of the
most living, healthy hues of black Marjorie had ever
seen; her brows were as black as her long, beautiful
lashes. Her eyes, too, seemed black before she looked
up; but that was because the pupils were large; now
they contracted and Marjorie saw the iris was of the
clearest and warmest and softest of browns. Her skin
was smooth and soft-looking and clear and dark, where
she had left it free from powder; she was an Italian,
Marjorie thought at this first glance at her; for she
had the almost perfect symmetry of oval face and the
delicate bowing of full-blooded lips which one sees
in a beautiful Italian girl. But she was taller than an
Italian was likely to be and, in the breadth of her cheek
bones and also in her shoulders, were marks of a larger
race; and her manner did not make Marjorie class her
with Italians. She had a bold, easy-going, amused air
which the crowd found attractive as they watched her
polish her perfect, oval nails with paste from a pink
box; from an elaborate jar she scooped cold cream to


214 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
-
--
rub on her cheek; she rubbed it off, almost immediately,
with conspicuous completeness, and applied powder —
and she smiled with those delicate, dark lips showing
flashes of white, perfect teeth. She was fascinating
when she smiled and looked at one as she did at Marjorie
with an “ amused at me? Well, I don't mind ” air.
She was remarkable, too, in that, when repeating her
demonstration, she never made a single move mechan-
ically or appeared bored; she began it again with eager-
ness, like an artist, with grace and enthusiasm always
fresh for each new circle of spectators.
“ I'm not amused at you,” Marjorie wanted to say
when the girl, noticing that she remained, gazed at her
again. “I want to ask you to room with me,” Marjorie
completed to herself; and then the Marjorie Hale, who
was the daughter of Corinna Winfield Hale, reasserted
herself. “ Are you mad, planning to invite a girl out
of a drug-store window to share a room with you?”
Yet, if the room was to be at that forbidden address
of Jen Cordeen's, who better to have for your first
friend than this smiling, I-take-care-of-myself girl in
this window? Did she know what was the matter with
Jen Cordeen's, Marjorie wondered, and was she mean-
ing to take a room there, anyway? Or had no Mr.
Dantwill warned her?
The girl, having again rubbed off the cream from
her face and applied powder, gazed straight at Mar-
jorie once more and smiled as if to say, “ All right;
you're welcome to more amusement from me if you want
it.” And Marjorie had either to go on or to go in and
explain; so, after another moment, she went in and
took her first opportunity to talk to Clara Seeley.
Of course Marjorie did not begin with direct over-
tures about Jen Cordeen's; she started only with casual


CHAPTER XVII
C HE came in upon him seated in the brown oak
Morris chair which had been “father's chair" as
long as Marjorie could remember and which went
back, even before the seven-room house on the fifty-foot
lot in Irving Park. It went back, Marjorie had been
told, to the epoch before her birth; for her mother and
father had bought it together for their first living room
in the cheap, tiny flat they had taken their first year;
and now, no matter what discord it caused with other
furnishings, always it must be in the room which was
particularly father's. So it was here in this half study,
half dressing room opening off his bedroom. How
could he keep it near him now, Marjorie wondered.
Why did he want to?
He wore his brown, business suit of tweed, of color
becoming to his brown hair and brown eyes, and par-
ticularly so now that blood was again in his cheeks;
he looked not only well this morning but almost vigor-
ous in this suit which had been freshly pressed for him;
his linen was fresh, of course; and this morning he had
on shoes instead of slippers. Only a slight bulge under
his waistcoat, not noticeable if you did not look for it,
betrayed where he was still bandaged. The odor in
the air told that he recently had been smoking one of
the two cigarettes of his present daily allowance, but
he had finished it and had been glancing through the
newspaper which he dropped beside him as Marjorie
came in.


218 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“ It's good to hear somebody,” he said with cheerful
greeting, smiling at her; then, as she closed the door
carefully, “ What've you to tell me, Margy?”
She had entered with her opening words prepared
but, facing him, she forsook them and only said,
“Father, why aren't you out on a day like this?"
“Oh, I've been out on the porch — like an inmate of
an old soldier's home. But I draw the line on wheel
chairs in public."
“ Doesn't Doctor Grantham want you to drive yet? "
He shook his head, his eyes widening slightly as he
watched her. “What is it, Margy?” he asked again.
“ Did he see you to-day? ” she replied.
“Grantham? No; he's promoted me to calls every
other morning.”
“Oh. Have you,” she started and stopped, going
hot and fiery red, and then she blurted, "have you had
a full talk with him, father?”
“ About?” he questioned, steadily, his eyes narrow-
ing.
“ Clearedge Street."
It was no bombshell at all; plainly this was what
he had been expecting, and it brought him not the
slightest visible agitation. On the contrary, it seemed
to give him relief, and Marjorie was not prepared for
that; she had keyed herself up to assuming the role of
accuser of him — even beyond that of accuser to that
of a disposer of his destiny. But instantly it was clear
that he had no idea of permitting any such heroic
reversal of position.
“Of course, Grantham told me you were at Clearedge
Street,” he replied, almost impatiently.
“Yes, father; I know everything."


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
219
“ No, you don't!” he denied quickly. “You know
nothing or next to nothing.”
“ About you and Mrs. Russell ? "
“Exactly.”
That checked her; she angered at him but she did
not know what to say. He started forward with an
impulse to rise, but remembered his hurt and did not.
“Sit down, Marjorie,” he directed shortly.
“ Father, no!”
“ All right,” he accepted, looking up at her all
a-tremble before him. “It's been bad on you, Margy,
hasn't it? ” he said, with the first tone of guilt which
had got into his voice. “I wouldn't have had that, you
know.” Now it was not guilt, only pity for her.
Marjorie tossed her head. “I would.” She would
not let him be sorry for her.
He gazed steadily at her. “How can he feel so
little?" she thought. “You've shown good sense so
far, Marjorie," he said evenly. “ I'm not supposing
anything, but you will continue to show the same sense,
though I will make the carry from now on as easy for
you as possible. Before I was hurt, you know your
mother and you were going to Europe; I had your
reservation on the Aquitania for the sailing which is
now a week from this Saturday. Your mother "- at
second mention of her, he shifted his gaze from Marjorie
and looked steadily out the window — "expected to
give up that reservation or abandon the trip altogether.
Of course, the latter did not prove necessary; nor has
the former. I convinced your mother of that this morn-
ing. There is no reason, out of regard for my health,
why you should not carry out your previous plan; there
are, of course, many reasons why you should. The one
which was sufficient to convince her was that it is


220 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
extremely likely that Mr. Dorsett is to have a suc-
cessor this week or next. Whether or not I am to
become president of our company, now depends "
he glanced from the window to Marjorie when he said
“ now," and when, immediately, he repeated it; and
she wondered if he knew of her encounter with Stanway.
If he did, he betrayed it by no other sign than iterating
—“now depends on the directors' confidence in my
state of health. Nothing can show our certainty of it
better than your mother and you adhering to your
known plan when I return to my office next week. I
have bought the cabin for you for a week from Satur-
day.”
Marjorie moved tensely nearer him, with muscles
throughout her body pulling in an emotion new to her.
She did not feel angry so much as she felt held cheaply
and as a child; for a moment she was so stiff that her
lips seemed unable to move and, trembling, she said,
“ I have not the slightest idea of going to Europe,
father.”
“ Why not?”
“ Why should I?”
“You had planned to, Marjorie,” he repeated, very
quietly. “ You were going with your mother. She will
expect you to go now.”
“ Yes; and you, father?”
He understood what she meant, but he would not
show it. Instead, he said, “ I expect you to go, dear.
I want you to go.” And the way he requested that
almost disarmed her and suddenly, before she could be
reprepared against him, he leaned forward and com-
pleted her discomfiture, “I ask you to go, Marjorie.”
She fought to stop the quivering of her lips, but it


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 221
overcame her and her hands began to shake and she
burst out crying.
“Margy!” he appealed to her.
“ Don't touch me now, father!”
He had half come up from his chair and that shot
him back like a blow, dropping him. She saw it
through the blur of her crying. “Oh, I didn't mean
that, father!”
She was at his knees now on the floor before him; she
clasped his knees, hugged them and cried and cried.
But his hands did not touch her, and his knees, which
she clasped, did not move. She controlled herself and
stood up, avoiding his face.
“I'm not going away from Chicago," she said to
him then, steadily and finally.
“Why?"
“ You know why.”
“Yes; I suppose you mean to watch me."
They were confronting each other fairly and, in that
contest of eyes on eyes, it was Marjorie, not her father,
who first broke.
“ Oh, father, I'd go to Europe with mother so
gladly, I'd go anywhere, I'd do anything at all if you
just told me that when we were gone you'd never see
that woman again."
Something about that cut into him; perhaps it was
her trusting to his word when his honor, in the respect
which filled their minds, had proved so completely gone.
But he made no reply; he looked off and after a moment
she turned her back to him and went to his window,
where she leaned her arms on the crossbar of the
window sash and stared out. She tried to think clearly
but she could not; she could not be conscious even of
feeling. It was not at all like the paralysis of emotion


222
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
which had come to her in Mrs. Russell's flat when first
she “knew"; this was the exhaustion, the complete
draining of the feelings which then had filled her but
since had been seeping away. Gazing out her father's
window to the ell of the house where was her own room
and down at the lawn about her home which she had
loved as no other spot on earth, she realized that she
was parting from it forever, and she not only failed
to care but she was sure that, later, she would never
care. She saw that her father did not yet suspect her
plan of leaving his house and she was glad of that.
He was under sufficient excitement now, as he got
to his feet, and with sudden alarm she cried, “Father,
you must not stand!”
“ I'm all right; keep still, Marjorie; stay where you
are. You have done me certain services; you have put
me in your debt in certain respects, so that you may
feel I owe you some things. I do, but I do not include
among them necessity to subscribe to your ideas of
conduct nor to your judgments. If you prefer to stay
at home, rather than accompany your mother, that is
a matter of your own choice; I shall arrange for you
here accordingly and for your mother to go with
another companion.”
And this he did succeed in arranging during the
following days, for his wife never had definitely counted
upon Marjorie accompanying her; she could agree
therefore that it was probably as well for Marjorie to
remain with her father for a while and come over later;
Corinna Hale, herself, had long before laid out a pro-
gram for this trip, as she did for all her activities,
engaging one week for a visit with an English friend,
another for certain long-planned studies in London, and
so on. Accordingly, upon the day exactly a week later,


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 223
Charles Hale and his daughter went with his wife to see
her off on the Twentieth Century Limited for New York.
He was strong and apparently quite well then; she
spoke about his good appearance several times and,
after he had put her in her compartment and she had
exacted his last promise to take good care of himself
and they had kissed and parted, she proudly watched
him out the window as he stood waving good-by. Look-
ing back, she carried with her the image of him as he
stood there waving at her; and when she imagined him
otherwise, she renewed her image of him engrossed in
business during the day and at recreation at his golf
club or at the homes of their friends, — comforting
images of a man in the years of his greatest vigor and
success, content with such thoughts of her as she held
of him, and neither seeking nor desiring close compan-
ionship. “ I'll send him that new Ring Lardner book,"
she thought indulgently. And she imagined him at
home in the evenings reading it and the newspapers into
which he always delved amazingly; she imagined him
having Marjorie play the piano for him or running
off his favorite records. For Marjorie, in spite of that
receipt for advanced rent from J. A. Cordeen, had
remained at home that week; and her mother, of course,
had not the slightest idea of her intention.
Nor had her father any suspicion of it even upon
this afternoon when he parted from her at the station
to go to his office. Since yesterday he had resumed his
management of Tri-Lake Products' affairs; and, rather
as a result of his return, the directors were meeting to
elect a new president in the place of Dorsett, who was
personally to place his resignation before them.
E. H. Stanway, vice president and a director, was
in the directors' room, and Charles Hale, general man-


224 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
ager, was outside it, but he waited the outcome with
little anxiety, for Dorsett already had conferred with
him.
“Hale,” said old Dorsett, “ I'm obliged to give up
soon; I might as well now while I can steer you into
the place instead of Stanway. What's been the matter
with you, man? Not a malignancy, as I've heard
said.”
“No,” said Hale, as directly. “I was shot by a
divorced husband in a flat up on the north side.”
“Hmm!” Dorsett considered, his eyes narrowing
with speculation; and Hale knew that he had heard
that, too, and from what source. “What are the
chances of it happening again?”
“It will not happen again,” said Hale,
“ You mean it will be impossible for it to happen
again? "
“ It will not happen again,” Hale repeated; and
Dorsett squinted his old eyes and let himself be satis-
fied with that.
So, about five o'clock, Charles Hale received invita-
tion to the directors' room where E. H. Stanway
and one Stanway cousin, who had stood out against
the rest, now were not; here old Dorsett seized his hand
and introduced the new president of the corporation.
There was a touch of ceremony about it which sur-
prisingly affected Charles Hale, and when at last he
was alone and free to turn where he wished, he felt his
new triumph more than he would have thought pos-
sible; it caused him to review his whole life, — to recall
his boyhood in the little, plain, meager home in the
Illinois town where his father had worked patiently and
persistently for very little reward; to remember, par-
ticularly, his mother who had prayed for him and, more


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
225
I with
гe up
into
atta
heard
practically, had scrimped and spared to help him
through “high school”; it caused him to compare his
success, with frank satisfaction, with the progress of
others who had been boys with him; it brought him to
his winning of his first“ raise ” in Tri-Lake and bearing
the trophy of it to Corinna Winfield in her Edgewater
home, — to the beautiful, self-assured girl whose cool-
ness and aloofness then so taunted and allured him.
Each of his triumphs since that day up to this had been
another trophy to bring to her; and this, too, was a
trophy for her; for he telegraphed her on board the
train that he had it.
That was a far better way for him, this time, than
to tell her personally; to another woman he would, if
he could, bear this his trophy in person; but prudence
warned him that, on this night, he had better not; so
he contented himself with speaking to her over a tele-
phone. Then he turned to his home to bring his
triumph to his daughter.
And, as he thought about her, he realized that he
wished to impress her more than any one else with his
vindication, for that was what he called it to himself.
He had no need to justify himself before his wife who,
though undoubtedly pleased at his winning higher posi-
tion, only expected it of him as a matter of course;
and he had no need for vindication of himself before
Sybil Russell. So, while Leonard was driving him home,
Charles Hale dwelt on his meeting with his daughter,
which would be their first after they were left in the
house alone; and, although he had told her he did not
subscribe to her ideas of conduct or to her judgments,
yet he was particularly glad to be bearing to her proof
that other men did not. Until he actually possessed
this endorsement, he had not confessed to himself how


226 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
much he needed it; in fact, without it he did not now
see how he could have got on in the same house with his
daughter, alone.
He had reserved mentioning his good news to
Leonard till the man asked for orders after opening
the door for him to get out; then he told it and took
Leonard's hand. Martin, who had opened the house
door, heard the news and he offered his congratula-
tions, too, and Hale gave him a handshake; so the
master of the house, and the president of Tri-Lake
Products and Material Corporation entered his home
aglow and ready for his daughter. It let him down
a little, but did not trouble him, when he learned she
had been home an hour ago but had gone out. Then,
on the table in his room, he found an envelope upon
which she had written “ Father” and which contained:
I have been waiting only for mother to go before
leaving. Do not expect me back and do not bother
about me; I know exactly what I am to do and have
made all my arrangements.
Marjorie.
It frightened him and, even after the first shock, he
could not argue himself out of his dread; it was too
ominous and premeditated, that note. It explained too
well her compliance, a week ago, with all his demands
except that she accompany her mother, and it sug
gested to him — more, it warned him — that anything
might come.
•He crumpled it in his hand and strode into her room
to find that, in so far as he could reckon her wardrobe,
Marjorie had gone off taking with her only the suit she
had worn that day and that too low-cut dress her
mother had given her for the Lovells' dance. Underwear,


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
227
DOW
ening
took
coust
ome
1041
pon
stockings, night-dresses and lingerie she might have
taken, and probably had; he had no census of such gar-
ments. Some were left in her drawers but, he believed,
not as many as she had. She had left her rings, pins
and necklaces.
“What does she mean to do to herself? " he put his
terror for her into coherent demand. Self-destruction,
of course, suggested itself to him; for a moment he
imagined her, clad in that low-cut dress in which last
she had been innocently happy, casting herself into the
lake. Then he denied that fright; she was doing some-
thing extreme, he was sure of that, but she was not
stupid enough to satisfy herself with suicide. No; then
what — what to punish him? More frightful images
than of Marjorie white and still in the waters of the
lake seized him.
Of course he telephoned to Billy, with the result only
of terrifying Bill, who could not tell him anything
useful. He telephoned also to Rinderfeld, not suspect-
ing that Rinderfeld knew and therefore he only informed
Rinderfeld of what had happened. Rinderfeld ques-
tioned him fully, noted the answers and never let him
dream that in his address book, and transcribed in a
code so that no one finding it could read, was the
number on Clearedge Street where Marjorie was.
He drove up there later in the evening, Rinderfeld,
with no premature intention of calling upon her, but
only to look the ground over; and this was as well for
him, since Marjorie, after delaying her arrival for a
week, was wasting no time in getting started in the
new society she had entered. Clara Seeley was going to
a dance that night and she had not only invited Mar-
jorie but had supplied her with one of her own friends
lare


228 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
for a partner. Clara had hooked up Marjorie's dress,
admiringly, and helped her, expertly, with her hair.
“ Some hair you have, dearie!” said Clara, with
professional admiration. “And some skin!”
Marjorie threw over her shoulders an evening cape,
which was one outer garment her father had not missed,
and descended with Clara to the hall where her room-
mate made her known to a dark-haired and large
featured youth of twenty-five, “My friend, Mr.
Saltro,” and to a taller, partially bald and ascetic-
faced man, five years older, “My friend, Mr. Troufrie."
Both were in “ dress suits.”
Mr. Saltro was, by prearrangement, to be Marjorie's
partner, but she had supposed that the four of them
were to go to the dance hall together and remain &
party of four through the occasion. Likely enough
Mr. Saltro had expected this but, upon seeing the
girl, he was a man able to change his mind. For,
though the car which was waiting was perfectly capable
of containing four persons, Mr. Saltro held back and
detained his partner until Clara and Mr. Troufrie got
in; then he closed the door and said to the driver,
genially, “ You can skip on now! ”
Immediately he raised his hand to signal an empty
car approaching. “Taxi! Taxi!”
With Clara's car gone, and the other standing, door
open, before her, Marjorie made the choice between
retreat and getting in.
“Four's all right when the crowd all knows each
other,” Mr. Saltro uttered approval, as he placed him-
self on the seat beside Marjorie and the car was in
motion. “But for getting acquainted, nothing doing."
And he began pulling at the fingers of the new brown
glove on his right hand.


ie's dois
r hair
ara,
ing caſe
CHAPTER XVIII
it miste
er rode
id,
ascetis
outrie
rjores
main a
: Dove
Fo?
Double
ARJORIE watched him bare his hand and then
wonder what to do with it as he gazed down at
her; for she made no correlative move. She not
merely kept on her own gloves but she thrust her hands
under her thighs and sat on them — a bit of taxi cab
technique which evidently was new to Mr. Saltro and
which puzzled him.
“We're going to Sennen's Hall,” he said, and plainly
it was a commentary on her extraordinary procedure.
“ Yes,” said Marjorie, blankly. “ Clara told me."
“You haven't known Clara long?"
“ About a week,” Marjorie replied and withdrew her
hands from under her as the swing of the cab about
a corner swayed her toward Mr. Saltro, who seemed
to become doubtful whether her original posture had
been taken to discourage an advance or was really an
inviting offer of helplessness beside him.
“ Ever toddled at Sennen's? ” he questioned, while
he debated the alternative.
“ No."
“ Swell hall and fair music,” Mr. Saltro said, with
a certain charity of approval, professional in its tone.
“You're a musician yourself, Clara tells me,” Mar-
jorie said quickly, seizing the opening to turn his atten-
tion from herself to him.
“Oh, I play the trombone a little,” Mr. Saltro
admitted modestly; and, though she caught a deeper
breath than any of the last few minutes, she accused


230 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
herself for weak prudishness for even momentarily thus
making herself Marjorie Hale at the start of her first
evening as Marjorie Conway.
Here she was with Jake Saltro — trombonist of the
Geyner Quartette, “ jazz for dances, dinners, entertain-
ments of all sorts ”; and likely she could accompany
him in a taxicab and even to Sennen's without risky
revelations, if she held herself as Marjorie Hale, a good
girl from an honorable, protected home; but that was
exactly what she was not to do. She was through with
“ protection " and false honor; wild, reckless impulses
leaped in her to-night; how long had they seemed utterly
overwhelmed within her! Ever since that evening that
Billy and Gregg came to dinner before the Lovells'
dance, when she had come down with white shoulders in
her too low-cut dress to shock dear, proper, absolutely
safe Billy.
Now, in the taxicab beside Mr. Saltro, and wearing
that same dress under her cape, she almost laughed
aloud in contempt of herself as she thought back on
that “ daring” incident at home. Yes, at home and
among her friends, chaperoned by her mother and with
Billy, — Billy, who instead of taking advantage of her,
would protect her against herself; and with Gregg and
her other men friends who, as Rinderfeld had said,
would consider themselves lower than dogs if they let
themselves actually consider dishonor of a girl such
as she had been.
What was she now? She asked herself the question
and appreciated that her escort was debating with him-
self the same question ; she appreciated that, upon sight
of her in this daring dress - which, in those days after
her father had been shot, she had never had altered —
Mr. Saltro had made for himself a different judgment


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 231
her first
of the
Tertais
MPAR!
a good
pulse
tha?
orelli
of her than he evidently had formed from Clara's
report, and he had decided upon the definite invest-
ment of the difference between the cost of half a taxi
for four and a taxi for two; at this moment, plainly
he was wondering whether he was “ stuck ” while she
kept him talking about the trombone and his idea of
dance music. He had no real enthusiasm for it, so the
talk died down and he gazed out of his window, while
before them the meter audibly clicked and clicked as
they dashed along.
“I ought to pay for the cab,” Marjorie thought to
herself, guiltily," or give him what he expected for it.
Probably it's only his arm around me; I'm going to let
him put it around me, anyway, when we dance. For of
course we're going to dance."
“ Nice spring night,” said Mr. Saltro, almost sarcas-
tically, and slurring “ spring” to express emotional
expectation which one might naturally hold for such a
season.
“Yes, it's the first time this year I've really felt it's
spring,” Marjorie rejoined, partly from the reaction to
the reckless in her, partly from her own amazement at
the feeling which was hers to-night. Strange how at
home, after her discovery of the fact of Clearedge
Street, spring itself, though physically arrived long
days ago, had been stified within her, and yet now spring
could seize her when she herself was starting off from
Clearedge Street.
“ Some season, spring!” said Mr. Saltro, with
marked diminution of his sarcasm and sitting nearer
her. He held no reference, obviously, to budding trees
and blossoming flowers, or even to the softness of the
evening air coming in the open window of the taxicab
door; in so far as he referred at all, it was to the
U
-


232 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
couples clasping each other's arms as they strolled,
“ twos-ing ” most heedlessly on the walks beside the
boulevard down which the clicking taxi drove.
Mr. Saltro thrust a hand into a pocket. “Ever
smoke?” he tried Marjorie, with revived hope as he
drew out an elaborately chased cigarette case.
“ Yes,” said Marjorie, remembering the last time she
took a cigarette; from Gregg, it was, in his car, on
the way to the Lovells' dance. How cheap to smoke
then, between Billy and Gregg, and deny it now!
Mr. Saltro took out a cigarette for her; momentarily
he held it, and if she guessed correctly his thought, he
was deliberating the tact of lighting the cigarette for
her and passing it from his lips to hers. So she took
one for herself, but let him hold the match before her
lips and she leaned away again.
He considered her more approvingly. “Those your
kind ? "
She nodded.
“ Have some of this? " said Mr. Saltro.
This was a silver flask with cup top, which he obtained
from a hip pocket.
“ What is it? " she asked calmly.
“ Bourbon.”
“ Your own still or bootlegged?”
“ Twelve dollars a quart,” assured Mr. Saltro,
proudly. “You've taken a drink before now, haven't
you? ” he pressed quickly, feeling the threat of more
prudishness.
“ Certainly,” Marjorie admitted honestly. “Often."
“ This is fine stuff! From the last half of a bottle; the
other half never done anybody anything but good.”
He poured a cup full and drank it for proof. “ Try
one now ? ” he urged. “Look here, if you don't want


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 233
stralie
Je &
times
car, e
gestelde
entari
aght.
ette felt
to put a little pep into yourself and enjoy the evening,
why did you ask Clara to have me take you to Sennen's ?
I like to carry a queen; I'm not crazy to drag a dumb-
bell to a dance.” He was pouring the cup-top full again
and splashing some over; he would not force her to
drink, she thought, but certainly he meant to hold the
cup to her mouth for her. She took it, turned it in her
fingers for a few seconds while he watched her; then she
drank almost all the raw, stinging fluid, choking a little
as she handed back the cup. He finished it and twisted
down the cap.
“ More whenever you say so,” he offered.
The burning sensation in her throat gave way to
warmth and a slight feeling of spinning fullness in her
head; strong stuff, it was. Next Mr. Saltro would have
his arm about her, she thought; but this did not happen
until they were at Sennen's, had joined up with Clara
and Mr. Troufrie again and were dancing. For Mr.
Saltro was a gentleman, by Sennen's standards, at
least; and Sennen's was no underworld palace nor
vicious dance hall, notorious from police raids ; Sennen's
took consistent care to be decent and respectable. A
man usually, at least, had to take the trouble to gain an
introduction to a girl before he spoke to her; no lady
without escort was admitted; here and there were girls
who actually were chaperoned; and many more arrived,
with their escorts, in groups of four to six, as Marjorie
and Clara had; and in the wide, noisy, overdecorated
hall, there was conspicuous and vigilant censorship of
the dancing.
Sennen himself, a small, alert, dapper man in speck-
less evening clothes, oversaw everything, as Mr. Saltro,
during his second toddle with Marjorie, pointed out.
“ Sennen's certainly foolish — just like a fox,” Mr.
2. Fou
alieni


234 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Saltro commented admiringly, as he watched the little
man direct a much larger employe remove a certain
too inebriated couple from the floor. Mr. Saltro and
Marjorie did not stop toddling; no one stopped for
such an occurrence, but merely turned, as they toddled,
to keep a view so as not to miss any really interesting
developments. “You got to hip-pack your own'irri-
gation here; he won't take no chance selling it. And
look at the dancing, too; ever seen decenter than that?
He seen from the start the extreme shimmie wouldn't
keep on drawing the best people; and he cut out too
much cheek-to-cheek stuff, too. Nice looking bunch,
what'd you think?” And he renewed his clasp about
Marjorie which had relaxed somewhat while he talked,
and he moved his hand slightly on her back while they
danced,
Her back was bare, since she was wearing that dress
her mother had bought for her; she had over her
shoulders the scarf which her father, on that night so
long ago, had insisted upon her using; but Mr. Saltro
lacked the care for its proper placement which had dis-
tinguished Billy. Other men at the Lovells' dance, and
Gregg had been among them, also had lacked Billy's
meticulousness for her; it was nothing new for Mar-
jorie, when dancing, to have a man's bare hand below
her bare shoulders; but there was something very
definite — and something rather stupendous in its
revelation - about the clasp of Mr. Saltro on her
flesh,
To be fair with him, it was not individual to Jake
Saltro; Sam Troufrie held her, not in the same way
quite, but with the same sensation; other men — Clara's
friends — held her so, with one exception. It was
more amazing to Marjorie Hale, when she glanced about


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 235
at the nice looking girls circling her; for they were
nice looking — girls prettier and livelier and yet quite
as “nice " looking as most at the Lovells' dance and
more modestly dressed, the majority of them. Marjorie
herself was, from her undress, as conspicuous as any
one there. (Indeed, Sennen had censorship on
decolleté; and Mr. Saltro at first had had his doubts
about his partner “ passing" but had been too delicate
to say so till he was certain that Sennen had seen her
and passed her.)
The men were, most of them, nice looking, too; they
were cruder, of course, but generally more energetic
looking and more interested in life than the ex-college
boys of the suburbs; and as they danced with the girls
under Sennen's watchful eye, Marjorie realized that if
she had come in merely to look on and had not offered
herself for partner of Saltro and his friends, she
scarcely would have suspected that anything in par-
ticular was going on, on the floor. But almost con-
stantly in the arms of her partners, it proceeded, some-
thing so slight in physical manifestation, something so
subtle and artful that Marjorie could protest against
it as little as the ever watchful Sennen could object;
for to protest, you must be able at least to describe
what you forbid.
When Marjorie twisted her shoulders, endeavoring
to escape it, always she felt it again in a moment.
“Stop, please!” at last, she begged Mr. Saltro, after
a series of these endeavors; he stopped dancing, actually
unaware — Marjorie believed — that she could refer to
anything but an accident.
“Somebody hurt your foot ? " he questioned.
Again it was for her to go ahead or abandon the
experience she had undertaken; the other girls, who


236 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
undoubtedly were sharing it with her, danced on bliss-
fully, smiling and snuggling into their partners' arms
as they swayed and whispered intimately. Marjorie
gave herself again to Mr. Saltro's clasp; to Mr.
Troufrie's; to the arms of the others who besought her,
demanding another dance.
They knew she was not of them; or they found it out.
Others were there who also were not of them — men,
mostly. Indeed, all others of the same caste as Mar-
jorie who were there were men; she picked them out
one by one in the moving maze of the floor and dis-
cerned them distinguishing her from the other girls;
and, realizing what they were there for, she despised
them, aware that they even more were despising her.
She recognized no one, and, fortunately, no one ap
peared who recognized her.
“ I'm starting home now; gotta work to-morrow,"
Clara yawningly announced to Marjorie at half-past
twelve. “ You don't need to come; Jake'll like to
stay."
But Marjorie went, and with Clara, so the four were
together in the taxi on the ride to Clearedge Street,
during which Mr. Troufrie frankly kept Clara in his
arms and she, as frankly, kissed him; and so far from
minding observation, Mr. Troufrie genially jeered Mr.
Saltro for his conspicuous loneliness on his seat.


CHAPTER XIX
LONE with Clara in room Number 12 at Jen
Cordeen's, Marjorie tensely dropped off her
cape, went to her glass and stared at herself and
turned about to discover Clara out of her dancing dress
and limp on her back on her bed, with arms stretched
above her head and yawning peacefully at the ceiling.
“Gawd, I'm sleepy!”
“ Sleepy!” Marjorie shot back so excitedly that
Clara started up and sat, leaning on her hands.
“Why, anything happen to you to-night, dearie?”
she demanded with suspicious concern.
“ Anything!” Marjorie repeated, glaring at her
roommate; and she gave a gesture of hopelessness.
“ Bourbon don't keep me awake," Clara volunteered,
as though having come to the conclusion that Marjorie
complained of excitation from that. “Does just the
opposite to me. Just want to sleep; that's all.” And
she yawned again but did not lie down. “ Come on, get
it off your chest, kid," Clara invited, pulling out a
couple of hairpins and shaking down her hair.
“Clara, every man I danced with to-night — but
one -- was - was "
“ What?” urged Clara indistinctly, for the hair-
pins between her lips.
“ Trying me!”
Clara's hair had fallen, perhaps by accident, before
her face. “ Sure,” she said, still impeded by hairpins.
“ You were a new one to them and mighty damn good-


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
239
.
skin; how graceful and rounded her naked neck and
arms and her slender, perfectly proportioned legs in
her black culottes and stockings. Marjorie was
thinking of men and, with regard to them, she appre-
ciated that never had she known a girl who must be
more desirable, physically, than Clara Seeley.
“What did they do to you different from what
you're used to? ” Clara formed her query at last
and met Marjorie's eyes squarely; and Marjorie could
not answer. So Clara said, “I know. A few from your
bunch have had their arms around me. Not to-night;
a couple of 'em tried to but all space was under lease.
But they have and sometimes they've sort of drowsed,
dancing - forgotten themselves, as it was; I mean for-
gotten me, Molly, the manicure girl. So they held me
in those moments like they would a girl friend of theirs
from home — like they would you. Tight enough but
nothin' back of it, Marjorie; no bite! I know what you
mean. That's what you're here for; to get the snap,
ain't it? Honest? Then what're you sore about?
Aren't you here to play the real game?”
“What game? ”
“Oh, my game,” said Clara. “And your game —
when you're away from home and mamma and papa;
any girl's game who's got a decent looking face and a
figure that ain't actually repulsive. Hell — 'scuse me,
Marjorie, but I never did take serious the first four or
five commandments — do you suppose there's a man
born who wouldn't get' a good-looking girl if he
could? You been brought up at home, I understand ;
Evanston. How many of you happened? ”
Marjorie flushed slightly. “ Just me,” she told. “I
never had any brothers or sisters.”
“ So papa and mamma both had all their time to give


240 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
to you. Of course, that don't make it more simple
for you, though I do understand that even your nice
little boys have been treatin' you nice home girls some
rough lately. Even the society columns been talkin'
about it; and the chaperone'; you been checkin' your
corsets between leavin' mother and startin' the waltz
with Willy. Naughty, naughty! And you been
motorin' out after dark in a Packard roadster all
alone in a seat beside a boy who you ain't known more
than all your life and who wouldn't do nothin' to him-
self, if he actually did anything to you, but have to
skip the State and force his family to sell out and
move. They're all duds when they're out with you,
and you know it; you go through the motions of playin'
with fire and actin' up reckless; but you know those
boys ain't actually goin' to do any damage to you. If
they were, you'd have begun to suspect it, wearin' that
dress, before my friends begun judgin' by appearance
to-night. What'd you want me to tell 'em?”
“Nothing,” said Marjorie, humbly.
“ Kid,” cried Clara, with sudden emotion and clasp-
ing her roommate's hand. “You're up against some.
thing you ain't told to me. That's all right! Gawd,
I don't mean to jump on you; just the opposite, dearie.
I've had all the advantages in this game. Nine of us,
where I come from — seven grew up, too; or are
growin'. A few miles over that way," she nodded
vaguely west and cityward, as she let go of Marjorie's
hand. “Ever hear of Augusta Street? Oh, sure you
have, if you come from Evanston; Northwestern Set-
tlements on it. Well, the Selitz family — that's us —.
used to be just off Augusta; and I don't believe there
was a bunch that visitin' ladies used to get more worked
up about than us. We had two rooms to live in — the


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 241
six or seven of us, I forget exactly how many we had
around then — when somebody dropped in with the
idea that it was terrible. Terrible? Hell, we'd just
moved out of one that I could remember, all right;
and those two were still lookin' mighty wide to me.
Then they started that talk that a man mustn't beat up
his woman; who'd they want a man to take on when
he got soused, — a.cop? And that sex education stuff!
Excuse me, Marjorie; I just gotta laugh. I musta been
about twelve, I think, when some one slipped me one
of those little white books for girls with nice pink
apple blossoms on the covers and startin' out with all
about the pollination of flowers.
“I don't know who that woman was or where she
come from — she was too innocent for the settle-
ment, I think now, as I recall it; but I do remember
she sort-a blushed and whispered to me as though I
was to get a sort-a shock when I read it; told me to
come to her, if there was anything puzzled me. Well,
she was right; I never had anything puzzle me like that
book — talkin' about flowers and birds and animals
for nine-tenths the way through and then workin' up
to a whisper of what, if you was a good guesser, you'd
see was meant to be girls and men. And me — well,
where do you suppose I'd have been by that time, if
I hadn't started, when I was a kid, 'bout eight chapters
beyond where that book blushed itself to death? Gawd,
I don't remember a time when I didn't know what men
was after. But that book did do me some good to-
night.”
“How?" asked Marjorie, still meekly.
• “When I was watchin' you; how could anybody get
your way? I was wonderin'; and what was you
thinkin' a man was thinkin' about when he grabbed you?


242
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Then I remembered that book and began thinkin' it
must have printed what was information for somebody;
and I guessed it was for you. Of course, most of it
was harmless, but it had one whopper of a lie toward
the end that wouldn't have done a thing to me if I'd
been simp enough to believe it. I mean the part that
talked about a girl keeping herself pure and avoiding
impure men for the reward of getting some time a pure
one, as if there was such. There ain't no such animal;
there's just one sort of man; when you think there's
two, the difference is in the places you see 'em."
“ Then why — why,” Marjorie stammered, “ do you
have anything to do with them; why do you let them
- touch you? Why do you go out with them and — "
she stopped.
Clara laughed. “Do I pet and kiss comin' home
in a cab? Oh, don't worry none about me, dearie. I
know more about that stuff — the woman pays — than
the one that wrote it. At the same time, when a man
does show you a swell time and spend his money, you
don't get anywhere by being yourself an absolute dead
beat. Sam knows just exactly the distance I step, and
knows there's just exactly no chance of my stretching
it with him. You better go to bed now, Marjorie; say,
ain't the paper on this room swell and this carpet and
all this ” — Clara gestured vaguely but indicatively of
the wide, pleasant spaciousness of the room —"just
for you and me.”
And Clara continued serenely undressing; and in a
minute she was in bed. “Never mind 'bout the light,”
she murmured comfortably. “ Whole Commonwealth-
Edison Company – couldn't keep — me awake - if it
was — camped on ceiling.” And she was asleep –


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
243
actually asleep, Marjorie saw when she crept over by
Clara's bed and looked down at her tranquil face.
Marjorie put out the light and opened wide one of
the windows; she made no start toward bed but stood
near the open window staring down on Clearedge
Street, while her thought leaped to Mrs. Russell's apart-
ment where, for all she knew or might suppose, her
father had returned; it leaped, her thought, to her
mother sleeping, undoubtedly as serenely as Clara, in
her compartment on the train rushing to New York; it
leaped, for less vivid instants of imagination, to Billy,
to Gregg; to Rinderfeld; to Mr. Saltro; and then,
abandoning its jumping from individual to individual,
it set before her a new cosmogony.
What a simple now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep world she
had stepped from, she thought, as she reckoned how all
her life she had gone to bed, never with anything seri-
ously worrying her or threatening her until a few weeks
ago; what a world of romance and childish beliefs had
been that centered about her room around the corner
of the hall from mamma's and papa’s; in that world,
you thought of a good, able man wooing you to take
you for wife, to work for you, win you a home, not at
the start but yet eventually more prosperous than your
father's; you thought of yourself winning “ better”
social position, your children — for in certain connec-
tions you imagined more than you yourself might carry.
out — becoming companions of children of people whom
you had only begun to know; you fancied your hus-
band becoming president, possibly of the United States
or at least of a great Chicago railroad or bank or
business corporation, and consequently you fancied
yourself in the White House or with a great Lake Forest
estate.


244
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
left homshe had told me places with Hale estate.
Then Marjorie remembered that her father had be
come president of a great corporation to-day; he could
have his estate and perhaps would have been arranging
for one now for her mother and her, if Doctor Grantham
hadn't had a slow-thinking girl in his office the night
Mrs. Russell telephoned for help; and she, Marjorie,
would be with her mother, happily rushing off to
Europe again or she would be at home in her room,
dreaming of the dignity of the new Hale estate.
Would she exchange places with that girl she had
been? She had told Gregg " no " even before she had
left home and now, at the end of her first day as an
inhabitant of the building, the number of which Mr.
Dantwill had so emphatically leaded over, she cried
to herself “no” again. Here she had come to escape
her protected life, the life which all men she had
known from Billy to Rinderfeld, and including even
the casual Mr. Dantwill, had wished her to continue to
know, and to know that alone. Of course, this first
excursion from it had hurt her; but already she was
liking the sting of her hurts; certainly she was not going
to quit and run back because of them; no, what was
unknown and forbidden to her she was to explore.
And already she found herself smiling at memory of
herself with her best friend, Clara of Evanston, dis-
cussing what they had considered difficulties and what
had formed for them “ realities"; and she imagined
Clara of Augusta and Clearedge Streets, overhearing
them; and she tried to think what Clara would say.
She went over to look down on Clara Selitz' face in
sleep; beautiful it was; softer a little, but no less strong
and resolute; she had to carry character with her all
the time, that girl, Marjorie realized; and she had,
till she had achieved what truthfully was a “ fine" face;
know, and to Dantwill, had wished nd including even


CHAPTER XX
TPON several occasions previous to the next day,
Marjorie had approached strange men at their
? places of business and she had induced many of
them to do what, proverbially, was most difficult for
them; she made them give up good money for nothing
tangible or visibly profitable to themselves; for Mar-
jorie always had performed her part in the incessant
“ drives " for the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, the
Russians, devastated France and the similar objects of
emotion which, during the war and afterwards, had
agitated Evanston. So, more than most girls of her
position, she was accustomed to approach men. Of
course, in her drives, she had unpleasant experiences
when now and then she encountered a man who was
“ rude” to her; but never had rudeness taken a bolder
form with Marjorie Hale than indifference to her or
curtness in shutting off her solicitation. Occasionally
she had been aware, when talking with tradesmen, that
a man expected her to make some return for money
contributed to her fund, — reward in the shape of pat-
ronage from the Hale family. No other sort of return
could occur to her as expected by any man, because
no other could possibly enter the heads of the men Mar-
jorie Hale solicited. Consequently, she embarked upon
wholly strange seas of experience with men in their
business places when, upon the morning after her visit
with Mr. Saltro to Sennen's Hall, she set out to earn


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
247
her living by the sale from shop to shop of Bostrock's
Business Boosters.
These were advertising specialties of all sorts, from
small, celluloid elephants bearing an inkwell and a
shop's name imprinted, to souvenir card cases, calen-
dars, paper monoplanes. More than a score of knick-
knacks altogether composed the Bostrock “line," with
which Marjorie had become acquainted by answering, in
person, one of those advertisements of “ Experience not
essential to make good money selling proved, popular
articles; call to-day; draw your pay to-morrow.” She
had called upon Mr. Bostrock while she still was an in-
habitant of the big, protected home in Evanston; and
though she gave her name as Conway and her address
on Clearedge Street, and though she wore her plainest
suit, and gloves and shoes which were not new, Bostrock
immediately perceived her station. He was a keen-eyed,
quick-talking, snap-judgment little fellow, Herman
Bostrock, and not overpolite to the shabby ones in the
line ahead of Marjorie who preceded her to the dingy
rail of the office and thence on the other side to the
seat beside Mr. Bostrock's desk. He did not permit
them to sit, but passed them on and out, almost in-
stantly, to the dusty flight of stairs down to Wells
Street. But when Marjorie's turn came, he not only
asked her to sit down but he himself arose, — a stubby,
short-legged figure with patchy gray hair, grayish thin
cheeks and loose lips stained with chewing tobacco.
“ You mean to do business? You want to stick, if
you make good? And you're going to try to make
good ? ” Mr. Bostrock demanded of her, almost with-
out break between his words, without stop between his
questions.
When Marjorie assured him that she meant, wanted


248 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
and hoped, he clapped his hand down on his desk.
“ Done; I take you on.” Evidently he prided himself
on his snap judgments and made a point of them,
though it was plain that he had not gained greatly in
worldly goods by them. “ References, I am sure, are
satisfactory,” he added, flatteringly. “Nevertheless,
to keep our records complete, we must go through the
form of asking for them.”
“ I'm afraid I can't give references," said Marjorie,
frankly.
“In that case, when an applicant is otherwise. satis-
factory, we require a deposit of two dollars to cover
cost of samples.”
But when Marjorie promptly opened her hand bag, he
more quickly shook his head. “I dispense with such
needless routine in your case. Now, Miss Conway,
here is our city territory not yet allocated.” And,
given a choice of six sections of Chicago and suburbs,
she took for her own a long, triangular city “terri-
tory,” in which she was to own the sole prerogative of
visiting West Side auto dealers, bakers, bankers,
barbers, butchers, chiropodists, churches, cleaners,
confectioners, delicatessens, dentists, department
stores, druggists and so on down Bostrock's alphabet
of businesses to undertakers and wigmakers, in the
interests of Bostrock's Business Boosters.
She laughed on her way home that day when she
pictured herself peddling little celluloid elephants to
a Swede delicatessen magnate on Milwaukee Avenue;
but seriously she recognized she had a job in which,
if she went at it with determination and humor, she
could make good. She was on straight commission,
twenty per cent. of the gross; that meant, if she sold
ten dollars' worth of elephants, monoplanes and blot-


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 249
ters, she made two dollars; if she sold fifty dollars'
worth, she earned ten. She ought to average five
dollars a day, she figured; and she liked the idea of
active work, in which she could utilize all her energy
and have the fun of devising her own schemes for
making sales; there was the element of attack and
contest about it, too; and, in the territory which was
to be hers, practically no chance of encountering
Evanston acquaintances.
She tried to start at the actual offering of her wares,
on this morning after her expedition with Mr. Saltro,
in something of the spirit of sporting, half-humorous
adventure in which she had carried her samples away
from Bostrock's; but it proved an amazingly difficult
feeling to summon when setting out from Clearedge
Street.
She had breakfast, not in the big, cheerful, quiet
dining room of home, but in a hot, noisy, smelly cafe
teria ; she was tired from last night; and that something
which had been her peculiar possession — her convic-
tion of innate superiority — was fled; and that some-
thing, which the other girls in the cafeteria possessed
confidence from experience in taking care of one's self
- of course could not be hers. “Remember the
American marines !” Clara encouraged her with a
friendly grasp, when they parted on the corner where
Marjorie took a street car. “ Treat 'em all rough
before they get a chance to rough you.”
But Marjorie trembled too visibly to give even a
good imitation of treating anybody rough when, after
several counsels of her cowardice, she entered a small
bank and began her business career. She made no sale
but received such courteous treatment from a young
man whom she approached that she agreed to come back


250
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
next month when the bank might be wanting something,
and she immediately invaded a clothing store down the
block; next a milliner's shop; next a restaurant; next
a garage.
Men in business were a most mixed lot, Marjorie de-
cided that evening on her way to Clearedge Street; but
almost without exception her “prospects” had one
common sort of astuteness; they could spot on sight
that Miss Conway, representing Bostrock's Business
Boosters, was a girl without a home and very recently
cast upon her own and was without experience of the
ways of the world; and, with few exceptions, they were
surprisingly considerate of her; they took time from
busy hours to give her advice and several asked her to
consult them, if she encountered trouble; one, in addi-
tion, ordered three dollars' worth of printed blotters.
So Marjorie returned with sixty cents earned — not
much less than her lunch money and carfare — and with
her opinions about her “prospects" rather unsettled
until she talked with Clara.
“ Fresh guys!” judged Clara promptly. “That's
the kind-a stuff they try to rope you in with. You
didn't fall for it, did you? Forgot to tell you, kid.
Look out for the old ones — especially the gray hairs
- worse than the boys. One of your own age -- well,
sometimes, Marjorie; don't count on it; but sometimes
you'll by accident stir up somethin' sportin' in one –
but the old boys that go after girls — they ain't got a
fair instinct left to 'em. Air! Marjorie, take the air
when they're around. Say, now, where'll we step this
eve? "
For Clara required to be always going somewhere;
the population of the neighborhood demanded enter-
tainment or excitement of some sort with a unanimity


252 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
a girl to buy her own clothes as scrupulously as she
must always, under any circumstances, pay her own
room rent; garments (except for a pair of silk stock-
ings, perhaps, and except for gloves, of course) a good
girl must not accept from a man; and there appeared
to be a prevailing prejudice against letting a man pay
your breakfast check. This prejudice was less strict
in regard to luncheons and entirely ceased to operate
in respect to dinners, particularly if the girl accepted
a dance or a show afterwards. She was expected, of
course, to permit a reasonable amount of petting; but
then, if she accepted no more than dinner and a dance
or a show, the account was squared; and every decent
man, as every decent girl, must so consider it. Thus
Clara managed to support herself as she did and have
a “swell ” time.
What became to Marjorie the most amazing and
puzzling revelation from her inspection of this con-
tinual and elaborate social activity, was that Clara
never seemed to have an idea of advancing anywhere
beyond it.
“You mean don't I want more coin?" Clara inquired,
when Marjorie tried to discuss it. “ Sure, I'd like
more; but you don't need to worry over fallin' on me
makin' any mistakes about what a girl can get away
with gettin' it."
“No; I don't mean just money,” Marjorie attempted
to explain. “Don't you want to get out of this way
of living some day, Clara ? "
“ Into what?” demanded Clara, practically.
“Some place of your own where " Marjorie
continued vaguely, and Clara caught her up with sud-
den, surprising softness.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 253
“I know; where you have kids. Sure, I want that;
ever see a girl, who's any good, wouldn't like one? But
what do you do to a kid, if you get 'em without
marryin'; and what do you get yourself into if you
do? "
“Do what? ” asked Marjorie.
“Marry. The set-up on the other side of the sketch's
got to be a man, hasn't he? A bird down at the Sun-
day Evening Club — I stepped in there once — said a
mouthful about marriage. Said if marriage meant any-
thing, it meant trust. Can you imagine me trustin' a
man — one man — any man — after what I've seen?
You seemed to been glimpsin' some unposed pictures of
Mr. Man yourself, recently; what'd you think 'bout
what you been seein' of the so-called human race? ”
Marjorie did not tell, for she could not yet take her
bitter thoughts lightly, like Clara, in these days when
the vestiges of the privileges and the protection which
had been hers in the big home in Evanston were vanish-
ing and her struggles were beginning to mark Marjorie
Conway, and when men, with eyes eager for such signs,
were subtly or more openly watching the progress of
discouragement of this gently reared girl who had been
cast upon herself.
Nothing overt happened; but, in her rounds of busi-
ness, tiny, almost indescribable things were done to
try her; sometimes questions asked, proper in words,
with a tone just off; sometimes a hand unnecessarily
brushing hers or put over hers in the process of taking
a sample from her fingers; often only the ogle of sensu-
ous eyes. When she began to notice that the men who
never subjected her to this were the poorer and “ lower
class ” of the prospects she approached, and when she


254 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
commented on this hopefully to Clara, she promptly
was supplied with a reason: “ They ain't got the nerve;
they see you ain't sunk to them yet. Watch 'em when
a girl below 'em gets around. Dearie, don't buy your-
self any bunk 'bout the superior virtues of the poor;
I'm from 'em.”
Of course, many men who considered themselves the
equal or the superior of the agent for Bostrock's Busi-
ness Boosters invariably met her either with impersonal
indifference or with courteous consideration when she
solicited orders from them; and then she would re-
member that her father invariably had seemed to her
wholly impersonal or kindly considerate to girls in
business, – until she found out about Sybil Russell.
How and where did her father and Mrs. Russell meet,
she wondered. In his office? At a dance hall or cabaret?
When at home she speculated about this, it had seemed
to her an item of mere curiosity, but now it had become
almost a fundamental question; and she needed to
know about Mrs. Russell, much more. Gregg was right
about that, she came to admit to herself; and she came
to ir leasing and increasing desire to see Gregg and
talk over everything with him, though she continued
wholly to lack any longing for Billy. Partly, she sup-
posed, this was due to her dread of the frightful emo-
tional storm she was sure to be subjected to, when he
found her; but partly also it was because she realized
that, after it, she would be only worse off in mind and
soul than before. And sometimes this struck her as
particularly strange, because she thought she naturally
would want, as offset to her present experiences, the
companionship of a man who, though all the rest of the
men in the world were polluted, would keep himself


256 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
he was saying about her mother and about her. The
only comment which she had seen in the papers was that
she had sailed, with her mother, on the Aquitania.
And of course she wondered most what he was thinking
and feeling about her mother and about herself -- and
about Mrs. Russell.


CHAPTER XXI
L TE, of course, was capable neither of thinking
nor feeling the same constantly towaid any one
of them; for he was going through an
upheaval, less consciously self-inflicted perhaps, but
not for that less violent than Marjorie's; and his
resultants confounded him far more than her dis-
coveries confused her. For he had considered that
he had taken thought and reckoned on the worst
which could come, when he first took up his life with
Sybil Russell. He had convinced himself that, even
if the worst came, he would be chief sufferer and that
he was not doing anything which cowardly endangered
his wife and daughter more than himself. For he had
figured that only two events were possible; either he
would succeed in concealing the fact of his associa-
tion with Mrs. Russell and so avoid harming any one
else or he would fail and disgrace and scandal would
come, but upon him, chiefly. Indeed, he had argued
with himself that he would be not only the chief sufferer
but, in a certain sense, the sole sufferer in this second
case. For, though he realized that there must be a
period of mental distress through which his wife and
daughter must pass, he honestly believed that they would
emerge from it much the same as before and with no
final, irretrievable damage done them. Other women
seemed about the same after a divorce, he observed;
and their daughters held their position in society and
married well.


258
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
For, if discovered, he expected to be divorced; he
reckoned that, as the result of the scandal, he might be
forced out of Tri-Lake, but he was wholly confident of
his ability to obtain another position and make money.
His wife certainly would claim alimony, and he always
expected to pay it in sums sufficient to enable her and
Marjorie to maintain the home; for he was not a man to
consider escape from an obligation which he had
assumed and never did he dream of repudiating his duty
of supporting his wife and child.
He had imagined correspondence — formal, un-
doubtedly, but yet correspondence — passing between
himself and his wife; he had fancied, even if the very
worst came, that Marjorie would visit him sometimes,
as he had fancied, when part of the worst actually had
happened and she knew, that she would continue under
his roof. How fatuous he had been! How he had
hurt her more than ever he had imagined and far more
than he had hurt himself. For, though he soon stilled
his terrors that she had made away with herself, he
never afterwards mistook the disaster to her from the
blow he had struck her.
How he had undone, by that one blow, all that pre-
viously he had done for her since she was a pink baby
just born; for from that moment when the nurse gave
his child to his arms — indeed, from a time as much
earlier as when he first learned from his wife that
he was to have a child and he reckoned the even chances
that it would be a daughter — he had adopted one con-
sistent, unvarying attitude toward her, determining by
all his powers to hold from her the unpleasant, the
arduous, the perplexing and the ugly in life; to bring
her to womanhood healthy, happy, graceful, cultured,
honored, envied and all that a girl of any one's might


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
259
be. And he had about succeeded at that; she was
honorably desired by a young man whom, if not a
favorite with Charles Hale, any one would call a good
match, and who was a clean, able fellow, certain to
win great success and make with her an enviable home
here in Evanston or in Lake Forest or Chicago.
Now he, her father, had destroyed all that for her, he
knew; he had turned her face about from proceeding
to her place in a home. If that might prove the most
he had done to her, it might not be so bad; it might
even, in the end, become a benefit to her — so he began
to argue with himself.
He was feeling for compensations, for some way of
believing that a good to his daughter might after all
come out of this damage he had done; and he desper-
ately required to convince himself that there might be
compensations; so he thought:
“ She was a fine, able girl; she had any amount of
promise; she might do anything! Yet how many fine,
able girls with any amount of promise you see in all the
homes like mine along the north shore and down into
the city. And how few, how very, very few, of the
women you see in those homes, amount to a hill of
beans. How futile and inane they all are, doing
nothing; phantom things, that's all. Phantom tasks, -
phantom labors, that's all they perform, for the phan-
tom triumphs of overcoming them — unless they've
given up even the pretense of usefulness and go in for
bridge and gadding. Ninnies!” he said that aloud to
himself. “Ninnies!”
Then he more vigorously reacted; Marjorie had dis-
appeared, as she had, partly to frighten and punish
him; and he would not be frightened, particularly after
he learned from a letter written on the boat by his wife


260 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
and sent back by the pilot that she had received a tele-
gram from Marjorie at sailing. And he ascertained also
that Marjorie had withdrawn from the savings bank the
money of her own which had formed her legacy from
grandmother Winfield. He knew, therefore, that she
had with her, or more likely had on deposit in some
other bank under another name, at least five hundred
dollars.
When it became necessary for him to explain her
absence to the family friends, who knew she had not
accompanied Mrs. Hale, he said that Marjorie had pre
ferred an adventure of her own to again traveling in
a routine way with her mother. He gave the impres-
sion that he had known of Marjorie's plan and approved
of it, but that his wife, being more formal minded,
would not approve. He repeated, what he found to be
the fact, that Marjorie was writing her mother as
though she were at home; and he suggested that his
wife's friends refrain from disturbing Mrs. Hale by
mentioning in letters that Marjorie actually was not at
home.
As a matter of fact, Corinna Hale had few friends
with whom she kept up any sort of correspondence;
and none of these cared to intrude openly upon her
personal affairs. Something was wrong in the Hale
family, people began to realize; it might blow over, or
it might not; Mrs. Hale's absence in England might
have more significance than her previous sojourns
abroad; or she might return, serene and calm, to resume
her place in the big, white home. Neighbors gossiped, of
course; but Charles Hale was president of Tri-Lake
Products and Materials Corporation; conspicuously
he abode in his own home, as he had upon previous occa-
sions when his wife and daughter were away; and men


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 261
of first importance in Chicago and Detroit and Cleve-
land, and not a few of influence even in New York,
visited him, and dined him at their homes, at hotels and
clubs. For he was a bigger man than ever and, in
times which dismayed little men, he put in operation
big projects.
Physically he was himself again; indeed, he seemed
improved, if anything, in tone and steadiness and color
by the weeks of enforced rest during his recuperation.
His eyes were clear, his hair regained luster; he stood
and walked straight as before, with that something
new, in addition to the sense of power which he previ-
ously possessed, which the acknowledgment of power
gives a man. And where he walked, women raised their
eyes and gazed at him. When his down town meetings
with men were over and he returned to his home, or
when, after he had entertained at home, the last guest
was gone, Hale ascended to his room and sat around,
smoking usually and half undressed, for a long time
before going to bed. He never, on these occasions,
wandered into his wife's room, but remained in his bed-
room or in his dressing room; in the dark, he would
stand sometimes with a window curtain raised and look
in the direction where Sybil Russell lay. For, though
several times he had spoken with her by telephone, he
had not yet seen her.
He had no idea that he was about to see her; indeed,
she was not in his mind at all at this particular hour
of the evening when he was passing through the general
dining room of one of the hotels down town, to a table
reserved for him and several other men. And there she
sat at a small table alone, close to the route he naturally
would follow from the door to his table.
Apparently she did not see him when he entered; she


262 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
was seated so that he caught glimpse of her profile
first, — the fine, even lines of her brow and nose and
lips, the pleasing turn of her chin, the alluring curve
of her neck and the round of her breast. She held one
hand in her lap; with the other she touched a spoon
and weighed it, pensively, in her slender, white, sensitive
fingers. She did not play with the spoon; she hardly
lifted it at all, but as it was the only motion she made,
it drew his attention, especially as she gazed at the
little silver thing musingly. It was as if he had sur-
prised her, all alone and off guard in reverie. She
had no food before her; likely, he thought, as the swift
processes of his mind swept through the trifles as well
as through that which was tremendous to him, likely
she had ordered and the waiter not yet had returned.
His eyes rested on her fingers; and his sight seemed
to supply him with tactual sensation of her fingers
clasping his as he clasped her hand; then he seemed
to feel her hand softly but so intensely touching his
face. His eyes traveled up her white forearm; they
lifted to her face and she slowly turned her head and
glanced up, quietly, calmly — oh, so like her to show
herself so calm — but he knew what passion she had
underneath! She met his eyes and recognized him, but
no one, except himself, would have known it. He hardly
would have been sure of it, if he had not been staring
straight into her eyes; for they alone gave any sign.
She did not gasp or quicken at all the even rise and
fall of her bosom; she did not start or even let slip the
spoon lightly held in her fingers; no flush flamed up.
She was without rouge, as always she had been, and
therefore among other women she appeared slightly
pale; he always liked that; her hair was dressed almost
demurely; he preferred that; she wore a simple dinner


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 263
gown of blue — his favorite color – and more modest
than any other woman's. And at that instant Charles
Hale, if he could have summoned the power, would have
banished all others throughout that wide room and
drawn the walls close to confine him and her together.
But he could not speak to her; he could not even
stop or delay in passing her; for she forbade it. The
pupils of her eyes, when they directly met his, dilated ;
she could not control that; perhaps she did not wish to;
then she looked down again at the spoon thoughtfully,
as though nothing had happened. And he had to pass
on.
Fortunately, he was the last of the group on the
way to his table; so none of his companions could have
noticed any emotion he betrayed. At the table, he
chose for himself a seat from which he could watch her
without making it conspicuous, and his attention was
very intermittently on business that hour. He sud-
denly loathed the stupid, heavy talk; he hated the mass
of solid, meaty dishes before him; suddenly he longed
for a woman's voice, — light, fond, tantalizing, dis-
sembling, passionate; to have before him woman's
dishes, delicate, dainty, tempting, not filling and dulling
to other sensations. Sybil Russell received her order,
and he could watch, from his distance, her restrained,
slight motions as she was served; and the sight of her
so near, and yet so shut away, inflamed him. Was she
here by mere chance, he wondered. If so, what a
woman to meet him as she had; what a woman to
achieve such restraint, even if she were here by design,
having learned that he was to dine here this night. It
must be, he realized, that she had come to see him — and
show herself to him — from refusal longer to bear


264 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
separation from him. And how she had shown it for
him, and only him, to see!
“ You're mine!” he said to himself, with deep
stirrings, as he glanced across at her; and he admired
her more that never once he caught her glancing at him.
“ Wasting your time,” he continued to himself with
profound satisfaction, as he followed the turn of other
men's eyes to her. “She's mine!”
After a while she arose and, moving in just the way
he knew she would — with a slight toss of her head, her
hand held a little lifted at her side, with more life in
her stride than its seeming slowness disclosed, with
other little characteristics which cried her to him –
she left the room. And there he had to sit, breathing
smoke of strong cigars, with cheese and hard, half-
blackened crackers before him and listening to figures
and estimates of costs and taxes.
About half-past nine, when he succeeded in getting
away from the men, he did not go home; nor did he go
to a club. He wandered into another hotel where he
was not likely to encounter even an acquaintance, and
he sat down, sullen from his loneliness and his desire.
He lit a cigar and almost instantly threw it away and
arose and sat in another room, stirring himself to
review the disregard and neglect shown him by his wife.
Now she was gone away again, satisfied — more than
satisfied; indeed, she preferred to be far off, spending
money he earned and without considering any duty she
owed him.
Of course, he never demanded duty from her; he
always — thank God — had been too proud for that. If
she did not want to remain close to him, let her go!
Obviously, it meant that she did not love him; any
woman who loved a man would never dream of desert-


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
265
ing him at a time like this — at the great hour of his
triumph, to leave him alone!
He accused himself not at all for this desertion by
her; he knew she was wholly ignorant of his unfaith-
fulness. No, so far as she could know, he was faithful
to her as he had been faithful and kept himself faithful
to her, by God, during the long, lonely, totally unjus-
tified periods of her first desertions of him. Not many
men — he told himself — would have endured that as
long as he had; they would have done as he had or got
a divorce.
He would have proceeded about a divorce, if that
really had been the kinder alternative for him to take;
but he had argued that it was not the kinder, even
when considering solely his wife. For as his wife, in
the relation which she maintained to him in these last
years, she was thoroughly happy; she was getting what
she wanted out of life — and from him, he considered
bitterly. She always had got just what she wanted out
of their marriage; from the very first, when she, so
cool, so sure of herself, so provoking of his passions,
had drawn him and known that she had him, she had
let him win her because she intended to obtain, through
him, just exactly what she wanted; and she had
obtained it.
And he had been glad to give it to her; for he liked
position, too, of course; he liked money and influence;
but also he wanted, and had right to expect of her,
more than that, while she — well, she seemed actually
able to call it being a man's wife to bear his name
proudly (for she undoubtedly was proud of him), to
spend his money and do herself and him credit by the
way she gained place in the world for Mrs. Charles
Hale. He was proud of her for that; but pride in


266 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
his mate was no substitute to him for love and pas-
sion. However, she could never understand that; what
outrage she would feel — and what contempt for him —
if he had told her that he, a matured man with a grown
daughter, required passion still. So he had sought and
found passion elsewhere; leaving his wife to continue
going her own way, serene and perfectly satisfied with
what she had. Consequently, so far as his wife was
concerned, he had convinced himself he had done right;
and what was right before, was right now — except
that his daughter had become involved in a disconcert-
ing way.
But it angered him, at this moment, when he thought
of Marjorie's interference with him; her attempt at
dictation to him; her disappearance to intimidate him.
Women passed near him, — a woman suggestive,
slightly, of Sybil Russell; women gazed at him and
lowered their eyes. He was attractive to women,
though they did not know who he was; and this was
the time of his triumph, and his wife had left him to be
alone. But he need not be alone. A woman -- his
woman — was awaiting him, he was sure. Not on
Clearedge Street in that apartment where he had been
shot and his daughter had come; but at another place
they had used once. The thought of it roused him;
was she there?
He arose and entered a telephone booth and called
that number; she was there.
About two o'clock in the morning he reached his
home, which was quiet, of course, and dark except for
the night light left for him; and except for the servants,
it was empty. It made him feel jumpy to-night, this
deserted house of his, in his let-down reaction; and as


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
267
he made a turn through the lower rooms, following an
old instinct to see that everything was right, which
was a relic of his days before he had a man to lock up
at night, he imagined he heard a step in his daughter's
room. Had Marjorie come home? What a time for
her to have come! How could he face her?
He listened for several moments; then, hearing
nothing, he ascended and, after listening again, he
proceeded to her door, knocked and, receiving no
answer, opened the door and entered.
The stillness of the room sent a shrinking through
him; of course, it had been still many times before when
Marjorie was away and, of course, it had been still
ever since she left that note to him and abandoned
him; but never till this instant had he felt it dead
like this. Never had he felt how finally she was gone —
gone from him not to come back; gone was his wife;
gone forever from his home the quick young'voices
of Marjorie's and his friends; for he had made them
his friends, those boys and girls who had come here.
And Charles Hale had never in his pre-accountings with
himself reckoned on loss of quite all this. How gone,
gone the whole home was. And what was happening to
Marjorie? In what strange, particular danger might
she be in this moment of this night? It frightened him,
set him jumpy again and overcome again with guilt.
It seemed to him that this night he had again definitely
imperilled his daughter.
When he went to his own room, he found a memo-
randum left by Martin stating that Mr. Whittaker had
telephoned during the evening and left his name. This
was mere routine, for Billy telephoned for news of
Marjorie every evening. It annoyed Hale, particu-
larly when he happened to answer the telephone when
led his daught this night here again with


268
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Billy was calling; but Whittaker's extreme attitude did
not disturb Hale as much as Gregg's slight change of
manner with him ; for he knew that Billy condemned
him wholesale for his affair with Mrs. Russell, and
Billy scarcely could feel added abomination of him
because he had hurt his daughter, but Gregg's different
attitude was because of Marjorie. Hale did not mind
meeting Billy on the street or Stanway or any one else
who knew, but he could not comfortably think about
Gregg, particularly when he heard from Rinderfeld
that Gregg had lost his position and was unsuccessfully
seeking another.


CHAPTER XXII
REGG'S business misfortune had occurred
several days before; but although many people
knew of it, Gregg did not mention it to Bill
until a couple of days later than this, as he wanted to
save a bit of news as useful for cheering Bill, as that
was sure to be, for a particularly depressed occasion.
No time with Bill was exactly a cheery one, in these
days; yet some evenings found him nearer bottom than
others; so when Gregg came into the flat after supper
one night and discovered Billy lying motionless on his
back on the couch and gazing hopelessly at the ceiling,
Gregg tossed his hat away and took a seat just out of
the glare of the reading lamp which was uselessly
burning.
“Lost your job, Bill?” he suggested quietly; and
when Billy paid not the slightest attention, he repeated
it patiently until Billy demanded, “ What in the world
are you talking about?” .
“ Lost your job, I said,” Gregg informed him.
“How could I lose my job? ” Billy returned.
“Oh, it can be done,” Gregg said cheerfully. “If
you're no good at it, there's others that are; lots of
others these days. I've done it myself.”
“Done what?"
“ Lost my job.”
Billy slowly turned toward Gregg. “ They let you
out, you mean?”
“ You've guessed it.”


270 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“Why? "
“Wasn't earning check-room costs on my hat."
“Why weren't you?”
Gregg shook his head; no more with Billy than with
Mrs. Russell would he take refuge in generalities on
business conditions.
“You know perfectly well why they let you out!”
Billy charged him, becoming interested. “You're not
a salesman; you never have been; you're just a good-
looking, pleasant person, Gregg; that's your advantage
and your curse. I've always told you that. Now
maybe you'll believe me and get to work.”
“ Where?”
“ What did you say?"
“Where'll I get to work?"
“Why? Can't you get a job now? What's hap-
pened to your friend Hartford and the others who were
so crazy to get you a couple of months ago ?”
“ A couple of months ago, everybody seemed to
think that all that was needed to buck up business again
and put it at its peak was a cheerful disposition,"
Gregg said feelingly. “I had that; I still have —
most of it; but — well, Hartford's not putting his car-
buretor on the market at all this year. Banks won't
back him; and even he admits it's a rotten time.
Everybody all of a sudden started telling me it's a
rotten time — to put me on the payroll, at any rate.
And since last week Thursday I've seen 'em all —
everybody who's ever bunked himself that he wanted me
to work for him. I'd have mentioned it to you before,
but I knew you're never very interested in partial re-
turns; but every precinct's heard from now, Bill; and
it's a landslide.”
“ Because every one that knows you,” said Billy


272 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
to himself; maudlin. Yet it had been a particularly
unpleasant, lonely week for Gregg, so here, with Bill's
arm about him, he had deliberately to check himself
from thinking about Bill; which he did by remembering
Marjorie. And, at the same moment, Bill remembered
her and drew away his arm.
“Oh, what're we talking about money for, when
Marjorie's gone and no one knows where she is ! ”
“ Yes; some one knows," Gregg said to him. Partly
the admission was the result of his feeling for Bill, he
realized instantly; but not entirely that; for he had
decided with himself a few days ago that, unless some
word came from Marjorie, soon Bill must know all
that he did.
“What?” Bill grabbed him with both hands.
“ What did you say?"
“Rinderfeld knows, Bill,” Gregg said, deciding to
give it him all at once. “He's had her address since
the first.”
“Rinderfeld? How? — Where is she, Gregg?”
“I don't know.”
But Billy gripped him only harder and accused.
“ You knew where she is and you could sit here and talk
to me "
Gregg stopped him. “I don't know where she is or
anything about her but that Rinderfeld, I am sure, has
her address.”
“Oh!” Billy gasped in his confusion. “He's found
her, has he?”
“Marjorie left her address with Rinderfeld when she
went away,” Gregg informed directly.
“What? When did you find that out?”
“ I've known it all along," Gregg confessed. “Ever
since she went away. In fact, she told me the last


274 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
tried to trace the 'phone Rinderfeld called from but got
no information.
“He's home!” Billy charged in one impulse; then,
“ He might be with Marjorie now!” Billy snatched
his hat and stick from the closet; but, not really believ-
ing Rinderfeld home, he went back in his impotent fury
to Gregg. “What did you keep that to yourself for?”
And Gregg still managed to restrain himself. To
have told how Marjorie had taken him into her heart
that evening when — before he, in turn, offended her
- she had protested against the inability of Billy to
aid her; to have claimed the information she gave as a
secret between her and himself, a confidence which she
assumed he would keep and keep particularly from the
man most bound to prevent her plan; anything like
that would surely make matters worse; so Gregg re-
joined only, “ You'll get no more change out of Rinder
field than you got over the 'phone. I've seen him, of
course. He says, what he's been telling you, that until
his client, who in this respect now is Marjorie, wishes
her address given, he can not supply it. She does not
wish it; and she doesn't reply to letters yet. Of course
I've tried.”
But that made matters worse. “You haven't given
me even a chance to try. I could have written her long
ago! I could have made her reply; or made Rinderfeld
lead me to her! You — you!” Billy was beside him-
self now. “You didn't want me to try; you wanted to
keep her to yourself. That's why you tell me now,
after you've found you can't do anything. You knew
she was going, when you could have stopped her — or
I could — because you wanted her to go so you could
get her from me; you — " he thrust, breathless,
before Gregg, who went white, believing at that instant


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 275
that Bill meant to attack him. The muscles through-
out him tugged and appeared to tighten, but Gregg
kept himself down while he stood still, relaxed, before
Bill.
“ All right, Bill,” he managed after a moment. “If
that's what you want to believe, go to it.” And he
turned and went to the window where the shade had
been left up; Billy did not follow him nor did Bill
speak to him again. Bill went out and when Gregg felt
the slam of the closed door, he shook and could not
quickly check his shaking; for he knew he had lost Bill,
since Bill would never forgive him and he realized that
he had helped neither Bill nor Marjorie nor any one
else.
And he went weak and sick with fear for Marjorie.
Suppose Bill was right! Suppose she couldn't take
care of herself — wherever she was. Suppose frightful,
unthinkable things were happening to her this instant;
or had happened; or would before — before what? He
did not know what was to be the end. He had supposed
that some day, soon, Marjorie would send for Bill and
him; or at least let them know how she was and what
she was doing. When she had not, did that mean she
had got into more than she bargained and that
Gregg's fears, after this combat with Bill, led him on
and on into dismay. Then he began to get himself to-
gether; he should not have done more to prevent Mar-
jorie, he argued with himself; she had been bound to
do what she had and interference would have had the
effect only of driving her to more desperate means, per-
haps; she had been determined to discover and scruti-
nize life which she did not know, and she would come
through safe, he believed; and the better and nobler
and greater for it. But, could he be sure?


276 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
A little before midnight, Billy returned, having waited
at Rinderfeld's apartment until Rinderfeld appeared;
and though Billy evidently had threatened physical
violence, he had go no “ change ” out of Rinderfeld;
yet, before coming home, Billy had accomplished some-
thing by rousing out of bed the head of the most reliable
private detective agency in Chicago and employing
service which guaranteed that one competent operative
would constantly watch Rinderfeld and report his
movements and particularly inform William Whittaker
instantly when Rinderfeld was found in the company
of a certain girl of twenty-two who was described.
It was as a result of this stratagem that, about eight
o'clock in the evening of the sixth day later, William
Whittaker, who then was alone in his apartment
on East Pearson Street, received word that Rin-
derfeld was in the company of a girl, whom the opera-
tive believed the one described, and that she was din-
ing with Rinderfeld and another man and a girl at
a certain restaurant on the North Side. So it was
that Billy set out and, arriving at the restaurant named,
he found there, with Rinderfeld and two others, Mar-
jorie.


278 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
sea foods and salads and pastries; there was an extraor-
dinary musical trio, - a Heifetz-looking violin youth
accompanied by two girls who played, sang, dialogued
or danced, and who, with the soulful violinist, jazzed
zestfully for the dancing of the patrons in the cleared
space at the center of the floor.
Marjorie knew a good many of the couples at the
other tables or dancing; there was Red Else Nordquist
making motions with his fiery head meaning, “on for
toddle pretty soon?” Red Else considered himself in
the real-estate business, having a father who was a
carpenter and had slapped up a block of flats on first
and second mortgage money just before the war; Red
got his, now, from the rents. Gus Linduska gazed
Clara's and Marjorie's way, too often for Mil
Kotopoulos, who was with him. Mil was an old friend
of Clara's; they'd worked in the same manicure shop;
she was changing her hair, letting it go back to brown,
but she wasn't changing her friends, though her father
was bootlegging now and cleaning up — some said —
three thousand a month. Winking to a waiter in the
manner which meant“ yes; cocktails in the coffee cups”
was Max Kral, credit clothing, who wasn't one of those
caught with a big inventory when prices broke; Mrs.
Kral was with him and the Sequieras, credit jewelry,
whose seven-thousand-dollar car, brand new and with
chauffeur, waited outside; Marjorie could hear them,
as they meant her to, when they mentioned the car by
name and by price, with chauffeur; Ig Kostic, the
Serbian undertaker, with “ Krazy Kat” Fiala, Mat
Jilek, of the chain stores, and Vittie (Vittoria) Gari-
baldi — Marjorie, in her mind, ran over the names of
the people who nodded to her and whom she could nod
to, all of them dining from the card and at a cost of


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 279
two dollars each and upwards, according to how often
you winked; and their cars, with or without chauffeurs,
crowded the parking stalls.
Of course Marjorie Hale, in her Evanston days, oc-
casionally must have seen some of these people when
boldly and with elaborate affront they invaded the
hotels which the Sedgwicks, the Chadens, the Lovells,
the Cleves, the Vanes and the Hales frequented but,
when she noticed these intruders at all, it was rather
with amusement or at least with condescension, and
she imagined them lucky individuals from the new immi-
grants who, by extraordinary personal sacrifices or by
isolated strokes of fortune, had got together a little
money which they were half ridiculously, half pitifully
parading. But she had completely cured herself of any
comforting fancy of the fewness of these people and,
as completely, she had lost any lingering feeling of
condescension. As they became her friends, she still
could not help being amused at things they did; but
with her amusement and with her real liking for many
of them there grew, in these days, respect and some-
thing beyond that which bordered on fear.
Fear of what? She wondered sometimes; not fear
for herself, directly; rather, fear for hers. Her what?
For Evanston, she said to herself; for Winnetka and
Lake Forest and that north shore which was the strong-
hold of the life which had been hers; for the Lake Shore
Drive and Astor Street and the avenues and places
between them; for the Drake and the Blackstone and
the clubs, — the pleasant, privileged places where her
sort ruled. Sometimes she felt the presence of these
new people as a pressure upon hers.
“ They're taking over Chicago from you," Rinder-
feld once commented calmly to her, “ as we are taking


282
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
them; however, at Jen Cordeen's, she wanted to read
them; and Rinderfeld told her why.
“You're realizing that what you'd been standing on
- and what's been knocked from under you — was not
merely an illusion concerning one man but a fallacy
regarding your whole situation; so you need now to
know more about what the human race actually is and
has been.”
“ What was my fallacy? ” Marjorie asked.
But Rinderfeld refused the attempt to phrase it;
and thereby kept her thinking for herself and of him.
She was not actually discussing history with Rinder-
feld when Billy came upon them, but their discussion
was at least more mental and impersonal than any she
had ever had with Bill; however, this probably was not
apparent.
Clara saw Billy first and, of course, did not recog-
nize him. “Hello!” Clara warned in hoarse sotto voce.
“ The place is pinched!”
Rinderfeld looked about, then, and instantly recog-
nized William Whittaker; and simultaneously Rinder-
feld grasped the inevitable developments of the next
moment; he thought so quickly, indeed, that his impulse
to be on his feet got no further than a tugging at his
knee muscles.
“Whittaker is here,” he said quickly in a low voice
to Marjorie. “He has seen you; keep your seat.”
She jerked and pulled herself up straight, swung
about and saw Billy; as she faced about, he cried her
name, “ Marjorie!”
But she had no regard for the commotion he caused;
she was not able to think about other people; they
might have been, for those seconds, blotted out and
the room blotted out, as Billy approached her; here


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
283
he was, rushing toward her, — Billy who believed he
had owned her, who could think of her in no way but
as his.
“Oh, I get it,” Marjorie heard Clara's voice, cor-
recting her first comment on Billy's entrance. “He's
a friend of yours.”
Marjorie appealed to Rinderfeld, but never taking
her eyes off Billy. “You've got to help me, I guess.”
“ Yes; humor him," said Rinderfeld steadily. “Don't
try to run, whatever you do."
“No,” said Marjorie; and she was aware that
Rinderfeld was motioning to some one — to whom and
for what purpose, she did not see. There was a whole-
ness of forgetfulness of himself about Billy, a blindness
and deafness and selflessness of joy and relief at his
having found her which, for that moment, made her
unable to feel the presence of any one else. No one but
Billy could have put himself under so; and she had
forgotten how he could, for her. He called her name
again; and she whispered in dismay to herself, “ Billy,
oh, Billy.” Then she went weaker and shrank. “How
can he possibly, possibly understand?” And though
at one instant she would have risen and cried out to
the staring, smiling men and girls about that this man
who so burst in was coming for her and coming so
because he could not care for himself at all in com-
parison with her, and there was no other man like him,
yet at the next instant she would have hidden from
him, if she could. Not because she was ashamed before
him or for him before them, but because she had noth-
ing for him; when he reached her, she could only sit
there.
And now he reached her. “Marjorie, Marjorie!”
“ Billy,” she said. “ Sit down.”


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 285
und 90-
Billy me
unds web
came change
a to ne
rjorie"
and in!
fou der
“What am I doing?” he swung toward her. “You
want him here?”
“ Yes.”
“What? Oh, maybe I do, too; he might get away
altogether; and if you've hurt her — " he was
threatening Rinderfeld again.
“Be still, Billy,” Marjorie begged. “You shan't
say such things. Mr. Rinderfeld's never hurt me; he
wouldn't dream of doing to me what you, yourself, have
just done!”
" ?
“Oh, I felt the fineness of it, too, Billy; I felt what
you meant to be the fineness of it — your coming to
find me that way to — to save me. But do you think,
when you do a thing like that and when you say a thing
like this against Mr. Rinderfeld, it's not — also an
insult to me? You're wrong and unjust and insulting
to him "
“ Insulting to him!” Billy repeated and laughed.
“ Insulting to Felix Rinderfeld!”
“You shan't !” she denied. “You shan't. Mr.
Rinderfeld never came into my trouble of his own ac-
cord; we asked him to help me — you and Gregg and
I. I went to him to have him help me, and he has helped
me more than any one else, more than ever you have
and in a way which should make you ashamed —
ashamed of yourself for what you think and say of him
and me. I didn't imagine a man could be as unper-
sonal and considerate of a girl in my situation as he
has been. I thank him for it; I haven't been able to
thank him before; he wouldn't have let me; so I thank
him for it now!”
Rinderfeld moved then; he had not moved when Billy
reached for him or when Marjorie first defended him;
rfeld
aroun
cinder


286
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
she had not looked at him when she began but now she
saw him. What had she said? she demanded of her-
self in fright. Exactly what had she said? More than
she realized, undoubtedly; or else a decent, fair word
spoken for him was so rare and surprising an event
for Felix Rinderfeld that it affected him out of pro-
portion to her intent. She had never seen Rinderfeld
affected by anything before; so unpersonal, indeed, had
he kept himself that she had never thought of him as
possessing and controlling sensitiveness like other men;
but here, by her word for him, she had unmasked
him a man, eager for approbation — not scorning it
- hungry for warmth and sympathy, not contemptu-
ous of it, and a man yearning for affection from her.
Affection? It frightened her even to form the idea
in her own head; yet she meant every word she had
spoken and she would not have taken them back; they
were true and deserved. Felix Rinderfeld had played
fair with her from the first; and she could not imagine
him going on with her except playing fair; and she
would play fair with him.
“I think my presence does not help your talk with
him,” Rinderfeld said to her quietly, and it struck her
as his characteristic refusal to take personal advan-
tage from her. “I shall wait for you outside to take
you home; or I shall go now myself, whichever you
prefer."
“I think,” said Marjorie, and she faced him, alter-
nately white and overswept with flushes, she was aware,
“ I will take him to Clearedge Street. I meant what I
said a minute ago."
“ Thank you,” said Rinderfeld, barely audibly; he
glanced at Billy and hesitated but decided not to speak
to him at all. Rinderfeld opened the door to the res-


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 287
taurant floor where dance music again was playing.
When he was gone, Billy advanced and seized Marjorie's
arm. A waiter or some one must have carried her
gloves and handbag from the table where she had been
dining; anyway, here they were on a chair.
“ These are yours? " said Billy.
She nodded and he swept them up and led her out
through the door to the sidewalk and around to his
car.
“Get in,” he ordered her.
No one outside noticed them; if any of those who
had witnessed Billy's coming were waiting further de-
velopments, they must be on watch inside; but there
were people passing and there was a policeman on the
corner who, of course, would take the side of a girl
against a man trying to force her to accompany him
in a car. Marjorie thought of these, and she brought
them to Billy's mind when she said, “I will go with you,
if you will take me home.”
“Where's your home?” he returned. “I want to
see it.” Then definitely he agreed. “Yes ; I'll take
you there.”
So she got in and gave him Jen Cordeen's number on
Clearedge Street. The repetition of the address stiffened
his clasp on her arm, for after he had her in the car,
he held to her, as though she might escape, while with
his other hand and a foot he operated the spark lever
and the starter.
Clearedge Street, in spite of the weeks she had lived
there, became to her at moments that flat of Mrs. Rus-
sell's; to Billy it meant only that; and she felt him
grasping and half releasing her arm and re-grasping
her in his renewed terror, — in his insulting terror for
her after she had told him her address.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
289
pledged yourself; we're betrothed, you and I, Mar-
jorie; and nothing I've done entitles you to end it.
Nothing! And nothing you've done can cause me to
let you go. You'd be my wife now, probably, and happy
and not thinking of anything else, if your father —
oh, I can't talk about him; I mean, it's been all external
to you and me, the trouble between us; it's what he
did that drove you away; but now I've got you back.”
There in the car she did not oppose him; she dared
not while they were driving; so he took her to Clear-
edge Street and to Jen Cordeen's, thereby keeping his
promise, and there he saw for himself and learned from
her how she had been living. Then he tried to take
her away.
His idea was not to return her to her father or to
her home; for her home, as he told her, was occupied
only by the servants; her father was living, most of
the time, at a club; the plan, as Billy proclaimed it
to her, was to take her at once either to the Sedgwicks'
in Evanston or, if she preferred not going to a friend
of hers, to the home of friends of his on Bellevue Place
in Chicago. He would wire immediately for his own
mother, who undoubtedly would come down at once
from Bay City and either take Marjorie home with
her or stay with her in Chicago until Marjorie became
more quiet and normal.
“Normal!” The word stuck in Marjorie's mind
when at last, after creating about all the commotion
possible, short of calling the police, Billy was gone.
What a man like Billy meant by “normal” for a girl
was being happy as his wife and not thinking of any-
thing but compliance with his ideas and commands.
Oh, high, moral ideas — ideals, indeed (that was the


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
291
deal of cause, I know — he's like that; but then he's
— just fine."
Clara was brushing her hair and she gave it several
vigorous strokes. “You said he was a bad actor for
him to-night, kid? That's the worst of him you ever
see? Kid, then why in hell don't you marry him? Grab
him off quick, I'm tellin' you; grab him off!” And
Clara went to brushing more rapidly and vehemently
than before.
She surprised Marjorie so that she went a few steps
nearer and then, with something of Clara's tact, Mar-
jorie withdrew to her own toilet table.
“Kid,” said Clara, and her use of this address was
a return to a manner which she had dropped recently,
and which expressed to Marjorie that Clara felt now
that her roommate had not become as sophisticated as
she had thought, “I said somethin' to you once right
here about there not bein' any of one sort of animal.
I take it back; I was wrong; you had one up your
sleeve; you've shown me.”
“ You mean - a - a," Marjorie hesitated, trying to
recall Clara's exact words, “ a pure man."
“What d' I care about purity? Gawd, Marjorie, I
ain't askin' the sky to fall. If I can see a man who
actually forgets himself when seein' a girl — who don't
think about himself at all but just her, who don't care
what show he makes of himself, who don't even know
whether they're laughin' at him, and who couldn't think
of carin' a damn if they was or not, so long as he could
maybe, perhaps do a little thing for her, that's enough
for me! Plenty, I'm tellin' you; 'bout ten thousand
times more'n I ever thought to live to see! And pure!
Gawd, I bet you he's just been fool enough — that man


292 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
of yours — to've kept himself straight as he'd keep you.
And I sure never expected to breathe and see that."
Clara arose, her back to Marjorie and her wonderful
hair fallen about her face for a screen. “Grab him
off quick, I'm tellin' you,” she repeated, almost like a
threat. “Quick ! ”
When the light was out and they lay, each in her
own bed, with the warm summer breeze blowing in
through their three open windows, neither went easily
to sleep. Clara had not mentioned Billy again but, as
Marjorie lay quiet, after a lapse of time so great that
Clara undoubtedly supposed her asleep, Marjorie heard
a whisper: “ Come, I've found you — don't you know?
What have they been doing to you, Clara?” Then,
savagely, “What have you done to her?”
Billy's words when he found her, except that in place
of Marjorie's Clara was whispering her own name. And
not all Clara had told of her own life - not all taken
together — pierced Marjorie like that; and what made
it more poignant was the knowledge that if Billy heard,
he would not care. Clara! Why, he had come to take
Marjorie away from such as her.
And Marjorie realized that he was continuing about
that business now; yet her thoughts, as she lay awake,
only occasionally went to him. Much of the night she
considered Felix Rinderfeld and what he expected of
her now — what he might have right to expect; and
more she thought about Gregg, for whom Billy felt no
further concern or cared to know even where he might
be, because Gregg had kept faith with her against him.
On the night when she told Gregg that she was going
away, she had not thought what it might entail to him;
but it had lost him Billy; and Marjorie felt far more
deeply than Billy himself what he was to Gregg. Per-


CHAPTER XXV
ILLY did not even start to bed until far into
the night; for after leaving Clearedge Street he
immediately sought Marjorie's father, who was
neither at home nor in his club, where he had rooms.
Billy waited at the club until after one o'clock and then,
considering the possibility that Hale would not return
at all, he went to his apartment, set his alarm clock
for half-past six and got about an hour's sleep before
the bell woke him. Before half-past seven, he was again
at the club where Hale was now marked “in.” Billy
did not send up his name nor did he telephone; he went
at once to Hale's door and rapped.
When Hale sleepily called, “What? Who is it?”
Billy continued to knock until Hale unlocked the door,
when Billy promptly pushed it open and entered. When
Hale demanded, “ What do you mean by — ," Billy
took the knob from his hand and shut the door.
“ I've found Marjorie,” he said. “I came here last
night and waited till half-past one this morning to tell
you so.”
Hale retreated slightly. “Where was she? ” he
asked, coldly, or deliberately making his voice dull.
“She has been living on Clearedge Street."
Hale parted his lips and shut them silently. He had
got up in pyjamas and come to the door without even
dressing-gown or slippers, expecting — probably — to
open the door only a crack to receive a telegram or
special delivery letter. His hair, being disheveled,


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 297
older.)
are tar
the ape
seperti
XD!T."
at der
foolis
ved for
“ It is when you come to talk with her and when you
observe the company she chooses now — the company
she deliberately chooses and clings to — that you ap-
preciate what you've done to your daughter."
Nothing could make matters between them worse,
both knew ; each wholly hated the other.
“ When I found her," Billy continued, “ she was with
Rinderfeld — with attorney Felix Rinderfeld, whom we
had to call in that night –
“ Where was she? ”
“At a restaurant; a low restaurant called, I be-
lieve — "
“ She was alone with him?"
“ No; there were four at the table, her room-
mate - "
“ Who's her roommate?”
“ Was there with another companion. I found her
by following Rinderfeld, after having had him watched
for a week since I discovered that, when Marjorie left
you, she gave Rinderfeld her address. All the time she
has been living on Clearedge Street with a girl whom
she found demonstrating face creams in some place
around there. Her roommate's name is Clara Seeley —
anglicized from something else, I believe Marjorie said.
She is Polish-Italian and comes from the slums. Mar-
jorie seems to have been supporting herself — or trying
to — by peddling a tray of trash called Bostrock's
Business Boosters to druggists and cheap clothing
stores and garagemen on che west side. She chose the
establishment in which she has been living by taking a
list of places advertising rooms to rent to a reputable
real-estate office and going to the place she was warned
against.”
“ Who told you that?”


298
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“ She admitted it.”
“Well,” said Hale, “well, go on. What was
against the place? What " he stopped -
“ Was she — ”he started again and then tried, “ Has
anything — ?"
Whittaker half circled him deliberately, abandoning
his position between Hale and the door, and deliberately
he kept Hale waiting. Hale's clothes lay over the back
and upon the seat of a chair as if half flung, only half
placed there; his socks had been flung at the chair,
probably, but had missed and lay on the floor beyond
it, in relation to the bed; his collar had been flung on
his dressing stand, knocking over a tin of talcum
powder. In a remission of Billy's intentness upon
Marjorie's situation, these details caught his mind and
told a story plain enough even for Billy. When Hale
had returned to his room that morning, he had been in
no satisfactory mood; he had got to bed and put the
light out as quickly as possible; and this fixed in Billy's
mind the interpretation he previously had placed upon
Hale's absence last night. Billy let his mind dwell on
that; then for another series of seconds he merely stood
dully, hearing the street noises which came through the
open windows, feeling the slight, warm current of morn-
ing air.
“A girl took poison at that place a few days before
Marjorie went there; she tried to kill herself,” Billy
told at last. “ The man who also had passed himself
as her husband, picked up somebody else and had left
her. If you want the exact address where your daugh-
ter lives, ask the police for the number where they went
for an ambulance call on a poison case on Clearedge
Street during the second week you were at Fursten's."
And Billy, without circling, started for the door; he in-


300
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
take Marjorie away from that place and the com-
panions to whom she clung.
Probably she would like her father to come and beg
her to go, Hale thought; and he recalled, with a wince,
her, “Don't touch me, father.” Well, what might she
have for him now?
· He shaved himself unsatisfactorily, but he finished
with it and came back into the bedroom and started
gathering up his clothes.
6. Also.'” That had been cast in his face by Whit-
taker. “ The man, who also passed himself as her
husband, picked up somebody else.'” That bit sharper
than Whittaker guessed; or did Billy guess? Probably
not; almost surely not; what Whittaker meant was
that a man had passed as that girl's husband as Hale
had passed as Sybil Russell's. But there was more to
guess and Hale was feeling the drag of it; Sybil Rus-
sell was trying to make herself more to him than she
could be.
She was not asking him to make her his wife, in a
legal, recognized way; always — or at least ever since
he met her — she had spoken fine scorn for the bonds
by law; and she was too clever, if she was not too con-
sistent, to ask those bonds now. But she was forever
endeavoring to make herself his companion more
constantly, more completely to fill the place of his wife;
and there was something about it which offended Hale
unreasonably; he didn't try to think it out; it was
enough that sometimes a thing she said or did — an
assumption of equality with his wife or with his daugh-
ter— set his teeth on edge. She never once criticized
either of them; oh, she was not stupid; she simply
assumed to love him too much. And though they
avoided meeting on Clearedge Street, yet to be with her


CHAPTER XXVI
ARJORIE that morning telephoned to Billy's
apartment at an hour when Billy would prob-
ably be gone and Dora would have come in to
clean.
“ I'm Miss Hale,” Marjorie explained to Dora.
“Mr. Whittaker tells me Mr. Mowbry left with you an
address for forwarding his mail.”
“Oh, Miss Hale!” exclaimed Dora. “He's gone to
Ontario Street," and she gave a house number. “No;
no telephone there; or at least he didn't tell me."
It was plain that Dora was troubled by recent hap-
penings; she evidently would like to talk to Miss Hale
about them and there was in Dora's tone, though re-
spectful, a shade of accusation of Miss Hale.
This was the first time Marjorie had been Miss Hale
since the servants in Evanston so addressed her; and
she wondered if Dora, hearing her voice, noticed any
change in it. Herself, she did not know quite who she
was this morning; not Marjorie Conway, or she must
have gathered up the little case containing what Billy
called her “ tray of trash ” and traveled, in business-
like way, to her exclusive territory. Instead she went,
empty-handed, to Ontario Street, finding the number
which Dora had given her in a block of old, dingy man-
sions which had been comfortable city homes in the
decade following the great fire but now were run-down
remainders between stores and warehouses.
Gregg could have chosen the place for its cheapness


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 303
only, Marjorie thought, as she gazed up at the grimy,
gray glass door, the dirty transom, the paint-peeled,
rusty iron rail at the side of the blackened, stone steps.
The high, narrow, old-fashioned windows were open,
and gray, streaked lace curtains wafted in and out.
When Marjorie rang, a sallow, black-haired, lethar-
gic undefinable — perhaps a half-blood Chinese, per-
haps a Filipino — opened the door and in carefully
articulated syllables said, “ Mis-ter Mow-bry may-be is
in; may-be out. I will as-cer-tain.” And he did so by
retreating to the bottom of the narrow well made by
the winding of the stairs and calling, in a volume of
voice evidently calculated to reach the top floor, “ Mis-
ter Mow-bry! For Mis-ter Mow-bry, a young lad-y at
the door.”
No one replied; at least Gregg did not reply, though
several doors opened and Marjorie, watching the unde-
finable gaze upward, received the distinct impression
that persons above were gazing downward. She
persuaded the undefinable to climb to Mr. Mowbry's
room and when he returned with a negative report, she
tempered her disappointment with a certain sense of
relief at not having to imagine Gregg at this moment
a tenant of a room here; she was glad it was summer
when the windows could stand open.
“Here at 9.30. Dear Gregg: Billy found me last
night. I think I'm glad," she pencilled on a sheet of
paper she had brought. “How soon can I see you?
I want to, terribly.”
And she wrote her Clearedge Street address, signed
“ Marjorie," put it in an envelope which she sealed and
thrust in a conspicuous place in a wire rack on the
wall beside the stairs.


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 307
always hurt, too. He found some satisfaction also, she
thought.
“ Have trouble getting here, Gregg?”
“No,” he replied slowly. “Not after I got your
note. I found your place easily enough and succeeded
in convincing your hard-boiled friend I was the party
of first address, though I wouldn't exactly classify her
as cursed with a foolishly trustful disposition.”
Marjorie laughed and explained proudly, “ That was
Clara Seeley, my roommate. You see, after last night,
Billy came again this morning and was waiting when I
got home; I didn't go to work to-day. When Clara was
back from work, I thought I'd come down here for some
quiet and I told her, if you came, to send you.”
They had dropped hands and they stood frankly
looking each other over.
“When did you happen on your natural protector?”
“Oh, I've had her from the first; we've been together
all the time.”
“ Both of you've been in luck," Gregg said and
tossed his hat a little way from them on the sand.
“ What was that work you didn't go to to-day? What
- d’you want to tell me, Marjorie, about you — what
you've been at and what — "
“I want to tell you everything." That was it, she
realized with herself at this moment; and she sat down
on the sand, clasping his hand again and drawing him
down beside her. “But first I want to know what's
been happening with you, Gregg?”.
“ All right,” agreed Gregg; and he drew a penny
from his pocket. “We'll pitch for it; heads, you tell
me first; tails, I tell you.” And he spun it upwards and
let it fall before them on the sand; and they both bent
forward to see it.


308 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“ Tails,” admitted Gregg. “Well, I'm soon through;
probably Bill's told you most about me, anyway. I got
fired because I wasn't producing; consequently, I had
to cut expenses and moved to the quarters you've seen.”
“ You've not got another position yet, Gregg?”
“No; nor a job yet, either.”
Not a word of his quarrel with Billy; and of course
not a word of the start of his difficulty at his office when
he was absent without leave for almost a week, because
of her, and returned without offering explanation. Not
an accent of regret for himself at having to inhabit
the quarters she had seen; and, upon him, not a sign of
any difference to him. His light-weight blue suit, which
must have been new that spring, was spotless and per-
fectly pressed; his hair had probably been trimmed that
day; she liked always the clean, well-kept look of him
and, in spite of that house servanted only by the unde-
finable, Gregg was Gregg; and he was very good to have
beside you.
“Now,” he said, picking up his penny. “Your
turn."
She wanted to know more of him; oh, she needed to
know so much more! But she did not want him to tell
her those things; and she realized he never would; and
so, more simply than she could have imagined, she
started to tell him about herself; about going first to
see Mrs. Russell, on the morning after she had refused
to speak with him for having lunched with Mrs. Russell;
about Mr. Dantwill and Jen Cordeen and Clara and
Jake Saltro and Sam Troufrie and Mr. Bostrock and
some of her customers; of Sennen's and the strange, new
but now familiar other places; and, of course, about
Felix Rinderfeld and Wells' “ Outline” and finally of
Billy's coming. She did not recount events in order;


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
309
she skipped forward, backward, forgetting some one or
something she ought to tell before he could understand
some one or something else; and of course she told the
same happening over twice, frequently, repeating some-
thing Clara or Jake or Mr. Rinderfeld had said or she
had thought. And it was a wonderful satisfaction —
a wonderful relief — to go over it all with Gregg just
as it came to her, to.be able to say anything just as it
struck her, without having to think how he would take
it differently and without fear — absolutely without
fear of him.
“I think,” she said impulsively to him once, when
she was feeling this, “ you're the best sort of friend in
the world, Gregg."
“ Pretty dark, now," he replied; for it was in some
sense a reply, at least a commentary on her praise of
him.
“ What do you mean?” she asked, obviously not ques-
tioning the fact that night had come.
“Oh, you're not getting a view of me."
What had she been saying just before, she wondered.
She remembered that she had been speaking about Mr.
Rinderfeld.
“Had supper, Marjorie?” Gregg inquired.
“ No.”
“ Let's have some.” He pushed himself up and re-
covered his hat.
“ Where shall we? Can't we have it here? You and
I go up to a delicatessen and get something and bring
it back here. Or — " Marjorie seized her plan as
she spoke — “ I've the key of a boathouse just up here
where Sam Troufrie has a canoe. Clara keeps it — the
key, I mean. She gave it to me to-night."


312
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
the rush of cars on Clarendon Avenue; with surprising
distinctness, occasionally, the cries of bathers under the
lights to the south and the splash of diving. Some one
else on the water was playing.
“ Violin,” guessed Gregg.
“No,” Marjorie whispered, so as to miss none of a
marvelously sweet, stirring, plaintive strain. “It's a
flute! And I know that and love it!” And both lis-
tened till the music ceased.
“ That was made for now," Gregg said.
“ Yes; it's the Meditation from. Thaïs '!"
People nearer shore clapped; and the musician played
his pipe again.
It took her back, that Meditation, to her Evanston
days when, with her father and mother, she went each
Tuesday night in winter to hear opera.
The people near shore tried to win another encore
but the flute stayed silent and only the dance jazz came;
so Marjorie cut the loaf with the knife from the lunch
box Sam kept in the canoe; Gregg opened their can
of potted ham and she spread the sandwiches. She
had stuffed eggs and strawberries, which they ate from
the stems, and he had iced ginger ale, which they drank
from the bottles through straws. “A regular, old-
fashioned picnic," Marjorie called it; and they handed
things to each other, cleared up and put away scraps
together and then, sometimes paddling, sometimes drift-
ing, they talked or were silent just as they liked; and
when either spoke it was with no feeling of necessity to
connect what was in one's head now with the last
subject.
“What do you know about father now?" she asked
at one of these times. It was her first direct question
about him.


314
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Gregg felt it. “I'm his, you see; he's absolutely sure
that, if I want to do anything else than marry him,
because I promised to when I knew nothing — not a
thing in the world — he's sure it's the result of the
damage done me by father and what I did, with Mr.
Rinderfeld and with you, to conceal the truth. He's
determined to bring me back to what I was.”
“ What do you want to do, Marjorie?”
“What can I? I can't marry Billy; I can't go back
to father; I can't go to mother — not without telling
her everything. I couldn't stand it; I couldn't. And
I won't tell her — yet. To tell her, that would make
everything that's been done — your risking your life
with Russell, my lie to Mr. Stanway and father's put-
ting him out of Tri-Lake and starting the big, won-
derful things he's doing — it would make everything
we've done useless, mad, crazy. And it would make
Billy right. I shouldn't care about that; but I do. All
along he's said we have to have our frightful, terribly
personal and private disgrace out for every one to see;
and I've said we haven't. Yet he may be right, when
father goes on with Mrs. Russell; it may be that scandal
after all is the only thing which can touch him. But
there must be some other way out besides scandal or
coming not to care.”
“ You don't feel that, Marjorie? "
“ That I'm coming not to care? No, Gregg; people
seem to be coming that way; but they only seem, Gregg.
That's all. Take Clara."
“ Your hard-boiled friend?”
“Hmhm. To hear Clara talk, you'd think she was
absolutely cynical; that she expected nothing and hoped
for nothing of any man and mighty little of any girl.
But care for honor and decency! Why, I couldn't be


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
315
gin to care like that girl!” And she told Gregg how
Clara had witnessed Billy's coming and how Clara had
been unable to understand her not“ grabbing ” Billy.
“ That's part of what you meant, I see,” she con-
tinued, “ when you told me that night at home that
people down here were most of them all right and also
working out relations between men and women on a
sounder basis than in lots of other places. Clara cer-
tainly is; I know Billy and mother and most of our
friends at home would think me absolutely crazy if I
said so, but I've never met a girl as fundamentally right
as Clara; for she's honest and clean, absolutely. And
when she marries any man — for though she said she
never will, for she could never trust any one, she will —
it won't be on any kept wife basis.”
“What? ” said Gregg quietly.
“ That's what she calls it. That's what the other
girls about here, whom I know and who are married, call
the wives who live with their husbands without any
intention of having children and without doing any
real work; for you can't call taking care of a kitchen-
ette apartment real work for a woman. Clara's friends
have children or they work. They think that when a
girl marries a man without intention of having children
- children, plural, children, not just one child to dis-
play as your duty done to your husband and society —
she's no better than the women we call a mighty ugly
name. When Clara marries a man, she's going to bear
children; and if she doesn't, or when she no longer does,
she's not going to lie about and gad about and take her
husband's money for what — for what, if she wasn't
wearing a wedding ring, she couldn't do and stay in any
decent society. But that's what lots and lots of us
women — us respectable girls — do on the Drive and


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
319
and then, as he drove from one suspected place to
another, he picked up Rinderfeld's trail again.
With a girl — a rather small, dark-haired, nice-look-
ing girl — he had occupied a booth and, after some
drinks had been served, they had gone out to Rinder-
feld's roadster.
Drinking! For the girl had been drinking; Marjorie
drinking. She had told Billy how she had drunk with
Jake Saltro. Now she was drinking with Rinderfeld.
When Billy got word of them again, Rinderfeld had
her under the influence of liquor; drunk or drugged,
Billy thought; and again they were ahead of Billy, but
now they were easier to trace. For they had halted
this time at a wet resort near the edge of the city and
had left it headed out from town on a concrete road
running into the country. “For Cragero's, probably,"
some one said.
Cragero's was likely enough, a road house with a
reputation, many miles away out in that dark, lonely
country.
Billy drove out on’that road to Cragero's as few ever
had before and as William Whittaker never in his life
previously had driven; he came with cut-out open and
with electric horn sounding constantly, so that other
motorists on the road that summerinight supposed him
an officer of some sort responding to an emergency call;
they drew aside and let him by and watched his lights
disappear, his motor roaring and horn screaming for
way — way ahead.
At a turn, he left the road, skidded across soft
ground to a fence and smashed a wheel; but he was
unhurt, or very little injured, for he got back to
the road as the nearest car was halting. This hap-
pened to be a cheaper car than Billy's and was driven


CHAPTER XXVII
ALE intended to sleep late into the next morn-
ing, which was Sunday, but he roused shortly
- after seven o'clock and remained unsatisfac-
torily awake, gazing at the ceiling and the walls and
out the windows of his room at his club. In part, the
heat and the breathlessness of the day were to blame,
for little or no air was stirring above Michigan Boule-
vard; the emptiness of Grant Park, across the avenue,
was hazy under the slanting, orange sunlight, and be-
yond, the deserted lake lay mirrorlike, gleaming with a
long, dazzling distortion of the sun; the city seemed
unnaturally hushed. The air smelled of streets; you
felt about you the oppression of enormous, crowding
buildings, but the streets were almost silent.
“ Sunday,” Hale reminded himself aloud, when he
felt this; and he turned over, shut his eyes and tried
to sleep again but did not; instead he only denied con-
scious reflection with a result that he subjected himself
to a series of unsummoned memories and impressions :
of Sunday morning when he had been a little boy at
home; Sunday in those days meant duties and depres-
sion and fear. God knew about you, whatever you did
and wherever you were and no matter whether anybody
else discovered you or not, God saw and put down and
punished you, exactly, justly, without a chance of your
escaping him ; God! Charles Hale, president of Tri-
Lake Products and Materials, did not believe much in
God; but Charlie Hale, who had been a little boy, had


322 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
a way of coming within him; and this projected before
Charles Hale an image of his mother knowing what he
recently had been doing. How she would pray and pray
for him.
He sat up in bed and stared out his window. Sunday,
and Sybil wanted him to spend such days as Sunday
with her; she wanted themselves alone, far away out
in the country, a long, peaceful, happy day. He swore
at the thought of it. Sunday; he dropped back on his
pillow and again closed his eyes. Sunday now in that
little flat where Marjorie was born; he could not afford
a servant, so Sunday was a day he helped about the
apartment and played with the baby; hmm, how he
could hear her, almost feel her, warm and quick — he
always was proud of the quickness of her and her laugh
and her straight look into his eyes. Hmm; he opened
his eyes to stop seeing that. Sunday; now he was in a
little clapboard house in Irving Park where he used to
cut the lawn and do odd jobs about the place; now in
Evanston on Sunday, where he began lying in bed longer
and there came Marjorie's little, quick rap at his door.
“ Hello, Margy; come in!” Her little cry in response
and her rush to have her arms about him and her kiss,
“Oh, father, you're so fine!” And she thought that
about him, felt that down to the night he went away
and she came and found him at that flat.
Well, this Sunday here he was in his club and Mar-
jorie was up there on Clearedge Street — a right
enough street, as he had said to Billy. Because it was
generally decent, Sybil and he had chosen it for their
flat and somebody else, who also passed as a husband,
had chosen it for his home with that girl who had taken
poison. Hale had her street number, having traced it
through the newspaper mention of the poison case; con-


324 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
Sight, or at least ability to focus on type, went from
Hale and returned to him only intermittently; and so,
now a few lines and now a few lines more he read the
account — the careful, guarded half-account, or less
than half-account, of what had occurred at Cragero's.
All confused with “ allegeds” and “it was said ” and
the concealment of names which a newspaper employs
in its first record of a sudden event likely to involve
important people and not clearly understood. But the
main fact was perfectly clear; William Whittaker had
gone there because he had followed some one else and
he had got into trouble there because he had tried to
“save ” her; and, if he were not too late, anyway, he
had failed. That was obvious and undeniable, because
he had been killed.
And Hale, having read all that the newspaper told,
dropped it and his hands went limp; his whole body
went limp, even his lips as he tried to cry to himself his
daughter's name, “ Marjorie.”
Where she was now, what had happened to her, the
paper did not say; it did not actually print her name
at all. It just told of a girl who was there and of a
man who was with her.
“Rinderfeld !” Hale cried, his lips strong now.
“ Rinderfeld, the cover-up!” Of course; and how
Rinderfeld had covered up for himself; he was on the
ground, right there, before any one from the police or
papers arrived. Rinderfeld with Marjorie!
Hale was at the 'phone on his wall. “Have a cab at
the door for me at once!”
As he got into clothes, he thought, “ I could tele-
phone that place where she is. I could get the number;


326 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
“ She doesn't even know.” And then, because he must
tell her something, he said:
“ No; not your mother, Marjorie. Billy! ”
She jerked and drew the door farther open. “What's
happened to him?"
“He's been hurt, Margy.”
“Hurt? You mean, father, he's been — badly
hurt!”
“Margy, he's dead.”
“ Dead," she repeated. “ Billy dead.” Of course it
could not come to her; and what held it from reaching
her as nearly as it otherwise might was that her father,
upon seeing her, had become so queerly let down. “He's
dead,” he had said in strange, dull words, almost as if
just remembering his news.
“Margy,” he said her name again; and she stepped
back into the room. “Come in here, father,” she said,
forgetting Clara in bed beside her.
He entered, ignoring that strange, dark-haired girl
sitting up in the farther of the two beds; or rather, he
saw her and accepted her as his daughter's companion.
“ Here is where Marjorie has been living,” he thought,
as he glanced about the room. “ There is that girl
from the slums — who Billy told me was from the
slums — with whom Marjorie's been rooming." And
his mind went blank about that girl; went blank now
even about Marjorie, for about her he had made a
mistake; and he jumped in his thought to his room at
the club two mornings ago when Billy — big and red
and violent in his strength — had told him of his daugh-
ter living here with this girl; and for the first time,
Hale himself realized that Billy was dead.
“How is Billy dead?” Marjorie was saying to him;
she had shut the door. “Father, what is it?"


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 327
He stared at her, for the instant unable to speak.
His mind — no, not his mind but something driving his
mind was accusing him, and he had first to reply to it.
A moment ago, it had let up on him after seizing him
there in his room where he had had the newspaper in
his hand; there it had cried to him that he had done
to his daughter what he had feared and then denied, he
had done to her the frightful and irremediable; but here
she was in her nightdress before him and it was —
almost — as though she were at home in her own room,
only alarmed. She was thinner; Billy had told him
that; but, expecting that she would be yet thinner, her
father found her well and sound; yes, sound! Her eyes?
Just the alarm in them; her hair and her clear, soft skin
seemed as they always were. So he had not hurt her so
much; but Billy — Billy was dead.
“ He was killed,” Hale said.
“ Killed. How?”
“At a road house; at Cragero's."
“ Billy at Cragero's?"
“ Yes; he — went there.”
What had he told her in that tone he could not con-
trol? You must have been to blame for his going there;
I was to blame back of you; this was in that driver of
his tongue.
“When did he go there? When was it, father? ”
“ Last night.”
“ What time?"
“Before midnight. It's in the paper this morning,
Marjorie.”
“Let me see. Let me see ! ”
“ I didn't bring the paper."
The door opened; the girl who had been in the farther
bed was at it; how she got there, kimono on over night-


334
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
had worn a little color always in his scarfs; so she
realized and said, “ You heard before you went out."
“Yes; they got our old address — my old address —
from the telephone book and tried to call somebody
there by 'phone last night. Early this morning they
got about and finally knocked up Dora, who was with
her mother on the floor below; she gave them my
address. I heard about seven o'clock."
And, bit by bit, as she could best hear it, he con-
tinued telling her.
“I got that car from Jim Cuncliffe and went out.
What do you know, Marjorie? Just what's in the
paper?”
“ Yes.” And then she told him. “Father brought it
to me. He thought I — I'd been at Cragero's with
Mr. Rinderfeld! He thought that was why Billy was
there; and that was why Billy was there, because I was
with Mr. Rinderfeld last night.”
“Not at Cragero's!” Gregg denied almost sharply.
“ No; but in town; we had dinner together or at least
we started dinner together. We were talking and he
asked me to marry him; I mean he started — I all at
once understood that all along he meant — he had the
idea I might marry him. I got up from the table; we'd
just got our order, and he was only telling me some
things about himself but you see — "
“I see,” said Gregg. “You went home; and he
didn't.”
“It's perfectly clear to me what happened then,
Gregg. He'd been telling me, admitting to me frankly
that girls — women like Mrs. Russell — had formed his
life; but he had stopped going with them after he got
to know me. He was trying to make himself fit, he
said, for me; and when I got up because I couldn't sit


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
339
LEK
onde
planet
at dit
to the next point of pause. Here we were now; here
her life was, for the time standing still. You could not
see the pendulum actually stand; yet you knew it must;
it was obliged to be for some instant at rest. So now
must come to the Hales a moment of rest.
Marjorie was in her own room, which was clean and
fresh as always it had been kept for her. She had
spoken to Sarah and Martin, both of whom knew about
Billy; and Sarah had followed her to her room with
offers to “help”; but Marjorie only thanked her and
sent her away.
No change in Marjorie Hale's bright, pleasant room;
nothing different; no surprise until, opening a drawer
in her desk, she came upon a pile of unopened letters to
her from her mother. Some one, her father probably,
had arranged them in order by postmarks and one had
arrived for each week her mother had been away. Mar-
jorie noticed the postmarks: London, Winchester, Bath,
and the other English towns and cities visited exactly on
the schedule which her mother had made long before.
Beyond doubt her mother had received, on schedule, the
letters which Marjorie had written weekly in care of the
Pall Mall office of the Guaranty Trust, which was
always her mother's forwarding agent; and Marjorie
was sure that, unless some extraordinary upset had oc-
curred, there was nothing in all this pile of letters which
would have required from her more concrete reply than
she had made in her letters written without seeing these.
She looked through them and found that her presump-
tion had proved correct.
These were thoughtful, excellently expressed letters
which her mother wrote, appreciative of the beauties,
the serenities, the dignities of the sea, of the shore, of
moor and downs, of Parliament buildings with the moon
vist


342
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
it? It's not like any other house in the world when it's
home; your father's not like any other man; nor your
mother like any other woman. When they are, it's gone
like that, home; and you can't come back to it just by
opening a door of a house and stepping in, can you?"
He cleared his throat and after a moment said: “No.
This isn't — home, Marjorie; of course I know I can
never make a house home for you again.”
It caught her up with eyes suddenly filled and she
seized his hands. “Father, oh father! I'd like to have it
back! I'd come back home if I could!”
“I know, Margy,” he said, “I know; but we can't
have — home.” After a minute he told her. “ I am go-
ing to arrange, in regard to your mother, for a decent
and recognized separation. Whatever I personally do
in the future — I don't know yet what that will be —
at least will be openly done. You want to know that;
I want you to.”
“Yes,” she said. “That's just what I wanted to
know.” And she kissed him, and he went out.
He entered his room where was that chair of his —
“ father's chair ” — which belonged to the days when
Marjorie was born; and he felt that he would give any-
thing to begin back there again when he first sat in
that chair holding her. Then he felt he would give as
much to be back where he was on that March night
when she last put her arms about his neck and believed
him not like any other man in the world, though he was
going then to Sybil Russell.
In the afternoon Gregg telephoned that the county
authorities had completed their inquiries and had found
no basis for criminal proceedings in connection with
Billy's death. Also Mr. Kemphill himself, of Billy's
firm, had conferred with the State's attorney and was


344 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
follows the full realization that one who has been &
companion will never be seen again; and Marjorie was
feeling particularly lost, because now she was aware
that she had not planned beyond this service.
“I can't want to go back to Clearedge Street, Clara,"
she said. “I want to go home but not talk to people
there. I want you to go home with me.”
“ Your father don't,” Clara observed frankly.
“He's going to his office,” Marjorie reported; and
she went with Clara down to the car which he had left
for her. Leonard was driving and, as it was the open
car, Marjorie attempted little discussion with Clara on
the way to Evanston; besides, she wished Clara to see
her home before she talked. And Clara saw it much as
it usually was, arriving in the car with Leonard out of
his seat and opening the door for Marjorie and her
guest to alight; with Leonard touching his cap and
asking, “Anything to-night, Miss Hale?” Then
Martin opened the screen door of the house; Sarah was
waiting in the lower hall and another maid in the room
upstairs.
« Gawd!” exclaimed Clara to Marjorie, in the first
minute after she had escaped from their ministrations
and the two of them were alone in Marjorie's room with
the door shut. “Gawd, you gave up a lot. Why, if I
had two men Miss Seeleying me like that pair of yours
and another pair of females worryin' about nothing so
much as maybe I'd forget myself and lift a finger, and
also, it's perfectly plain, somebody else cookin' in the
kitchen, I don't think it'd be long before I'd be pretty
sure I was doin' enough for the world just by livin'."
“I guess," said Marjorie, pleased by the quickness
with which Clara's incisive mind went under the surface
of this strange life, “ that's how people who live this


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
349
tonians abroad. Her mother's name was not in to-
night; but Marjorie knew that often it was and her own
had been with it; and, glancing across the room to her
father, she imagined him here alone, on some previous
hot, quiet evening like this, reading, “ Mrs. Charles Hale
and her daughter are now in London, stopping at
Claridge's where they entertained - "
He was seated in range of the fan, smoking a
cigarette and reading; or at least holding a newspaper
before him.
“Gregg's coming up to-night, father,” she said.
“Hmhm; all right,” he looked around the paper at
her. “That's good, if you want to see him.”
“I do," she replied, and returned to the Index while
he watched her.
Martin announced dinner and her father formally
stood back for her to precede him into the dining room.
No more than three usually made the family table
here in this large, quiet room, yet two seemed extraordi-
narily lonely at the table this evening. It was supper,
really, not dinner; mostly cold things and iced coffee
in tall, tinkling glasses. Marjorie drank her coffee but
cared little about eating; she was restless, sitting there
across the table from her father, but she particularly
tried to control herself; for what kept her on edge was
expectancy and impatience for an hour to come; for
eight o'clock; and there was a dullness about her father
to-night which was a denial of, almost the antithesis of,
her own feeling.
She thought at first, “ It's because I feel this way so
much that he seems different." Then she knew that the
change in him was not wholly, or even mostly, in her
feeling. Always, even when he was weak following his
wound from Russell's bullet, he had kept himself “on


354 THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
with the new thrills and joys of complete possession of
each other's bodies.
But Gregg Mowbry since then had sat alone with
Sybil Russell in that flat on Clearedge Street, while
Charles Hale, unconscious, was carried to Fursten's;
at Kilkerry's he awaited Russell's return; he had lost
his job and left Billy; and gone to Cragero's for Bill;
had taken Bill, just now, home; and he, Gregg Mowbry,
had come back from Bay City alone. So he held Mar
jorie Hale by her hands, his palms on hers and he
said:
“I got a real job to-day, Marjorie. Not much real
money."
“I know the kind of job you got, Gregg,” she said.
“ The first work job I ever took on. Twenty-four
a week to start with; four dollars a day, I mean. With
Chicago Hydraulics; I'll be started down' the canal on
water power. That sort of thing got me once, when I
was a kid; I took my course in Michigan at engineer-
ing — hydraulics. But I seemed to be a salesman when
I got out; I mean somebody offered me a drawing
account of forty dollars a week selling gasoline pumps.
Twenty was the limit for me as a hydraulic expert. So
I put off starting at the bottom until to-day. In a
couple of years, Marjorie, I ought to have a fair
position and something ahead. I'm trying real work
on account of myself and partly, of course, because of
Bill; but I'd like to work for you and me, Marjorie.
Will you wait a while to give me a chance to make good
for you?”
“No,” she said. “I'll not wait, Gregg." Then she
told him, “ Because we needn't; we mustn't. If we
waited for you to do it all, we'd never get right with
each other; for we'd start wrong."


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 355
“Not wait to be married? " asked Gregg.
“ I've a real job too, now. I resigned at Bostrock's
to-day and began with Leffrick, selling accounting sys-
tems for small stores, Gregg. I've known some of
Leffrick's city salespeople — women —for quite a
while. They work full time or part time, if they've
families; he arranges territories for them, according
to the time they can put in. I'm starting a full timer
with a drawing account based on my last month with
Bostrock, twenty a week. I can change to part time
whenever I ask to, so when I'm married — " she
caught her breath and said, “ when we're married — "
“We married !” Gregg whispered and had to gasp
for breath, too.
“We can start on forty-four dollars a week, as long
as we're both earning. We can live on that and we're
going to, and also we'll put by so that when our babies
come, we'll have a little saved."
He gathered her in his arms and held her to him.
“Marjorie ! ” he whispered; and he spoke only her
name again and again. “Marjorie; Marjorie — "
and he thought only, “I have her,” and he felt her
against him and in his arms. Then he felt himself in
her arms; she was clasping him; and so they kissed
and drew back the barest trifle and held their lips on
each other's again. Then that which had been restrain-
ing them both — until in this physical yielding they
put it away and denied it — that touched them again
and relaxed their arms and separated their lips. It was
contact with that which physical yielding had led to, —
memory of her father shot in the flat on Clearedge
Street, of her lie to Stanway, of Billy quiet and so
white. She had to banish all this again; and not even
Gregg's arms or hers about him could do it. The only


THE BREATH OF SCANDAL 357
There were several courses he might take with
Marjorie, each one of which offered difficulties; for
he never imagined that Marjorie meant soon to marry
Gregg. But, about ten o'clock, they came together to
his door, Gregg rapped and he let them in, and they
told him.
When they were gone, he walked about his room,
staring before him at the floor and with his chest con-
strained with a queer, drawn tightness. His baby was
going to be married; she wanted him to stand with her
when the man who would become her husband stood on
the other side of her before the minister; but except
for that, she asked nothing, and it was evident to him
that she would accept little more from him. Well, that
was something; they might have gone away and been
married all by themselves.
Also, though they meant to strike out by themselves,
he would be always near to help in sickness or disaster;
they could not deny him that; and that was something.
Forty-four dollars a week, twenty of which his
daughter would earn! Hmhm! He did not like it;
but suppose his wife had ever loved him like that! Sup-
pose they had started, Corinna and he, on the basis of
how much each could give to the other. Oh, Corinna for
a while had put up with little from him, but because
of her certainty that soon he would earn her much.
Hmhm.
But why did he have this big house and his big in-
come now? For alimony to his wife; for next to
nothing, so far as his daughter was concerned. It was
for himself, then, and the woman who next would be
his. Not this house; no, hardly. Hmhm. Perhaps
his wife wanted it; he must think of that. He would do


360
THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
stock in America seemed almost “ through ” when it
lived and thought like that; no wonder that pressing,
pressing in from all about and filtering through
appeared the displacers of the Sedgwicks, Chadens,
Vanes and Cleves, the Lovells and the Hales.
“But the Mowbrys won't go down,” Marjorie Hale,
soon to be Mowbry, murmured her defiance to the
Nordquists, Linduskas, Kostics, and Rinderfelds.
“ They'll rise and they won't diminish.”
And there came to Marjorie, alone in her room, the
sense of herself a molder and a bearer of the future.
diminine in he futu