YEARS OF DISCRETION
 
 'It's going to be wide open or shut," he continued 
 
 (page 164)
 
 YEARS 
 OF DISCRETION 
 
 BY 
 FREDERIC HATTON 
 
 AND 
 
 FANNY LOCKE HATTON 
 
 Novelized from the Play 
 By the Authors 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 ALONZO KIMBALL 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 1913
 
 COPYRIGHT, 191S 
 BY DODD. MEAD & COMPANY 
 
 Published, October, 1913
 
 DEDICATED TO 
 DAVID BELASCO 
 
 WITH THE SINCERE AFFECTION 
 AND APPRECIATION 
 
 OF 
 THE AUTHORS 
 
 2136116
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I AN APRIL AFTERNOON 1 
 
 II MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 13 
 
 III THE TURNING POINT 32 
 
 IV THE THREE MUSKETEERS 43 
 
 V THE NEW MOTHER 60 
 
 VI UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY 72 
 
 VII THE VARIETIST 84 
 
 VIII HIGH PRESSURE 94 
 
 IX THE CUB GROWLS 120 
 
 X THE SHOE PINCHES 129 
 
 XI SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE 143 
 
 XII PLAYING GAMES 159 
 
 XIII A CAVE MAN 170 
 
 XIV THE WIDOW YIELDS 183 
 
 XV HALCYON DAYS 199 
 
 XVI WOOING BY THEORY 21T 
 
 XVII THE DAY OF DAYS 228 
 
 XVIII SINGLE BLESSEDNESS 243 
 
 XIX CONCERNING A JOURNEY 254 
 
 XX AN ADVANCED EXPERIMENT 265 
 
 XXI THE BRIDE CONFESSES 279 
 
 XXII DEPARTING GUESTS 293 
 
 XXIII THE REAL WOMAN 300 
 
 XXIV OLD LACE AND LAVENDER 317 
 
 XXV PEACE AT LAST 330 
 
 XXVI FOUR LETTERS . 337
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 " It's going to be wide open or shut," he con- 
 tinued (page 164) Frontispiece 
 
 FACING 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Things were starting in even before she had 
 planned for them 38 
 
 " Experience all, love everybody !" 150 
 
 " Mother ! " he cried. " My own sweet mother has 
 
 come back!" ,. .... . . . . 328
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AN APRIL AFTEENOON 
 
 THE rays of a lingering afternoon sun shone from 
 a clear Hudson rirer sky into Margaret Brinton's 
 charming sitting-room and filled it with cheer and 
 amber light. The room was a delightful one at any 
 time, full of rare and beautiful things, with harmo- 
 nious walls and comfortable divans. In many years 
 it had taken from its mistress much of her daintiness 
 and personality. Opening off from it was the hall- 
 way of the apartment the building was one of 
 those smart establishments of the upper Riverside 
 Drive and from this floor curving stairs ran up 
 under a wide arch to the second landing where the 
 bedrooms were. Halfway up a quaint bend formed 
 a little resting spot with a wide and pillowed seat, 
 an ideal retreat for a confidence or a quiet chat. 
 
 On the opposite side of the living-room rich, dark 
 portieres dropped discreetly down, veiling a quaint 
 little music room in which there was just room 
 enough to hold Mrs. Brinton's grand piano and a 
 chair or two. This was a tiny corner, but exquisite
 
 in colouring and appointment and a fitting neighbour 
 to the larger room into which it opened. 
 
 The day was. one of those wonderful April times 
 when spring and summer seem to have wandered 
 twin-like hand in hand. Mrs. Brinton had felt all 
 day the witchery of the lazy hours and despite in- 
 sistent voices of duty she had left undone the thou- 
 sand things she should have done. An indefinite 
 longing filled her usually sane soul with vague dis- 
 quietude. She was not quite sure whether it was 
 the spring that had so disturbed her usual serenity 
 or the unexpected news that Mrs. Farrell Howard 
 of Brookline was to arrive at last for a visit which 
 had been promised for ten years. Despite the tele- 
 grams and an array of new trunks which had al- 
 ready arrived Mrs. Brinton found it difficult to 
 believe that the long-awaited guest was about to ap- 
 pear. 
 
 The trunks in themselves had been enough to take 
 Mrs. Brinton's breath away. Ellie Howard, as her 
 old friend knew her, was the quietest and simplest 
 of creatures. Mrs. Brinton remembered her as one 
 of those modest New England women given to in- 
 conspicuous pastel colours in gowns and uninteresting 
 bonnets in headgear. Those immense French ward- 
 robe trunks bewildered the hostess. What in the
 
 AN APRIL AFTERNOON 3 
 
 world did they contain? She could hardly wait for 
 Mrs. Howard to come. Her curiosity grew as each 
 moment passed. Surely something unusual was 
 afoot ! 
 
 The bond between these two women was no usual 
 one. Their close friendship had lasted without a 
 break from the impressionable and impulsive hours 
 of their school days. Through years of marriage 
 and widowhood they had still kept in touch with each 
 other. 
 
 Mrs. Howard lived in Brookline just outside of 
 Boston, and was the conventional and staid New 
 England matron. Mrs. Brinton moved in the smart- 
 est set in New York and was mundane to her finger 
 tips. Both women were widows and independently 
 rich. They were also about of equal age. 
 
 But Mrs. Brinton certainly did not look her forty- 
 eight years as she stood waiting for her guest. The 
 April sun fell affectionately on her brunette head 
 and revealed her superbly erect figure, her fine poise 
 of throat and chin and her air of grace and breeding. 
 Her hair, which was magnificent, was plaited and 
 twisted simply about her head. Her skin and eyes 
 were youthful and her entire appearance was that of 
 the perfectly gowned and coiffed woman of the world. 
 She fairly radiated an air of feminine sophistry.
 
 4 YEARS OP DISCRETION 
 
 An insistent tingle of the bell interrupted her con- 
 jectures. But Metz, the butler, did not announce 
 Mrs. Howard as he entered. He came towards his 
 mistress with the faintly apologetic bearing of the 
 well trained servant. Mrs. Brinton came towards 
 him eagerly. 
 
 " Is that Mrs. Howard, Metz ? " she asked. 
 
 Metz hesitated a moment. 
 
 " It's Mr. Thomas, Madame," he announced dubi- 
 ously. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton was as nearly impatient as her se- 
 rene temper permitted. 
 
 " Metz ! " she said with vexation. " How could 
 you let him in. You know I'm " 
 
 Metz coughed discreetly. " Mr. Thomas would 
 not be denied, Madame. He said it was most pressing 
 and Madame had given me no orders to excuse her." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton nodded, somewhat mollified. 
 " That's quite true, Metz, and of course if he is in 
 the house and knows that I am in, I shall have to see 
 him, I suppose. Ask him to come up, Metz." 
 
 She moved to the window and sat down resignedly. 
 Crossing her small, well-shod feet she awaited the 
 unexpected caller. She felt quite annoyed. It was 
 too provoking to have Thomas and his tiresome 
 theories blunder in now. She felt she cculd never
 
 AN APRIL AFTERNOON 5 
 
 explain him to Mrs. Howard should the latter come 
 before she could get rid of him. There was one ray 
 of hope. She knew Mrs. Howard was interested in 
 all sorts of things that went with lectures and of 
 these Thomas was one. She had asked him to come 
 in some time and discuss a programme. She felt 
 hopefully that a talk on some appropriate subject 
 might interest Mrs. Howard. She had been racking 
 her mind to think what would amuse a serious woman 
 from New England. She felt quite sure that the 
 average whirl of society would not divert modest and 
 intellectual Ellie Howard. 
 
 Now that Thomas was here she would arrange for 
 a literary afternoon. She rose pleasantly enough 
 to greet him with her captivating smile. He returned 
 it with one of his own that had an air of pleasant 
 insolence about it. Mrs. Brinton sensed that quickly. 
 She always felt that Thomas was more or less rude 
 and there was an aggressive conceit about him. He 
 was a well-set-up man of forty-two or three, a bit 
 odd in his dress. When he spoke it was with vigor- 
 ous self-assurance, though his voice was smooth and 
 insinuating. Mrs. Brinton sat down and motioned 
 to him to do likewise. She even offered him a ciga- 
 rette and lighted one herself. She didn't know how 
 long she would have to wait for Mrs. Howard and the
 
 6 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 cigarette would help her through Thomas' tedious 
 utterances. 
 
 He appraised her from head to foot with undis- 
 guised admiration. He was an ardent worshipper 
 of women and Mrs. Brinton was charming. 
 
 " Evidently you are not over-j oyed to see me," 
 he said. " And yet, you remember, you asked me 
 to call early this week." 
 
 " So I did," confessed Mrs. Brinton hastily. 
 " But to-day I am fearfully busy and expecting a 
 guest from out-of-town." 
 
 Thomas smiled again. He was always finding 
 footing on uncertain grounds and he was never ill 
 at ease doing it. 
 
 Amos Thomas was one of those masculine evils for 
 which women's clubs are more or less responsible. 
 Were it not for study programmes with a radical 
 tendency his kind would be forced to daily labour, a 
 harsh consummation which none of them desires. 
 Thomas appeared before many a club and always 
 for a compensation. Women loved to hear him tear 
 society and property to pieces, always quite secure 
 that nothing ever would come of what he said. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton regarded him as something to amuse 
 an occasional gathering and she did have in the back 
 of her mind the idea of another programme. She
 
 AN APRIL AFTERNOON 7 
 
 would have been glad enough to have seen him at 
 another time. 
 
 She had been presented to Thomas first at the 
 house of a friend who had been studying " advanced " 
 literature. This woman took the Socialist quite 
 seriously and chose to regard him as another Marx, 
 a profound and misunderstood thinker. Mrs. Brin- 
 ton knew much better; she was sure Thomas was a 
 fraud ; but to her frauds were diverting and she loved 
 anything which would make lecture programmes 
 amusing. 
 
 " You haven't forgotten what you wanted to say 
 to me ? " he asked. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed merrily. " What an 
 opinion you must have of me," she returned. " I 
 know I'm a trifler, but I do remember some 
 things. Of course I know. Our woman's club 
 means to devote some of its time this spring to social 
 study and wants you to give it three lectures. They 
 were desperate at the last board meeting. Nobody 
 had an idea for the spring course. In a weak mo- 
 ment I consented to be the chairman of the study 
 committee and in a weaker moment I suggested you. 
 You are the only parlour Socialist I know." 
 
 Thomas leaned forward. " I believe they think I 
 will say something shocking, and perhaps I might.
 
 8 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 I never talked to a woman's club, and I don't know 
 its limitations." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed again. " You would find it 
 difficult to shock our woman's club. It's quite ad- 
 vanced and besides, I shouldn't care if you did. Just 
 talk to them about something they can't understand. 
 Most of them know as much about Sociology as they 
 do about balancing their bank books, a hateful knack 
 I never could grasp. While you are here I would like 
 to arrange to have you one afternoon myself. Mrs. 
 Howard, who is coming to visit me, is very intellectual 
 and quite advanced in all club work, and I really be- 
 lieve one of your literary talks would amuse her. On 
 an unusual subject say Sociology, or some stupid 
 thing like that you know what is fitting, I'm sure." 
 
 Mr. Thomas thought for a moment and then he 
 said slowly, " Now and then I make grave mistakes. 
 Last week I gave a talk to the Rosebud Club, a 
 debutante organisation, and I really did put my foot 
 into it. I gave the pretty dears bombs! And they 
 only wanted bonbons." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton held up her hand in mock horror. 
 " I heard about that lecture, you naughty man," she 
 said, " And, of course, you mustn't do anything like 
 that here." She looked at him in mild reproof. 
 " Just be amusing and startling, but not naughty.
 
 AN APRIL AFTERNOON 9 
 
 I'm sure you know a lot of subjects. Anything but 
 race suicide. I am so tired of that." 
 
 Mr. Thomas' expressive face relaxed into a smile 
 of utter simplicity ; which meant, in his case, that he 
 was about to say something very sophisticated. " Do 
 you think Mrs. Howard and your friends would care 
 for a talk on * The Infinite Varieties of Love ' ? " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed outright. " Oh, no, no, you 
 wicked man. Of course, not ! I want to have a suc- 
 cessful literary afternoon. I thought I would ask 
 about fifty women, have some queer playing, odd 
 singing, and " 
 
 Thomas interrupted her. "Me! Eh? I'm flat- 
 tered. Well, I'm sorry you won't have that subject, 
 for I have made rather a personal study of it. It 
 has a wide scope, and from my own experiences 
 I have kept notes from time to time, as I 
 could." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton rose suddenly. There were moments 
 when she felt that Amos Thomas presumed on her 
 good nature, and trod so near to an insolent intimacy 
 of dialogue as he dared. She also remembered, all at 
 once, that Mrs. Howard would arrive at any moment 
 and she did not want her to find so undesirable a guest 
 having a tete-a-tete with her. She put out her hand 
 to dismiss him with dignity, which seemed to amuse
 
 10 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 him, for he ignored her and stood with his arms 
 folded, waiting. 
 
 " We will have to discuss it some other day," Mrs. 
 Brinton said, coldly. *' I haven't time now and I 
 am expecting my guest any moment." The words 
 had hardly passed her lips when the bell rang and 
 Metz came into the hallway. She looked at Thomas 
 in despair. " Please go," she urged, " I shall be 
 much engaged for the rest of the afternoon." 
 
 Thomas shook his head. " You evidently think 
 time is nothing to me. My dear lady, there's the 
 whole world to convince yet, let alone a few women. 
 Five minutes more will settle it, and I am not sure 
 when I can come again. Can't you give me a word 
 or two while the lady removes her bonnet and powders 
 her nose? I am quite sure she will want to do both. 
 I'll go into the little music room and read my Daily 
 Socialist, and you can call me when you have a 
 moment." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton motioned him aside breathlessly as 
 she heard Mrs. Howard's voice in the hall. 
 
 " Do, do go," she murmured, as he strolled toward 
 the music room. Thomas finally disappeared and 
 she gave a sigh of relief. Truly he was almost too 
 persistent, but just then Mrs. Howard appeared and 
 she rushed over to embrace her. Thomas and his
 
 AN APRIL AFTERNOON 11 
 
 insolence were forgotten in the joy of seeing her old 
 friend. As the two women stood together, they 
 looked as if they were beings from different worlds. 
 Mrs. Howard, although an undeniably handsome 
 woman of clear complexion and expressive, long- 
 lashed, grey eyes, was frumpishly dressed in a badly- 
 fitted tailor suit of an indefinite prune colour, and she 
 not only wore an elderly bonnet on her smoothly- 
 parted hair, but she carried an umbrella and a large 
 hand-bag. Even her shoes were broad and low 
 heeled and her soft greyish hair was pulled so tightly 
 back behind her ears that one felt it must be uncom- 
 fortable. Only her enthusiasm and her animated 
 speech would convince one of the fact that she was a 
 contemporary of Mrs. Brinton's. When she spoke 
 or smiled one recognised her fascination, for her 
 voice was exquisitely modulated and she used her 
 small, well-shaped hands with much freedom and 
 grace. She was a sad example of an attractive, 
 good-looking woman whose natural charms were quite 
 concealed by her unfortunate mode of dressing. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton's frock, on the other hand, was the 
 very last word in modish gowns. It was a beautifully 
 wrought garment of black and white, which clung 
 closely to her slender figure and showed by its dar- 
 ing drapery every line and curve of her graceful
 
 12 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 body, as she had already dressed for dinner. Her 
 slippers were high heeled and finished with jewelled 
 buckles, an ornament of diamonds fastened the 
 aigrette in her dark hair, and her beautifully tinted 
 cheek was as clear and soft as a girl's. Mrs. Brin- 
 ton's charm was one of art ; but it was art at its per- 
 fection, and Mrs. Howard, who hadn't seen her for a 
 year, gazed at her in undisguised admiration.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 
 
 IF Mrs. Brinton, in her joy and pleasure over seeing 
 her old friend from Brookline, had forgotten Amos 
 Thomas and his lectures, the Socialist was not so 
 absorbed. The little book he had picked up to take 
 with him into the music room was a beautifully bound 
 volume of Ruskin's " Sesame and Lilies." Thomas 
 regarded it as a reactionary remnant of a well-lost 
 period and tossed it contemptuously to the top of the 
 piano. He had not the slightest intention of playing 
 the eavesdropper, but he could not escape the crisp, 
 clear, attractive tones of the visitor's voice, and as 
 she went on explaining her visit to Mrs. Brinton he 
 became fascinated and was almost tempted to walk 
 out and insist on an introduction. But for once in 
 his life he did not act on impulse. He listened 
 breathlessly and shamelessly. 
 
 The meeting between the two women had been a 
 mutually happy one. They embraced repeatedly and 
 went through those feminine half sentences that are 
 tinged more with emotion than meaning intelligible 
 to another. 
 
 13
 
 1* YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Ellie, you blessed soul, I am glad to see you ! " 
 Mrs. Brinton finally exclaimed, releasing her friend. 
 " How splendid of you to come. Aren't you tired, 
 dear? " 
 
 Mrs. Howard laughed delightfully. " Not I, I 
 never felt better in my life nor more delighted to see 
 you. How well you look, Peg." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton tucked an arm about Mrs. Howard 
 and led her over to the sofa. " Sit down and let me 
 have a look at you. You haven't changed a scrap 
 and it's a year since I was in Brookline." 
 
 Mrs. Howard untied her bonnet and threw it on 
 the chair near her as she answered, " I can't see 
 why I do look the same, for I am quite done over 
 inside." She ruffled her soft hair with a little pat of 
 her hand and smiled at Mrs. Brinton with the air 
 of a child who possesses a secret and longs to tell 
 it. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton was filled with curiosity. Her friend 
 seemed quite changed, somehow, and she felt sure she 
 was going to hear the reason. She helped Mrs. 
 Howard off with her coat and gazed in amazement 
 at her black silk blouse. It was something she had 
 forgotten existed. 
 
 " What on earth brought you to New York ? " she 
 asked. " I am consumed with curiosity. Has any-
 
 MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 15 
 
 thing happened to Farrell? Do tell me!" she 
 begged. 
 
 Mrs. Howard shook her head. " Farrell is shoot- 
 ing for two days. And I ran away. I couldn't have 
 flown more rapidly if he had been a brutal, dissolute 
 husband, instead of a model son. Peg, I do wish 
 Farrell would fall by the wayside once in a while. 
 I have never even had an opportunity to sit up for 
 him. He's always in before I am. Farrell is twenty- 
 four, and I do not believe any woman has ever had 
 one passing thought over him. And yet he is young, 
 and quite nice-looking. Of course, he isn't human, 
 he's only rich! I often wonder where my blood, in 
 Farrell, finds a spot warm enough to course through." 
 She took absolute joy in Mrs. Brinton's impatience 
 and purposely delayed telling her. 
 
 " Do tell me what it all means. I perish of im- 
 patience." Mrs. Brinton grew pathetic. " Don't 
 tease me." 
 
 Mrs. Howard leaned over and patted her friend's 
 arm gently. " Prepare to be surprised, Peg. I'm 
 having a kind of revolution, and you are getting a 
 private view." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton nodded. "Do you mean suffrage? 
 I've always wondered if you would." 
 
 Mrs. Howard shook her head. " No, dear, I am
 
 16 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 not going in for women's rights. It is something 
 much more feminine diversion ! Perhaps I might 
 call this a domestic revolution, but even that doesn't 
 half express it. I do not believe I shall ever be quiet 
 and respectable again. I am tired of being a frump, 
 a kind, good, unselfish doormat for Brookline and 
 Farrell to step over coming into the house. It's a 
 dull, uneventful life, and I've run away from it. Of 
 course, this has been gathering in me for years. 
 Finally, even I couldn't stem the tide. Of course, 
 it is funny, but it's also rather tragic. When father 
 was alive I breakfasted by candle light with him, 
 then gas light with Farrell, and now electric light 
 with my son. And I hate to get up. I love to loaf 
 and loll and dawdle. Lying in bed of a morning was 
 never one of the things I blamed the Pompadour for, 
 Peg. I am considered a fine housekeeper, but I do 
 hate detail and I want to be quite idle. Really, I do. 
 I am called an exemplary mother, but I'm not. It's 
 a fearful admission, but Farrell bores me every day 
 of his life, and what is worse, his father did before 
 him. All the Howards bore me. And so does 
 Brookline, and all its inhabitants. When I was 
 young I was very fond of Farrell and I am fond of 
 his son. But it's tiresome living with him, and I 
 ran away. Everything about our house is poky and
 
 MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 17 
 
 New England, and I detest New England, beginning 
 with its mince pies and ending with its Pilgrim 
 Fathers ! " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed immoderately. " That I 
 should live to hear it ! And after all these years ! 
 You know how often I have begged you to leave 
 Farrell to amuse himself in his own dull way and 
 try the continent with me." 
 
 Mrs. Howard nodded. " You were always my sal- 
 vation, Peg, because you were so understanding. 
 That's why I've come now. As for Farrell, he's a 
 sort of spinster bachelor. That's a new animal, but 
 I have an excellent specimen, my dear, and a spinster 
 bachelor with means and morals is quite above sex. 
 You know you once told me the name of your dress- 
 maker? " Mrs. Brinton smiled. " Celeste," she said, 
 " I have begged you for years to buy yourself some 
 pretty gowns, but you wouldn't." 
 
 Mrs. Howard's smile was baffling. " But I have. 
 Celeste had an exhibit of models in Boston and I 
 bought most of them. From now on I am going to 
 live and dress to please myself and spend quantities 
 of money doing both. I have even engaged a French 
 maid." With this final shot, she leaned back as Metz 
 brought in the tea tray and placed it before Mrs. 
 Brinton.
 
 18 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Ellie, you are wonderful," exclaimed Mrs. Brin- 
 ton, hardly believing it all. " I adore you. Do go 
 on. I pray a kind fate that I may be by when first 
 Farrell hears this. I hope you brought all the gowns 
 with you. That explains the army of trunks. I am 
 sure I shall die of sheer envy. It must have cost you 
 a pretty penny." She handed Mrs. Howard her tea. 
 
 Mrs. Howard sipped in silence for a moment and 
 then said, " It cost an appalling sum. But I don't 
 care a rap. Do you realise that I've never done yet 
 as I liked in my whole life? " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed. " Poor you ! Do have a 
 muffin, Ellie." 
 
 " You're a pampered cat, Peg," returned Mrs. 
 Howard quickly, " and you know nothing about duty. 
 My life has been one long bore ! Duty ! I hate the 
 very word ! " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton put down her tea cup in amazement. 
 She hardly knew her old friend of high ideals and 
 New England conscience. She was shocked for a 
 moment. " Ellie," she expostulated. " And you the 
 president of the Domestic Arts Club ! " 
 
 Mrs. Howard moved her teaspoon in derision. 
 " My dear, that's not half. I'm head of a mothers' 
 bureau, a home science organisation and a dozen 
 other hygienic, philanthropic or reform affairs. And
 
 MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 19 
 
 truly, I despise reform. I wouldn't help reform a 
 white rabbit in my present humour and heaven knows 
 they need reformation. I am done with it, I tell 
 you! I won't be bored one hour more. Farrell is 
 exactly like his father, even to the way he says the 
 ' o ' in Boston. And he is just as shriekingly dull. 
 I'm through with it, I tell you! I won't be a good 
 mother any longer, nor a fine housekeeper, either. I 
 won't knit or darn another hour. There you are, 
 Peg ! " She waved her hands gaily. " You see, I am 
 quite abandoned." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed convulsively. " Ellie, 
 Ellie ! " she gasped. " That I should live to hear it 
 and after all these years. I believe you are going 
 to be married " 
 
 " Heavens, no ! " exclaimed the rebellious widow. 
 " I am going to be happy. I am a quiet, ordinary- 
 looking, indifferently-dressed woman of forty-eight. 
 I intend to look forty. I have never attracted men, 
 but I know I can. I shall be daring and wicked and 
 fascinating. I shall show my feet, which are irre- 
 proachable, and my shoulders, which no one ever 
 sees, but which are well worth looking at. I shall 
 wave my hair and tint my lips, make nice, cunning 
 eyebrows, and be massaged. I mean, Peg, to live 
 just as I like from this moment, no matter what
 
 20 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 anyone says or thinks, and to have all sorts and kinds 
 of experiences. I intend to love and be loved, to 
 hate, to lie and cheat and perhaps even play games. 
 I may shock you, Margaret, and that wouldn't be 
 easy, but I am afraid I shouldn't care if I did. And 
 my clothes are really wonderful! Wait till you see 
 them! I have sixteen gowns, hats to match, and 
 slippers and all sorts of grandeur. Look at me hard, 
 Peg, it's my last appearance as a middle-aged dowdy." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton was filled with undisguised amaze- 
 ment. She felt grateful to Mrs. Howard for that. 
 Life was often monotonous and here was novelty. 
 " Ellie, there is no one like you," she said. " Who 
 else would dare? And the perfect thing is that you 
 undoubtedly will do it. That's what I adore." 
 
 Mrs. Howard laughed merrily, her charming face 
 aglow with excitement. " I am beginning to-day," 
 she continued, " but I hadn't the heart to burst upon 
 you robed and decked like Sheba's queen without a 
 friendly warning. By six o'clock I mean to forget 
 I ever crocheted a baby blanket or wore a bonnet." 
 She took off her glasses. 
 
 " My dear," said Mrs. Brinton with much empha- 
 sis, " your hour has arrived. When your wire came 
 I telephoned three of the most agreeable men I know 
 to keep the evening for me. And I thought we would
 
 MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 21 
 
 dine at Sherry's and do a play. They are coming in 
 here first for a cocktail. One of them is without 
 doubt the most fascinating male creature alive, 
 Christopher Dallas." 
 
 "Philadelphia?" Mrs. Howard inquired. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton went on. "With a lot of Virginia 
 stirred in. He has been to every place in this world. 
 One would not be surprised to turn a corner in Paris, 
 Algiers, Pekin, London, Bombay, or Cairo, and run 
 across Christopher Dallas. Like the devil in the 
 Book of Job, he is always just back from going up 
 and down in the earth." 
 
 Mrs. Howard smiled her anticipation. " And I 
 suppose like the devil, stirring up mischief. Deli- 
 cious possibility. And the other two? " she asked. 
 
 " You remember John Strong my John Strong, 
 Ellie," Mrs. Brinton explained, " and Michael Doyle, 
 our great political giant. Once a bar-tender I am 
 told, but always a delight. And all unmarried. 
 What do you think of that? I must have been in- 
 spired when I asked them." 
 
 Mrs. Howard rose hastily and gathered her be- 
 longings together. " I am going to freshen up a bit," 
 she announced, " and put on my war paint, for it is 
 getting late. My train got in hours ago, but this 
 new maid, Anna," she pronounced the name with a
 
 22 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 faint suspicion of an " r " on the end of it, " insisted 
 upon my laying in a stock of false hair, and it took 
 ages to match it up. I suppose I have the same 
 room." She started toward the stairway, followed 
 by Mrs. Brinton, whose gaze fell on the music room 
 just as Amos Thomas parted the curtain an inch 
 or two. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton paused as the curtain was hastily 
 dropped, but she remembered the Socialist suddenly 
 and her heart failed her. He had surely heard every 
 word, for the music room had no door. 
 
 She thought hastily and then she said to her re- 
 treating guest, " Yes, dear, and do hurry. I'll follow 
 you in a moment, I have to see to something." 
 
 Mrs. Howard, engrossed in the novelty of making 
 herself over, hurried up the stairs, displaying a gen- 
 erous glimpse of white clad ankle which made Mrs. 
 Brinton shudder. The latter walked over and threw 
 open the curtain of the music room and faced Mr. 
 Thomas, who was filled with repressed excitement. 
 He came out and walked up and down restlessly. 
 Mrs. Brinton watched him. 
 
 Finally he turned and demanded, " Is the owner 
 of that caressing voice Mrs. Farrell Howard? I have 
 been the most willing eavesdropper. What a woman ! 
 And what a superb self confidence! She has filled
 
 MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 23 
 
 me with a pulsating ardour. I am on fire to meet 
 her." 
 
 " Did you see her? " Mrs. Brinton asked faintly. 
 
 " Of course not," returned Thomas, " I am not so 
 ill-mannered. But I couldn't help hearing, because 
 you have no door to that room and your friend's de- 
 lightful voice pronounced each dear syllable so clearly, 
 that without trying I could drink her words in one 
 by one. Such a nature! And how she must have 
 suffered ! " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton smiled quietly. " ' Suffered ' isn't 
 just the word I would use. She has millions." 
 
 Thomas paused to regard her gravely. " But I 
 am sure she counts it as mere dross. What ideals she 
 has, what longings ! It is wonderful ! A mature 
 soul with a craving for love and liberty. I could 
 devote my life to such a woman. Will you not, out 
 of the goodness of your heart, allow me to remain 
 here until she comes back again? After she has, as 
 she so delightfully expresses it, put on her war paint ? 
 I promise not to stay a quarter of an hour. Truly, 
 I could not sleep if I did not see her. She has roused 
 me!" 
 
 Mrs. Brinton looked at him with a twinkle of 
 amusement in her expressive eyes. Amos Thomas 
 as an admirer was a new role. To present him to
 
 24, YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Ellie Howard for a first plunge into the sea of flirta- 
 tion promised to be a very unusual diversion. So 
 much so that she suddenly made up her mind to ac- 
 complish it. 
 
 " Mind, now," she warned, " you can see her only 
 for a few moments and I am not sure she will come, 
 but I will try." 
 
 Thomas looked eagerly at the stairway. " Shall I 
 wait here," he said, " or go into the little music room 
 again and wait until you call me? I haven't read 
 my Daily Socialist." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton paused before mounting the stairs. 
 " Yes, do wait in there and think over the lecture, 
 unless lectures are beyond you at such a moment. 
 Male atoms are usually weak things when they fall 
 under the spell of the love force." 
 
 But he would not jest. He really seemed to have 
 put aside his artificial and insinuating manner for a 
 very serious humour, which diverted Mrs. Brinton 
 immensely. She went up the steps slowly, while he 
 Went back to the music room. She knocked at Mrs. 
 Howard's door without really knowing what she 
 would tell her. The door was opened by the new 
 maid, a trim, pretty, young person dressed in a grey 
 gown with lace cap and apron. Mrs. Brinton looked 
 at her in open-eyed amazement. Ellie, with a sou-
 
 MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 25 
 
 brette maid in bows and streamers, Ellie, of all 
 women! Mrs. Brinton had always pictured her 
 cared for by a mature Scotch or English woman in 
 alpaca with a black silk apron. Beyond Anna was 
 the widow trying on some pink satin slippers. She 
 already was a new Ellie Howard, indeed, but a won- 
 derful one! Mrs. Brinton sat down abruptly and 
 tried to gain her mental balance. Mrs. Howard, on 
 a low chair in a ravishing lace garment, which might 
 be vaguely described as a negligee, was bending 
 over her slipper, with her hair in a state of frightful 
 disorder. The resourceful Anna had pinned a quan- 
 tity of false, blonde curls deftly on her head. A 
 soft, but equally false wave, rippled across her brow, 
 and her face, radiant with excitement, looked like a 
 girl's. As she struggled with her slipper, the foamy 
 lace which served as sleeves for the present covering, 
 fell back and showed her round white arms. One 
 pretty shoulder was plainly visible where her negligee 
 had slipped over. It was a singularly intimate and 
 disconcerting picture. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton, speechless for the moment, gazed 
 upon her friend, so changed that she barely rec- 
 ognised her. " Ellie ! " she murmured faintly, 
 " you are wonderful ! Stand up and let me see 
 you."
 
 26 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Mrs. Howard put her foot into her slipper firmly 
 and got up. The deft Anna darted about her like a 
 faithful little bee, pulling a bow here or patting a 
 bit of lace there. 
 
 " Celeste certainly has sold you a negligee," said 
 Mrs. Brinton. It was worthy of its name, for it 
 had about it a charm, a wicked abandon in each fold 
 and pleat that only a French woman could have 
 achieved. 
 
 Mischief entered into Mrs. Brinton's soul. With 
 one more glance at this vision of golden hair and 
 frills, she held out her hand to her friend. " Come, 
 Ellie," she urged, " there is someone downstairs 
 waiting to meet you, and I am going to take you 
 just as you are. You look quite wonderful." 
 
 Mrs. Howard protested faintly. " I seem rather 
 undressed, Peg." But Mrs. Brinton was firm. 
 
 " Haste is the main thing," she said, " and he'll 
 adore it. He doesn't know it, of course, but he is 
 assisting at a true occasion. You! In your first 
 negligee! Come just as you are, don't alter a 
 thing." 
 
 She hurried down the steps ahead of Mrs. Howard, 
 who followed carefully and a little chary of her high 
 heeled slippers. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton pushed aside the curtain of the
 
 MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 27 
 
 music room. " Mr. Thomas, do come out, I'm bring- 
 ing Mrs. Howard down to meet you." 
 
 He rushed out so quickly that he almost ran over 
 Mrs. Brinton, his eyes on the vision at the bend in 
 the stairway. He walked past Mrs. Brinton, who 
 turned to present him. 
 
 Mrs. Howard, full of new-born coquetry, leaned 
 over the stair rail and smiled recklessly into Mr. 
 Thomas' eager face. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton introduced him to her. " Mrs. 
 Howard, Mr. Amos Thomas. I am sure Ellie, you 
 will be glad I called you, for he is a most interesting 
 man and quite wild to meet you. But you can only 
 talk to him a moment, Ellie, for it is late, and you 
 have to dress." She went on into the dining-room 
 to give Metz a message, feeling that Mrs. Howard 
 would be less embarrassed without her. 
 
 When they were alone Mrs. Howard smiled again 
 at Thomas, so daringly that it sent a curious dizzy 
 sensation through his brain. He leaned against the 
 lower post of the stairs to steady himself. Mrs. 
 Howard made a pretence of gathering her wrapper 
 about her more closely and only succeeded in showing 
 her very attractive satin slippers and her pretty, 
 slim ankles. Not a move escaped Amos Thomas, 
 whose susceptible heart was pounding.
 
 28 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " I'm not fit to be seen," Mrs. Howard said. " But 
 Mrs. Brinton insisted that I must come. I do won- 
 der why? " 
 
 Thomas found his voice. "Because I begged to 
 see you. I was in that little room when you arrived, 
 and your voice was so marvellous that I felt I must 
 see the woman." 
 
 Mrs. Howard was surprised out of her flirtatious 
 mood for a moment. Things were starting in even 
 before she had planned for them. " Do you mean 
 you heard my conversation with Mrs. Brinton? " 
 
 Thomas nodded. " Every word, and it fascinated 
 me. What a mind and soul you must have." 
 
 Mrs. Howard was interested. " I have been won- 
 dering what man I would meet first in New York. 
 And just what he would think of me. I love to think 
 you liked my voice," she ventured. 
 
 Thomas placed his hand higher on the balustrade, 
 very near her arm. " I want to know you better, to 
 see you often. Would you like that ? " he asked 
 softly. 
 
 Mrs. Howard looked at him. " Are you mar- 
 ried? " she asked. 
 
 Thomas stepped back for a moment. The direct- 
 ness of the question was so markedly different from 
 her flirtatious manner of an instant before. He did
 
 MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 29 
 
 not know that the shrewd New England habit of 
 years found it difficult to so quickly drift from its 
 moorings. But he was never long at a loss for a 
 word. 
 
 "I I," he hesitated "Well, not exactly. 
 That is to say, I am not married. I am afraid, dear 
 lady, that my particular views on marriage might 
 seem a little odd to you until you understand me 
 better. I am a varietist. But I don't suppose you 
 ever we are not much given to marriage, you see. 
 However, we can surely let that pass for the moment. 
 I couldn't put it all into words in five minutes. But 
 as one free soul to another I shall tell you the beau- 
 tiful truths in my heart when next we meet. When 
 may I see you? To-morrow? Can I come in the 
 afternoon, just before the beautiful twilight, and 
 take you to a quaint little Russian tea shop in the 
 Ghetto? I won't ride in cabs or automobiles, but if 
 you will have it so, we will take a trolley car. It 
 doesn't matter if only the eyes of my soul can feed 
 on yours." He mounted a step and gazed raptly at 
 her. Mrs. Howard leaned slightly towards him. 
 
 " Perhaps," she agreed, " if I can arrange i. 
 You must promise to be very nice to me, for I am 
 a stranger in a strange land. And what will you 
 talk about? I know so little of life or love." She
 
 30 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 looked at him appealingly. " Will you teach me? " 
 
 In his excitement Thomas stepped on a low chair 
 at the foot of the landing, and put his two hands on 
 the rail. He reached out impulsively to grasp her 
 hand. 
 
 " You are such an oasis in my desert, you won- 
 derful woman," he murmured in an emotional whisper. 
 
 Just at this moment Mrs. Brinton returned and 
 Mrs. Howard, who saw her first, drew away from 
 him and started hurriedly up the stairs. 
 
 " I'm going this instant, Peg," she assured Mrs. 
 Brinton. " Until to-morrow, Mr. Thomas," and be- 
 fore he realised it she had gone. 
 
 With as much dignity as he could muster, Mr. 
 Thomas climbed off the chair and came over to Mrs. 
 Brinton. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton's mobile mouth was quivering with 
 repressed merriment. There was no question of Mrs. 
 Howard's first conquest. She saw Thomas was still 
 in a dazed condition. Mrs. Howard's coming and her 
 bewildering candour had quite driven everything else 
 out of his head. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton held out her hand, " You know you 
 promised." 
 
 He moved towards the hall. " I am already start- 
 ing," he said. " And to-morrow after Mrs. Howard
 
 MRS. BRINTON'S GUEST 81 
 
 and I return from the Ghetto, we will settle the fate 
 of the lectures. Once more a woman comes into my 
 shattered life ! " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton sank into a chair, " Good-bye," she 
 said faintly. 
 
 " Good-bye." The door closed behind him. 
 
 She leaned back and gave way to uncontrollable 
 laughter. "The Ghetto! What a trysting spot! 
 The Ghetto ! Oh, Ellie Howard ! "
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE TURNING POINT 
 
 IT was the very serenity of existence that had 
 operated as much as anything to bring about the 
 revolt of Mrs. Farrell Howard. She had lived her 
 life in tw houses, the first in Roxbury, where her 
 parents had dwelt in an ingrown New England en- 
 vironment, and later in Brookline, where she and 
 her husband had moved after their marriage. 
 
 That serenity of existence was the off-spring of 
 generations of repression. No Howard ever con- 
 fessed to anything so interesting as excitement. Emo- 
 tion of every sort had been added to the biblical list 
 of deadly sins in that serene and practical family. 
 For twenty years Farrell Howard, Sr., left the Brook- 
 line house at the same hour in the morning and re- 
 turned as punctually at an unvarying hour in the 
 evening. His father had been one of the successful 
 New Englanders in the East India trade and he had 
 turned his inheritance over many times by judicious 
 investments in city and suburban real estate. Far- 
 rell Howard, Jr., literally, was born into this unim- 
 aginative business. When his father died, quite as 
 
 32
 
 THE TURNING POINT 33 
 
 unemotionally as he lived, the younger inherited with 
 the office and the business the hours of going and com- 
 ing of the elder, his air of practicality and unexcite- 
 ment, his preciseness and exactness, his nose glasses 
 and his calm, and almost his age. Farrell Howard, 
 Jr., may be said to have been Brookline's oldest young 
 man. He was the creature of his father's habit, fol- 
 lowing without a thought of anything else the routine 
 of the inherited office and home. 
 
 Farrell was short, sandy of hair, near-sighted and 
 formidable only when thrown off the path of habit. 
 Then he was irritable and complaining until he man- 
 aged to get his feet back into the fixed ways of 
 established office and household custom. Each Sat- 
 urday afternoon he spent at home and in spring and 
 summer puttered about the yard and garden with the 
 care-taker, just as his father had done in earlier days. 
 On Sunday morning he arose early with an air of 
 extreme sanctity and frowned down all frivolity of 
 mother, maid, servant and animal. He faced a ser- 
 mon with severity and walked home from church with 
 an air of great silence, following his father's literal 
 interpretation of the second commandment regarding 
 the animals in the barn. 
 
 All of Mrs. Howard's inborn grace and charm, her 
 unreleased spirit, her capacity for emotion and ex-
 
 34 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 perience, her hunger for life and living, had been 
 rigorously frowned upon by her husband. One of his 
 infrequent, unbusinesslike remarks was to the effect 
 that " nice " women ought to know nothing of such 
 pagan things as emotion, and that which the urbanites 
 call " life." Of Boston's gayer side the elder How- 
 ard knew little save by scandalised contact with an 
 occasional newspaper item, and he was always careful 
 to take the offending journal to the office with him. 
 So as the years went on his wife learned to bury feel- 
 ing, sentiment and imagination. She forgot an early 
 hunger for pretty things, her unsatisfied desires for 
 romance and lived the quiet, uneventful life of the 
 well-bred New England woman. 
 
 She was not really unhappy in these repressed 
 years, for her husband was devoted to her in his rigid, 
 undemonstrative way, and very proud of her. She 
 was his ideal woman, an exemplary wife, a careful 
 housekeeper and a model mother. Like the Emperor 
 of all the Germans, he believed firmly in " Kirche, 
 Kinder und Kuche." In all fairness to him it must 
 be admitted that in many ways he was a very good 
 husband. He was rich and Mrs. Howard was never 
 stinted in anything. She spent what she liked and 
 was accountable to no one. He was a church warden 
 and a prominent man in the community in which he
 
 THE TURNING POINT 35 
 
 lived. His small horizon was largely made up of 
 his business and his wife and son, and if he lived 
 narrowly, it was at least consistently so. Mrs. How- 
 ard was fond of him and appreciated his many excel- 
 lent qualities. When he died she was profoundly 
 stirred. He was the husband of her youth and he had 
 been very good to her. She then missed the care and 
 protection with which he had always surrounded her, 
 and felt a vague loneliness during the first few years 
 after his death. Farrell, her son, was a young man 
 just entering college at the time, and she insisted 
 upon his completing his studies. As his father did, 
 Farrell admired and respected his mother more than 
 he did anyone else in the world. She stood for all 
 that was sweet and womanly in his life, for he knew 
 very few girls, and the ones who came to his mother's 
 hospitable roof always faded into insignificance beside 
 her and her great charm; a charm which years of 
 Brookline and a large family of prim in-laws had 
 never driven away. 
 
 Mrs. Howard was easily one of the most popular 
 and best loved women of her age in Brookline. Her 
 house was a centre of the staidly conventional society 
 of that aristocratic suburb. She entertained lavishly 
 and often. Farrell's college friends were loud in 
 their praises of her, and he always brought them home
 
 36 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 with a conscious thrill of pride in his charming 
 mother. Farrell drove the fine horses his father had 
 before him, and Mrs. Howard had two or three quiet 
 and substantial vehicles to drive about in. She would 
 have loved a motor, but she knew Farrell did not 
 approve of cars, and she repressed that desire as 
 she had done hundreds of others. She was quite 
 aware that her friends considered her a very lucky 
 woman, with her model son and her large and inde- 
 pendent fortune. But Mrs. Howard was bored out of 
 all reason. She could not get up in the morning, or 
 go to bed at night without a feeling of wearied men- 
 tal stagnation. 
 
 But her mind had to have occupation, and as thou- 
 sands of other women in similar situation have done, 
 she went in for " things." She surrendered to the 
 helpful suggestion of pastor and suburban uplifter, 
 joining domestic science clubs, art and travel classes, 
 the directories of homes and benevolent associations 
 and followed in other directions the paths of mild 
 and innocuous " improvement." Here she found 
 many other women quite as repressed and bored as 
 she herself and felt that with them she was tramping 
 the rounds of some great cage. She was doing always 
 everything but that which the depths of her spiritual 
 soul clamoured for.
 
 THE TURNING POINT 37 
 
 The years of repression made her revolt all the 
 more violent and certain when it did come. The 
 actual moment of rebellion was her forty-eighth birth- 
 day. It was one of those grey, dull mornings in 
 the very early spring when the snow has faded away, 
 leaving the earth a soggy, soppy blank against an 
 equally blank grey sky. Farrell had gone off to 
 the office at his usual exact minute and after Mrs. 
 Howard had given the orders for the day to cook 
 and maid she went to her room. For a time she stood 
 at the window above the garden, looking out over 
 the dead vines. She felt the bitter depths of de- 
 pression. She felt that there had been no higher 
 tones in her life than in that dead and dreary early 
 March landscape. And she was sure that in her 
 there were possibilities for beauty and life, just as 
 vivid in hue and as sprightly in form as there were 
 stored in the unwakened bulbs and roots beneath the 
 soil of her garden. 
 
 She went to her glass and coldly surveyed her at- 
 tractions in the firm, determined manner that only 
 women can who have generations of relentless Puritan 
 blood coursing beside such other warmer fluid as 
 there might be in her veins. 
 
 " For one thing," she said aloud to herself, " there 
 is no good reason, Ellie Howard, why you should
 
 38 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 continue to be a frump. And you don't have to keep 
 on going the endless round here. 1 
 
 " Do something," she said, clinching her fists and 
 fiercely addressing herself, " go somewhere, waken up, 
 brighten up. You haven't got many more years to 
 do it in." 
 
 And then she calmly analysed herself. 
 
 " You're almost half a century old. You've never 
 really lived in your life. You've never really loved. 
 You've never really been loved. You've got more 
 money than you know what to do with. Use some 
 of it before you are too old to get any good of it." 
 
 She looked in the glass at a figure quite shapeless 
 in the practical negligee and the low-heeled slippers. 
 She ran her fingers over her smooth, simply-parted 
 greyish-brown hair and shivered. She got quite close 
 to the mirror and cruelly followed each tiny wrinkle. 
 
 Then she turned, and for a few minutes walked 
 rapidly up and down the floor, stopping now and 
 then to check, if possible, the tumult of thought and 
 to select some definite plan out of mental chaos. 
 
 " I have it," she announced finally and with de- 
 cision. " I'll make that long-promised visit to Peg 
 and I'll buy everything in Boston first." 
 
 Her plan matured quite as rapidly as it had been 
 conceived. She spent days in Boston hunting a sort
 
 Things were starting in even before she had planned 
 for them
 
 THE TURNING POINT 39 
 
 of rebirth trousseau among the modistes. She finally 
 remembered Mrs. Brinton's Celeste, found her and 
 discovered her with a wonderful exhibit of models. 
 She bought practically all of them that fitted or that 
 could be made to fit her. Celeste, no less interested, 
 attended with feverish activity on the plans for the 
 blossoming out into butterflydom of the long dormant 
 chrysalis. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton, on whom Mrs. Howard expected to 
 descend, was her oldest friend. Margaret Oliver 
 Brinton and she had gone to boarding school together 
 and visited back and forth as young girls. When 
 Mrs. Howard married, Mrs. Brinton had been one 
 of her bridesmaids. Mrs. Brinton's own marriage, 
 which followed Mrs. Howard's very shortly, had taken 
 her into the gayest set in New York, and she had 
 seen less and less of her old friend. Mrs. Brinton 
 had no children, but, as she had married a man who 
 was entirely given up to the allurements of the^world 
 in which he lived, it was not easy to persuade him 
 to go to Brookline even for a visit, and the Howards 
 rarely came to Manhattan. After Farrell was born 
 Mrs. Brinton made a brief flying visit to see Ellie 
 Howard and to admire the new baby. She went 
 again when he was just finishing school, to help cele- 
 brate a wedding anniversary, and she felt more thank-
 
 40 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 ful than she could say that the stiff, spectacled, red- 
 haired young boy did not belong to her. She really 
 was sorry for Ellie. She seemed to be so engulfed 
 in the Howard atmosphere. When the older Howard 
 died Mrs. Brinton went to his funeral and tried to 
 persuade Mrs. Howard to return with her to New 
 York ; but Farrell declined the invitation for her po- 
 litely. His mother needed great care and devotion 
 at this trying time, and he felt sure he could supply 
 it as no one else could. After Mrs. Brinton's own 
 husband died, she and Mrs. Howard met each year or 
 so for a day or two, and they went on one or two 
 short summer outings together. Mrs. Brinton 
 fumed over Mrs. Howard's settled and middle-aged 
 appearance, and her humdrum existence, and she con- 
 tinually wrote and urged her to change her way of 
 living. She had asked Mrs. Howard so often to visit 
 her in New York that she hardly believed her own 
 eyes, when Mrs. Howard's letter arrived saying she 
 was coming early in ApriL A few days later a wire 
 confirmed her coming. 
 
 The widow was really ready for her coming out. 
 Unknown to Farrell she had found a clever French 
 maid in Boston and had engaged her against the ad- 
 vance on New York. Then there came the problem of 
 telling Farrell, but the day before she was to go he
 
 THE TURNING POINT 41 
 
 announced that the ducks were flying and that he 
 was to go on his only dissipation, a shooting trip, 
 which meant three days of solemn peppering at mal- 
 lards and blue-bills. So she didn't have to tell him. 
 On the morning he was to have returned she started 
 out gaily for Boston, leaving word with the servants 
 that she would write Farrell when she got to New 
 York. In Boston she met Anna, who had supervised 
 the moving of her convention of trunks to the station. 
 They remained over-night at a hotel, caught a morn- 
 ing train and before she knew it Boston was behind 
 her and she felt that the bridges of years were being 
 burned. 
 
 But fate had other plans. Farrell found the shoot- 
 ing poor and caught a wretched cold, which the damp 
 marshes and wet boots only made worse. And he came 
 back sneezing and coughing prepared to find a gentle 
 and capable mother who would hover about him, doing 
 a hundred and one things for his creature comfort. 
 With the good nature, which was one of her chief est 
 charms, Mrs. Howard had always spoiled Farrell. 
 The house, the table, even her own life, were studied 
 and arranged to meet his approval. And he was par- 
 ticularly fond of saying to his few intimates that no 
 girl would ever be so considerate of him as his mother 
 was.
 
 42 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 His dismay at finding her gone was pathetic. And 
 when he was told that she had left for New York 
 on a visit, the consternation that filled his mind quite 
 drove the cold out of his head. The house, which 
 was usually as ship-shape and orderly as a yacht, 
 seemed at sixes and sevens. The servants were all 
 vaguely disturbed, and quite out of the rut they had 
 walked in so long, guided by Mrs. Howard's firm, 
 capable hand. Farrell wandered about like a lost 
 soul for a couple of hours. If the house could go 
 to pieces in this way when his mother had only been 
 gone a day, what would it be after a long visit? It 
 was not to be endured. The sight of the canary 
 chirping plaintively to be watered and fed convinced 
 him. He and the servants could not get on without 
 her, and he would go and tell her so. The thought 
 that she would not come back did not enter his well- 
 regulated head. He caught a train an hour or two 
 after her own had gone. Filled with righteous indig- 
 nation and a feeling that he had been deserted in a 
 cruel world, he set out for New York to find his truant 
 mother.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE THREE MUSKETEERS 
 
 MRS. BRINTON came down the stairs slowly. She 
 was dressed for dinner in her exquisite evening gown, 
 with John Strong's violets pinned close to the laces 
 at her breast, and her famous pearls as her only 
 jewels. She was so engrossed in thought that she 
 did not notice Metz, who came toward her. 
 
 " I beg pardon, Madame," he said, " but cook asks 
 is it dinner in or dinner out, as she had heard talk 
 of both." 
 
 She glanced at Metz patiently, for she knew quite 
 well that he had a great deal more than that to say 
 to her. She had not wintered and summered this odd 
 old servant for ten years without knowing his pe- 
 culiarities. She realised that he loved to talk. He 
 talked respectfully, deprecatingly, but always on the 
 slightest provocation his kindly, garrulous tongue 
 would run on about the merest trifle. Metz was a 
 lean, gaunt man of uncertain years. He might have 
 been either forty or sixty. He was very much the 
 
 gentleman and an invaluable servant, but Mrs. Brin- 
 
 43
 
 m 
 
 ton knew that just so often she had to listen to him. 
 
 Resigned to the inevitable, she sat down and made 
 herself quite comfortable. " We dine out, tell cook, 
 and a late breakfast," she directed. " Have the cock- 
 tail wagon in here when the gentlemen arrive, and 
 cigarettes." 
 
 Metz took a long breath. " Very good, Madame. 
 Cook says, is breakfast light or heavy, not knowing 
 Mrs. Howard's taste. And cook asks, ' Does she hot 
 water early,' and cook also asks, ' Is it plain or with 
 lemon ? ' Cook having heard Mrs. Howard is from 
 Boston, feels sure she hot waters; but Mrs. Howard's 
 maid being new, doesn't know. Cook also asks, it 
 being her Bible Class evening, if dinner should be din- 
 ner out, is there any objection to her taking the 
 young parlour maid, whom she thinks rather a godless 
 girl, to the Class with her. And cook asks will 
 Madame allow me to call her a taxi, as it's damp and 
 she's feeling rheumatic. Cook says, " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton protested faintly, " Metz, I beg of 
 you! I would rather take a bridge lesson that one 
 of cook's messages. No wonder I keep house through 
 my speaking tube. Tell her to do anything she likes, 
 always, Metz. For she can cook ! " 
 
 " Very good, Madame." He departed to speed 
 cook Bible-classwards.
 
 THE THREE MUSKETEERS 45 
 
 Mrs. Howard's maid ran down the stairs and came 
 over to Mrs. Brinton. She was full of breathless 
 interest as she spoke. " Madame Brinton, Madame 
 Howard she ask you to let her know when all three 
 messieurs have arrived, for the grand entree ! " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton smiled into Anna's earnest young 
 face. " That was your clever idea, wasn't it, Anna? 
 I am sure it was." 
 
 Anna shrugged her shoulders. " Ah, well, Mrs. 
 Howard has never had much good time. For me, I 
 want Mrs. Howard to have all messieurs possible. 
 The gentleman, Thomas, he likes the beautiful un- 
 dress, you think ? " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton nodded, " He looked at it with hun- 
 ger," she said. " It was not wasted, Anna." 
 
 The maid was much gratified and smiled happily. 
 " Ravissante. Only wait, Madame Brinton. Al- 
 ready Mrs. Howard look like a young lovely lady.'* 
 
 " God speed the play ! " laughed Mrs. Brinton. 
 " Hurry her, my good Anna, the debutante must be 
 ready for the grand entree." 
 
 " If Madame Brinton rings twice," Anna assured 
 her, " Madame Howard appear." Then she ran up 
 the stairs as swiftly as she had come down. 
 
 Metz, who had answered the bell, announced the 
 first of Mrs. Brinton's guests in John Strong, who
 
 46 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 came at once into the room. He was a typical New 
 York club man of forty-eight, well-dressed and per- 
 fectly-groomed. His hair was iron grey, and he 
 was a shade too stout, but his complexion was fresh 
 and clear and his step and bearing elastic and grace- 
 ful. He had a pleasant, quiet manner and an air 
 of agreeable conventionality. He had known Mrs. 
 Brinton for more years than she cared to admit, and 
 she was quite delighted to see him. 
 
 John Strong had been Mrs. Brinton's ardent ad- 
 mirer from the day her husband, who was one of his 
 old friends, had presented him to her. He had en- 
 vied Paul Brinton his happiness from the moment he 
 first saw her charming face and superb black head. 
 The years had only strengthened that admiration. 
 He couldn't remember the day he first realised that 
 he loved her, but he admitted to himself that it was 
 long before Paul Brinton died; and after her first 
 grief, when she began to go out a little again, he had 
 attached himself gently and unobtrusively to her 
 train. There had been few days since then that he 
 had not seen her. At first she paid very little atten- 
 tion to him or his devotion. He had always been an 
 intimate at the Brinton house and she was accustomed 
 to seeing him about. But after a year or so she grew 
 to depend on him and his perfect consideration. He
 
 THE THREE MUSKETEERS 47 
 
 never failed or disappointed her, he never made jealous 
 scenes or demanded anything, but he was always there 
 and she cared for him more than she allowed herself 
 to believe. He had asked her to marry him off and 
 on almost daily for six years, for fear, as he naively 
 expressed it, " you might feel like saying * yes ' 
 some day and not know it," and she knew that in 
 time she probably would give in. Women usually 
 do. 
 
 She rose to greet him with a cordiality that she 
 yielded no other man. " How are you, Jack? " she 
 said. " It seems ages since you were here, and yet 
 it was yesterday." 
 
 Strong took her slim fingers in his own and kissed 
 them fervently. " That is ages," he agreed. " I 
 ought to be here always. How wonderful you look 
 to-night." He stood back a little to admire her. " I 
 never saw a nicer frock." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton sat down again and he stood in front 
 of her, a handsome, well-preserved figure, with the 
 utter devotion of the faithful, life-long lover in his 
 kindly eyes. 
 
 " I adore this frock myself," she confessed, " and 
 your violets are charming with it. Where's Dal? I 
 supposed you'd leave the club together." 
 
 Strong laughed and swung his gloves idly as if
 
 he were trying to gain a moment or two to remember 
 why he hadn't brought Dal. 
 
 But Mrs. Brinton insisted. " Where is he, Jack ? 
 Don't tell me he isn't dressed yet." 
 
 " Of course he's dressed," Strong said. " I left 
 him drinking an old-fashioned cocktail with Ned 
 Summers, and I warned him not to start for a quarter 
 of an hour. I came early to have a moment alone 
 with you. I never see you any more. We are always 
 about with enough people to form a convention, and 
 I never want to see anyone but you.'* 
 
 Mrs. Brinton looked up at him. " I expect to lose 
 you to-night, my friend. You and Michael Doyle, 
 and even Dal to Eleanor Howard." 
 
 Strong was much amused at the mere idea of it. 
 " Of course, I don't doubt the lady's charm," he said, 
 " but you will admit a Brookline widow doesn't sound 
 like me." 
 
 " But," Mrs. Brinton objected, " you haven't seen 
 this widow. She's unique, and she is clever. I hope 
 she'll frighten you. I don't want to lose you." 
 
 Strong came closer. " If 1 thought you meant it ! " 
 he said softly. 
 
 " But I do, just this moment," Mrs. Brinton an- 
 swered. She got up slowly and looked at him from 
 under her long lashes daringly. " Even though I
 
 THE THREE MUSKETEERS 49 
 
 am a stubborn creature, Jack, I like to know that 
 you are always there. And that if I put out my 
 fingers you'll be sure to close your hand on them." 
 
 She held out one hand to Strong, who took it in 
 both of his and held it close against his breast, draw- 
 ing her near to him. " As long as you and I are you 
 and I. I've wanted you ten years," he murmured, 
 " and I care more each year, dear." 
 
 " I know, my friend," she returned, with a flush 
 that rewarded him. " I wonder you still bother." 
 
 He bent closer. " Some day you'll come." 
 
 " Perhaps," she sighed. " I wonder that I don't. 
 I am a wretch, and you are like the Bank of England, 
 and deserve more than I could ever give you. I ought 
 to be scolded and shaken." 
 
 " I can't help myself," he said. " You are a habit. 
 You've been one ever since I saw you first in your 
 widow's black. And the day you put a touch of white 
 on your dress I felt immensely cheered. And when 
 you wore lavender, I felt really encouraged. Do you 
 remember you lunched with me the day you blossomed 
 out in all the colours? I surely thought I was the 
 luckiest dog in all the world that day. But here we 
 are still," he sighed a little. " How long I've waited 
 for you ! " 
 
 Just as she was about to answer the bell rang amd
 
 60 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 she drew her hand away slowly, but not before Strong 
 had kissed her fingers and her wrist, and finally, with 
 much warmth her round white elbow. Then he 
 smiled at her contentedly. 
 
 " Bring on your widows. Pm ready ! " he ex- 
 claimed. They turned to greet Christopher Dallas. 
 
 " I hear, Dal, that John wouldn't fetch you. I call 
 it very mean of him," said Mrs. Brinton, as she shook 
 hands with him, her eyes taking in with admiration 
 his superb masculinity. He looked particularly well 
 on this occasion, and appeared so young and dapper 
 in his well-cut evening clothes that even Strong saw 
 his friend anew. 
 
 Christopher Dallas did not look a day over forty- 
 five as he entered Mrs. Brinton's drawing-room, though 
 one who knew could have told you that he was fifty- 
 one. He was irresistibly attractive and his superb 
 natural equipment was given added momentum by per- 
 fect manners, courtesy and a sort of courtly, old- 
 school breeding. There was poise behind all his 
 handsome, perfectly-groomed person and ease seemed 
 to have been born in him. One felt instinctively that 
 he had lived life intensely and fully, that he had tried 
 all things everywhere and liked very few. He was 
 evidently a prince of good fellows among men and a 
 great favourite among women. At fifty-one he was
 
 THE THREE MUSKETEERS 51 
 
 a millionaire many times over, he had ranged the world 
 and yet retained no real, vital, central interest. His 
 innermost desires and hopes still remained unfulfilled. 
 In a professional way he was one of those peculiarly 
 successful men in that he had won name and for- 
 tune without surrendering himself and his time to an 
 office. 
 
 Dallas laughed at Strong as they stood facing each 
 other. The two lived together at the same club and 
 were inseparable. 
 
 " I don't blame him," Dallas said, referring to 
 Strong's remark. " I am sure if I were he I would 
 never come to this house with any man. I would 
 find out first when you would be here alone. And 
 he must sometimes feel the need of a vacation from 
 me. We have lived together for fifteen years." 
 
 Strong's eyes twinkled. " I understand, Dal," he 
 said, " that Mrs. Farrell Howard of Brookline, Massa- 
 chusetts, is just about going to capture your young 
 affections." 
 
 Dallas nodded. " Yes, Margaret promised me her 
 over the telephone this morning. And after my out- 
 burst to you it's providential." 
 
 Strong waved his hand at Mrs. Brinton. " Please 
 tell Margaret, Dal. He has a confession to make, 
 Margaret, that *ill surprise you awfully."
 
 52 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Metz entered with the cigarettes and cigars, which 
 Mrs. Brinton directed him to put on the small smok- 
 ing table. She took a cigarette herself and moved 
 over nearer the two men and sat down. Strong 
 lounged on the divan beside her and Dallas sat in a 
 big arm chair near her. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed. " This is a wonderful day. 
 I really hear things,'* she said. " Do smoke and tell 
 me your news, Dal, before Michael comes." 
 
 Strong smiled. " Are you afraid Michael might 
 put a damper on Dal? " he asked. " You don't half 
 realise Dai's possibilities. He's not afraid of any 
 man on the earth, or the devil. I haven't lived with 
 him all these years for nothing. There is a wanton 
 twinkle in his eye to-day." 
 
 "I won't tell it to Michael Doyle," Dallas said 
 firmly, " for he is neither fish, fowl nor good red her- 
 ring. He's Irish." 
 
 " Don't abuse Michael," begged Mrs. Brinton, " I 
 adore him. And do tell me this interesting thing that 
 will surprise me so." 
 
 " Perhaps it won't surprise you at all," Dallas 
 began. " But Jack is right about one thing, I have 
 a wanton fancy, and it's so absurd for a man of my 
 age that I am prepared to be laughed at. If only you 
 will understand me ! To begin with, I am finding the
 
 THE THREE MUSKETEERS 5S 
 
 Club dull and life limps. I am getting old, too, and 
 I hate that. It isn't wrinkles or lines or grey hairs 
 that I mind, because they are only on the surface, 
 but it's the astounding fact that I have lived half a 
 century. Some day I shall break up all of a sudden 
 like the Deacon's one-horse shay, and then people will 
 gloat over me. And before that happens, I do want 
 to have a last splendid fling, a wonderful farewell 
 set-to with one of your adorable sex. My swan song, 
 if you will. The only difficulty is that all the women 
 I like are married or annexed, and be it written down 
 of me, I was never one for debutantes. Give me an 
 interesting page to read, not a blank on which I 
 must painstakingly inscribe my monogram. Let me 
 rather find so many names' written there, that there 
 is barely space left to carve mine. Of course, I can 
 picture no greater joy than to make love to you, 
 Margaret, but I do rather like John, and he has 
 builded a high wall all about you and put signs of 
 his own all over it. And I will not share my affair. 
 I want a heart interest whose only alphabet is spelled 
 with the letters of my name. I must have a love 
 affair. I am just in the humour. Even if spring is 
 a liar with her violets and sweet lilacs, she is the real 
 promiser. A poet said she always promised us the 
 same old lie and we always believed her, the promise
 
 54 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 of the perfect woman. And this identical April she 
 has lied so well that I will swear by her. I am. ready 
 to jump into a boat and go sailing out on a deep, 
 strange sea, only trusting that a kind providence will 
 tell me when I make my first port. I warn you, Mar- 
 garet, it's love I want. I have reached that dangerous 
 and criminal age when I would barter away my soul 
 to a woman who had one." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed immoderately. " It is so 
 delicious that it can't be true. From you, too. Only 
 half an hour ago Eleanor Howard informed me that 
 she must have a love affair, and without even asking, 
 I promised that she might play with you, Dal. Isn't 
 Providence almost too complaisant ? I haven't been so 
 entertained in years. You were always brave at the 
 game, Dal, but for you to sigh and be poetical is 
 worth while. I wouldn't have anything happen to it 
 for worlds ! " 
 
 Strong blew smoke rings in front of him. " Look 
 out," he cautioned. " If Christopher Dallas is in that 
 reckless a mood, I wash my hands of him. Never say 
 I didn't warn you. He's not to be trusted, when he is 
 sentimental or retrospective. And he is both now. 
 Upon my soul, I fear for the lady." He gazed in 
 mock terror at her.
 
 THE THREE MUSKETEERS 55 
 
 But Mrs. Brinton was not to be alarmed. " I only 
 hope they do play games," she said. " It might do 
 them both good, and heaven knows, it would amuse 
 me immensely. Here's Michael, bless him, he never 
 forgets my chocolates." 
 
 The two men nodded at Doyle as he entered, carry- 
 ing a gorgeous bonbon box which he handed Mrs. 
 Brinton. 
 
 Michael Doyle smiled his own charming smile, as 
 he gazed on his hostess. 
 
 " I'm of poor and common parentage," he said, 
 " but I've an excellent memory for what ladies like, 
 chocolates and other things. How are you two boys ? 
 Jack looks quite serious. And Mrs. Brinton is so 
 bewildering to-night that if I said the half I feel, I 
 know what stone Dal there would say I had been kiss- 
 ing." He had a delicious touch of brogue, and it 
 added much to his charm. 
 
 Doyle was a handsome, sturdy Irishman, with an 
 excellent disposition, and an extremely sunny smile. 
 He had a quick wit and a rare gift of perception. 
 Underneath a well-clothed, well-put-together exterior, 
 he was a very human, natural soul. His manner was 
 a trifle noisy, but he had a personality that quite 
 overpowered his lowly origin and a gift of blarney that
 
 56 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 was his salvation. He was over fifty and a tremendous 
 figure in political New York, where he had risen from 
 bartender to millionaire promoter. 
 
 Doyle was one of the few men of his type and origin 
 whose rise in politics had been matched by an equal 
 rise in society. In both places his Celtic adaptability 
 helped. And he had an art for pleasing women which 
 quite matched an ability for handling men. Add to 
 this a shrewd business sense, a brilliant persistency and 
 a good sense of the right things to have, and it was 
 not difficult to understand the Irishman's success. 
 
 Though his origin was humble enough, he himself 
 had never had a humble position in any environment. 
 He was a leader of the parochial youth as a boy, and 
 early learned the value of being a man who not only 
 could bring his own vote, but a great many more to 
 his ward chieftain. To be sure, he had served once 
 as a bartender, but that had only widened the circle 
 of his friends and paved the way for further ad- 
 vances. 
 
 Not having had much of a chance at school he 
 had made men his books and his lessons were learned 
 thoroughly. When wider opportunities offered them- 
 selves he was ready and his progress upward aston- 
 ished both his friends and enemies. Once financially 
 successful, he found himself readily admitted to any
 
 THE THREE MUSKETEERS 57 
 
 masculine circle, where high value was placed on his 
 wit and affability. Knowing the men of the better 
 class it was not long until he had met the women. 
 Among them he was even more of a favourite than 
 with the men. Mrs. Brinton regarded him as one of 
 her chief est discoveries. It was now many years since 
 he had first found his way to her house, and he had 
 ever since been a faithful caller. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton moved her skirts aside to make room 
 for him beside her, and he sat down easily, quite as 
 much at home as Strong was, for he and Mrs. Brin- 
 ton were excellent friends. 
 
 Strong leaned over as if he were telling him an 
 important secret. " Do you notice how serious Dal 
 looks, Michael?" he asked. "Well, he's hunting a 
 love affair. He wants a soul mate." 
 
 Michael stared. " Hunting is he? Well, the 
 town's full of soul mates, bless them ! I might intro- 
 duce him to a couple myself. What colour is he 
 after?" 
 
 Strong laughed. " A grey head, I believe. He 
 wants a well-seasoned soul mate, none of your fickle 
 fillies for Dallas. He must have a lady who knows 
 her book." 
 
 Dallas laughed as he lit another cigarette, while 
 Metz came in pushing the cocktail wagon before him*
 
 68 
 
 He left it in the centre of the room, and took the 
 tray of cigars and cigarettes to Doyle. 
 
 The Irishman lighted a cigar and turned again to 
 Dallas. Dallas, sentimental, was a new specimen and 
 Doyle looked him over interestedly. " What's started 
 ye ? " he demanded. " The spring, I take it." 
 
 Strong interrupted, " He's begging for trouble, 
 Michael." 
 
 Dallas leaned back, lazily, looking at Mrs. Brinton 
 with half-shut eyes. 
 
 "Well, Dal?" she queried. " Don't stop. Shall 
 I provide you the love affair ? " 
 
 " If the Brookline widow is in a springtime mood, 
 there is no telling what we might do," he confessed. 
 
 Strong waved his cigar at Michael triumphantly. 
 " There," he said. " Now you can hear him your- 
 self. Isn't it worth while, eh? " 
 
 Michael nodded. " I'll take pains lookin' up that 
 soul-mate for ye, DaL This is too good to lose, this 
 humour." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton rose, and as the men followed her 
 example, she motioned to the stairway where Anna, 
 carrying Mrs. Howard's evening cloak and gloves, 
 was coming down the stairway. 
 
 " Speaking of soul mates," she said, moving across
 
 59 
 
 the room to more fully watch them as Mrs. Howard 
 made her appearance, " my widow ought to be com- 
 ing down."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE NEW MOTHER 
 
 IN her dreams at Brookline Mrs. Howard had 
 imagined no more flattering reception for herself than 
 that which awaited her now in Mrs. Brinton's draw- 
 ing-room. Three handsome, attractive, eligible bache- 
 lors of a seasoned middle-age awaited her, all quite 
 breathless with interest. Mrs. Brinton had so cleverly 
 sketched the widow for each man that he was quite 
 wild to meet her, and Anna, with a Gallic theatrical 
 sense, had seen to it that her mistress should really 
 have an " entrance " into her new life. 
 
 Anna, having notified Mrs. Brinton of Mrs. How- 
 ard's readiness, tripped back up the stairs after leav- 
 ing an opera cloak over the back of one of the drawing- 
 room chairs. Mrs. Brinton and the men, ranged in 
 semi-circle in the middle of the room, waited, looking 
 eagerly up the stairs. Mrs. Howard appeared and 
 came down slowly, enjoying to the utmost the crea- 
 tion of her first sensation. 
 
 Not only were the men quite overcome by her charm, 
 but Mrs. Brinton faced her in amazement. She had 
 
 60
 
 THE NEW MOTHER 61 
 
 not dreamed Ellie could look so lovely. John Strong 
 hastily pulled down his waistcoat and ran his hand 
 over his hair to smooth it. Michael Doyle stepped 
 forward, throwing away his cigar. Satisfaction and 
 admiration were written in every line of his handsome 
 face. But Dallas, whose heart was beating so fast 
 that he feared the others must hear it, stood quite 
 motionless. To him it was too wonderful to be true, 
 this vision of fairness. Who dared to say that spring 
 could lie ! Here was the actual dream woman of his 
 youth walking down the stairs right into his 
 life. 
 
 Mrs. Howard's appearance was quite bewildering. 
 The quiet, middle-aged Boston matron had vanished 
 under Anna's skilful hands. In her place was a slen- 
 der, fair-haired woman, beautifully gowned in a most 
 modish pale pink evening frock with a transparent lace 
 petticoat. The gown was cut daringly low and had 
 a fascinating little slash over each ankle. Her high- 
 heeled slippers and cobwebby stockings matched her 
 frock, and were generously displayed as she walked 
 down the stairway. Her hair, so lately purchased, 
 was skilfully and charmingly arranged, and a superb 
 aigrette waved above it. Her jewels were priceless 
 and her face adorable. Anna was truly a wizard. 
 Mrs. Howard looked scarcely thirty and there was no
 
 62 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 question about her beauty. She was ravishing. Mi- 
 chael Doyle stared at her hungrily. 
 
 Mrs. Howard turned to Mrs. Brinton with a radiant 
 smile. " You know, Peg, I don't know which is 
 which." 
 
 " Suppose you guess," said Mrs. Brinton gaily. 
 
 After a careful glance Mrs. Howard took a step 
 toward Michael, who stood between the other two men, 
 and put out her hand. " The Irishman ! " she 
 said. 
 
 Nothing could have pleased him more. He fairly 
 jumped and then smiled back at her warmly. 
 
 " God love ye for knowing the brand," he ex- 
 claimed gratefully. " I needn't say I'm delighted to 
 meet ye." 
 
 Mrs. Howard glanced over at John Strong, who 
 stood in pleased anticipation. " I do really remember 
 meeting Mr. Strong ages ago," she said, giving him 
 her hand. Strong took it in his and pressed it fer- 
 vently. 
 
 " I am sure I never met you, Mrs. Howard," he 
 beamed, " or I would have seen you again long before 
 this." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed, " Ellie, you must admit that 
 my tame bears are well trained. But you have one 
 more." She turned to Dallas.
 
 THE NEW MOTHER 63 
 
 Mrs. Howard stepped toward Dallas. " And this 
 is your Christopher Dallas," she said. 
 
 Dallas stood looking at her and she smiled radiantly 
 at him until her eyes met his. Then she gave a little 
 but scarcely perceptible start. Perhaps she felt at 
 that moment, as he did, that something really vital 
 had happened to them both. He came nearer to her 
 and put his hand over hers. The other men watched 
 him closely. There was no doubt that the widow had 
 scored with all of them. 
 
 " Mrs. Brinton doesn't want me. Why not your 
 Christopher Dallas ? " he answered pointedly. 
 
 John Strong pulled up a large arm chair and Mrs. 
 Howard sank into it, her upturned face smiling at 
 the three men as they gathered around her. Dallas 
 took the only other chair near by and sat down as 
 close as he dared, while Strong and Michael leaned 
 over back of her, determined not to be put aside for 
 Dallas. Mrs. Brinton, going to the music room, and 
 pausing to look over the cocktail wagon to make sure 
 Metz had brought everything, quietly enjoyed her 
 old friend's triumph. To see even her faithful John 
 fluttering about was indeed amusing. Strong leaned 
 a trifle nearer to Mrs. Howard's charming head. 
 
 " What came over the Brookline men that they ever 
 let you get away ? " he asked.
 
 64 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Mrs. Howard crossed her knee, showing her pretty 
 foot and ankle recklessly. Mrs. Brinton remembered 
 the threats of the afternoon and turned her back to 
 conceal her mirth. 
 
 " I ran away," Mrs. Howard explained. " And I 
 ain purposely late to make a sensation." 
 
 " Don't worry, ye made it," Doyle said dryly, his 
 eyes on Dallas, who seemed hypnotised by Mrs. 
 Howard. 
 
 "Who is to make cocktails, Metz?" asked Mrs. 
 Brinton. " It's getting late, you know." 
 
 Doyle walked over to her. " And ye ask it, Marga- 
 ret Brinton, while I'm in the house ? I hate to get out 
 of practice, for some day I might need to earn an 
 honest living again." 
 
 He pushed back his cuffs and took up the shaker, 
 glancing at Mrs. Howard and Dallas, who were whis- 
 pering together earnestly, quite forgetting John 
 Strong, who was still leaning over the back of Mrs. 
 Howard's chair. He rattled the cocktail shaker to 
 attract their attention. 
 
 Mrs. Howard finally noticed Doyle and he smiled at 
 her warmly. " Perhaps Mrs. Howard would help 
 me!" 
 
 She rose and went over to Doyle, followed by Dallas 
 and Strong.
 
 THE NEW MOTHER 65 
 
 Doyle took up the j Igger measure and Mrs. Howard 
 watched him in admiration. " I would love to make a 
 cocktail," she assured him, " if you would show me 
 how." 
 
 Doyle deftly measured and mixed the cocktail with 
 a skill that even Mrs. Howard's unpractised eye recog- 
 nised as professional. And as he did so he told her the 
 ingredients, suiting his words to the ice and liquor he 
 poured into the shaker. 
 
 " A mild little concoction of my old days," he an- 
 nounced. " First the storm, then five little fellows of 
 good gin, and two and a third little sisters of old ver- 
 mouth, a smile of orange, with a swear of the peel. 
 And last two tears of absinthe. And it's yourself 
 that must shake the mixture." He prepared the 
 drink with great skill, put a napkin around the shaker 
 and handed it to Mrs. Howard. 
 
 " Dallas realised that for the time being Mrs. How- 
 ard's interest had turned to Michael. 
 
 " I call this cocktail a Sabbath Calm,' " Doyle ex- 
 plained. 
 
 Dallas came up close behind the Irishman and spoke 
 into his ear softly. " Michael, you're a born actor," 
 he said. 
 
 Doyle shook his head. " I am a good bartender 
 gone into bad politics," he murmured back.
 
 66 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 But Mrs. Howard did not know how to begin. 
 " Somebody show me how," she begged prettily. The 
 men all started at once to help her. Doyle put one 
 hand on top of hers, and the other on the bottom 
 of the shaker over hers again, as they shook the mix- 
 ture. Strong took out his handkerchief and held it 
 in front of Mrs. Howard's frock. Dallas held a glass 
 for her to fill. Laughing and smiling she shook the 
 cocktail rapidly. Mrs. Brinton lighted a cigarette 
 and stood watching her. The door-bell, which no one 
 noticed, rang and Farrell Howard entered before Metz 
 could announce him. Mrs. Brinton saw him and 
 threw away her cigarette. 
 
 Farrell entered the room rapidly, carrying his hat 
 and stick in his usual stiff, conventional way. Mrs. 
 Brinton, who knew him of old, watched him nervously 
 and realised that neither his frivolous mother nor her 
 devoted swains had even noticed his arrival. He stood 
 utterly aghast at seeing his mother taking part in 
 such revelry, if this creature in jewels and satins, 
 whose hair and colour seemed to him to have some 
 faint familiarity, really was his respected parent. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton was just about to speak when Farrell, 
 who had been gathering his scattered senses together, 
 brought his cane down firmly on the polished floor 
 and ejaculated in horror, " Mother! "
 
 THE NEW MOTHER 67 
 
 It was the first intimation she had of his presence. 
 " It's quite a surprise to see you to-night, Farrell, 
 although I did rather expect you to-morrow," she 
 said. 
 
 Michael removed his fingers from Mrs. Howard's 
 wrists and John Strong took his arm from about her 
 waist, where he had been holding his handkerchief in 
 front of her dress. Farrell gasped audibly. He 
 choked as he looked at his mother, a radiant vision 
 of youth with an abandoned smile. She didn't even 
 seem glad to see him. She evidently was quite bored. 
 
 " You, Farrell ! " she said, and she did not even 
 look into his face. " Fancy you're coming." 
 
 Farrell took a step nearer to her. Words would not 
 come and he struggled to express his horror. 
 " Mother ! " he gasped, " I hardly know you I 
 what are you doing? " 
 
 His mother gave the shaker an extra fillip or two, 
 " Making a cocktail. Won't you have one? " she said 
 sweetly. 
 
 " You know I don't drink cocktails, Mother ! " He 
 was shocked. 
 
 Mrs. Howard laughed. " Then sit down while we 
 have ours," she said. 
 
 She shook the cocktail again, Dallas assisting her. 
 To poor Farrell it was all like an orgy, what with
 
 68 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 the lights, the gaiety, the men and this strange, fasci- 
 nating female whom he dared to call by the good old- 
 fashioned title of " Mother." He put out one hand 
 to stop her. She couldn't realise now awful it all was. 
 He must tell her. Before he could find his voice, Mrs. 
 Brinton took pity on him, and introduced him to the 
 three men, whom he hardly noticed, so intent was he 
 on his parent. Strong and Dallas shrugged their 
 shoulders and returned to their task of helping Mrs. 
 Howard make her first drink. As for Michael, he 
 didn't even look at the boy. His mind was too full 
 of the adorable mother. Mrs. Brinton took Farrell's 
 hat and stick. 
 
 " Is mother quite well, Mrs. Brinton ? " he asked in 
 an audible whisper. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton looked at Mrs. Howard with sincere 
 admiration. " Doesn't she look it? I thought I had 
 never seen her looking better." 
 
 " She looks quite wonderful ; but not Mother," he 
 announced frostily. 
 
 Mrs. Howard's arm was tired, and she paused with 
 a little sigh. " When are these done, Irishman? " she 
 asked Doyle gaily. " This is very much like 
 work ! " 
 
 Michael took the shaker out of her hands and re- 
 turned her smile with warm interest. " Just to the
 
 THE NEW MOTHER 69 
 
 frappe now, I should say, and I'm sure no cocktail I 
 ever drank will taste like this. You must pour them 
 out now." 
 
 He arranged the glasses for her and laughing and 
 jesting they finally managed to pour the drink. They 
 were watched jealously by Dallas, who saw already 
 that Michael was as much attracted by the Brookline 
 widow as he was. He moved closer and took the 
 tray. 
 
 " I'll be Hebe's cup-bearer," he said, and he handed 
 the cocktails around, ending with a polite smile at 
 Farrell, who indignantly refused one. Farrell watched 
 his frivolous parent in open-eyed terror. Surely mad- 
 ness had descended upon her. She hesitated a sec- 
 ond before sipping her cocktaiL 
 
 " Oh ! drink it now," Michael urged, " to please me 
 and to celebrate this wonderful occasion." She 
 laughed and took a taste of it. It evidently pleased 
 her, for she drank it quickly. 
 
 Michael raised his glass to her. John Strong 
 touched it with his. 
 
 " Here's to " Strong glanced at Farrell, 
 " Mother ! " They aU smiled but Michael. 
 
 He shook his head. " I'll not believe it," he vowed. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton realised that Farrell was almost at 
 the breaking point. So she said, soothingly to him,
 
 70 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Never mind, Farrell, it's the first one she ever 
 swallowed." 
 
 Michael laughed. " After this one it's the deluge, 
 I'm thinkin'." 
 
 Farrell grasped Mrs. Brinton's arm. " I am sure 
 she is not well. I'll take her home," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton smiled. " You'd better talk to her 
 about it." 
 
 Farrell gazed at her with such sorrow that she 
 really felt for him. " Please, Mrs. Brinton," he 
 begged. " Do let me see Mother alone." She nodded 
 and moved over to Mrs. Howard, who held her fingers 
 up before Dal with an enchanting smile. 
 
 " They're all wet," she said, waving her hands. 
 Dal took out his handkerchief and dried them affec- 
 tionately. " I'll dry them," he murmured. 
 
 Michael watched with amusement. Dallas in this 
 mood was wonderful ! " Don't hurry now, Dal," he 
 insinuated. The other man laughed as he slowly 
 went over each finger. 
 
 " Go away and stop bothering me," Dallas warned. 
 " I'm doing this." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton interrupted hastily, " This poor boy 
 wants to speak to his mother. Come in the other room 
 for a moment and I'll play Michael's favourite waltz." 
 
 Mrs. Howard seated herself near the window a trifle
 
 THE NEW MOTHER 71 
 
 flushed from the cocktail, and the three men busied 
 themselves making her comfortable. Dallas opened 
 the window and Michael fanned her; but after a mo- 
 ment John Strong moved over to Mrs. Brinton. After 
 all, she always came first in his faithful heart. 
 
 " Come ! " Mrs. Brinton urged, " you know we are 
 going out. Do let Farrell have his moment or two ! " 
 She went into the music room with Strong. 
 
 Dallas turned reluctantly. " I won't stay long," 
 he declared, with a hasty and amused glance at the 
 scowling Farrell. 
 
 Mrs. Howard waved her fan at him. " You 
 needn't," she said, " I should miss you too much." 
 
 Farrell gasped with horror while Michael took 
 Dallas by the arm and pulled him away. When they 
 were safely out of earshot by the music room door, 
 Doyle glanced back at Farrell, whose unrelenting back 
 even showed displeasure in every line. 
 
 " A curtain lecture," Doyle whispered in Dallas' 
 ear. " I know the type ! A good young man, but, 
 oh, what a devil he'll be at sixty ! " They disappeared 
 into the music room, leaving Farrell and his mother 
 alone.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY 
 
 MRS. HOWARD had anticipated Farrell's early ar- 
 rival in New York, but she was surprised to find him 
 following her up so quickly. She had never known 
 him before to act so promptly in a matter without 
 office or household precedent. His presence just at 
 this moment was awkward and embarrassing. But the 
 widow was determined that it should in no way inter- 
 fere with her evening or the pleasures she saw open- 
 ing up in a long series of radiant days at Mrs. Brin- 
 ton's. Left alone with her son for the moment she 
 maintained the gay and abandoned manner which she 
 had put on with her new gowns and her false hair. 
 The artificiality, as it were, had gone below the surface. 
 Somewhat airily she walked to the table where her bag 
 was lying, extracted a vanity box, glanced carefully 
 into a tiny mirror to see if her new beauty remained, 
 and then faced Farrell. 
 
 " Mother ! " he cried, " have you lost your senses ? 
 Where did you get that dress? What has happened 
 
 to your nice, smooth hair? I hardly know you." 
 
 72
 
 UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY 73 
 
 Mrs. Howard turned away to hide her laughter. 
 
 An ejaculation of dismay escaped his lips when he 
 saw his mother's white back revealed almost to the line 
 of her waist. It's beauty was lost on him and his out- 
 raged feelings almost choked him. " Mother! your 
 back ! " he wailed. " You'll you'll catch cold. 
 You don't look like anybody's mother ! " 
 
 Mrs. Howard whirled about and embraced him. " I 
 could kiss you for saying that. That girl is a good 
 maid ! " she said. 
 
 Farrell started. " Maid ? When did you get a 
 maid, Mother? " he demanded. 
 
 Mrs. Howard patted his shoulder reassuringly. 
 " A French maid, Farrell. And she and I are going 
 to stay here until Mrs. Brinton gets tired of us. That 
 surprises you, I'm sure, dear." 
 
 Farrell sat down weakly. " And what am I to do 
 in Brookline all alone? " he asked. 
 
 Metz interrupted them. He was carrying a small 
 bunch of flowers wrapped only in unattractive tissue 
 paper. 
 
 " For you, Madame," he said, giving the bundle to 
 Mrs. Howard. She took it excitedly. All this was 
 so new and she was loving every second of it. Farrell 
 rose and waited. 
 
 " For me ? " she queried. Her fingers trembled a
 
 little as she tore away the paper. She found a bunch 
 of cheap, vari-coloured carnations with a card tied to 
 them. 
 
 Farrell watched her miserably. She seemed to be 
 gradually slipping away from him. Mrs. Howard 
 looked at the flowers in amazement. They seemed so 
 poor and wretched after the things in her own splen- 
 did garden in Brookline. The card read, " From One 
 Free Soul to Another. Amos ! " She laughed mer- 
 rily, realising who had sent the flowers, and then threw 
 them aside carelessly. 
 
 "Amos?" Farrell asked. "Who is Amos, 
 Mother? " Mrs. Howard paid no attention to his 
 questions, she was listening to the waltz Mrs. Brinton 
 was playing, and to the murmur of the men's voices. 
 
 " What a divine waltz," she said, taking hold of 
 Farrell and trying to dance with him. He pushed 
 her away stiffly, and gazed in horror at her radiant 
 face. 
 
 " Mother ! " he said. " Mother, I know you are ill. 
 I thing you are delirious and I am sure you have fever, 
 your face is so red." 
 
 Mrs. Howard shook her head. " That is not fever, 
 it's rouge. Anna thought I looked too pale." 
 
 She moved her body in time to the waltz, humming 
 it to herself. Her inattention was even more trying
 
 UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY 75 
 
 to Farrell than were her clothes. He looked at her 
 helplessly. 
 
 Finally, with tears in his eyes, he said, " Has any- 
 thing happened, Mother? Are you displeased with 
 me and are you trying to punish me? You've never 
 been like this before and I am frightened. I couldn't 
 bear to lose my mother. You know, Mother, I think 
 there is no one in the world like you. I have the 
 greatest veneration and respect for you." He paused, 
 quite overcome. 
 
 Mrs. Howard nodded. " Yes, dear, I know ; your 
 father had those sentiments before you. I'm rather 
 tired of them ! They are uninteresting ! " 
 
 He sat down and put his hand to his head. " I be- 
 lieve I'm asleep at home and having an awful night- 
 mare." 
 
 Mrs. Howard resigned herself to the inevitable. 
 She saw she would have to explain. So she sat down 
 and motioned to him to take a chair near her. 
 
 Realising that time was flying and that Margaret 
 was monopolising the three delightful men, she 
 plunged ahead. 
 
 " I suppose I'll have to tell it to you," she said, 
 " although it is a bore. I meant to write it. Now 
 listen attentively and let me preface my tale by assur- 
 ing you that I'm just as fond of you as I always have
 
 76 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 been. You are a most dutiful son and a good crea- 
 ture, but I'm thoroughly tired of Brookline. The 
 people bore me nearly to death and I even want a little 
 relief from you, darling. I've made up my mind to 
 live the remainder of my life differently. I am afraid 
 this is going to be a great blow to you, Farrell, for 
 you hate a change, but you will have to make up your 
 mind to have a changed mother. I've mutinied! 
 And I've wanted to do it for ten years. I'm not even 
 sorry if it makes you unhappy, so you see how un- 
 regenerate I am. When I get tired I'll come home 
 again and I'd love to see you whenever you've time 
 to come to New York. But I'm through with Brook- 
 line for the time being and I don't know whether I 
 shall ever keep house or crochet again." 
 
 Farrell gazed at her in consternation. " You can't 
 mean it, Mother ! " he faltered. " Not keep house ! 
 It would be too terrible! Oh, I want my mother 
 back ! " He leaned on the back of the chair, tears 
 choking his usually precise voice as he finished. 
 
 Mrs. Howard smiled affectionately as she rose from 
 her chair. She kissed him airily and he got up in a 
 daze and took his hat and cane mechanically. He 
 was beyond speech. Mrs. Howard gave him a little 
 push. She was impatient to have done with this an- 
 noying domestic interlude. But she spoke soothingly.
 
 UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY 77 
 
 " Poor Farrell, it must be a blow to you," she com- 
 miserated. " Pve thought of it so long that I am 
 quite accustomed to it. Trot home, dear. The house 
 runs itself and you've been in one rut for so long that 
 you can't possibly stub your toe. You must go, Far- 
 rell, we are dining at Sherry's and you are not dressed 
 to go with us. Still, you might join us later." 
 
 Farrell shook his head. " I shall go to a hotel and 
 return here in the morning when we will have time 
 to talk this over. I haven't been so disturbed in years. 
 The world seems upside down." He turned to go. 
 Then he paused and looked hesitatingly at his mother. 
 
 " Come in to luncheon to-morrow," she suggested. 
 " We can have a chat about it then and thrash it all 
 out. I'll say ' good-bye ' to the others for you." 
 
 Farrell was moved almost to tears and his voice was 
 full of woe. " Good-night, Mother. Please be differ- 
 ent to-morrow and Mother " he turned gravely, 
 " don't drink anything, you know you are not used 
 to it. I shan't sleep a wink to-night, but I'm sure 
 you don't care. Good-bye ! " 
 
 Mrs. Howard patted him cheerfully on the back. 
 " Good-night, little boy. I'll keep sober, if I can ! " 
 she said teasingly. 
 
 Farrell slammed the door behind him with a ges- 
 ture of utter despair. Mrs. Howard did not even
 
 78 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 look after him but went over to the music-room door, 
 the tail of her gown thrown over her arm, and her 
 body swinging to the music. 
 
 " Come back all of you," she called. " My furious 
 offspring left good-bye for you." 
 
 Dallas and Doyle needed no second invitation. 
 They came out in great haste, each ready for the 
 game. Dallas put one arm around her waist and 
 swung her into the waltz. 
 
 "I am just getting my foot in," she said against 
 his shoulder. " I haven't waltzed for years." 
 
 " Have you any idea how wonderful you are? " Dal- 
 las whispered in her ear. " They have no right to 
 make women like you to torment us poor devils of 
 men." 
 
 Mrs. Howard looked into his laughing face with de- 
 liberate challenge. " You love to be tormented. All 
 of you." 
 
 Michael stood by uneasily, and John Strong, who 
 had just come out of the music room, eyed him in 
 keen amusement. 
 
 Dallas forgot to dance, he was so absorbed in look- 
 ing at Mrs. Howard. " You are too marvellous," he 
 said softly, so Michael should not hear him. " I've 
 been looking for you always." 
 
 But Doyle was no longer to be denied. He took
 
 UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY 79 
 
 Mrs. Howard out of Dallas' arms into his own. 
 " You're so greedy," he said to Dallas over his shoul- 
 der. Then he looked warmly into Mrs. Howard's ex- 
 pectant eyes. 
 
 " I don't know the steps very well," he explained. 
 " But I'm hell on position ! " 
 
 Mrs. Howard smiled up into his face. " Don't ye 
 believe a word Dal says, Widow," he admonished as 
 they danced about the room. " He makes love to 
 every pretty woman he sees." 
 
 " And of course," Mrs. Howard returned, " you 
 never make love to anybody." 
 
 " Don't I though? " Doyle returned, giving her an 
 affectionate shake as they turned in the dance. " Ye 
 know better! If you don't I'll have to prove it to 
 you." 
 
 John Strong interrupted him. " Do give someone 
 else a chance," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Howard disengaged herself from the Irishman 
 and smiled at Strong. She pulled a rosebud from her 
 corsage and held it out to him just as Mrs. Brinton 
 stopped playing and appeared in the doorway of the 
 music room. 
 
 " John doesn't like roses," Mrs. Brinton said with 
 a swift and amused glance at her truant suitor. He 
 turned with mischief in his eye.
 
 80 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " But John likes widows, eh ! John ? " Doyle put in. 
 
 Strong took the rose and pressed it to his lips. " I 
 do like roses," he declared. " And," with much 
 warmth, " I love widows." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton shrugged her shoulders in mock de- 
 spair. " If Ellie won't leave me one man, we had bet- 
 ter start. If the dinner is good enough Pm resigned 
 to being a wall flower." She rang the bell for Metz 
 and turned to speak to him. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Howard flirtatiously offered a rose- 
 bud to Doyle. " Will you have a flower, Irishman, 
 from one free soul to another? " 
 
 Michael grasped the rose and her fingers with it. 
 " God love ye ! I'll press it to mark the day ! " 
 
 Dallas did not ask for one, but stood looking at 
 her. She went to him and without a word put one 
 of the little roses in his buttonhole. Metz an- 
 nounced the car, and brought Mrs. Brinton's wrap, 
 which John Strong helped her into tenderly. 
 
 Dallas and Doyle with much chatter and laughter 
 picked up Mrs. Howard's gorgeous evening cloak 
 from the chair where her maid had left it, and to- 
 gether held it up for her. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton, a striking picture in her black and 
 white cloak with its soft high collar of white fur, 
 paused to say, " You must all help me make Mrs.
 
 UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY 81 
 
 Howard happy. I want her to stay a long time." 
 
 Dallas leaned forward. " I'll do my little best," he 
 promised. 
 
 Doyle pushed him back an inch or two. " Don't 
 ye trust him, Widow ! " 
 
 Mrs. Howard's cheeks were crimson with excite- 
 ment. The three devoted cavaliers and their adula- 
 tion had gone to her head. 
 
 " I'm not afraid of either of you," she said gaily. 
 " But I'm so excited ! I'm all of a flutter ! " 
 
 " God love ye," Doyle interposed. " Flutter my 
 way ! " Then they all moved towards the elevator 
 door. 
 
 Dallas paused. " We can't all crowd in there," he 
 said to Strong. " Mrs. Howard and I will wait, send 
 it back up for us." 
 
 " We won't wait long for you." He pushed the 
 unwilling Doyle into the elevator after Mrs. Brinton 
 and then got in himself. 
 
 Left alone with Dallas, Mrs. Howard smiled dar- 
 ingly on him. " And now ? " she parried. " I'm 
 sure you didn't come back for nothing. Was it to 
 try some of the Irishman's blarney ? " 
 
 Dallas came close to her, and looked down at her. 
 " Do you know I'm jealous already. You like Mi- 
 chael? "
 
 82 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " I'd like to make a little dent in Michael," she re- 
 turned teasingly, " just big enough to put my little 
 finger in." 
 
 " And," Dallas asked, " what about me? " 
 
 " Oh, you promised to play with me and teach me 
 some new games." 
 
 Dallas was losing his head. " I'm quite mad over 
 you ! " he exclaimed intensely. " Quite mad ! Are 
 you a witch? " 
 
 " I'm a widow ! " 
 
 " They tell me you are from Brookline," he con- 
 tinued. " But I don't believe it. You're from 
 heaven ! And Margaret also told me you wanted a 
 playmate." 
 
 Mrs. Howard raised her eyes slowly and looked into 
 his. " Have I found one so soon? " 
 
 Dallas put his hand on her arm. He was quite be- 
 yond being conventional. " Listen ! " he warned her. 
 " Listen ! If you get me started, be it on your own 
 head. When I play I play hard, and you you " 
 
 Mrs. Howard drew back in mock terror. " Are 
 you warning me ? " she asked. 
 
 Dallas shook his head. " No, I'm warning myself, 
 but it's no use. I am wading in deeper every second. 
 By to-morrow I will be in over my head." He raised 
 his arm high above his head to indicate the depth.
 
 UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY 88 
 
 Mrs. Howard stood on her tiptoes and looked up at 
 him. " My, what a tall man you are," she said with 
 utter disregard of danger. " A little woman would 
 have to stand on a chair to kiss you." 
 
 Dallas made a sudden movement towards her but 
 she evaded him. " If I were only sure what you really 
 wanted," he said in a low tone, " you'd get it ! " 
 
 The elevator came back and stopped with a slight 
 rattle which recalled Dallas to the prosaic fact that 
 there was a dinner to be attended. He smiled at Mrs. 
 Howard as they moved towards the door. 
 
 But he could not resist a last word. " What are 
 you going to do with me? Do you like me? " 
 
 " Aren't you undiscovered country ? " Mrs. Howard 
 asked. 
 
 " Perhaps," Dallas said ; " but city-broke." 
 
 " And bridle-wise, I can see it in your eye," she 
 retorted as they got into the elevator.
 
 THE VARIETIST 
 
 METZ, used to surprises, as must be all good butlers 
 who for ten years have let people in and out of the 
 door of a rich and eligible widow, nevertheless was 
 not altogether prepared to find Amos Thomas ask- 
 ing for Mrs. Howard the next afternoon. Metz re- 
 garded Thomas as a freak, a curiosity to be dangled 
 before a woman's club of an afternoon. Never be- 
 fore had the socialist called at the house on his own 
 enterprise, as it were. 
 
 But the philosophical old butler swallowed his 
 amazement, showed Thomas to a seat and took word 
 of the caller to Anna. Mrs. Howard sent the maid 
 down to say that she would be ready in a few minutes. 
 
 " Thank you," said the socialist, taking careful note 
 of the maid's pretty face and the curving lines of her 
 well-developed figure. All femininity was fish to his 
 unconventional net. " What's your name, my girl? " 
 he added with easy familiarity. 
 
 " Anna Merkel," she replied. 
 
 "Not French, then?" 
 
 H
 
 THE VARIETIST 85 
 
 " No, Swiss. All French maids are Swiss." 
 
 " So, so," he returned, amused. The girl's physi- 
 cal charm and her frankly coquettish air interested 
 him. His eyes travelled over her rather hungrily. 
 She stood the scrutiny with composure and even gave 
 him a glance which showed him that she quite under- 
 stood him. There was no anger in her gaze. 
 
 " You know," Thomas began musingly, " after all, 
 the only vital thing in the world is that mind and body 
 should be sound. Wealth, power and position are 
 nothing in the real scale of things. After three or 
 four centuries the only important question is, ' how 
 good an ancestor were you ? * 
 
 " Ah, messieur is a thinker," Anna smiled archly 
 and Thomas leaned toward her. Just then Mrs. 
 Howard appeared at the head of the stairs and Anna 
 scampered away. 
 
 If only Brookline could have seen the widow at that 
 moment. In her smart street dress with fearfully 
 narrow skirt, high slippers and a rakishly tilted hat 
 she looked much more suitable for an afternoon at 
 the Ritz than in the Ghetto. 
 
 " Ah, my oasis ! " exclaimed Thomas as Mrs. 
 Howard gingerly manoeuvred her way down the steps. 
 
 " Don't worry," she said reassuringly, as she 
 clutched at the rail a moment, " I'll be down in a
 
 86 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 second if I don't break through this skirt." As she 
 reached the bottom step she held out her hand. 
 Thomas grasped it and pressed it to his lips. She 
 drew it back with an amused little laugh. 
 
 " Mr. Thomas, you are so ridiculous. We are not 
 so fervent in Brookline." 
 
 " This is not Brookline, this is " He looked at 
 her with rapture " Elysium ! " 
 
 She threw her head back and laughed, tinklingly 
 and merrily, just as she had laughed when she was a 
 girl. She felt that she had really found her youth 
 again. No one ever had made such a fuss over her 
 before. 
 
 " Whether it is heaven or not, Mr. Thomas, are 
 you ready to go? And do you know just where you 
 are taking me ? " 
 
 " I am taking you to a quiet little spot where soul 
 may speak to soul unperturbed by the harsh discords 
 of man-made harmonies, where only a few simple 
 beings like ourselves are to be found in dual evasions 
 of this sprawling monstrosity called a city." 
 
 " In the Ghetto? " 
 
 " In the Ghetto, my Mrs. Howard." 
 
 " Oh ! I know I shall love it. It's all so quaint 
 and unusual and you are so interesting." 
 
 " I try in my humble way to please, and I should
 
 THE VARIETIST 87 
 
 like particularly to please Mrs. Howard." He waved 
 her gallantly to the door where the puzzled Metz 
 shook his head in a perturbed manner as they passed 
 out. 
 
 " Oh, I do wish I had not agreed to go on the 
 street car with you," sighed Mrs. Howard, as they 
 reached the street. " It means walking a square, and 
 skirts these days are not made for walking." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Howard," interrupted Thomas, a 
 bit put out, " how can you think of skirts on so 
 glorious a morning as this ? Why, the world is throb- 
 bing with the song of life. It's being sung in every 
 shrub, bush and tree. It's a day of divine spring 
 madness. Let's talk of wonderful things, let's be 
 gods, not mere men." 
 
 " But the gods, Mr. Thomas, had no garters." 
 
 " Now you interest me." 
 
 " Mr. Thomas, do be sensible, here we are at the 
 corner. Do we take a red car or a green car? " 
 
 " Some day, Mrs. Howard, your common sense 
 will come between us." 
 
 She laughed merrily as they walked out to the 
 crossing. Thomas fixed a motorman's eye with an 
 important finger and in a moment they were seated, 
 two items in one of those curious assortments of 
 humanity which make up a street car load in New
 
 88 
 
 York. The Socialist with a characteristic and superb 
 disdain of mere environment insisted on continuing 
 his extravagant speeches and Mrs. Howard as per- 
 sistently attempted to quiet him. A smartly dressed 
 woman with a rather unconventionally attired man 
 always is conspicuous. She is much more so when 
 he insists on declaiming to her of " life and love." 
 
 After a time they took a cross-town car that carried 
 them far to the east side and then they went south, 
 for years, it seemed to Mrs. Howard. The car car- 
 ried a mixed cargo of Russians, Poles, Austrians, 
 Germans and other north Europeans, all more or less 
 redolent of various native odours. The street was 
 full of push-carts, itinerant merchants, pedlars and 
 lamentable vehicles drawn by decrepit horses. 
 Thomas talked volubly of it all. He was in his ele- 
 ment. He knew an anecdote about each corner, an 
 amusing comment for each bit of polyglot that 
 dropped on the fastidious Brookline ear. 
 
 " I don't mind the sounds, so much," said Mrs. 
 Howard, gingerly. " It's the smells that bother me." 
 
 " But think of what it all means and forget how it 
 smells. Here are the free souls of the town. Here 
 love is not bought and sold. It is given only for 
 love. A fair exchange is no robbery. Here have
 
 THE VARIETIST 89 
 
 arisen many of the great and beautiful truths of 
 which I propose to tell you." 
 
 " But I'm so conspicuous here and the people stare 
 at me so. I'm afraid." 
 
 Thomas frankly was bored with her for a moment, 
 which did not relieve her discomfort. 
 
 " I wish I was back in Peg's nice, clean, fresh, 
 pleasant house," she said mournfully. 
 
 " Oh, pshaw," broke in Thomas, " don't be silly 
 and conventional. I couldn't stand that in you." 
 
 At the next corner he took her off the car. They 
 went down the dark and dirty little side street for 
 three or four doors and then through a quaint Euro- 
 pean entrance into the coffee house. Mrs. Howard 
 caught a blended odour of cafe and cigarettes that 
 was extremely grateful after the street car. She 
 breathed more easily. 
 
 The room was not large and it was dimly lighted. 
 There were a dozen tables about its walls and at sev- 
 eral of them were couples deeply engrossed in each 
 other. Everyone was smoking and the waiters seemed 
 like a pale wraith moving through fog. 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Thomas, beaming, " this is real ! 
 This is LIFE ! " 
 
 " It's better than the car," agreed the widow, " but
 
 90 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 the room is small and stuffy and those girls all look 
 as if they had consumption." 
 
 " Love is their only consumption," added Thomas, 
 as he nodded to two or three people who passed him 
 a careless recognition. But no one stared. Each 
 couple was too much absorbed to pay much attention 
 to others. 
 
 They took a table in a somewhat secluded corner 
 and coffee came accompanied by queer-looking dark 
 cake on which Mrs. Howard looked askance. But 
 Thomas seemed to acquire new life. He glowed and 
 beamed upon Mrs. Howard. He sighed profoundly 
 and blew huge clouds of cigarette smoke into the 
 already clouded air, or gurgled blissfully over each 
 sip of black, foreign-tasting coffee. 
 
 " Mr. Thomas, who are all of these people? " asked 
 Mrs. Howard. " They really look' very intellectual, 
 even if they are badly dressed and unhealthy." 
 
 " Call me Amos," he urged, with amorous unction. 
 " Let us not be the only hampered souls here." 
 
 " Very well, Amos. But you mustn't call me Ellie 
 yet." 
 
 " I shall call you my soul. What are names at a 
 moment like this ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know what you mean, but you 
 are very funny when you look at me that way." She
 
 THE VARIETIST 91 
 
 laughed heartily. " And do tell me about these 
 people." 
 
 " I did not come here to talk of other people," he 
 ob j ected. " I came here to tell you all the things 
 there are in my heart. But that man in the other 
 corner with the big-eyed, dark-haired girl, is a noted, 
 western lawyer. She is a Russian poetess who calls 
 herself Lydia. She is a true varietist and the lawyer 
 is her variety of the moment." 
 
 " Amos, what is a varietist ? " 
 
 " A varietist is the only true philosopher. He goes 
 where he loves and when his love is gone he goes. He 
 is nature's idealist. And from each love he gains 
 new mental power, new intellectual ability and a truer 
 knowledge of poetry, art and all expression." 
 
 " Gracious, would you win a woman and then throw: 
 her aside ? " 
 
 " She has the same choice." 
 
 " Amos, it's it's it's not nice. I don't think 
 this is any place for me to be." 
 
 " Don't be stupid and unadvanced. The world in 
 time will accept our creed. It is a wonderful creed, 
 a glorious creed, and it would do away with all ills." 
 
 " Or make a lot of new ones." 
 
 He talked on, now amorously, now egotistically, 
 now flambuoyantly. Mrs. Howard was greatly
 
 92 
 
 amused. She laughed when he became desperate, she 
 smiled when he glowed over his theories, and she was 
 no less merry when he wielded the rhetorical sabre 
 on the world's helpless institutions. She was having 
 a very good time, the sort of time she had never 
 dreamed of having in Brookline, now a thousand years 
 in the past, somehow. She started up suddenly. 
 She remembered that there were other things to do 
 that day. She had engagements with both Dallas 
 and Doyle and there was still Farrell to be faced. 
 
 " Pay your bill like a good soul and we must run 
 along. It took us hours to come, you know." 
 
 Thomas began to beat his pockets and then his face 
 fell. He made a careful search of coat and trousers. 
 
 " Something," he said, " is going to happen." 
 
 " What's the matter? Have you lost something? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " My money isn't here.** 
 
 " Have you been robbed? " 
 
 I think not." 
 
 *' Oh ! you've lost your pocket-book. That is too 
 bad." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Howard, I'm afraid I simply forgot. 
 I simply can't keep my mind on my money. I despise 
 it so that I rarely ever carry any with me. But I 
 did think I had enough for this little bill."
 
 THE VARIETIST 93 
 
 " Oh, Amos, how stupid of you. I am bored. 
 Well, thank the Lord, I always have enough with me. 
 How much is- it ? " 
 
 " Fifty cents." 
 
 " Here is a bill, you can give me the change later. 
 But you must take better care of me than that. 
 What will all these people think? They certainly 
 must have seen." 
 
 " Oh, don't worry about that, Mrs. Howard, the 
 women usually pay the bills here. We advanced 
 people can't be expected to keep our minds on any- 
 thing as trivial as mere money." 
 
 Once on the car the humour of the situation struck 
 her and she laughed quietly from time to time while 
 Thomas ranted along on the glories of the untram- 
 melled and the unconventional. But she didn't tell 
 Mrs. Brinton about it when she had gotten back. 
 Somehow, she felt that her friend wouldn't find it par- 
 ticularly amusing.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 
 
 IN Mrs. Brinton's scheme of existence there was little 
 exemption from public haunt. She was connaturally 
 of the city and her way of living may be described as 
 super-urban. Like many other smart women of the 
 metropolis she was peculiarly the result of the simul- 
 taneous appearance in the world of a new order of 
 great city and multitudinous devices for speeding 
 human transportation. She and her twentieth cen- 
 tury sisters of fashion played to a much wider audi- 
 ence than did their Victorian predecessors and with 
 a stage ingeniously appointed to economise and hasten 
 movement. Woman's new day thus enabled one to 
 crowd into eighteen hours that which once would have 
 exacted a fortnight. 
 
 Mrs. Howard in her Brookline backwater had not 
 realised this increase in the movement of the human 
 current. And her previous visits to New York had 
 been so cursory that she had been given no oppor- 
 tunity to put her foot in the stream. But now she 
 
 was about to be swept willy-nilly into the rapids, 
 
 94
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 95 
 
 though she had no realisation of her precarious con- 
 dition. She still felt that she was a schoolgirl out on 
 some sort of lark. 
 
 Her first two days in New York had been simple 
 enough. The dinner, the theatre-party and supper 
 which followed her arrival laid no tax on her strength. 
 It was all fresh, diverting and unhurried. And in 
 her first series of engagements with Thomas, Dallas 
 and Doyle, Mrs. Brinton had permitted her to follow 
 her own mind. 
 
 On the day after her visit to the Ghetto with the 
 Socialist she really got a first appreciation of the 
 new order of things. Early in the morning she was 
 awakened by her maid, who informed her that Mrs. 
 Brinton's Lucy had just brought word that there 
 must be prompt breakfast in order to pave the way 
 for a varied day. A bit later Mrs. Brinton tapped 
 lightly at the door. 
 
 " Ellie ! " she called. " Can I come in for a mo- 
 ment? " 
 
 " Yes, dear," Mrs. Howard replied, and her hostess 
 entered, a fetching picture in a frilly, pale-gold dress- 
 ing gown which set off her dark hair and brunette 
 beauty effectively. 
 
 " You must pardon me for hurrying you so," Mrs. 
 Brinton began, " but we'll have to be off quickly if
 
 96 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 we are ever to get through. I want to take you with 
 me and get you started in several things you'll have 
 to learn. You know you told me that you didn't do 
 the new dances and that you couldn't tell one card 
 from another." 
 
 " I am absolutely in your hands," returned Mrs. 
 Howard, looking on it all as play. 
 
 " Very well, send Anna down at once. Have Metz 
 bring your breakfast here and meet me in half an 
 hour. I've made appointments for both of us at the 
 hair-dresser's at 9 :30 I have the most wonderful 
 man and I want him to get your coiffure just right 
 then I must do a little shopping. Later there are 
 the club, the Tango lesson, and the meeting with the 
 Oriental Research Committee, and we are lunching at 
 the Ritz with Dal and John. And I must have you 
 see my new portrait at De Jourdain's. This is bridge 
 lesson afternoon, we have tea at the Plaza, the men 
 are taking us to dinner at Martin's, and we are going 
 to the opening of the new revue later. And for sup- 
 per we will show you one of the cabarets." 
 
 " Oh, my, what fun it will be ! " Mrs. Howard ex- 
 claimed, her eyes bright with anticipation. 
 
 " I do want you to divert yourself, dear. You've 
 led such a dull life. But just now the important
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 97 
 
 thing is to hurry. You will be ready, won't you? 
 It's so necessary to get a good start." 
 
 Mrs. Howard promised, and Anna bustled about, 
 getting gown, stockings, hat, slippers and gloves 
 properly matched ready for their putting on by her 
 mistress. She took a hurried breakfast from the 
 tray which Metz brought up, the repast being some- 
 what the more speedily encompassed than usual be- 
 cause Anna chose to have the morning begin the diet 
 she had established for her mistress. Thus the widow 
 was deprived of the poached egg, swimming in butter, 
 which she had had year in and year out, the rich cream 
 which she was wont to ladle into her coffee and the 
 jam with which she had been accustomed to disguise 
 her toast. She submitted, willingly, realising after 
 two days that her new clothes were going to be a 
 great trial unless she stripped herself of some flesh. 
 
 The dressing was not without its trials, but Anna, 
 who had learned by experience to get the mind of a 
 mistress on some other thought just at the moment 
 of pinch or strain, coaxed and cajoled Mrs. Howard's 
 attention away each time she reached wincing impa- 
 tience. 
 
 " Anna, you are wonderful," she said in compli- 
 mentary mood as she stood before her long mirror and
 
 98 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 contemplated her smart appearance with a thrill of 
 satisfaction. " I should never have had the courage 
 to essay this alone." 
 
 " Merci, Madame." The maid was much pleased. 
 
 Promptly at 9 o'clock Mrs. Howard was waiting 
 in the reception hall for Mrs. Brinton, the latter ap- 
 pearing in a moment, talking all at once to Metz and 
 both the parlour maids in an effort to get rid of all 
 her house orders for the day as speedily as possible. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " she wailed, when she had finished 
 with them, " I'm sure that I will think of something 
 before we have gone three squares. I never have 
 gotten out of the house yet without having to tele- 
 phone back a forgotten order." 
 
 As they started off in the car Mrs. Brinton strug- 
 gled into her gloves, stopping now and then to search 
 through her bag to be sure that her list for the day 
 was complete or that she had forgotten a card or 
 letter she wanted. 
 
 " Oh, Ellie, if only one didn't have so many engage- 
 ments or so much on one's mind. I start out in just 
 this mental turmoil each morning of the year. Morn- 
 ings are hateful things ! One has to get up so early 
 to accomplish anything, and even then the hours flit 
 by so quickly. I wish there were half a dozen of me 
 and that I could assign myself to different tasks. I
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 99 
 
 should so like a shopping self, an external self to be 
 coiffured, massaged, manicured and treated, a social 
 self to make calls and attend functions, an intellectual 
 self to take in the lectures and committees, and finally 
 my own inside knowing self for the idle, wonderful 
 moments which I can only snatch at now. There 
 are times when I wonder why I ever do anything. 
 Life is so hurried here in New York. We live it on 
 the double quick. Each minute is another whip to 
 make us strain harder and go faster ! I used to envy 
 you your peaceful Brookline." 
 
 " Peg, you are talking nonsense. You don't mean 
 half you are saying." 
 
 " But I do at this hour of the day. Of course, 
 I won't feel this way in the afternoon or to-night. I 
 shouldn't go on if I did ! " 
 
 The car drew up at a fashionable Fifth Avenue 
 hair-dressing establishment. Other smartly dressed 
 women, old, middle-aged and young, were entering as 
 they did. 
 
 " Peg, are you sure that a man knows how to dress 
 a woman's hair? " Mrs. Howard felt rather uncom- 
 fortable now that they were in this fearfully modern 
 place with its pretentious appointments, its palms 
 and rugs, its liveried flunkies and trimly dressed ap- 
 prentice girls, its heavy air and its oppressive silence.
 
 100 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 The little rooms into which the women disappeared 
 after being conducted there by a pert girl in a short 
 black dress, who wore extremely high heels and many 
 more white bows and flounces than she needed, looked 
 most disconcerting to Mrs. Howard. She was greatly 
 relieved when Mrs. Brinton went in with her to her 
 appointment. 
 
 " I want you to do your very best for Mrs. Howard, 
 Barsoux," she said, addressing the pale-faced, black- 
 haired, black-eyed tenant of the compartment. 
 " Now you understand, of course, that it is the effect 
 she wants and don't spare hair or time." 
 
 " I shall do what I can for Madame Howard," he 
 answered, rapidly gauging her style and colouring. 
 She removed hat, veil and gloves, sat down in the 
 chair and then was left alone with the little foreign- 
 looking dresser, while Mrs. Brinton went to another 
 room. The widow had an uncomfortable feeling that 
 she was alone with a barber. 
 
 " Will Madame loosen her collar? " he asked. She 
 hesitated, and he added, " Or shall I loosen it for 
 her? " 
 
 " Oh! " she cried, much perturbed, I'll do it." 
 
 He adjusted a cloth about her shoulders and then 
 rapidly circled about her like some sort of curious 
 bird. He would stop for a second and then flit to
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 101 
 
 another position for a new view of her head. He 
 then attacked Mrs. Howard's coiffure, rapidly wreck- 
 ing the effect which Anna had built up so carefully. 
 Then he stripped away all of the widow's false hair. 
 
 He loosened her own hair and subjected it to severe 
 scrutiny. Mrs. Howard writhed. No man, not even, 
 her own husband, had ever done that before! She 
 could have shrieked and run, but she managed to con- 
 trol herself. The dresser, however, did not worry her 
 as much as a stalwart, healthy American would have 
 done. He looked so like a monkey as he circled about 
 her that she did not seriously consider him human. 
 
 " Will Madame leave it to me ? " he asked, after he 
 had studied her to his satisfaction. She saw no 
 alternative. So she submitted as gracefully as she 
 could, hoping that it would all come out right. 
 
 He combed out her hair, took iron after iron from 
 a battery of flames, then rapidly twisted, rolled and 
 pressed, putting on switch, wave and soft curl. His 
 work was marvellously rapid and she became fasci- 
 nated with the growing impressiveness of her head as 
 she saw it in the mirror opposite her. To her intense 
 relief the manicure girl came in soon to work on her 
 fingers and she breathed easy again. 
 
 Hardly had she gathered herself and her belong- 
 ings together when the hurrying Mrs. Brinton was
 
 102 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 at her door to see if she was not ready. In a moment 
 they were flying down town towards the big shops. 
 At home Mrs. Howard had been what one might term 
 a conservative shopper. She had an old-time notion 
 that buying was a deliberate matter, that one must 
 both weigh and wait. She marvelled as she watched 
 Mrs. Brinton go along the counters. Her friend 
 always asked for a certain girl, simply told her what 
 she wanted and was off before Mrs. Howard, in her 
 slower way, would even have fixed the meandering eye 
 of a clerk. 
 
 " I don't see how you ever get served so quickly," 
 said Mrs. Howard. 
 
 " My dear, I've worked long enough to get that at- 
 tention. I always make it a point of going back to 
 the same girl and at Christmas time I give her some- 
 thing to make her remember me. They are human 
 beings, you know, and they have a sense of gratitude." 
 
 They next rushed off to a shoe store where Mrs. 
 Howard struggled with slippers. She didn't dare buy 
 them half as big as she wanted, remembering the com- 
 bat she had had with Anna in Boston on this very 
 point. Women were buying all about her with fearful 
 recklessness, many of them imposing youngsters of 
 handsome, but over-dressed figures, accompanied by 
 much older men.
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 103 
 
 " I wonder who they all are? " asked Mrs. Howard 
 of Mrs. Brinton. " Isn't it extraordinary for men 
 to be about with them here ? " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton raised her eyebrows and smiled know- 
 ingly. " Well, Ellie, you are naive, aren't you? " 
 
 Mrs. Howard noted with further horror the unem- 
 barrassed way the women had of going up to the mir- 
 rors at the side of the room and drawing up their 
 dresses to get the effects of new boots and slippers 
 with their hosiery. 
 
 " Rather exciting, isn't it ? " she heard one of the 
 men say to a bored young clerk, who looked up and 
 said languidly, " Ankles are no treat to a shoeman." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton was worrying about time again. She 
 was fifteen minutes late for her appointment at her 
 club and she was not used to Mrs. Howard's cautious 
 buying. The slippers, however, were adjusted at 
 last and the pair were off again. 
 
 Her first view of a club entirely devoted to women 
 was disappointing to Mrs. Howard. She had heard 
 of similar places in London where the women sat 
 about tables drinking whiskey and soda, smoking 
 cigars and telling stories that men wouldn't dare tell. 
 She thought she had never been in a quieter place 
 than that to which her friend had taken her. They 
 didn't stay long, Mrs. Brinton having a committee
 
 104 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 meeting in a nearby studio which required her pres- 
 ence. There they met a middle-aged, remarkably 
 dressed woman whom Mrs. Howard had read of as 
 being equally devoted to theosophy and spiritualism, 
 an East Indian poet dressed in a Prince Albert and 
 wearing a silk turban of many hues, another man who 
 evidently was French and several women who seemed 
 to form background for these notables. It was the 
 committee on Psychical Research arranging for a 
 series of lectures to be delivered on " Indian Philoso- 
 phy " by the turbaned poet. 
 
 " Oh, dear, I'm not going to be able to stay here 
 at all," apologised Mrs. Brinton. " But I did want 
 Mrs. Howard to meet Prince Rajapore." With that 
 she said hurried good-byes and whisked her friend off 
 for the dance lesson at one of the fashionable up-town 
 hotels. 
 
 " Now," explained Mrs. Brinton in the motor, " my 
 teacher is Sylvester. You surely must have heard 
 of him. He is all the rage here now. He is one of 
 the chief attractions of the revue we are going to 
 see to-night and the town is mad about him. You've 
 simply got to learn his dances ! You are utterly out 
 of it if you can't do the new steps." 
 
 " But I haven't danced for years," said Mrs. 
 Howard.
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 105 
 
 " That doesn't make a bit of difference. Everyone 
 has to learn all over again, anyway." 
 
 " I suppose he must have a large class," Mrs. 
 Howard volunteered, with mild interest. 
 
 " Class? My dear, he doesn't give anything but 
 private lessons and at twenty-five dollars an hour ! " 
 
 " Heavens ! " exclaimed Mrs. Howard. 
 
 They found the great man in a fair-sized room j ust 
 speeding another fashionable pair of students. At 
 one end of the room was a piano where sat his accom- 
 panist, a blase young man, and over the floor there 
 had been stretched canvas because the dancer taught 
 all of his steps for performance " in any parlour." 
 Working with him was his dancing partner, a lithe, 
 graceful, well-built young woman whose relations to 
 him were always a matter of much speculation to his 
 patrons. 
 
 He kissed Mrs. Brinton's hand in the foreign man- 
 ner when he came over to her and smiled charmingly 
 for Mrs. Howard's benefit. 
 
 " I think it would be a good idea if Mrs. Howard 
 could see you and Miss Morgan do a few of the most 
 popular steps," Mrs. Brinton suggested. So they 
 gave the Argentine Tango, the simple American 
 turkey-trot and the hesitation waltz. 
 
 Somehow Mrs. Howard did not exactly see herself
 
 106 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 doing any of the steps. Mrs. Brinton tried the tur- 
 key-trot and waltz with the instructor, steps which 
 she already mastered, but she was not so sure of the 
 Tango. She could start off easily enough but she 
 lost the figure before a third of the fifty or sixty steps 
 had been negotiated. 
 
 Mrs. Howard had wondered how Mrs. Brinton could 
 possibly dance anything in her narrow walking skirt, 
 which buttoned tightly up the front. To her horror, 
 her friend calmly unbuttoned three or four of the 
 buttons to get ease enough to move. 
 
 The widow sat in fear and trembling, knowing that 
 her turn was coming. She wanted to bolt, but that 
 didn't seem altogether feasible, so she glumly stuck 
 to her chair and waited. 
 
 " Now Ellie, it's time for you," the breathless Mrs. 
 Brinton announced after exhausting herself in the 
 attempt to unravel the complications of the Tango. 
 " You better try the easy things first." 
 
 " Suppose we do the Turkey Trot," suggested the 
 dancer, coming to her. 
 
 She got up trembling. She looked helplessly to 
 Mrs. Brinton, who ruthlessly ordered her to action. 
 Sylvester stood gracefully waiting for her to take 
 the first position. He started and she staggered up
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 107 
 
 the inside of her dress. If he had not held her tightly 
 she must have fallen face down. 
 
 He released her and by himself rapidly ran through 
 the first few steps. " See how easy it is," he said. 
 She hadn't seen it at all and she knew it wasn't easy. 
 But she took firm grip of her skirts and resolved to 
 do something or be forever disgraced. They struck 
 out again, but there was some difficulty, for both 
 went different ways. The fact that he was much 
 the stronger was the only reason that they went in 
 the direction he had decided on. 
 
 " Now, it is this way," he objected wearily, going 
 through his solo again. " Come here, Miss Morgan," 
 he called to his partner. Taking her he began to 
 dance slowly. " Come, Mrs. Howard, start off beside 
 us as we go along. Try and get your mind on your 
 feet and repeat our motions." 
 
 They went about the room once or twice this way. 
 Mrs. Howard was feeling seven different sorts of a 
 fool. Looking across at Mrs. Brinton she saw that 
 usually dignified person waving her hands back and 
 forth in a mirth which seemed to be quite beyond her 
 control. She stopped firmly. " See here, Peg Brin- 
 ton, if you think you are going to get me up here to 
 make a fool of myself, you are greatly mistaken.
 
 108 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 But I'm going to get this thing or die ! " She pushed 
 her hat down and went at it with desperation. She 
 felt the newly-acquired wave coming out of her hair, 
 but she didn't care. " Now I'm ready," she an- 
 nounced defiantly to the instructor. 
 
 " It's really just running along, instead of danc- 
 ing," he explained. " And everyone has his own way 
 of doing it." Seeing that she was getting the spirit 
 of the thing he went along with her, while she, now 
 madly excited over a sudden insight into the idea of 
 the dance, was going through the steps quite oblivious 
 of all else. She worked at it until she was breathless. 
 
 " Good," he commented, smiling at her earnestness, 
 " you'll soon have it." 
 
 " Now for the Tango ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Well," he warned, " we'd better wait for that 
 until next time." It was his turn to look alarmed. 
 
 " And we must be going to lunch," said Mrs. Brin- 
 ton. " But to-morrow we'll have another lesson. I 
 do want you to learn the * hesitation waltz.' ' 
 
 Mrs. Howard smiled a trifle grimly. " I think I 
 shall hesitate a good deal before I do any of it," she 
 said. " Are you sure it's necessary ? " 
 
 " My dear," Mrs. Brinton assured her, " the entire 
 world has gone mad over the new dances. They do 
 them at all the afternoon things and everywhere one
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 109 
 
 goes at night. I have even been asked to a morning 
 trot, before a buffet luncheon." They were again 
 in the motor on their way to meet Doyle and Strong 
 at the Ritz. 
 
 "It's childish and undignified at our age," Mrs. 
 Howard said. " I wonder you do it." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton bent forward impressively. " Don't 
 speak of age," she cautioned. " In these days no 
 one knows how old any woman is, except herself, and 
 she often forgets. Dignified or not, it's awfully smart 
 to do those vulgar dances. And one must be smart, 
 Ellie, or give up at once. You'll get used to it. I 
 was horrified at first. Sylvester can make anyone 
 dance, he's so suggestive." 
 
 " Very," Mrs. Howard observed. And then she 
 and Mrs. Brinton laughed in unison. 
 
 The Ritz was crowded with well-groomed men and 
 smartly gotten-up women. The lounge was over- 
 crowded as it always is at luncheon, and Mrs. Howard 
 had her first glimpse of the modern, fashionable 
 society woman smoking in public. All about, her 
 sex was blowing cigarette smoke in the air, laughing 
 and chatting in groups or pairs. Mrs. Howard was 
 so surprised that she could hardly believe her eyes. 
 Even in Brookline she had friends who smoked, but 
 always in great secrecy, and she had felt they were
 
 110 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 very advanced. Yet here in this beautiful public 
 room dozens of middle-aged, well-bred-looking women 
 were puffing calmly as if it were the most ordinary 
 thing to do. Strong and Doyle joined them. The 
 men were filled with glee over stealing a march on 
 Dallas, who had invited them all for dinner and knew 
 nothing about the luncheon. Mrs. Howard kept her 
 blue eyes fixed upon Mrs. Brinton's gold cigarette 
 case and its small emerald monogram. It swung 
 from her wrist with her gold mesh Bag and card case. 
 She felt, in her bones, that it would soon be opened, 
 and she was not wrong. Mrs. Brinton took out one 
 of her own dainty, monogrammed cigarettes and John 
 Strong lighted it for her. Then with her silken 
 ankles crossed, her charming face animated and her 
 graceful body resting easily in one of the large wicker 
 armchairs, Mrs. Brinton proceeded to smoke comfort- 
 ably, for the first time in this strenuous day enjoying 
 herself. Mrs. Howard stared at her in sincere dis- 
 approval. It so amused Mrs. Brinton that she 
 wickedly leaned over and offered her a cigarette. 
 
 This was too much for Mrs. Howard. " Never," 
 she said indignantly. Amid much chaffing and 
 amused comment she continued, " I don't see how you 
 can, Peg, it's so masculine, and so fast." 
 
 " You're out of the ark, Ellie," retorted Mrs. Brin-
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 111 
 
 ton. " Wait until you learn." But Mrs. Howard 
 shook her head. She was firmly resolved never to do 
 that. They had a delightful and most expensive 
 luncheon, with a cocktail to precede it, and a dry 
 champagne later. It was most interesting to Mrs. 
 Howard to hear Michael Doyle give the luncheon 
 order, he seemed so full of new suggestions. Mrs. 
 Howard's own idea of a nice luncheon was grape fruit, 
 bouillon, lamb chops with green peas, or broiled 
 chicken, tomato salad and ice cream and cake. She 
 had eaten many of them with perhaps a variation of 
 vegetable or salad; but the edibles that the Irishman 
 so trippingly reeled off his tongue were quite new 
 to her. " A Catawba iced," he said to the deferential 
 head waiter, who came himself to take the order, 
 " mushroom Puree and oyster crabs, Maryland 
 broiled guinea and asparagus Hollandaise, with an 
 endive and Rochefort salad, baked Alaska and coffee, 
 the champagne very dry, and an Ideal cocktail to 
 begin with." Mrs. Howard took it all thankfully. 
 The Irishman knew how to eat, that was evident. 
 
 After luncheon she hoped that Mrs. Brinton would 
 suggest going home for a rest, but such an idea was 
 far from the mind of that tireless lady. They mo- 
 tored in the park for an hour, Mrs. Brinton, fortified 
 by her excellent luncheon, being in holiday humour.
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Doyle and Strong entertained them with a wit and 
 charm Mrs. Howard found delightful. 
 
 They left the park to go to De Jourdain's studio 
 to view Mrs. Brinton's portrait. The artist had just 
 finished it and was sending it off somewhere to be 
 hung. This was the most peaceful moment of Mrs. 
 Howard's day, and she sank gladly into a low chair 
 in the warmly lighted studio, with its artistic semi- 
 disorder and its beautiful old belongings. 
 
 The portrait was very startling and wonderfully 
 effective. John Strong was so infatuated with it 
 that he whispered to Mrs. Brinton that he must 
 have it copied for himself, for which she chided him 
 firmly, but smiled at him with delight. Michael said 
 he knew very little about it, but insisted the portrait 
 did not do Mrs. Brinton justice. No portrait could, 
 he maintained. De Jourdain, tall, slim and romantic 
 in his velvet coat and loose tie, his wavy hair falling 
 about his eyes, and his tiny, upturned moustache, 
 smiled wearily. What difference did any of it make to 
 him? Mrs. Brinton had paid him three thousand dol- 
 lars for the picture and he had skilfully contrived to 
 make a smart, middle-aged, attractive woman look like 
 a young siren with vampirish tendencies ; and withal 
 preserve an extraordinary likeness. He felt he had 
 done his share. And Mrs. Brinton adored the por-
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 113 
 
 trait. She looked so young and slim in it. But Mrs. 
 Howard thought it was uncanny. She gazed at it 
 dumbly. It revealed Mrs. Brinton in a daringly low- 
 cut, black-satin evening frock, the skirt wrapped 
 closely about her ankles. She stood with her back 
 to a long mirror in which her white shoulders and 
 the long line of gown and body were reproduced faith- 
 fully. In her fingers she held a single, deep-red rose, 
 and about her and over one arm and shoulder was a 
 thin, transparent scarlet drapery. Her hair, black 
 as coal, was low over her brows and her dark eyes 
 shone languorously out of an ivory white face which 
 had no touch of colour but the vivid scarlet of the 
 lips. She looked twenty pounds slighter, twenty 
 years younger and countless degrees more ardent. 
 The artist had painted her as she might have been 
 at twenty-five if she had been born in Italy or Spain. 
 She looked out of his canvas with subtle, unholy 
 charm and Mrs. Howard hated the whole portrait. 
 It was not Peg, this vampire! 
 
 They really did manage to get away and then lost 
 Doyle and Strong while they went to look at hats and 
 later to take a bridge lesson, but only after promising 
 that they would meet them again at five for tea at 
 the Plaza. 
 
 " Don't they ever work? " Mrs. Howard asked as
 
 114. YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 she and Mrs. Brinton motored off alone. Her friend 
 still was dwelling lovingly on her portrait which she 
 was quite mad over, because she looked so seductive 
 and foreign. " Eh? " she asked, absent-mindedly. 
 
 Mrs. Howard repeated her question. " I suppose 
 so," Mrs. Brinton said vaguely. " But I'm not sure 
 when. John always spends a part of each day with 
 me, and of course, Michael has let everything else go 
 because he is so wild over you." 
 
 " Do you really think he is, Peg? " Mrs. Howard 
 asked in delighted surprise ; " already ? " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed. " I've never seen him so 
 devoted. And Dal, too. They both broke engage- 
 ments for to-night. Jack told me so. You are won- 
 derful, Ellie! We've always considered them im- 
 mune ! " 
 
 Mrs. Howard flushed like a girl. The joy of con- 
 quest was in her soul and she could hardly wait for 
 tea time to arrive. 
 
 It wasn't so difficult to purchase a hat as to buy 
 shoes. For at least hats did not hurt one. And as 
 the clever Frenchwoman, to whom Mrs. Brinton took 
 her, put each new creation on her beautifully dressed 
 blonde head, Mrs. Howard looked at herself with 
 infinite satisfaction. How different one did look in 
 smart hats. The prices were a bit staggering to her,
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 115 
 
 but Mrs. Brinton evidently was used to it, for she 
 told Madame that they only wanted some simple little 
 things, nothing elaborate. She herself bought a dar- 
 ing black toque with a huge martyred bird hanging 
 off its narrow brim, and a brown straw smothered in 
 yellow and purple pansies. These two trifles cost only 
 one hundred and fifty dollars. Mrs. Howard meekly 
 invested in a black tulle wisp with one standing plume 
 set riotously at variance with all laws of gravitation ; 
 and a mauve walking hat, with some saucy wings 
 tucked over one ear ; and she did not murmur at their 
 eating up one hundred and seventy-five dollars, so 
 eager was she to follow Mrs. Brinton's lead. 
 
 The bridge lesson, which was given at the house 
 of a smart friend of Mrs. Brinton's, was a very har- 
 rowing hour. Mrs. Howard, who had a vague idea 
 of whist, made a fearful muddle of the newer game. 
 Her brain could not seem to grasp its rules and regu- 
 lations, and she grew so frightened over her continued 
 mistakes that she had a nervous chill. The bridge 
 teacher told her the same thing over and over with 
 honied, irritating patience ; her monotonously pleasant 
 voice sounding a continuous stream of instructive 
 admonition in Mrs. Howard's ear. The other women, 
 bored, yawning and annoyed beyond measure at her 
 stupidity, made audible remarks about her dulness
 
 116 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 and laughed sarcastically at her mistakes. They 
 puffed smoke into her face, and insulted her by each 
 look and smile. With her cards grasped limply in 
 her trembling fingers; her face white and her brows 
 knit in a vain attempt to remember the words of the 
 bridge teacher, poor Mrs. Howard glanced furtively 
 about like a detected criminal who knows he is being 
 watched. Mrs. Brinton regarded her helplessly when 
 they rose, and with a hasty adieu or two she fairly 
 dragged Mrs. Howard away. Mrs. Howard leaned 
 back in the motor with closed eyes, utterly spent. 
 She felt as if she had been beaten with clubs, spades 
 and all the other implements there were. After a 
 faint effort to look annoyed, Mrs. Brinton's sense of 
 humour came to her rescue. After one look at Mrs. 
 Howard's pale, drawn face and the modish hat tipped 
 over one eye as she rested her weary head against the 
 cushions, Mrs. Brinton burst into a gale of merri- 
 ment. 
 
 " Oh, Ellie ! " she gasped. " Where did you ever 
 play cards? I have never seen anything so awful! 
 Those women will never forgive me ! They are bridge 
 fiends! I am afraid we'll have to leave cards out of 
 it. The Lord didn't give you card sense, dear, and 
 we'll let it go at that. But you were so funny!" 
 She fairly cried with amusement.
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 117 
 
 Mrs. Howard opened her eyes wearily. " If you 
 ever take me to that place again," she said faintly, 
 " I'll go home to Brookline " 
 
 Tea was a merciful relief. Doyle and Strong met 
 them at the hotel, this time with Dallas, who had 
 found them at the club and wormed out of them what 
 they were up to. 
 
 Sitting between the Irishman and Christopher 
 Dallas, Mrs. Howard forgot that there was such a 
 thing as bridge. They made love to her openly and 
 persistently and with a skill and facility that was 
 delightful to contemplate. The tea room was filled 
 with groups of men and women, the music delighted 
 her and a sense of peace stole over her humiliated 
 spirit. At least men appreciated her. Then the 
 party went to Mrs. Brinton's. The men refused to 
 go until Doyle had made a cocktail. When they 
 finally departed, it was six-thirty, leaving Mrs. 
 Howard and Mrs. Brinton a scant hour to dress and 
 prepare for dinner. Rest was never mentioned. It's 
 a word New York doesn't know very intimately. 
 Dinner at Martin's was to the widow a gorgeous 
 function. In the party they found the three devoted 
 men and Mrs. Jimmy Brent, a charming divorcee, and 
 a great friend of Mrs. Brinton's. 
 
 Mrs. Howard, wonderfully dressed in a black and
 
 118 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 silver evening gown, in which her fairness seemed 
 even more lovely than on the evening before, a silver 
 wreath in her blonde hair, and with daring, long 
 scintillating earrings moving with each turn of her 
 head, was the life of the party. Dal was infatuated 
 and hung on her words, and Doyle's eyes rested on 
 the widow warmly. He had quite lost his head. 
 
 Later Mrs. Howard was as delighted as a child 
 when she beheld Sylvester and his dancing partner 
 do wonderful things at the theatre. And then she 
 was filled with excitement over supper at Reisen- 
 werber's, where she sat in the narrow upstairs restau- 
 rant, her food untasted, while she watched with 
 fascinated eyes the dancers doing the steps Sylvester 
 had tried to teach her. Truly they seemed quite sim- 
 ple as she looked at them. Mrs. Brinton would not 
 dance, not being at all sure of her own proficiency, 
 but Mrs. Jimmy Brent and Michael were a great suc- 
 cess, and did the Tango with joy and much energy. 
 Mrs. Howard vowed she would never rest until she, 
 too, could dance with him in that enchanting manner. 
 And she felt quite at ease about her feet and ankles, 
 which she realised would be much in view. They 
 were much better than Mrs. Jimmy Brent's. 
 
 They went home at 2:30 in the morning, Mrs. 
 Howard with Dallas in his own car, while Doyle and
 
 HIGH PRESSURE 119 
 
 Strong and Mrs. Brinton took Mrs. Brent to her 
 house. 
 
 Dallas told the widow good-night lingeringly and 
 adoringly, after making two engagements for the fol- 
 lowing day. Mrs. Brinton returned just as he was 
 going and then the two women went up the stairs 
 together. Mrs. Howard collapsed on a couch, while 
 Mrs. Brinton rang for Anna and Lucy. 
 
 "Tired, Ellie?" she asked affectionately. "I 
 suppose it has been a strenuous day, but you'll get 
 used to it." Mrs. Howard gazed at her limply. She 
 was beyond speech.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE CUB GROWLS 
 
 MRS. HOWARD quickly fitted into the gay whirl which 
 circled about Mrs. Brinton. She spent eighteen 
 hours a day going or getting ready to go. When 
 she wasn't off with one of her cavaliers or enjoying 
 herself at one of the endless Brinton functions, she 
 was ceaselessly preparing for the fray. It isn't an 
 easy matter for a woman who has lived simply all 
 her life to keep " up," as Mrs. Brinton described 
 the grooming and preparation. The rejuvenated 
 widow paid high price for her youthful face and 
 figure. 
 
 But she was so enjoying herself that she was 
 thoroughly willing to undergo any amount of sar- 
 torial torture for the time being. She swept merrily 
 along the gay pathway of her new life, revelling in 
 the novel experience of having three interesting men 
 devoted to her. As yet she had not asked herself for 
 which she cared most. Thomas, the Socialist, di- 
 verted her extremely, though she had not the slightest 
 
 real affection for him. His absurd egotism, his con- 
 
 120
 
 THE CUB GROWLS 
 
 centration on the amatory matter in hand, and his 
 affected indifference to society and its ways never 
 failed to amuse her. Doyle was to be taken more 
 seriously. He was always real. There was no affec- 
 tation about him and he had a direct Celtic way of 
 revealing his affection that appealed keenly to the 
 widow. But he often trespassed, trusting to a ready 
 wit and a quick adaptability to save the situation. 
 
 Dallas, on the other hand, had everything the 
 other men lacked, breeding, born ease, an almost 
 old-world courtesy and chivalry and the greatest 
 personal charm of all. He was big, solid and satis- 
 fying and infinitely more to be relied on than Doyle. 
 And always there was his graceful consideration, 
 which meant that her comfort and her happiness were 
 ever his first thought. But she didn't want to lose 
 any of it all by showing a preference now. She sim- 
 ply desired to go on living! 
 
 Farrell continued to be troublesome. He had not 
 been satisfied at all in his talk with his mother on 
 the day after his arrival in New York. Now, three 
 or four weeks later, he was back in New York fret- 
 ting and fussing because she wouldn't return to 
 Brookline with him. For the first timfe in his mature 
 life he was unable to keep steadily to the ways of 
 habit. And off those paths he was ever irritable
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 and unhappy. On this bright spring morning he 
 entirely ignored a smiling nature and all of her allure- 
 ments and hastened from his hotel to Mrs. Brinton's. 
 Metz informed him that his mother was out. 
 
 " I will go up to her sitting-room and wait for 
 her," the young man said with sour severity. 
 
 " Very well, sir," returned Metz. " I'll tell her 
 you are there when she comes back." 
 
 Farrell walked very precisely and primly up the 
 stairs. He didn't altogether approve of his mother's 
 sitting-room in the Brinton apartment. It was much 
 too dainty and attractive to be altogether wholesome, 
 he thought, and besides it opened into her bedroom. 
 And his mother had a way of seeing her friends 
 there which grieved him more deeply still. But even 
 he felt that the room brightened existence. Still, he 
 wasn't sure that existence ought to be bright. 
 
 He was particularly depressed to-day because for 
 the first time in her life he had been hearing his 
 mother discussed publicly by men and in a rather 
 unpleasant way. At the college club where he 
 usually put up when in New York, he had heard 
 a party, talking familiarly of various women, finally 
 mention his mother's name. The men evidently were 
 acquaintances of Dallas, Doyle and , Strong. They 
 talked over her " conquest " of Dallas and Doyle.
 
 THE CUB GROWLS 123- 
 
 Dallas, he gathered, had been considered immune from 
 feminine influence previously, so his affair with the 
 widow was regarded somewhat as a seven day phe- 
 nomenon. Doyle, however, was classed as a pro- 
 fessional philanderer, but as such the men seemed 
 to think that he might be able to beat his rival. 
 
 This had given Farrell a turn from which he was 
 still suffering. He had been of a mind to walk up 
 to the group, make himself known, and then express 
 vigorously and firmly his opinion of individuals who 
 had no better occupation than to discuss helpless 
 women in the utterly worldly precincts of 
 clubdom. 
 
 But he had restrained himself, feeling that it would 
 be better to see his mother and to persuade her, if 
 possible, to be more discreet in accepting the atten- 
 tions of New York men. So he awaited her impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 As he opened the door leading from the hall he 
 stepped in gingerly. He sniffed at the gentle and 
 ladylike atmosphere, he blinked at the bright, immac- 
 ulate walls with their tiny and colourful miniatures, 
 he deplored the careful harmony of the curtains. 
 Opposite him was the open door of his mother's 
 bedroom, where Anna was stirring about amid some 
 laces and frills. He started at the sight of a won-
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 derfully attractive bed corner and looked away 
 quickly to the double doors which led to a little bal- 
 cony on which vines and potted flowers were growing 
 with much confidence in spring and its airs and sun- 
 shine. Immediately at his left was a window leading 
 to a fire-escape, which was masked by a big box of 
 red geraniums. In one corner was a huge Victrola 
 which had been tinted a light colour to match walls 
 and curtains, and in the centre of the room was a 
 table holding books and cigarettes. The general 
 effect was one of pastel beauty, but Farrell thought 
 pastel effects rather weak, and beauty of any sort 
 another weakness. 
 
 " Anna," he said, " where is mother ? " 
 " Mr. Farrell, it is you ? " she queried, showing a 
 neat and smiling person at the door. " Madame 
 Howard is away from here. She have gone Dieu ! 
 I cannot remember. I bring you the leetle book 
 of engagements." 
 
 She went back into the bedroom. Farrell paced 
 back and forth like a caged animal. He approved 
 of Anna quite so little as he did of the room. He 
 regarded raiment as a mask and not a drapery. 
 There was never any mask about Anna's gown. She 
 was proud of her well-developed figure and meant 
 the world to approve of it. She was back in a mo-
 
 THE CUB GROWLS 125 
 
 ment with a small leather book which she handed to 
 Farrell. 
 
 " Read it, Mr. Farrell, it open your eye ! " she 
 said. 
 
 Farrell sat down and read aloud in dull despair: 
 " 9, Thursday, hair wave; 9:4i5, breakfast here, 
 Michael; 10:30, manicure, if time massage; 11:30, 
 fitting Celeste; 18:30, chiropodist; 1:30, luncheon 
 with Michael, Ritz; 2:30, milliner to try coral hat; 
 &, Colonial Club to meet Lecture Course Committee 
 with Amos ; 4* :30, Amos at Antoine's ; 6, Michael for 
 little chat; 8, dinner, Peg, John and Dal; the 
 Walmsley's dance later ; 11 :30, supper Cafe Beaux 
 Arts ; home in motor with Dal ; a little chat." 
 
 He dropped the book, which Anna stooped and 
 picked up. 
 
 " My God ! Does she never sit down ? " he ex- 
 claimed hopelessly. 
 
 " You see, Mr. Farrell," explained Anna, " Ma- 
 dame must keep a little book." 
 
 " All of that before bedtime ! " he cried. 
 
 " What is bedtime ? Pouf ! Here we do not have 
 bedtime. We have good time. When Madame is 
 very fatigue she go to bed, not because it is time. 
 She say so many nice people die in bed." Anna was 
 scornful.
 
 126 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Anna," Farrell spoke with severity, " tell me, 
 what is to be done about my mother? You know I 
 can't have her going about like this. It will make 
 her ill. She ought to be at home in Brookline, where 
 she belongs. Of course, I think her brain is affected, 
 but no one else seems to." 
 
 Anna laughed merrily. " Mr. Farrell, you are 
 absurd, Madame Howard is not crazy. Non. It is 
 not her head which bother her, it is her heart." 
 
 " You do not think she seriously considers such 
 a frightful calamity as marriage at her age ? 
 Merciful Heavens ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 Farrell was aghast. This terrible thought had not 
 come to him before. He dropped into a chair and 
 held his head in his hands dejectedly. Anna, much 
 bored by his lack of interest in his mother's flirta- 
 tions, went on to make clear the falsity of his attitude. 
 
 " Mr. Farrell," she said, " you must not think 
 Madame Howard have age and bedtime. She is 
 charmante, imterestante, coquette. She have one, 
 two, three messieurs mad over her. For you, Mr. 
 Farrell, I see un beau pere in the cards. For me, I 
 adore a what you call it love affair. I have 
 always wanted a lady like Madame, who flirt with 
 all messieurs and believe none. I help Madame. I 
 prepare Madame for the war. I make all the h'ttle
 
 THE CUB GROWLS 127 
 
 crease and wrinkle go. I undulate the hair, I make 
 Madame wear the French slipper if it hurt or not. 
 I say always, Madame can never be comfortable and 
 easy and look young. It is too much. If she look 
 young with corset and show and coiffure, she suffer. 
 Bien, it is nothing. She has a few easy hours when 
 she sleep. And look at Madame, she have lost ten 
 years. She is beloved of three messieurs. She is 
 worried, tormented, scolded, adored by all of them. 
 They are very jealous of Madame. See the figure 
 of Madame, her shoulders, her elbow. She have the 
 complexion of a debutante. She have the little ways 
 messieurs adore. Bien! And you talk of age and 
 bedtime." 
 
 " Mother ! My mother going on like that, after 
 all these peaceful, comfortable years. I wonder if 
 she really cares for any of those men. It's almost 
 indecent at her age ! " Farrell rocked back and 
 forth quite sick at heart. 
 
 " Mon Dieu! There it is again. Her age. It 
 is not chic to say that so much. What is age? 
 Madame look far too young to be a mother of you." 
 Anna looked at him with disapproval. 
 
 " That's just what I think," he returned fiercely. 
 " I wish I knew some way to make her settle down. 
 Upon my soul, I have a great mind to get married
 
 128 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 and have a baby and then she'll be a grandmother ! " 
 
 He rushed out, furiously angry. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, the threat," laughed Anna, raising 
 her shoulders in that European dismissal of all things 
 which may not be otherwise explained.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE SHOE PINCHES 
 
 WHILE Farrell was so irritably seeking out his 
 mother at Mrs. Brinton's, she was lunching with 
 Michael Doyle at the Ritz. Much of her pleasure 
 on this occasion was that which a woman finds in 
 that she is singularly well-dressed and much observed. 
 New York's sympathies are often more European 
 than American. 
 
 Mrs. Howard always enjoyed the Ritz. It was 
 the most un-Boston place in New York and she liked 
 its remoteness from her past. It steadied her in her 
 efforts to maintain a difficult sense of youth and an 
 often-ebbing enthusiasm for the gay whirl of the 
 Brinton menage and she felt that the wonderfully- 
 dressed women about here were paying in just as 
 large denominations of comfort for their appearance 
 as she was. The difficulty of a thing is lessened 
 when one feels that there are so many fellow- 
 sufferers. 
 
 Michael was, as ever, buoyant and impetuous. His 
 tongue was an anarch. It defied all the rules of 
 
 polite conversation, throwing compliment, appeal, 
 
 129
 
 130 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 flattery and requests swiftly down before the often 
 bewildered widow, the Irishman always concentrated. 
 His eye never wandered from her; there never was a 
 break in his optical and vocal flattery of her. His 
 eyes said that which even his lawless tongue did not 
 dare. 
 
 But on the whole she was not enjoying herself a bit. 
 Her clothes galled her unusually to-day ; Michael was 
 crowding her hard and becoming very insistent ; 
 Amos was insanely jealous and vowed himself capable 
 of any wild action, and Dallas, she knew, was dis- 
 tinctly bored by the time she had been giving to both 
 the other men. Her dress, a brown velvet tailored 
 costume, with a broad, weighted sash, hampered her 
 every action and Anna had put it on her so relent- 
 lessly that even to swallow was torture. As she had 
 an early afternoon fitting she forced the reluctant 
 Michael to take her away and drop her at the 
 modiste's where she met Mrs. Brinton at her favourite 
 pastime of putting together new outfits. Then after 
 they were sure Farrell was safely out of the way they 
 returned to the house. 
 
 Once within the Brinton walls, Mrs. Howard sur- 
 rendered to discomfort. She was thoroughly miser- 
 able and she tottered into her sitting-room exclaim- 
 ing, " Boots, Anna, boots ; I am in torture."
 
 THE SHOE PINCHES 131 
 
 Mrs. Brinton, always amused by her friend's 
 struggles, sat down opposite her while Anna came in 
 from the bedroom. The maid kneeled down before 
 Mrs. Howard and removed the offenders. The 
 widow gave a great sigh and wiggled her newly-re- 
 leased toes gratefully. 
 
 " They are hand-sewed, beautiful boots," re- 
 proached Anna. 
 
 " They are instruments of the Inquisition," cor- 
 rected Mrs. Howard. "Was Mr. Farrell here?" 
 
 " A second ago. You could not miss him." 
 
 " Mrs. Howard did not want to see him," explained 
 Mrs. Brinton. 
 
 " I am not equal to my daily upbraiding, perhaps 
 I may be later on. I do so wish that Farrell would 
 go home. He is very much in the way here." Mrs. 
 Howard expressed her weariness of her struggles with 
 her son. She removed her gloves and tossed them 
 away. 
 
 " Are the gloves too small, also ? " asked Mrs. 
 Brinton, who had lighted a cigarette. 
 
 " Everything I have on is too small and too tight," 
 cried the widow pathetically. " My waist band, my 
 collar, my sKoes and my corset. I wear so much 
 false hair that my neck aches, and my eyes are 
 strained reading without my glasses. The bones in
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 my collar stick into me cruelly and there isn't nearly 
 room enough to sit down in my skirt. With five pairs 
 of garters I can't stand or sit. When I am out I 
 pose on the edge of a chair, my back like a ramrod, 
 and my waist in a vise. All my teeth ache and I feel 
 absolutely wretched. Moreover, that massage pugi- 
 list pounded me into a jelly. Peg! I feel like a 
 boneless sardine ! " 
 
 Anna was much taken back by this tirade but 
 Mrs. Brinton smiled with initiated sympathy. 
 
 " I weep, Madame, when you speak so," said the 
 maid. " You are so modish, so chic. What does it 
 matter that there is not room enough? Madame 
 Brinton, she does not complain." 
 
 " She is used to it, poor soul, but I am not." 
 Mrs. Howard struggled at her collar. " For heaven's 
 sake, Anna, undo my collar." 
 
 " Ah ! " she exclaimed with wonderful relief, as 
 the offending item of her sartorial scheme came off. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton flicked away the ashes of her ciga- 
 rette and laughed gaily. " Ellie, I am ashamed of 
 you," she said. " You ought to be the happiest of 
 creatures. How many women of your age have three 
 men madly in love with them, all the excitement and 
 delirium of youth and not in homeopathic doses. I
 
 THE SHOE PINCHES 133 
 
 feel for Anna, who has made of you this wonderful 
 and alluring creature." 
 
 " Of course, Peg," replied Mrs. Howard, a little 
 nettled, " it's wonderful to have three men in love 
 with you, but it doesn't make one's clothes more com- 
 fortable. Do let me be miserable in peace ! " 
 
 "What is Madame's next engagement?" asked 
 Anna, picking up the engagement book. " Bien, 
 6 :30, Mr. Dallas for chat. Tea gown? " 
 
 " Thank God for a small mercy ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Howard. " A tea gown means at least an inch or 
 two of breathing room." She rose wearily and 
 added, " Anna, unhook me." 
 
 Anna threw Mrs. Howard's coat over her arm and 
 loosened a few hooks. The widow glared. " All of 
 me ! " she commanded, whereupon the perturbed maid 
 went rapidly down the back of the dress. " I never 
 realised, Peg, how much pluck you had. Think of 
 the years you've worn all these things and yet you're 
 always smiling." 
 
 " Ellie, this is nothing," was Mrs. Brinton's com- 
 ment. " Think of some of the things women en- 
 dure. They sleep in chin straps and wrinkle plasters. 
 When they go to bed they look as if they had been in 
 a railway accident."
 
 134* YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " sighed Mrs. Howard, " I wish I 
 hadn't tried to look quite so young." 
 
 " If Madame will come into her chamber," said the 
 maid, " I will let out the corset for one hour. There 
 is a ravisante new tea gown." 
 
 " I never want to see any more clothes," petulantly 
 interrupted the mistress. 
 
 " With elbow sleeves," Anna resorted to guile. 
 " Mr. Dallas he adore the elbow of Madame." 
 
 Mrs. Howard surrendered with a smile. " Yes, 
 yes, he did say that, didn't he? I'll put on the tea 
 gown, Anna. Peg, can I have a bite to eat ? " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton and Anna both held up their hands in 
 horror. "But you have just lunched!" objected 
 the hostess. 
 
 "But that was hours ago," objected the hungry 
 widow. " Besides, I never lunch in this dress. There 
 isn't room." 
 
 Anna continued to struggle with the back of Mrs. 
 Howard's gown and the latter gave her all the aid 
 she could by drawing in her breath to the last possible 
 degree. When the tortured widow could speak again 
 she explained, " I have to pretend eating when I wear 
 this costume. I crumble bread, sip at a grape-fruit 
 and play with a lean chop. That isn't a lunch.
 
 THE SHOE PINCHES 135 
 
 Now," she grasped her loosened skirt in front and 
 relievedly pulled it up and down. " I am quite loose 
 and comfortable. I feel that I could really do justice 
 to something." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton laughed and rang for Metz. Anna 
 surveyed her hungry charge disapprovingly. 
 
 " Madame Howard look far too healthy. She do 
 not starve enough," commented the maid. 
 
 " I haye to eat now and then, it's a necessity." 
 Mrs. Howard was becoming belligerent. For the mo- 
 ment she was the enemy of all clothing. 
 
 She was hungry and tired. Her body clamoured 
 both for food and rest. She was being goaded by 
 nature into an almost primitive desire for these essen- 
 tials of living. The cruelty of her lacing came 
 poignantly to her mind. 
 
 " I must take off my corsets and lie down a few 
 minutes," she wailed. 
 
 She snatched at the front of her corsets, failed 
 to make any impression and tried the back. Anna 
 caught Mrs. Howard's hands and held them tightly 
 behind her back. " If Madame does," the maid ad- 
 monished, " it will be impossible to get her dressed 
 again. She will spread like yesterday." 
 
 That threatened calamity sobered Mrs. Howard.
 
 136 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Mrs. Brinton, seeing her pause, advised : " Oh, 
 Ellie, I wouldn't do it. Never lie down in the day 
 time ! I never do." 
 
 Mrs. Howard yawned piteously. " I would give 
 a fortune for a nap," she almost wept. 
 
 " Never, a nap is at least two pounds. Then the 
 frocks are more tight than ever." Anna was 
 bristling. 
 
 " You see, Peg, I have made a Frankenstein out 
 of myself." The widow was repenting her revolu- 
 tion. She dropped back on the sofa disconsolate 
 and disorganised, her finery limply about her shoul- 
 ders and waist. 
 
 " Ellie, I beg of you ! " Mrs. Brinton sa*w her 
 friend's courage oozing rapidly. 
 
 " Don't give up, Madame, fight ! " Anna assumed 
 an exhortatory attitude before her mistress. By a 
 great effort Mrs. Howard, weary and hungry, 
 struggled to her feet. 
 
 " All right, I'll be a good soldier. But, Anna," 
 she was pleading again, " do give me an extra inch 
 when I get into that tea gown." Yawning, the worn 
 widow limped to the bedroom. At the door she 
 turned. 
 
 " Where do we dine to-night ? " she asked, with her 
 hand concealing another yawn.
 
 THE SHOE PINCHES 137 
 
 " At the Ritz. Shall you wear low neck? " 
 
 " I certainly shall ! " Mrs. Howard's voice finally 
 found some enthusiasm. " I adore stripping for din- 
 ner. At least, part of me is comfortable when 
 my dear old neck and shoulders are bare ! " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton seated herself at the writing desk 
 near Mrs. Howard's door and talked through it to 
 the widow over whom Anna again was struggling. 
 " Ellie, I wonder if you realise what you've done to 
 Dal?" 
 
 " Not half what I mean to do," came through the 
 door in a voice again courageous, " I'm not through 
 yet!" 
 
 " Aren't you afraid? " 
 
 " Of Dal ? Bless you, no ! He's too big to be 
 afraid of." 
 
 " You are so reckless, Ellie. Dal, you know, has 
 made love to women all around the world and back 
 again." 
 
 " All the more reason why he might find his Water- 
 loo right here in New York. I wonder what Far- 
 rell wanted of me to-day." 
 
 Anna came to the door somewhat mysteriously and 
 whispered, " Madame Brinton, what you think? Mr. 
 Farrell, he threaten to marry and make Madame How- 
 ard grandmere ! "
 
 138 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Oh, I say, Ellie, did you hear that ? Farrell 
 threatens to marry, have a baby and make you a 
 grandmother." 
 
 Mrs. Howard, wrapping the portiere about her, 
 leaned out and said with a twinkle, " Isn't he sure of 
 himself? If he only would! " 
 
 Mrs. Howard soon returned, now handsomely 
 clothed in a ravishing tea gown. Anna hurried be- 
 hind, catching up an erring hook here and there. 
 Metz was at the opposite door to announce that 
 Mr. Thomas was calling. 
 
 " I'm out," snapped Mrs. Howard. Thomas had 
 become an insistent bore. The widow's mind now 
 was on food. As Metz was leaving she called after 
 him, " Metz, some cold meat and rolls, a cup of 
 cocoa or a bit of salad and pickles and cake. I am 
 so hungry ! Bring anything ! " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton and Anna protested simultaneously. 
 
 " Cake," exclaimed Anna reproachfully. " Oh, 
 Madame, cake ! " Mrs. Howard looked at each and 
 saw that she might expect sympathy from neither 
 in her rebellion against her diet. 
 
 " Very well," she said, turning with resignation to 
 Metz. " Hot water with lemon and quantities of 
 stale bread." 
 
 Metz went out. Mrs. Howard yawned and
 
 THE SHOE PINCHES 139 
 
 stretched her arms in utter weariness. " Oh, if I 
 could only sleep for ten minutes." She threw her- 
 self on the sofa, her head drooping under the weight 
 of her hair dress. 
 
 " My head's so heavy. Couldn't I have just a 
 little more hair off? This wave, perhaps, it makes 
 my forehead so warm." 
 
 " But, Madame, the wave cover up the little grey 
 hairs." Anna was relentless. 
 
 " Anna, I'll have spinal meningitis, my back aches 
 so." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton suggested removing some of the false 
 hair from the back. 
 
 The tyrannical Anna compromised by taking off a 
 puff or two and substituting a soft curl. 
 
 There were still slippers to be faced. 
 
 " Anna," slyly suggested Mrs. Howard, " bring 
 me some slippers, the soft black velvets." 
 
 " With that gown ? Nevaire ! The high-heeled 
 empire with the buckle." Anna's eyes blazed. 
 " Madame knows her feet will swell and then I cannot 
 get them small again for to-night." 
 
 As Anna went out Mrs. Howard gazed at her 
 somewhat resentfully. " Merciful heavens ! " she 
 said feelingly, " it's hard work being a beauty." 
 
 " My dear, we all work over it," commented Mrs.
 
 140 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Brinton. " I never am easy from morning until 
 night, and since I have taken to cigarettes my appe- 
 tite's all gone. Of course, I hate cigarettes, but it's 
 so old-fashioned not to and so eccentric, and whether 
 they make me sick or not, I will smoke. You'll have 
 to learn, Ellie." 
 
 Anna was back and there was another ordeal with 
 the slippers. The maid got one on, but Mrs. Howard 
 could not stand the other. She snatched it from 
 Anna's hand and ladled it full of talcum powder, 
 finally struggling into it. 
 
 " Pretty slippers always hurt," said Mrs. Brin- 
 ton, meaning to be helpful. 
 
 " That's on a par with your remarks about the 
 clothes," fumed the widow. " It's not comforting. 
 Gracious, I shall never be able to keep this up." 
 
 Metz then came in with the food which Mrs. How- 
 ard welcomed joyously. He placed the tray with 
 its slender luncheon of hot water, pickles, biscuits, 
 and sliced lemon on the table, announcing as he did 
 that Mr. Strong was calling. Mrs. Brinton rose to go. 
 
 " I'll be down at once to see Mr. Strong." 
 
 " Very good, Madame," said Metz. He removed 
 a napkin dramatically under which the biscuits had 
 been concealed on the tray. " Cook sent up hot bis- 
 cuits and fresh butter, Madame ! "
 
 THE SHOE PINCHES 141 
 
 Mrs. Howard reached with delight for one of the 
 biscuits. Anna, seeing what she was doing, rushed to 
 prevent her, while Mrs. Brinton held to the pitcher 
 of raspberry shrub to prevent its being broken. 
 
 " Oh, Ellie ! " protested Mrs. Brinton. 
 
 Metz regarded the biscuits affectionately. " Cook 
 couldn't resist 'em, Madame." He went out. 
 
 Mrs. Howard cast about for an excuse to get rid 
 of the maid. 
 
 " Anna," she said, " go into my bedroom and get 
 me a hand-glass." 
 
 She then reached for another biscuit, but Mrs. 
 Brinton forestalled her by taking the plate away. 
 
 " Don't touch them, Ellie, dear. Hot dough is 
 so fattening." 
 
 Thus did Mrs. Howard begin to find her freedom 
 from the cares of home and domesticity harassed by 
 the twin devils, conjured up by the modiste and the 
 beauty specialist. Beauty, if only skin deep, at 
 least hurt to the bone. Artifice was wearing her 
 down, the importance of her musketeers was equally 
 difficult and altogether she was discovering the life 
 of the butterfly far from an easy one. There were 
 days when she would have given it all up in a second 
 for the quiet, the comfort and the groove-like regu- 
 larity of the old-fashioned Brookline house. Mrs.
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Brinton, by some mysterious process, seemed to wind 
 herself up like a clock late every night so that she 
 was able to go through the next day at the same 
 killing speed as the one before. Mrs. Howard was 
 not used to this social strenuousness. And to-day 
 was one of the days when she would have retreated 
 on the double quick if there were not others to face. 
 She thrived under opposition, however, and whenever 
 Farrell came in to upbraid her her spirits rose rapidly, 
 and in a few moments she would be quite back in 
 fettle again with zest for the enterprise and nervous 
 energy enough to carry her through another week's 
 siege of corsets, tight slippers, diet, masseurs, mo- 
 distes and strenuous admirers.
 
 SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE 
 
 MRS. HOWARD'S growing irritation with things ani- 
 mate and inanimate was not lessened any by Farrell's 
 continued presence in New York. She had repeat- 
 edly " sent " him back to Brookline, but he would 
 return after a few unsatisfactory days in the office, 
 and renew his insistence on his mother's return to 
 Brookline. 
 
 To-day when he called at Mrs. Brinton's he found 
 his parent alone in her sitting-room quietly eating 
 the frugal meal of those who diet. His manner was 
 apologetic. 
 
 " I am afraid, Mother," he began, " that I spoke 
 very indiscreetly to Anna a little while ago." 
 
 Mrs. Howard laughed merrily and poured herself 
 a glass of shrub. " Do you mean your dire threat 
 about the baby ? " she asked. " It didn't frighten me 
 at all. I'd adore it. Do have a baby, Farrell, there's 
 a dear child." 
 
 Farrell was horribly shocked. 
 
 " Mother, mother ! It's hardly modest! " he cried. 
 143
 
 144 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 The spirit of the banter grew on the once more 
 gay mother. Farrell's manner was so aged that she 
 felt an ingenue in its presence. 
 
 " I knew you didn't mean it," she said flippantly. 
 " Evidently I needn't crochet the blanket yet. We're 
 dining out, and you? " 
 
 Farrell felt the moment had come for a final assault 
 upon folly as exemplified in the conduct of his parent. 
 
 " Mother," he was fearfully reproving, " the whole 
 town is talking about you. You and your admirers 
 form almost the sole topic of conversation wherever 
 I go. I am asked if I am the son of the famous 
 Mrs. Howard who succeeded in landing Mr. Doyle and 
 Mr. Dallas the very night she arrived. Oh, I can't 
 tell you how grieved and shamed I am over it all ! " 
 
 Mrs. Howard continued to smile blithely. " Poor 
 Farrell ! " she cooed with soothing mischievousness. 
 
 Farrell was fairly off on his disciplinary sortie 
 and not to be headed. " They have even put bets 
 up on it at the club as to which of the men will get 
 you Mr. Dallas or Mr. Doyle, with the odds on 
 Mr. Doyle. Always your name is linked with those 
 of these men." 
 
 Young Brookline paced righteously to and fro as 
 he talked, but finally came up squarely before the 
 elder with horror in his face.
 
 SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE 145 
 
 " Mother," his tone denoted immeasurable grief, 
 " I hate even to think of it, but I actually believe ," 
 he hesitated and then plumped it out, " excuse me, 
 Mother, I believe those men are in love with you." 
 
 Love, even under ordinary circumstances, was an 
 indecent feature of life to Farrell. He regarded the 
 inevitable wooing among young people as something 
 of a scandal, but out of season, as it were, it became 
 very dreadful. 
 
 " I'll tell you one thing about Mr. Dallas," said 
 Mrs. Howard, into whom seven devils had entered. 
 " He has looked into the crater and I question if it 
 was half warm enough to suit him." 
 
 " Mother Howard," Farrell was aghast, " how can 
 you say such awful things? And both these men are 
 fifty. It's shocking." 
 
 Mrs. Howard saw a need of justifying her course. 
 " Don't be conventional and smug, Farrell," she said. 
 " I have come to the conclusion that blood runs at 
 much the same tempo in the veins of a socialist or a 
 banker. And youth is milk and water compared to 
 middle-age, when middle-age lets go. I wouldn't be 
 twenty for the world. Imagine the dull young men 
 I'd have to spend my time with. But these men of 
 mine are live dynamos. They haven't felt for years, 
 and now they are making up for lost time. Give
 
 146 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 me the man of fifty, who has learned his book, whose 
 dinner has to be good, and whose motor car is always 
 at the door. He is seasoned, Farrell, and I like that. 
 I won't be a training school for husbands. I want 
 men who know how, men who can kiss one without 
 scrambling and whose kisses are events." 
 
 Farrell slumped into a chair quite overcome. 
 "Mother, mother, where did you learn it all?" he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," laughed the gay mother with 
 a dismissing fillip of her manicured fingers. " Per- 
 haps it was born in me. You and Brookline have 
 been holding it in all of these years." 
 
 Farrell arose, looking shattered. He wandered off 
 to the table where his mother was nibbling at her 
 rigorous luncheon. He absently picked up a cracker 
 and began to munch it in desperation. 
 
 " Mother, couldn't you be satisfied with one ad- 
 mirer ? " he asked pathetically. 
 
 " Indeed, I could not, my dear. It's an absolute 
 joy to me to feel that three good-looking, healthy, 
 attractive men want me." 
 
 " Three ! " Farrell bit despairingly into the 
 cracker. 
 
 " Farrell," she said reproachfully, " that's a good 
 deal of my very slender luncheon."
 
 SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE 
 
 He dropped the food apologetically. " I'm so 
 upset ! " he explained. 
 
 He had had scant satisfaction so far, however, 
 and continued to press his mother. " What do you 
 propose doing with your musketeers ? " he asked. 
 
 " How do I know ? " she countered. " As yet all 
 this is only the beginning. I must have it all real 
 passion, real love, and emotion that will sweep me 
 off my feet. I want to be frightened, to lose my 
 breath. I want sensation. I never had it. I want 
 to be moved to the depths of my being. I used 
 to rock alone on the porch in summer and knit in 
 the library in winter, and no man ever glanced at 
 me. Now I ride beside one in a motor car, or flirt 
 with one on a sofa." 
 
 Anna had brought in a toilet tray and the widow 
 began polishing her nails as an item of preparation 
 for further fray in her flirtatious campaign. Far- 
 rell had taken his mother's last declaration as another 
 body blow. He swayed dizzily. 
 
 " Mother, please ! " he begged. 
 
 Mrs. Howard, seeing his condition, followed her 
 advantage breathlessly. " I want to thrill some man 
 to the utmost," she continued. " My heart is full 
 of throbs. Every beat of my pulse says, ' live, live ! ' 
 Forty-eight? I feel eighteen. I am a girl again.
 
 148 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 It's a wonder I didn't break out long ago. I love 
 life and I mean to have every crumb of it." 
 
 " Where will it all end ? " cried Farrell in agony. 
 
 " Don't worry over me," advised Mrs. Howard. 
 " I hope I shall get into a scandal. I've always 
 wanted to. Now be a good boy. Kiss me and run 
 along." 
 
 Farrell was almost frantic. " You can't mean 
 half you say, Mother. It's shocking. It's it's 
 well, it's not nice at alL Good-bye, Mother." 
 
 " Farrell," Mrs. Howard called to him as he 
 reached the door, with the naively malicious spirit 
 of a bad little boy. " Farrell, have twins, that might 
 settle me ! " 
 
 He made no reply save to bang the door angrily 
 after him. Words had failed him. Anna now 
 brought in curls which she pinned deftly to Mrs. 
 Howard's head. The latter pushed aside the lunch- 
 eon tray and from the dressing table set retouched 
 her ears and lips with rouge, carefully made up her 
 mouth and then surveyed the result critically in her 
 hand-glass. 
 
 Metz, appearing to remove the luncheon tray, an- 
 nounced that Mr. Thomas was calling. " It's his 
 fifth call to-day. Madame," he explained, " Mr. 
 Thomas will not be denied."
 
 SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE 149- 
 
 " Anna," ordered Mrs. Howard. " Go down and 
 send Mr. Thomas away. Tell him I am dead or ill 
 or out or eating or bathing anything you like. 
 But get rid of him!" 
 
 " I will make sure this time, Madame," Anna 
 promised, as she hurried out 
 
 Metz, who had been mysteriously holding some- 
 thing behind his back all this time, brought it before 
 him with a flourish. " Cook has sent some fresh 
 chocolate layer cake, Ma'am," he announced dramati- 
 cally, as he drew a napkin revealing the delicacy in 
 all its tempting completeness. " If Madame cares for 
 it Anna will be none the wiser." 
 
 " Put the table in front of me, Metz," she or- 
 dered. 
 
 The butler did so. Mrs. Howard moved over and 
 cut a huge slice of the cake. Metz reached into an 
 inside pocket and drew out a bottle which he handed 
 to the widow. 
 
 " Cook," he said, " also has sent some liquid pepsin 
 for Madame to take after she has finished. Cook 
 once lived where a family always ate recklessly and 
 then pepsin was passed about with the finger bowls." 
 
 " Cook always puts temptation in one's way," 
 Mrs. Howard said gratefully. " I love her for it- 
 She is psychic."
 
 150 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " She says," explained the butler, " that one may 
 eat quite freely and then trust to the pepsin." 
 
 Mrs. Howard, throwing all dietary cares to the 
 wind, devoured the cake eagerly, washing it down 
 with generous swallows of shrub. 
 
 As Metz went out Anna returned. Mrs. Howard 
 heard her in time to whisk the cake away and hide 
 it on her lap under the table. 
 
 " Oh, Madame ! " wailed Anna, " Mr. Thomas, he 
 will not go. He say he will wait until you come in " 
 
 Just at this moment Thomas sauntered insolently 
 in, saw Mrs. Howard and paused as her astonished 
 face caught sight of him. 
 
 " Well," he announced with irritating deliberation. 
 " You see I'm here." 
 
 Anna was quite as much overwhelmed as her mis- 
 tress. " Dieu," she exclaimed, while Mrs. Howard 
 glanced hopelessly, first at Anna and then at Thomas 
 for an explanation. The Socialist, gratified over 
 carrying his point, was perfectly willing now to let 
 the situation work itself out. He was, for Thomas, 
 painstakingly attired in a neat grey suit and flowing 
 Windsor tie and he flaunted a thin little cane. 
 
 " I thought I was out to you," said Mrs. Howard 
 sharply when she finally was able to speak. 
 
 " I knew you were in and I made up my mind to
 
 "Experience all, love everybody !"
 
 SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE 151 
 
 see you." Thomas still was standing and he spoke 
 slowly and with even emphasis on each word. 
 
 " Mr. Thomas," Mrs. Howard was displeased 
 when she forgot the Amos, " it really was very im- 
 pertinent of you. Since you would push your way 
 in you must not mind if I finish my luncheon. I'm 
 quite famished." 
 
 She returned eagerly to the surreptitious chocolate 
 cake. 
 
 Thomas fixed his eye on the cherry-hued shrub 
 and the cake. " It looks very good," he commented 
 longingly. His weakness for food had a youthful 
 quality about it. No little boy could have turned 
 more quickly from an imagined wrong at sight of 
 tempting edible. 
 
 " I haven't had my lunch either," he continued. 
 " Why don't you ask me to have some? '* 
 
 Mrs. Howard wasn't at all pleased by the sug- 
 gestion, but she had to work out the situation some 
 way. She knew Thomas could be very ugly. The 
 food, if anything, would mollify him. He might 
 even forget what he had come for. So with an air 
 of resentment she asked him to sit down. 
 
 " It's not much of a luncheon," she explained. 
 " I'm dieting. Anna, get a chair for Mr. Thomas." 
 
 Anna did so with a curiously mixed indignation
 
 152 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 and approval. For various reasons she felt Thomas 
 much in the way. But she admired with a Gallic 
 abandon the masculine aggressiveness which Thomas 
 had displayed in forcing his way to Mrs. Howard. 
 The intruder put hat, cane and gloves down on a 
 chair at the side of the room and then drew up to 
 the table. 
 
 " It all looks very good," said Thomas, looking 
 hungrily on the slender feast. " What is that curious 
 red drink? " 
 
 "Raspberry shrub. Will you have some?" 
 
 " Thanks." 
 
 " I knew you hadn't lunched ! " said Mrs. Howard. 
 " High-minded people like you never lunch. They 
 either forget to or they are too poor. Will you 
 have some cake? " 
 
 " Cake, Madame ! " Anna rushed to the table. 
 
 " Yes, cake." Mrs. Howard defended the dish 
 against the swooping maid. " I will have it, even 
 if it makes me fat. I can't get any sustenance out 
 of a pickle. I'm starving and angry ! " 
 
 Thomas was growing impatient. " Send that girl 
 away," he ordered. 
 
 Anna gave him an angry look. 
 
 " I want to see you alone," he continued to Mrs. 
 Howard.
 
 SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE 153 
 
 " Anna ! " Mrs. Howard said firmly, and the maid 
 retired to the bedroom. " What unexpected things 
 you do, Amos. Who else, I ask you, would have 
 walked upstairs like that ? " 
 
 " I really came to upbraid you for your coldness," 
 he said, " and now I am eating chocolate layer cake 
 instead." The Socialist's mouth and hands were 
 full. 
 
 " But I hope you will still upbraid me. I always 
 revel in one of your scoldings." Mrs. Howard was 
 forgetting her vexation. The more earnest Thomas 
 became, the fuller he filled his mouth with cake. 
 
 " Do you think," he said thickly between thicker 
 bites, " that you can go about with me as you have 
 done and then cast me aside ? You knew all along that 
 I was in earnest. You said your soul was in tune 
 with mine " He bit furiously into another piece 
 of cake. " Have you forgotten that ? And I have 
 kept all those dear little notes that you wrote me. 
 I have also kept the picture postal we had taken to- 
 gether. And have you forgotten that wonderful aft- 
 ernoon at the Anarchists' Club ? " 
 
 " Amos," interrupted Mrs. Howard with a shocked 
 memory of smitten couples unhampered by any re- 
 gard for convention or mere laws, " I don't think 
 that was at all a nice club ! "
 
 154 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Thomas plunged afresh into the cake and shrub. 
 " Nice," he exclaimed as vehemently as the food 
 would permit him. " What a silly, obsolete word. 
 Nice " he bit off more chocolate. " You wanted 
 to be free, to have experience, to learn the big, un- 
 trammelled truths of love. And I thought I could 
 teach them to you. You haven't the courage of a 
 sparrow! Why, a woman should taste all! Love 
 when and where she will ! It's a glorious creed ! But 
 she must be able to partake of this love and return 
 it, not throw away the passion of an honest toiler 
 that she may play more easily with a millionaire. 
 Especially that millionaire Dallas. Each should 
 have his share." 
 
 Thomas punctuated his tirade with more cake. 
 Mrs. Howard becoming alarmed, drew her chair far- 
 ther from the table. She had never seen fury, lan- 
 guage and food so mixed before. 
 
 " Each should have his share ! " she exclaimed. 
 " That makes woman into a sort of love trust. It's 
 illegal!" 
 
 Thomas snorted. " Don't talk to me of laws. I 
 break them! If only your pretty soul could grasp 
 the great doctrine of the varietist in all its perfec- 
 tion ! Know all, feel all " He halted, seeing Mrs. 
 Howard pick up a small bottle, pull the cork with
 
 SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE 155 
 
 her teeth and pour some of a clear liquid into a 
 spoon. 
 
 " What is that ? " he demanded with never-failing 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Pepsin." 
 
 " I'll have some, too." He looked dubiously at 
 the cake. 
 
 He took a spoon oiF the tray, poured off a dose, 
 swallowed it hopefully and resumed his speech. " Ex- 
 perience all, love everybody! Do you hear me? 
 Love everybody ! " 
 
 " Amos, what is the matter with you? You were 
 never like this." The widow really was alarmed. 
 
 " You never were excused to me before," he ex- 
 claimed. " It infuriated me and I could have beaten 
 you." He glowered at her fiercely. 
 
 " My dear Amos ! What doctrine is that ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Man's," he blustered. " Can't you see I am 
 mad with love for you? I wouldn't let anything 
 stand in my way in order to get the woman I love. 
 Why, for one kiss from you, I'd " He glanced 
 about the room for a desperate proof of some sort. 
 His eye fell on the window and fire-escape. " Why, 
 I'd jump out of that window down four stories to 
 the street."
 
 156 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Nonsense." Mrs. Howard's practical New Eng- 
 landism came to the surface. 
 
 He rushed to the window and struggled with the 
 sash. "You don't believe me? Well, here I go!" 
 
 " Amos, the whole house will hear you ! " 
 
 " I'd as soon jump as breathe." 
 
 Mrs. Howard retreated nervously. " You're in- 
 sane. Go away, go away ! " 
 
 " You said you wanted a desperate love affair. 
 Well, you have one ! " He fairly bristled. 
 
 " Amos Thomas ! " exclaimed the worried widow. 
 "" I am ashamed of you. You're a bully." 
 
 " Perhaps," he softened, " but I could be a great 
 lover. And I want to be yours. Is it yes ? " he 
 came towards her. 
 
 " How can I say yes before I think, Amos ? And 
 you really must go now." She parried for time. 
 
 " You are evading it." He grew threatening 
 again. " Will you give up this rich idler for me, 
 for your Amos, who adores you whose one happi- 
 ness you are? " 
 
 " I'll think it over carefully," she promised. " You 
 really must excuse me." 
 
 As Amos was about to go Anna came in from the 
 bedroom. " Pardon, Madame," she said, " it is time 
 for the engagement with Monsieur Dallas."
 
 SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE 157 
 
 Mrs. Howard turned quickly to silence Anna, but 
 Thomas had heard. 
 
 " Madame will be late," Anna continued disas- 
 trously. 
 
 Thomas stopped. He was very angry and his face 
 revealed brutal possibilities that gave Mrs. Howard 
 even further alarm. She felt the occasion was so 
 serious that fate would forgive her the fib. 
 
 " No, Mr. Dallas is not coming here now," she 
 broke in hastily. " Anna is mistaken. I've broken 
 that engagement. I'm going to lie down. I'm ex- 
 hausted. It was because I am so tired that I was 
 excused to you." 
 
 Thomas, still furious, turned slowly to go. 
 
 " If I thought you were turning me out for an- 
 other man " he began, when Mrs. Howard inter- 
 rupted. " How suspicious you are, Amos. I'm not 
 going to see a soul. Do go ! " 
 
 Thomas determined to get a definite declaration. 
 He faced the widow aggressively. " Will you give 
 up this millionaire for me ? " The sharp insistence 
 of his manner startled her and she backed away from 
 him. He followed her, his head out, his lips drawn in 
 a dangerous line and his eyes blazing. " Will you ? " 
 he repeated. 
 
 Mrs. Howard, losing time each second and knowing
 
 158 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 that Dallas was below in all probability, now was 
 solely intent on getting rid of Thomas. 
 
 " Yes, yes, please go ! " she answered, hardly 
 knowing what she said. Thomas picked up his hat 
 and cane. " I'll write you," she added, waving 
 him on. 
 
 " See that you do ! " His manner was most em- 
 phatic. 
 
 Just as Thomas reached for the door there was a 
 knock and Mrs. Brinton entered in her brisk man- 
 ner, not noticing the Socialist. 
 
 " Ellie, have you forgotten your appointment with 
 Dallas. He's here," she announced. 
 
 Thomas turned with a villainous " So-you-have- 
 lied-to-me " expression, but went out muttering furi- 
 ously to himself. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton was bored. She didn't approve at 
 all of her friend's intimacy with Thomas. 
 
 " Why, Ellie, how did he " she began. 
 
 " Oh, Peg," laughed the widow, much relieved. " I 
 told him Dallas wasn't coming. Amos is so jealous 
 of him. I've had an awful scene. Peg, that man 
 will shoot me if I'm not careful." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense!" Mrs. Brinton placed no such 
 high valuation on the Socialist's courage.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 PLAYING GAMES 
 
 WHETHER or not Mrs. Howard was openly conscious 
 of the fact, Christopher Dallas by this time had 
 come to be a very important item of her new life. 
 His attentions were so unobtrusively but skilfully 
 manoeuvred that she had come to rely on him for 
 a variety of things. She would have been very much 
 lost without his ever-ready suggestions for an idle 
 hour or a vacant afternoon. He turned up intui- 
 tively whenever he was wanted. She never relied 
 on him that he failed. He was shockingly forgetful 
 of business appointments, but he had never kept a 
 woman waiting with whom he had a social engage- 
 ment, thus reversing the tradition of the American 
 man. He made his office unimportant and the pad 
 there got the attention of a changeling child. On 
 the other hand his book of social engagements was 
 consulted as religiously as a breviary. 
 
 The study of Mrs. Howard's wants and comforts 
 was made his major occupation. And no inconsid- 
 erable part of that study was devoted to the care 
 
 159
 
 160 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 that she should not be bored, that she should never 
 have too much of him. Christopher Dallas, if the 
 first to come, was no less the first to leave. 
 
 Perhaps his devotion was because he had found 
 in the Brookline widow his first thoroughly unspoiled 
 woman. She came to him as fresh and interested as 
 a debutante, but with a quaint humour, a fragrant 
 wholesome mentality and a durable, common-sense 
 back of all her apparent frivolity that held him 
 steadily after his first vivid and unforgettable con- 
 tact with her mind and spirit. She had touched him 
 in a moment of boredom with the extreme sophistica- 
 tion of the women of his metropolitan set. He had 
 tired of cynicism, artificiality of thought and expres- 
 sion, and extremities of sophistication. An experi- 
 mental turn of mind hitherto had led him largely to 
 women who were making experiments of their own. 
 He somehow felt for the first time out of the ama- 
 tory laboratory. 
 
 And so the man of the world and the woman of 
 Brookline came closer and closer to a mental and 
 spiritual comradeship which once gained, might lead 
 them on to a completer and more durable intimacy. 
 With Dallas, Mrs. Howard felt a comfortable serenity 
 which was never hers when she was in the company 
 of one of the other men. The novelty of Thomas
 
 PLAYING GAMES 161 
 
 had worn off and there was left after his pseudo radi- 
 calism and engaging audacity were stripped away 
 an unpleasant and often brutal egotism. Doyle, with 
 his world of compliments, his quick gallantries, his 
 mellow humour and his instinctive sense of the road to 
 a woman's approval, delighted her when she was in 
 merry mood, but he was never willing to take her 
 as he found her. He always compelled her to rise 
 to his blithe and bantering level. And it wasn't al- 
 ways easy for her to do this. Besides, way under- 
 neath all that pleasant exterior, she sensed there 
 things she knew she would not like at the surface. 
 Then, too, she retained enough of her inborn New 
 Englandism to demand in a man a certain amount 
 of distinction of birth. Dallas was the only one of 
 the three men of whose background she wholly ap- 
 proved. 
 
 So she lunched with Dallas, rode about with him 
 in his imposing motor, did the plays and the opera, 
 accepted his flowers and his chocolates and the other 
 items in his multitude of well-chosen attentions. His 
 friendship for John Strong and Strong's regular pres- 
 ence at the Brinton home made it very easy for all 
 manner of little informal affairs in which the four 
 participated. Each couple was always ready to pair 
 off and leave the other safe from interruption.
 
 162 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 One late afternoon the four had returned to Mrs. 
 Brinton's from a rather long luncheon. Dallas had 
 brought back a pleasingly sentimental record of a 
 favourite opera singer which he wished to try on 
 Mrs. Howard as an experiment. After it was over 
 and Strong and Mrs. Brinton had gone out on the 
 little balcony for a little chat, Dallas stood up in 
 all his six feet of imposing and polished self and 
 looked down on the enigmatical widow. The after- 
 noon light was gradually turning to dusk and the 
 shadows were growing deeper through the attractive 
 sitting-room. 
 
 Mrs. Howard was in merry mood. " Well," she 
 laughed, " you experimented with the music. Did 
 it have any effect on you ? " 
 
 Dallas, not to be caught in any college-boy senti- 
 mentalism, crossed before her, turned and faced her 
 from the other side of the room. " No, it didn't," he 
 commented. " And I notice it left you unscathed." 
 He turned the probe back to her. 
 
 " As if I didn't know better? " Mrs. Howard was 
 growing venturesome. 
 
 " Exactly as if you didn't know better." 
 
 Mrs. Howard smiled archly at him. " I believe 
 you'd stop at nothing." 
 
 The bachelor came quickly to his most familiar
 
 PLAYING GAMES 163 
 
 encounter, a battle of wits with a woman. " Noth- 
 ing," he affirmed interestedly. 
 
 Mrs. Howard looked at him hard through eyes 
 that were wide in the twilight. " Aren't you afraid 
 you may go too far? " She felt daring. 
 
 " I told you I played hard," answered Dallas. He 
 was putting the possible blame, manlike, on the 
 woman. " You know you dared me to." 
 
 He was quite wonderful to her in the dimming 
 light. He seemed taller, more Olympian than she 
 had ever seen him. And was there a new softness in 
 his tone under all the banter? 
 
 " But suppose," her voice trembled a little, " sup- 
 pose that I believed in it, this game, some of 
 it?" 
 
 Dallas came closer to her. " Do you want to be- 
 lieve? " There was an- appealing tone in his voice. 
 " Tell me, shall we stop playing? And if we do, 
 do you know what it would mean? It would mean 
 the door thrown wide open, so you could see every- 
 thing. And I would be on the threshold pulling you, 
 drawing you, making you enter into my holy of 
 holies." He put his hand on his heart. " And then 
 when I had you safely inside I'd shut the door and 
 keep you there. Would you come in? " 
 
 She was kneeling on the couch now, facing him as
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 he stood behind it. " I'd like to look in," she said 
 mischievously. " Open the door a little crack to me, 
 Dal." She touched his breast with a little finger. 
 He caught her hand, which she pulled away. Feel- 
 ing unsafe in the bewitching twilight she ran to the 
 wall and flashed on the electrics. He blinked and 
 then smiled at her. Her way of avoiding actualities 
 amused him. 
 
 " It's going to be wide open or shut," he continued, 
 as she settled back on the sofa. He studied her 
 fondly. 
 
 " Do you know," he resumed softly after a long 
 look at her, " I've never seen your eyes look as 
 they do to-night, they're so soft and tender. And 
 your mouth." He stopped again and drew in a 
 great breath. " Ellie, your mouth is positively 
 criminal! The thoughts it has put into my head! 
 I used to keep track of the time each day that I 
 longed to kiss it." He leaned over the couch quite 
 fascinated. " But I had to stop because I couldn't 
 count so far." 
 
 Mrs. Howard was enjoying every second of the 
 encounter with a characteristic combination of senti- 
 ment and humour. " It's like a man to count kisses 
 when he hasn't had any." The feminine joy of draw- 
 ing the masculine out was in her soul. " I wonder
 
 PLAYING GAMES 165 
 
 how you look when you are wanting a kiss. Next time 
 you do " she placed her face close to his and puck- 
 ered her lips and then withdrew swiftly as he leaned 
 down " tell me." 
 
 Dallas was bewitched. " The things you say to 
 me and the things you do and still you expect me 
 to keep my senses." He made fervent love to a 
 defenseless sofa pillow. " I'm a big man, little you," 
 he continued, dropping the pillow and looking down 
 over the back of the couch, " and I can feel a lot to 
 the square inch. Play fair ! " 
 
 " Play fair ! " she echoed as he reached out and 
 took her left hand in both his. She released her- 
 self and continued, " A moment ago you asked if 
 we should stop playing. Do you really know what 
 you do want of me ? " She threw her heart and soul 
 into her eyes, and Dallas swallowed the look greedily. 
 He breathed hard. 
 
 " When you look at me that way, Ellie, there 
 doesn't seem to be air enough to breathe. I'm 
 stifling. Please stop playing, be real ! " He touched 
 her with reverent affection. 
 
 " This afternoon life seems almost too real," she 
 said, gently disengaging herself and backing away 
 from the sofa, " and you are almost too near." 
 
 Dallas was hurt by her evasion of him. He came
 
 166 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 around the sofa out to the centre of the room and 
 stood before her. 
 
 " How you delight to thrust and parry," he com- 
 mented, " to lunge and recover. I'm no match for 
 you. Wherever you aim," he touched his breast, 
 " touche." He studied her for a moment. " Be a 
 little kind," he continued imploringly, " stop devil- 
 ling me for one day. Haven't I earned that? And 
 isn't yours the exquisite satisfaction of knowing that 
 I come a little earlier each day and stay a little later 
 each evening? " He took her hand and held it firmly. 
 " And at this particular moment ! " He paused ten- 
 derly. " This is one of the moments, Ellie " She 
 interrupted him, quite radiant and quite happy. 
 
 Strong and Mrs. Brinton were stirring out on the 
 balcony. She saw them and checked Dallas from 
 further avowals. 
 
 " Please, please, don't say it all to me now. There 
 is the whole evening left. And besides," Strong was 
 tapping on the glass, " John and Peg are coming 
 back." 
 
 " Oh, I say, why do they have to come back now? " 
 He wasn't a bit pleased to have the chat broken into, 
 but before he could offer further objection Strong 
 and Mrs. Brinton were in the room. 
 
 " Time ! " exclaimed Strong maliciously.
 
 PLAYING GAMES 167 
 
 " You must have had very little to say to Mar- 
 garet," Dallas commented sarcastically. 
 
 " Indeed," said Mrs. Brinton, raising her eyebrows, 
 " I think we have given you two plenty of time. You 
 know Peg and I must dress for dinner and you might 
 as well let us do it now. Go down into the library 
 and order yourselves some fizzy little drinks." 
 
 The men did not show the slightest signs of mov- 
 ing. Dallas looked for Strong to go and Strong 
 waited for Dallas. Both had been well started on 
 man's well-known proclivity to declare himself, and 
 neither of them was at all in the mood now to be 
 thrust into the uncheering masculine society of the 
 other. 
 
 " Do run along," urged Mrs. Brinton almost tear- 
 fully, " and come back for us oh, well, not too 
 soon. And don't you dare appear before Ellie is 
 half ready." She turned to Strong, seeing that 
 Dallas n was listening to her. " John, like a dear, 
 do go." 
 
 " Oh, no," he objected. " It's hours before dinner 
 time. We refuse to be left all alone. One of you 
 dress at a time, eh, Dal ? " 
 
 " Please, Margaret," Dallas seconded. " John 
 and I are tired of each other. We might quar- 
 rel."
 
 168 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Mrs. Howard rose and started for her room. 
 " Take them down, Peg, I'll hurry." 
 
 " Can you? " questioned the doubting Dallas. 
 
 " Truly I will." She looked at him tenderly. 
 
 "Do," he returned. "Til time you." He took 
 out his watch and studied it. Then, seeing Strong 
 and Mrs. Brinton turning to the door he grasped 
 the widow's hand quickly and kissed it fervently. As 
 he was about to go Metz knocked at the door and 
 said, " Mrs. Howard, Mr. Doyle wishes to see you, 
 Madame." 
 
 " Heavens ! " broke in Dallas, " that man never 
 knows when he is in the way. Say you can't see him. 
 You know you are sending me away." 
 
 Strong, scenting trouble, thrust his head in at the 
 door. " That will never do for Michael," he com- 
 mented. " You ought to know him better than that." 
 
 " I don't like it," frankly protested Dallas. He 
 stood his ground formidably. 
 
 " I promise you he will not stay more than a sec- 
 ond," urged the widow. The bachelor seemed satis- 
 fied with that. He took Mrs. Howard's hands. 
 
 " You haven't forgotten our appointment after the 
 dance, have you, my dear friend? " 
 
 " No, no," she said quickly.
 
 PLAYING GAMES 169 
 
 " Come on, Dal, you'll be late," insisted Strong, 
 coming into the room and dragging the reluctant 
 Dallas off with him.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A CAVE MAN 
 
 MRS. HOWARD had her own reasons for wanting to 
 see Doyle. She knew he soon would have to be 
 headed off from his impetuous wooing. There was 
 no such thing as arresting Michael once he had a 
 formidable start. He had a masculine velocity and 
 impact which were appalling. At the luncheon which 
 he had given her at the Ritz on this day he had so 
 importuned her that she felt gravely the need of 
 checking him. Just how to do this she did not know. 
 She planned to await an opportune moment in con- 
 versation and hoped some such time would come 
 quickly. 
 
 Before Doyle had had time to come .up from the 
 door, the maid busied herself with a few final touches 
 on the room and her mistress was startled to hear 
 Mrs. Howard exclaim: 
 
 " Anna, a man on the fire-escape ! " 
 
 Both looked nervously to the window opening on 
 the court at the right of the room. The intruder 
 
 was struggling with the geranium box, the flowers 
 
 170
 
 A CAVE MAN 171 
 
 hiding his face. As the window came up there was 
 revealed the insolent leer of Amos Thomas. 
 
 " Amos Thomas ! " Mrs. Howard exclaimed. She 
 was furious and very bored. She had no thought 
 that the Socialist's jealousy of Dallas would lead him 
 into so doubtful a position. Thomas, meanwhile, 
 leaned angrily on the flower-box, looking into the 
 room, for the plants effectually barred his entrance. 
 
 " So you lied to me about Dallas," he muttered. 
 " Well, it didn't do you any good. I knew he was 
 here. I heard his voice. And I saw him go out 
 there " pointing to the door " just a minute ago." 
 
 " Amos Thomas ! How dared you ? " Mrs. How- 
 ard and Anna rushed simultaneously to the window, 
 slammed it down and locked the catch. 
 
 Scarcely was the curtain down when Doyle was 
 knocking at the door. Mrs. Howard rushed to the 
 sofa, extricated her beloved chocolate cake from be- 
 neath the pillow where it had been since Thomas' visit 
 and returned to the table for another bit of her much- 
 interrupted refection. 
 
 " Come in," she said when she was finally disposed 
 at the table to her satisfaction. Anna retreated to 
 the bedroom and Doyle, always quick, neat and at- 
 tractive, stepped in alertly. He carefully closed the 
 door behind him.
 
 172 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Dallas says you are in a hurry to dress," he 
 explained, " but I promise to keep you only a mo- 
 ment." He seemed surprised to find her nibbling at 
 cake. " And what are you doing there? " he added. 
 
 " Eating," she answered naively. 
 
 " Will ye listen to her." The Irishman was 
 puzzled. " And only a little while ago I had you for 
 lunch at no less a place than the Ritz." 
 
 Taking a page out of her visitor's own book of 
 blarney she commented gallantly, " I only eat when 
 I'm hungry, Irishman, and I wasn't when I was with 
 you." 
 
 He came a little closer to the table. " Do you 
 mean it ? " He was very pleased, " Lord love ye. Is 
 it a bit of flattery, now, or is it for fear you'll be 
 hearing the thump of my heart." 
 
 " My, Irishman, but you've a soft tongue." 
 
 Doyle never allowed a woman to get the better of 
 him in this sort of contest. 
 
 " And a softer heart," he supplemented, " you've 
 pounded it so." 
 
 He looked at her with extravagant approval. " I'll 
 forgive you all if you'll only tell me what the pas- 
 sionate rose-coloured drink is in the glass." A pro- 
 fessional interest, as it were, had been touched. 
 
 " Why that's " began Mrs. Howard, when there
 
 A CAVE MAN 173 
 
 was a crash of falling flower-pots in the court. Doyle 
 started and she arose somewhat fearfully. 
 
 " What was that? " Doyle turned quickly to the 
 curtained window. Mrs. Howard ran so rapidly that 
 she reached it first. She turned a corner of the cur- 
 tain and looked out. Finding Amos still on the fire- 
 escape she turned her back and said reassuringly, 
 " It's nothing but the cat." Then she again looked 
 out discreetly, and, as if addressing one of the pets, 
 said imperatively, " Pst ! Pst ! Go down ! " 
 
 She diverted Michael's attention by extolling the 
 virtues of the old-fashioned shrub. He accepted a 
 glass and tried a little of the liquid on his expert 
 tongue, while the widow stood nervously against the 
 window. 
 
 " It's not bad," he reported after his trial. " It's 
 near-soda. I can drink anything once. I suppose 
 that fuzzy taste is the fuzz off the raspberries." He 
 put down the glass and faced Mrs. Howard, who 
 had returned to the table. 
 
 " Widow ! I'm going to lecture you. You're 
 very careless about the naughty world." 
 
 Mrs. Howard affected to be terrified. " Oh, 
 my! If it's about the naughty world, I am 
 worried." She forgot her resolutions and said softly, 
 "What is it, Irishman?"
 
 174 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Lord love ye ! " he expostulated. " Don't look 
 at me that way or smile at me so. I'll not be able to 
 say it at all. And it needs sayin', Widow. It's se- 
 rious, very serious." 
 
 " Really serious," she mocked. " Are you actually 
 going to terrify me ? " Somehow she didn't feel a bit 
 in the mood to reprove Michael now that he had come 
 to scold her. 
 
 " Don't you think you need to be terrified ? " con- 
 tinued Doyle. 
 
 " Oh, dear me, I'm left alone with a cave man. I 
 may learn a new trick." Mrs. Howard was unre- 
 generate. 
 
 " And it's you have the daring tongue," he said 
 warningly. " Remember, I'm only half civilised and 
 the other half of me has noticed you." 
 
 " I wonder if it was safe for Peg to leave me here 
 with a man who is only half civilised? " She pre- 
 tended to be alarmed. 
 
 " I'll give the widow this much," commented 
 the delighted Doyle. " You're not afraid of 
 me." 
 
 " Nor twenty such." She snapped her fingers at 
 him. 
 
 " But I'll not stand for people talkin' about ye." 
 He returned to his lecture.
 
 A CAVE MAN 175 
 
 " And who did? " Mrs. Howard was only mildly 
 curious. 
 
 " Men, and they'll not do it soon again," he said 
 fiercely. " But if the women commence it, God help 
 you. I can't shut their mouths so easily." 
 
 Mrs. Howard's eyes twinkled. She leaned towards 
 her earnest visitor. " There's really only one sure 
 way of shutting a woman's mouth with kisses." 
 
 Doyle followed her head fascinatedly. He at- 
 tempted to realise her advice only to find her slyly 
 blocking his way with a good sized piece of the choco- 
 late cake. 
 
 He backed away. " Every time I look at ye, 
 Ellie, I wonder some man hasn't strangled you ! You 
 are so damned unafraid." 
 
 " That is probably why ! " she returned saucily. 
 "And now what crime am I charged with?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "It's the truth, and I'll not stand for it!" he 
 affirmed. " It's Dal and I am jealous. You are 
 seen too much together." 
 
 " And he complains that I'm seen too much with 
 you," she returned. " Truly there is no pleasing 
 men." 
 
 " Now understand me, there is talk, far too much 
 talk about Dal and you," continued Doyle. " And
 
 176 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 I'm mad to the skin. I know it's just your pretty, 
 careless way. Ye love to play with bonfires, pro- 
 vided you light them and Lord love ye, but you've 
 started one burning under me you'll have to watch." 
 His voice softened and he came closer to her. 
 
 Mrs. Howard was enjoying herself. " Don't 
 come too near me," she said daringly, " I might catch 
 fire myself." 
 
 Doyle put hands on the table and leaned down 
 opposite her. " No woman has heated my blood 
 up for ten years," he said vehemently. " Then you 
 came along, with your devilish foolin' ways, and the 
 smile of ye, that catches hold of me and bites like 
 a strong drink. I'm sittin' at the tip top of the 
 toboggan, Widow, and it only needs a push to start 
 me down, and then hell's fire will be loose, mind that. 
 When I'm at the bottom of the slide, it's the bar- 
 tender you'll have to handle, and he's common earth 
 are ye afraid now, Widow ? " 
 
 She had moved back a little, but stood her mental 
 ground. " Not I," she answered with a smile. She 
 rose and came round the table until she was close 
 to him. She looked up archly. " I'd love meeting 
 a bartender," she added. 
 
 " I'm mad over ye ! " exclaimed Doyle, marvellously 
 taken with her.
 
 A CAVE MAN 177 
 
 She had forgotten her resolution to disillusion him. 
 He made love so blithely, was so amusing under all 
 his surface of earnestness that she hadn't the strength 
 to stop him now. 
 
 " Truly, you're wonderful to-day ! " she cried. " I 
 like you in this new mood." 
 
 " It's not a new mood," he interposed. " It's just 
 the Irish in me. Are you going to mind what I say, 
 Widow?" 
 
 " Probably not." She was incorrigible for the 
 moment. " I'll do just what I like." 
 
 " Mind ye," warned Doyle, " I won't let you go 
 without a fight. There might be a scandal." 
 
 " I'll do just what I please." 
 
 " Well, then, please decide between the two of us. 
 It hurts me to hear people discussing ye." 
 
 " I'm afraid I can't promise." She went over to 
 the window and listened for a moment. Hearing 
 nothing she came back to the table. 
 
 " Do you perhaps love Dal, now ? " pursued the 
 Irishman meanwhile. 
 
 " And if I do? " She grew coquettish. " Dal is 
 very fascinating, you know, and you never can " 
 She gave him a wonderful look and smile. 
 
 " I'd kill ye first." Jealousy was eating into him. 
 He paused a moment contemplatively. He hesitated
 
 178 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 and then blurted out, " Has he kissed ye, perhaps ? " 
 
 " Not yet," she answered gaily. 
 
 " Then I'll be before him for once." Mrs. Howard 
 was startled. She knew she had gone too far. Doyle 
 reached for her, but she eluded him by running back 
 of the sofa. He, thinking she was trying to get to 
 her room and Anna, stood between her and the door. 
 She crossed to the other side of the room, picking up 
 a pillow as she passed the sofa. She was not able 
 long to keep away from him. As he came up she hit 
 at him with the pillow. He caught it and she seized 
 another which he took just as quickly. Then, seeing 
 the perfume atomiser which Anna had left on the 
 table, she grasped that and spurted the liquid in his 
 face as he advanced again. 
 
 " You little devil, you are blinding me," he cried, 
 but he kept right on. She could no longer avoid 
 him. He seized her, taking the atomiser from her. 
 She struggled hard, then seeing that she was not to 
 escape .him, put her hand against her mouth. He 
 quickly pinned her arms and then kissed her on the 
 cheek, then more roughly on brow and hair as she 
 twisted and turned in an agony of opposition. 
 Finally she leaned back in despair. 
 
 " Ellie! " he breathed, " kiss me, just once of your 
 own choosin' kiss me, kiss me ! "
 
 A CAVE MAN 179 
 
 " You are so rough," she said weakly. 
 
 " Don't ye like that, darlin'? It's a new trick I'm 
 teachin' ye." He put his face against hers and 
 talked passionately to her. " I long for ye so, 
 woman, that it's a big ache in me. I want ye, want 
 ye, do ye mind and I'm fifty and more. That's 
 time to be over such feelin' and I'm just startin' in. 
 I'll love ye from mornin 5 till night, Ellie, and I'll 
 try not to be rough with it. Only kiss me, just once 
 darlin', and say, * Michael, I love ye.' Am I hurtin* 
 ye? I've always wanted to. You're so damned sure 
 of yourself." He held her hard and she struggled 
 again. 
 
 " Please I'm tired," she cried. 
 
 " Kiss me, then ! " 
 
 " I want to get away from you." 
 
 "Do ye, now? Well, who is stronger, eh?" he 
 twisted her around. 
 
 " You really hurt me. Please." 
 
 " I'd like to turn your wrists till you cried and 
 kiss ye until I bruised your mouth, and hold you so 
 close in my arms you'd hardly breathe. And even 
 then I wouldn't have ye. It's the soul of ye, that 
 stands over there and mocks me ! " 
 
 " I'm frightened," she urged. Her fear of him 
 instantly sobered Doyle. He let her go, quite over-
 
 180 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 come by his outbreak. She backed away and sank 
 on the sofa exhausted. 
 
 " I'm a brute," he apologised, realising his offence. 
 " God, how it comes out at such a time ! Don't ye 
 be frightened of me, Ellie. I'll not do it again. I 
 couldn't bear to have ye afraid. It's the sauciness 
 and courage of ye that warm me heart. Will ye 
 forgive me? " 
 
 " Good gracious, was that love, Michael ? " she 
 asked. " I'm not quite sure what it was." 
 
 " It's the way I know how to love," he explained 
 contritely. " Real feeling is just the primitive in 
 a man getting out. You are the sort of woman who 
 has herself to blame for the way she is treated. You 
 know I am on fire inside, that I am sufferin' hell's 
 torments over ye, and ye tease and devil me until 
 I am nearly crazy. If it isn't a slipper, it's an 
 elbow, and if it isn't a smile, it's a whiff of heliotrope ; 
 ye hunt out the dark corners where the beast is 
 restin' and rout him out into the light. When he 
 snarls and snaps ye laugh at him. All of the worst 
 of me wants ye, Ellie, and all of the best, too." 
 He was tender again. 
 
 " I feel as if I had been through a cyclone," she 
 said as she arose weakly, " and I do not know whether 
 I am angry or not. I said that I wanted to stir some
 
 A CAVE MAN 181 
 
 man to his depths, so I shouldn't complain. But 
 after all, if that is passion, it's fearfully uncom- 
 fortable." 
 
 " I'd make a better husband than lover." He 
 came close again and she started back in alarm. 
 " But there's no doubt I love ye, Ellie, and I love 
 ye damned hard.'* 
 
 " Please excuse me," she waved him off. " I am 
 honestly quite exhausted. If anyone ever doubts 
 your temperament, Michael, send her to me. If you 
 will join Peg and John Strong, I will come a little 
 later." 
 
 Doyle took her hands. " Are ye angry with me? " 
 She pulled away, slapping his fingers. 
 
 She retreated to her door. " I don't know," she 
 answered. " I really don't think I am. But I am 
 breathless and I ought to be furious." He came 
 towards her. " Go away ! " she exclaimed. " You 
 wicked man. You, you, you're terrible." She took 
 hurried refuge in the room and slammed the door 
 after her. 
 
 " God love her!" said Doyle to himself. " She'd 
 devil St. Anthony." He hesitated a moment and 
 then knocked on her door. 
 
 " Widow " he whispered, and then knocked 
 again. She opened it just a crack.
 
 182 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " It's good-night to you, Irishman," she said se- 
 curely from the refuge of her room. 
 
 "Do you mean it?" he asked sadly. 
 
 " Good-night ! " she said, attempting to close the 
 door. 
 
 " You may shut your door, Ellie," he returned 
 once more, flowery of speech, " but you can't shut 
 out my love, that's with ye always." 
 
 " Good-night, Irishman," she said softly, much 
 mollified. 
 
 " Good-night, Widow." He turned to go as she 
 shut her door.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE WIDOW YIELDS 
 
 MRS. HOWARD'S scene with the Irishman had been 
 so strenuous that for the moment she had forgotten 
 the extraordinary appearance of Amos on the fire- 
 escape. He was still there, however. A stalwart, 
 masculine sneeze came from without the window just 
 as Doyle was on the way to the door after his dis- 
 missal by the widow. Michael listened carefully a 
 moment as he stood in the centre of the room. The 
 sneeze was repeated, a little off the key of its prede- 
 cessor, perhaps, but still undoubtedly from the same 
 source. Doyle was about to investigate when he 
 heard foot-steps stealthily approaching in the hall. 
 Rather foolishly he retreated, going through the 
 glass doors to the balcony outside Mrs. Howard's 
 sitting-room. He felt that he would be in better 
 position to act from there providing an intruder of 
 some sort had got into the house. So he closed 
 himself out carefully and awaited developments. 
 The door opened very slowly and a head looked in 
 
 furtively. It was that of Farrell Howard. 
 
 183
 
 184 YEARS OP DISCRETION 
 
 The young man glanced about excitedly, then 
 turned his head and whispered to someone behind 
 him. He came in on tiptoe, followed by Strong, 
 Dallas and Mrs. Brinton. 
 
 " Are you sure there's someone on the fire-es- 
 cape ? " asked Strong in a guarded tone. 
 
 " Positive," affirmed Farrell, whose eyes were bulg- 
 ing excitedly behind his prim glasses. 
 
 " Margaret," advised Dallas, addressing Mrs. 
 Brinton, " go into Ellie's room and keep her there." 
 
 " But do call me if there's any excitement," she 
 requested as she went. She rapped at the bedroom 
 door and entered immediately with the remark, " It's 
 Peg, Ellie." 
 
 Farrell bristled with excitement. " I asked the 
 policeman to watch at the foot of the stairs, so the 
 burglar can't escape that way," he said. 
 
 At that moment there was another formidable 
 sneeze without. Farrell rushed forward pugna- 
 ciously. Dallas restrained the youth and signalled 
 to Strong to help raise the window. 
 
 " One, two, three, ready ! " exclaimed Dallas. The 
 curtain shot up, then the window. The men looked 
 out to see the blinking, yawning, sneezing Thomas. 
 
 " It's the Socialist ! " Dallas could not conceal 
 his astonishment.
 
 THE WIDOW YIELDS 185 
 
 " What are you doing on the fire-escape outside 
 this window? " demanded the furious Farrell. 
 
 " Will you kindly climb in, Mr. Thomas ? " re- 
 quested Dallas. 
 
 " How do I get in ? " Thomas blinked at the 
 rampart of geraniums. 
 
 " How did you get out ? " Farrell was gasping. 
 
 " If someone will put a chair here and remove 
 this box of flowers I'll come in gladly," said Thomas. 
 " I mounted this damnable affair from the street and 
 it was no easy task. I am quite dizzy and very bored 
 and I have caught " he sneezed " a horrible 
 cold." 
 
 Thomas, after Dallas and Strong had removed the 
 flowers and placed the chair, came over the sill stiffly 
 and sheepishly. Once in the room, however, he re- 
 covered his wonted poise and with airy composure 
 studied the window and fire-escape. 
 
 " Imagine how useful that would be in case of 
 fire," he said. " It's a surgical operation to get in 
 or out." 
 
 " What were you doing out there? " Farrell was 
 bursting with impatience and petty authority. 
 
 "What matter?" asked Dallas. "He isn't a 
 burglar at all events. Perhaps Mr. Thomas will tell 
 us of his own accord."
 
 186 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 "Are you going to answer me?" insisted Farrell 
 in the throes of indignation. 
 
 Thomas looked Farrell over contemptuously. 
 " That's my business," he said. 
 
 Young Howard rushed forward but Dallas re- 
 strained him. 
 
 " Easy, Farrell," advised Strong. " Mr. Thomas 
 is a friend of your mother's." 
 
 " I don't believe it." Farrell almost wept. " Mr. 
 Dallas, you know it isn't true, don't you? " 
 
 " My boy, your mother certainly knows him more 
 or less," replied Dallas. " Whether she knew he 
 was on the fire-escape I am not prepared to say. I 
 did not know, however, that Mr. Thomas was in the 
 least venturesome. Perhaps he will tell us about it. 
 Let us all sit down, and remember, Farrell, your 
 mother is in the next room." 
 
 Dallas motioned Thomas to a seat at the centre of 
 the room. He and Strong then sat at either side of 
 the Socialist and the excited Farrell fidgeted to a 
 seat near his mother's door. 
 
 " I really am rather old to play young Verona," 
 volunteered Thomas lightly. " And a trinity of 
 angry male friends is a sad substitute for Juliet." 
 
 " Mr. Howard is waiting for your explanation," 
 advised Dallas quietly.
 
 THE WIDOW YIELDS 187 
 
 " There are a good many things going on in this 
 house I don't like," returned Thomas insolently. 
 " Mrs. Howard told me she didn't expect to see any- 
 one, especially you. I don't like to be lied to. 
 That's why I climbed the fire-escape." 
 
 Farrell rose furiously. " You impertinent cur, 
 what right have you to discuss my mother? " 
 
 " Steady, Farrell," advised Dallas. 
 
 Thomas rose angrily. " If it's of much interest 
 to you," he said to the boy, " you might care to 
 know that another friend of Mrs. Howard's is hid- 
 ing out on the porch." 
 
 Farrell rushed to the porch door and tore it open. 
 The others rose in time to see Michael Doyle enter 
 calmly. 
 
 " Michael ! " exclaimed Dallas and Strong together. 
 
 " I am going crazy," cried Farrell, sinking back 
 on the couch. " There are men everywhere." 
 
 " What the devil is all this row about ? " asked 
 Doyle calmly. " Can't a man take a breath of fresh 
 air?" 
 
 Dallas faced the Irishman. " When you came in 
 a while ago you said your business with Mrs. Howard 
 would only take you a few moments." 
 
 " Sure I did," returned the ready Doyle. " You 
 might have known it was only an excuse."
 
 188 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Farrell," continued Dallas evenly, " found Mr. 
 Thomas on the fire-escape and you on the porch, 
 directly out of his mother's apartments. He doesn't 
 care for it. For that matter, neither do I. You 
 and I can discuss that later, but this man " he 
 waved at Thomas. 
 
 " When I tell Howard that I am expectin' to marry 
 his mother, I'm sure he'll cool down." Michael was 
 going a little farther than he had intended. 
 
 " What ? " Dallas was astounded. 
 
 " Marry her you pompous fool ! " Thomas 
 bristled, jumping up. " She's engaged to me. She 
 said yes to me not half an hour ago." 
 
 " Engaged ? " Dallas gave Thomas a look which 
 clearly said " impossible." 
 
 " Yes," affirmed Thomas staunchly. 
 
 " To you? " Dallas continued. 
 
 " To me." 
 
 "I wonder!" 
 
 Strong doubled up with an amused, " Oh, Lord ! " 
 
 To Strong it was all absurdly ridiculous. 
 
 Doyle advanced on Thomas. " You are a damned 
 liar and a lot more I won't say 1 " The Irishman 
 was beside himself. 
 
 " Don't let us discuss this any further without
 
 THE WIDOW YIELDS 189 
 
 Mrs. Howard," advised Dallas. " Farrell, won't you 
 call your mother? " 
 
 Farrell rushed violently to the door of his mother's 
 room and rapped frantically. " Mother," he cried, 
 " please come out as soon as you can ! " 
 
 " I am coming," she answered. A moment later 
 she appeared, exquisitely dressed for the evening in 
 a clinging, silverish gown cut daringly fore and aft, 
 and given ardent colour only by a crimson rose effect 
 at her waist and a large fan of the same hue. She 
 had never appeared to better advantage in all her 
 life. 
 
 "For heaven's sake! What's the matter?" she 
 asked as she saw the assemblage before her. She 
 caught sight of Strong and Dallas still in their after- 
 noon clothes. 
 
 " Why haven't you two started yet ? " She looked 
 puzzled. Dallas turned to one side without a word, 
 revealing Thomas, who stepped forward. " Oh ! 
 How did you get in? " 
 
 Everyone was having a most uncomfortable half 
 minute. Mrs. Brinton went to John Strong and 
 the two turned their backs and gazed hopelessly out 
 of the window. Mrs. Brinton hated scenes and the 
 present situation frankly bored her. Farrell was
 
 190 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 blowing from fury to humiliation, Dallas looked grave 
 and injured, Michael was belligerent and Thomas 
 seemed capable of any insolence. Mrs. Howard 
 gazed from one to another waiting for someone to 
 speak. 
 
 " Mr. Thomas tells us you are engaged to him," 
 Dallas said finally in a voice that was icy cold. 
 
 " And I tell them it's to me you're engaged," spoke 
 up Michael promptly. " Or meaning to be when 
 you've played with me long enough." 
 
 Farrell shook his head as if the end of all things 
 had come. " Mother ! Mother ! What a dis- 
 grace ! " He sank into a chair, quite beyond conso- 
 lation. 
 
 " Eleanor, won't you tell us yourself? " continued 
 Dallas severely. " Surely this is not true ! " 
 
 Mrs. Howard affected to take it all slightly. She 
 spoke up coquettishly, " I don't think it's true. I 
 am sure I never really said * yes ' to anyone." 
 
 Dallas was deeply hurt. He looked at her with a 
 peculiar expression, saying, " You're not quite 
 sure," and then went to the balcony. 
 
 " So you mean to cast me off? " snarled Thomas, 
 advancing again. 
 
 " My dear Amos," she answered, " call it what 
 you like, it doesn't interest me."
 
 THE WIDOW YIELDS 191 
 
 She dismissed him abruptly, feeling quite sure 
 that he was dangerous only when alone. 
 
 Thomas glared and then, sweeping all with his 
 cane, said, " I'll not talk about it now before these 
 idlers; but you haven't finished with me. I'll come 
 back." He turned and strutted pompously out of 
 the room. No one said a word to him. 
 
 " Now the Irishman ! " Mrs. Howard turned to 
 Doyle. He came close to her with an appealing look. 
 
 " You'll forgive me for speakin' up," he begged 
 softly, " but Farrell here seemed so undone by seein' 
 me on the balcony, and I thought ye'd not mind if I 
 said it." 
 
 " I am sorry, Michael," she did not want to hurt 
 him, " but I wish you had not said what you did." 
 She felt angry for the first time. She saw the posi- 
 tion in which she had been placed. " I wonder what 
 these gentlemen, Mr. Dallas and Mr. Strong, must 
 think of me?" She was almost tearful. "I can 
 understand the Socialist's saying it but you ! 
 Now I am angry with you, Irishman, furiously 
 angry ! " 
 
 " I'm sorry for that, I'll come to-morrow," he 
 returned sincerely. 
 
 " I said good-night to you once, Irishman," she 
 said frankly. " Now it's good-bye."
 
 192 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Do you mean it ? " he asked, really perturbed. 
 " Do ye want me to go? " 
 
 " Good-bye, Irishman," she said finally. 
 
 " It was just the bartender that made me lose 
 ye ! " He was quite angry with himself. Then he 
 turned to her with his most winning smile. " I'll be 
 around bright and early in the morning, Widow, to 
 really say good-bye." He hurried out so quickly 
 that he effectually prevented further reproval. 
 
 " No one could be angry with you long," she 
 called after him. 
 
 He thrust his head in at the door long enough to 
 say, " God love ye, don't try." 
 
 " I hope, Ellie, that you are satisfied now," re- 
 proved Mrs. Brinton. " For my part I think you 
 deserved it. I only hope people don't hear of it. 
 Come, John." She went to the door, really quite 
 vexed. 
 
 " If that man Thomas is troublesome I would sug- 
 gest that Farrell have him arrested," suggested 
 Strong. " He's quite crazy enough to do anything. 
 What a pity Michael made such a fool of himself." 
 He turned to Dallas. " Well, you were looking for 
 trouble with the Brookline widow, I think you 
 have it." 
 
 " Now, Mother, you see what this sort of thing
 
 THE WIDOW YIELDS 193 
 
 leads to." Farrell thought it was all over. " Come 
 back to Brookline with me to-night." 
 
 Mrs. Howard turned on him with unexpected vio- 
 lence. " This is too much. Farrell Howard, if you 
 don't leave this room in one minute, I will box your 
 ears, or spank you. Do you hear me? Go home." 
 She bristled up to him formidably and he retreated 
 towards the door, gazing on her in amazement. He 
 had never seen her so roused. 
 
 " Mind me, go home ! " She stamped her foot as 
 he hesitated. It was too much for Farrell. He ran 
 out hastily and she threw herself against the door 
 with a pathetic cry of exhaustion. 
 
 " Everyone is picking, picking ! " she wailed. 
 " My nerves are on edge " 
 
 She then turned breathlessly to see what Dallas was 
 doing. He had not moved, but still stood in the 
 doorway of the little balcony, his arms behind his 
 back and his head bent a little. A thousand emo- 
 tions seemed to be surging through him. She waited 
 for him to speak, but he did not, so she took a long 
 breath and crossed over to him. 
 
 " Oh, Dal, wasn't that awful ! " she confessed. " I 
 feel so dragged about and discussed. How could 
 they? Before everyone. I am so upset. Even 
 Peg is angry. And the worst of it all is, I don't
 
 194 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 care. I am tired of them all. I believe I'll go 
 home to-morrow." 
 
 As Dallas did not answer her, she continued ner- 
 vously, " Dal." 
 
 He closed the balcony doors and turned. For the 
 first time since she had met him, she felt him watch 
 her a trifle coldly before he answered. " Yes, Mrs. 
 Howard." 
 
 The " Mrs. Howard " made her wince. She took 
 a step nearer to him. 
 
 " Do you think I am to blame ? " she asked. 
 " Well, I suppose I am. I flirted and flirted horribly. 
 But it wasn't half so so You're different, you 
 know. Do forgive me." She put her hand on his 
 arm, but he did not even seem pleased. " How could 
 they ! " She said a little hysterically. " Before 
 everyone! Before you. Dal, you haven't spoken 
 a word. Don't say you are angry or I shall cry. 
 I am so tired and so nervous." 
 
 She sank on the sofa, almost in tears. This was 
 too much for him. He went over to her and looked 
 at her tenderly. He hadn't realised until the other 
 men seemed so sure of her how much she meant to 
 him. 
 
 " Are you going to marry Amos Thomas ? " he 
 asked quietly.
 
 THE WIDOW YIELDS 195 
 
 Mrs. Howard writhed. " You know I am not. 
 His face is quite crooked." 
 
 " His face was always crooked, but you never 
 noticed it till now and Michael ? " Dallas con- 
 tinued. 
 
 She shook her head. " Michael is a cave man. 
 No, never Michael. I've found him out." 
 
 Dallas smiled. " And Michael has always been a 
 cave man. Will you marry me ? " He could hear 
 his own heart beat, as he waited. 
 
 " Would you be very good to me, Dal? " She 
 rose and stood looking at him. 
 
 " Try me," he said softly. 
 
 Her voice was full of emotion. " Dallas, I want 
 you to believe me. No one has ever cared, really 
 cared, and I am very lonely and longing to be looked 
 after. Oh, I can love," she said. " I can give it 
 back to you beat for beat, and I will if only you 
 will always understand. It's like some mad thing 
 inside of me struggling to get out. It tears and 
 pulls me, and I laugh at it. But I know it will 
 make me weep some day, or break my heart per- 
 haps " 
 
 Dallas, quite as moved as she, returned, " I am 
 fifty-two years old, and I have cared for a great 
 many women. Some have laughed, and some have
 
 196 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 cried, and after a little while it didn't matter. The 
 heart thing that gets at men never came. Then I 
 met you, and I realised it had finally come. I can't 
 even tell you why. I have known so many beautiful 
 women, but there has never really been anyone; the 
 others were all shadows. Since you came I have 
 learned to feel, and it has almost done for me. I 
 am plunged all of a sudden into a heaven or hell, in 
 which I burn and freeze with your change of mood. 
 You say there is something in you which struggles 
 to be left free. I tell you there is a passion eating 
 my heart out. No boy was ever so insanely jealous, 
 no lover of twenty more eager to be loved. When 
 those two men stood discussing you I could have 
 choked them both with my naked hands. It hurt 
 me that much. I cannot bear it much longer. Will 
 you trust your wonderful self to me? I will be very 
 tender of you. I could not be anything else." 
 
 Her mouth quivered. This great thing seemed 
 too wonderful to take now that it was offered to her. 
 Womanlike she played with it. " I wonder if it 
 could last, because I do care so much ! Would it, 
 Dal?" 
 
 He took hold of her and held her close to him but 
 he did not answer. There was a long moment, and 
 then he said, " When shall it be, dear? I am so
 
 THE WIDOW YIELDS 197 
 
 eager, so impatient. I want you. I must have you 
 all for myself, away from everyone, Ellie. Shall 
 we go round the world and spend a splendid year in 
 all the beautiful places? Will you go with me and 
 have the honeymoon I've always longed to take? 
 When I was young I dreamed it, and it seemed as 
 if it would never come true. We shall go wherever 
 you will, and I will forget business and men and 
 things, and think only of you." 
 
 She put her face against his. " Oh, Dal, I have 
 always longed to go round the world. I'm afraid 
 to be so happy. It may not be true. I'm so happy 
 I fear it will slip away," she murmured. 
 
 But he held her closer. " No, dearest," he said, 
 " this is the real truth, that we are together and 
 that we care for each other " 
 
 Mrs. Howard put her arms impulsively about his 
 neck, and her eyes full of the love and longing he 
 had dreamed of, looked deeply into his. " Dal," she 
 said, and her voice trembled. " Why couldn't I have 
 had you when I was twenty, J am not young now, 
 and life is no longer new." 
 
 He bent very near to her upturned face. " Hush, 
 dear, what's old or young to us?" he said. "It's 
 love we have. And love is a big thing. Life was 
 never so new. I have you at last, close and safe.
 
 198 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 The touch of you is so wonderful! The nearness 
 of you God, what it means ! " His voice faltered. 
 " We are going to have thousands of kisses, but 
 never forget this one, Ellie, for it is the first I 
 love you." Then he kissed her on her mouth, lin- 
 geringly and passionately but with great tenderness. 
 She stood held in his arms, happy and at peace.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 HALCYON DAYS 
 
 THE days which followed Mrs. Howard's engage- 
 ment were at once the most wonderful and the most 
 harrowing of her life. Dallas was lover to satisfy 
 the most exacting woman. He brought into the 
 weeks of wooing all of the mature thoughtfulness and 
 consideration of his varied career and engirdled her 
 with a tenderness and love that seemed too perfect 
 to be real. He knew so well the thousand and one 
 things that women adore, and he remembered them 
 all for her. Day by day he found new ways to 
 please and serve her. To Ellie Howard, whose life 
 had been grey duty and only coloured in pastel, this 
 rose-hued blaze of devotion was the culmination of 
 every desire hidden away in her hungry heart. 
 
 Her soul rose triumphantly and sustained her 
 somewhat weary body. The first few weeks after 
 the announcement of the engagement were spent at 
 Mrs. Brinton's in New York, and the days flew 
 away from her. All of the turmoil, discomfort, 
 worry and uncertainty passed. She was left to enjoy 
 
 the fascinating moments undisturbed. Farrell had 
 
 199
 
 200 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 protested, of course, vehemently, firmly, and at the 
 last with real pathos, but even he understood finally 
 that his mother was transformed into another being 
 by this new found happiness. After a few days of 
 struggling and incoherent argument he went back 
 to Brookline sadder and infinitely wiser. He had 
 given up, resigning himself stiffly to the inevitable. 
 At all events, he felt, Dallas was a man of wealth 
 and position, of a most suitable age, and highly re- 
 pected by all the men who knew him. He tried to con- 
 tent himself with that, and listened in chill silence to 
 the surprised congratulations of his mother's many 
 old friends. 
 
 Thomas disposed of definitely, Mrs. Howard still 
 had waves of conscience over Michael Doyle. For 
 she knew well, even if Dallas did not, that she was 
 largely to blame for the Irishman's outburst on the 
 memorable afternoon when all of her musketeers had 
 met and fought one by one the battle of his life 
 and hers. It wasn't a pleasing recollection and she 
 blamed herself severely. About Thomas she was 
 comfortable, for she knew that he had deserved to 
 be punished for his impertinence. In fact, now that 
 she had dismissed him, it was difficult for her to 
 understand why she ever had tolerated him at all. 
 She could not recall even the fact that he had
 
 HALCYON DAYS 201 
 
 amused her. The remembrance of the long hours 
 spent alone with him, listening to his extraordinary 
 doctrines and unconventional theories, seemed a wild 
 sort of indiscretion in which she could hardly believe 
 she was ever mad enough to indulge. She knew 
 Thomas returned from time to time to see her, but 
 she sent Anna as regularly to dismiss him. His 
 quaint bouquets and his violent notes were put aside 
 unnoticed. She refused to think of him seriously, 
 but Doyle was quite another matter. Deep down in 
 her soul she had been very fond of the Irishman, 
 and she realised that his tempestuous wooing had 
 opened her eyes as nothing else had, to hidden traits 
 of her own that even she had not known existed. 
 There was something splendidly primitive about 
 Doyle. Despite the years of careful repression and 
 his outward veneer he was absolutely unspoiled and 
 natural in real moments of feeling. And his love 
 for her had been a warm, sincere one. She realised 
 that, even while she played with it. AH this caused 
 her more real regret than anything that had come 
 to pass since she broke away from her blameless 
 Brookline environment. The remorse about Michael 
 even went deep enough to re-awaken her dormant 
 New England conscience, which she had supposed 
 was asleep for all time.
 
 202 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 The Irishman had not kept his word about coming 
 round in the morning to say good-bye. He had not 
 come at all, and this silence had touched her as no 
 words could have done. She knew Doyle had been 
 hurt and disappointed. The consciousness of that 
 continually marred her otherwise joyous days. Of 
 course, she saw him. He was too much a part of the 
 circle in which Margaret Brinton moved to be left 
 out of the round of gaiety that followed Mrs. 
 Howard's engagement. And when they did meet at 
 the theatre, dinner, dance or reception, he was always 
 charming and merry and full of the good nature 
 which she so loved in him. He never spoke to her 
 of that fearful afternoon, nor of his dismissal, but 
 he congratulated her pleasantly and seemed to be 
 on as excellent terms with Dallas as he had been 
 before she came to disturb the even tenor of their 
 friendship. Doyle had not lived in the fashionable 
 world all those years for nothing. His earlier life 
 had been a continuous struggle and the lucky chance 
 that gave him his first opportunity was still fresh 
 in his memory. He had never before really wanted 
 to marry any woman ; although he had had countless 
 love affairs. But Mrs. Howard had entered into his 
 life as no one else had ever done. He really loved 
 her with all the warmth and feeling of his kindly
 
 HALCYON DAYS 203 
 
 heart, and she had roused in him, as he had told 
 her, all of the bad as well as all of the good. 
 
 He had been most confident of success, finding the 
 widow at first so sweet, so alluring, so generous in 
 her fashion of playing with him that he had never 
 doubted her sincerity. He had been jealous of 
 Dallas but he did not really think the other would 
 be able to take Mrs. Howard away from him. Dallas 
 seemed to him to be cold and lacking in the ardour 
 he felt Mrs. Howard demanded. And he was not 
 sure how much Dallas cared, for he was always the 
 well-bred man of the world. The end was a great 
 shock to the Irishman's vanity as well as a blow at 
 his heart. He had been filled with the sincerest 
 emotion of his fifty years. He felt sore, defeated 
 and hurt to the quick. His pride served as the 
 cover for all his humiliation and he was determined 
 his world should never know the extent of his wound. 
 He never blamed Dallas, for the latter had been quite 
 fair with him during it all. But towards Mrs. 
 Howard he cherished a deep hurt. She had made a 
 fool of him, and that was hard to bear. 
 
 Meantime Dallas, more in love than he had known 
 he could ever be, revelled in the days. He felt anew 
 the sweetness and the charm of the Brookline widow. 
 She had never seemed so beautiful nor so desirable.
 
 The happiness which had come to her so late in life 
 seemed to make her fairly radiant. 
 
 As no season is more wonderful than that of In- 
 dian summer when a mature year yields to a bland 
 atmosphere, divine golden lights and autumnal tran- 
 quillity, so were those early days of Mrs. Howard's 
 happiness filled with colour and shade of a sort that 
 a younger and less experienced mind never knows. 
 She basked in the warmth of the time and the experi- 
 ence, not caring to think back and not daring to 
 look into a future which must mark the passing of 
 life's autumn into winter. But an intuitive sense 
 of time warned her to make the most of the days. 
 
 Always she yearned for Dallas the moment he 
 was away. Not that he was long absent from her 
 side. He probed the resources of the city for her 
 diversion and entertainment. They lunched, dined, 
 supped, went to the theatre and opera, took long 
 drives in his cars and spent beautiful late May and 
 early June hours in dreamy happiness as the motor 
 ran smoothly over favoured roads with views of sea 
 or river. 
 
 Dallas, however, was not so willing to ignore the 
 future. His masculinity continually asserted itself 
 in the desire for plans and programme. He wanted 
 the day set for the marriage, he insisted on outlining
 
 HALCYON DAYS 205 
 
 the wonderful journey of a year or more that was to 
 be the honey-moon. Into the plans for a wedding 
 late in life he threw much of the energy and the rosy 
 optimism of a far younger man. And, really, under 
 the spur of awakened emotion and the concentration 
 of all his time and interests on the attractive widow 
 he felt that he had renewed his youth. He threw 
 aside his middle-aged cynicism as to men and women, 
 he came as promptly and eagerly for his many ap- 
 pointments as a smitten youth of nineteen, and all of 
 his movements were accomplished with a decisive 
 vigour which had not marked his goings and comings 
 for many years. 
 
 One late May day he came in mid-afternoon to take 
 her out in the motor. Piloted up the steps he knew 
 so well by the faithful and thoroughly pleased Metz 
 he walked into Mrs. Howard's sitting-room with the 
 blithe and athletic spirit of one-and-twenty. Since 
 the engagement he had fallen into the habit of bring- 
 ing each day a nose-gay of old-fashioned flowers. 
 They pleased his widow, who frequently saw in them 
 many of the inanimate friends of her mid- Victorian 
 Brookline garden. 
 
 " Put these in some water before they fade in 
 this warm afternoon air, Metz," he directed. 
 
 The loquacity of Metz had not been lessened at
 
 206 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 all by the culmination of the romance underneath 
 Mrs. Brinton's roof. He took the flowers from 
 Dallas sentimentally. He went through a similar 
 performance each day. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Dallas, but these are 
 old-fashioned flowers, are they not? " the lean and 
 dry old servant asked in a tone quite out of keeping 
 with his perfunctory occupation. 
 
 " So they are, Metz." 
 
 " Mrs. Howard has sent some of these quaint bou- 
 quets down to us in the kitchen as they had begun 
 to wilt and Cook has accomplished much with them, 
 sir. Can you imagine what she does with them, sir, 
 if I may be pardoned for asking you ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Metz, what does she do with them? 
 I had always thought wilted flowers were hopeless." 
 
 " I am sure Mr. Dallas will excuse me if I tell 
 him that Cook has at least a dozen of his nose-gays 
 still." 
 
 " It sounds to me, Metz, as if she were conducting 
 a floral morgue." 
 
 Metz chuckled apologetically, stifling a laugh 
 which he knew was out of his role as a servant. 
 " Would you believe, sir, she dries them, sir, and 
 with extraordinary success, sir. They retain their 
 form, sir, and a hint of their fragrance. I wouldn't
 
 HALCYON DAYS 07 
 
 go so far as to say that they keep their colour, but 
 it pleases Cook and she places them at the sides of 
 her pictures and in fancy bottles goods sometimes 
 come in. She takes no end of satisfaction in them." 
 
 Dallas laughed as Metz bowed out, apologising as 
 usual for having let his tongue wag so long. 
 
 Mrs. Howard came from her dressing-room a mo- 
 ment later beautifully dressed in a bluish suit and 
 adroitly matched hat and slippers, all of which em- 
 phasised skilfully her pastel charm. Under the 
 tutelage of Anna and Mrs. Brinton she had learned 
 to underscore her physical " points " through her 
 clothing, instead of disguising them as she always 
 had done in Brookline. 
 
 Dallas rushed to her and kissed her tenderly on 
 lip and hand. " Oh ! I am glad to see you," he 
 cried exultantly. " I haven't seen you for ten 
 years." 
 
 " Is it that long since % o'clock? " she asked with 
 eyes aglow. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he returned with youthful 
 extravagance. " It was twelve years ago." 
 
 " And where are we going now ? Some quiet place, 
 I hope, where there aren't too many people. I want 
 long views of river and sky, for I'm sentimental 
 to-day and I must dream."
 
 208 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " All right, I know the very spot. And you have 
 never been there." 
 
 " Oh, I would love a new place to go. I am so 
 tired of Clareraont and Sleepy Hollow. No one 
 in New York seems able to think of anywhere else." 
 
 He helped her down the stairs tenderly and they 
 were soon rolling smoothly in his big French car. 
 
 " Not too fast, now, Pemberton," she said, speak- 
 ing to Dallas' chauffeur. 
 
 Pemberton touched his hat deferentially and looked 
 hopelessly to Dallas, who nodded confirmation of 
 Mrs. Howard's order. 
 
 " You know, Pemberton is complaining bitterly of 
 your pace, Ellie," explained Dallas. " It is the 
 pride of his life that he can pass anything on the 
 road with this new French machine. If he can't get 
 round any other way he insists that the machine will 
 fly at its highest speed." 
 
 " Now, Dal, don't ever let it happen when I'm 
 along," she objected. " I was brought up behind 
 the staidest family team that ever meandered through 
 the streets of Brookline. Motors make me nervous 
 enough, anyway, without having them go fast." 
 
 " Ellie, dear, I'll have him crawl if it would make 
 you any happier. I don't know how or where we 
 are going so long as you are sitting here." She
 
 HALCYON DAYS 209 
 
 slipped her hand into his and sighed contentedly. 
 The afternoon light seemed of a sudden to pour gold 
 out over the green and blooming landscape. They 
 were getting far into the northerly outskirts of the 
 city now and to their left there were from time to 
 time lovely views of the sheety Hudson flowing like a 
 vast stained-glass plane under a sky of even deeper 
 blue. The beauty of it all and the wonder of her 
 happiness poured in on her soul in a vast surge. 
 
 "Oh, Dal!" she cried. "It's perfect, isn't it? 
 And you are more perfect, still ! " 
 
 " Oh, no, I'm not," he objected, smiling happily 
 on her, " it's just the wonder of life at its best. 
 What a world this would be if everyone felt this 
 way always ! " 
 
 " Oh, Dal ! I hope and pray continually that this 
 may last always ! " 
 
 " If it only would ! " he echoed fervently. 
 
 After running for an hour or more along a road 
 that grew increasingly attractive and diversified, 
 they turned toward the river and quite high above 
 the water stopped at a quaint and old-fashioned inn, 
 with a screened porch, on which there were half a 
 dozen tables. 
 
 They had the place quite to themselves and while 
 Dallas was conferring with the waiter as to food and
 
 210 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 drink, Mrs. Howard had time to feast herself on 
 the beauty of the river. South it slipped far away 
 to the dim and hazy towers of the great city, while 
 to the north it wandered through its stark palisades 
 to open reaches which invited the imagination to all 
 sorts of enrapturing speculations. 
 
 She was brought back from her land of dreams by 
 Dallas, who took from his pocket innumerable folders 
 and tables. 
 
 " What are all of those things ? " she asked. 
 
 " Here we have the trip ! " he exclaimed, waving 
 the bundle back and forth. " The great and won- 
 derful trip, the trip that Ellie and Dal are to make ! " 
 
 " Oh, Dal," Mrs. Howard's face fell, " do we have 
 to go to all the places in all those folders ? " 
 
 He was running through steamer schedules and 
 foreign railway guides eagerly. The globe-trotter's 
 hunger for a journey was again on him. Her 
 despairing glance had escaped him. 
 
 " I am going to show you all the wonderful places 
 I know," he said, " just made for lovers ideal 
 scenery, splendid hotels, places where the comfort 
 of both soul and body is studied." 
 
 " My, how many places there seem to be in Eu- 
 rope ! " She glanced at a map. 
 
 "Don't joke, Ellie, dear, you know we both have
 
 HALCYON DAYS 211 
 
 set our hearts on going round the world together in 
 a marvellous, year-long honeymoon." 
 
 " Yes," she agreed, noting his eagerness and ear- 
 nestness. No young collegian setting face to the old 
 world for the first time could have been more ab- 
 sorbed in his plans. 
 
 " How long is it since you've been abroad? " he 
 asked after several minutes of his beloved maps and 
 folders. 
 
 " 1 never went but once and then with father," 
 she returned. " It was when I was fourteen or 
 fifteen, long before Americans went abroad very 
 much. I recall Germany as a huge statuary gallery 
 surrounded entirely by trees under which peasants 
 sat drinking beer. Italy was the driest and dustiest 
 country I ever had seen. Father and I amused each 
 other in a contest to see who could see the most 
 St. Sebastians in the art galleries. I saw so many 
 I lost count." 
 
 " I can take you to plenty of other countries," he 
 returned cheerfully. " Leave the trip to me. I 
 snow what you like. I'll find out all the bright, gay, 
 in-Puritan places and take you to them. Ellie, 
 dear, I don't want to be insistent but we must de- 
 cide on a day for the wedding. We aren't foolish 
 young lovers who can go on living forever on hope.
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 We both are mature and know our own minds. 
 Please say when ! " He looked at her imploringly. 
 
 "Oh, Dal, can't we go on just as we are? I'm 
 so happy and it has been so wonderful." 
 
 " But, dear, I want you all of you, all of your 
 hours. Now I barely get half your time. Half a 
 loaf is nothing to a man who has been starving 
 all his life." 
 
 She saw clearly that his impatience was growing. 
 He had been growing more and more insistent. She 
 knew she could not hold out much longer and then 
 there was the future which she had so resolutely 
 turned from all these happy days. 
 
 " Dal, dear, would it make you any happier if 
 we didn't wait? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh ! " he exclaimed happily. " If you only 
 would! Really, I can't be patient much longer. I 
 am so hungry for you, so eager to make you abso- 
 lutely mine." 
 
 " Very well, if it will make you happier, it shall 
 be as soon as I can get my trousseau ready. But 
 I have one request." 
 
 " Anything in the world in my power is yours for 
 the asking." 
 
 " It must be in the old house at Brookline," she 
 said, with her eyes filling. " I have a sentiment
 
 HALCYON DAYS 
 
 about my own roof. I want to bring my real happi- 
 ness under it." 
 
 "I would love that!" 
 
 " You always understand, Dal." 
 
 As they went back to the city Dallas was unusually 
 talkative. But she was strangely silent. The som- 
 breness of the lengthening shadows of the late day 
 crept into her heart. She was afraid of something. 
 She hardly knew what it was. It surely wasn't a 
 fear of the hand that pressed hers. She did not 
 dare look ahead clearly to see what was coming. 
 And she dreaded above all really revealing herself. 
 
 After he left her Dallas went back to his club, 
 elated and full of contentment. He had made up 
 his mind when he and Mrs. Howard started out that 
 afternoon that he would try very hard to persuade 
 her to set the day for their union, and he felt a just 
 pride in his success. He was remarkably intelligent 
 about women, and much more skilful in dealing with 
 them than the average man was, and he had realised 
 for some time that Ellie was not very keen on being 
 married. She had put him off cleverly again and 
 again, and he knew it would take very little to make 
 her do it indefinitely. Like most men of strong per- 
 sonality once he gave himself up to a conviction he 
 let it take possession of him, and having made up
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 his mind to marry Ellie Howard, and live the remain- 
 der of his life out with her, he wa as eager as a bay 
 to bring the engagement to an end and make her his 
 wife. As he had told her the day she promised to 
 marry him, he had cared for a great many other 
 women, but she was the only one he had ever asked 
 to be his wife. He did not wonder that she hesi- 
 tated about marrying anyone. It was not easy to 
 change one's entire scheme of existence to fit in 
 with someone else. He had his own qualms at 
 various times ; when he looked about his comfortable 
 quarters and saw the luxury that only a bachelor club 
 man can ever hope to secure, surrounding him on 
 every side. He also often felt the discomforts of 
 tight shoes and waistcoats, and the desire for a nap 
 during the day was getting to be a persistent weak- 
 ness. Twinges of gout had made themselves felt 
 more often lately, and he found it much more diffi- 
 cult to read without his glasses. But Dallas, like 
 Mrs. Brinton, had been putting up a fight over crea- 
 ture comfort for years. And he had learned by 
 grim stoicism to rise above the little comfortable, 
 lazy things that tended towards fat and an increased 
 waist line. It had ceased to be a struggle and became 
 second nature to him. His cold plunge and brisk
 
 HALCYON DAYS 215 
 
 walk; his daily rubdown and rigorous regime of 
 diet and hygiene were followed now without a break. 
 And he little dreamed that what it had taken him 
 years of persistent personal sacrifice to attain, in 
 figure and bearing, Mrs. Howard had managed to 
 acquire overnight. To him she was the most desir- 
 able and exquisite woman he had ever seen, and her 
 charm was so elusive and peculiarly her own, that he 
 never dreamed it could be artifice. To-day she had 
 been so sweet and womanly that a new feeling of 
 adoration stole into his heart. He felt, anew, her 
 vibrant femininity, her wonderfully youthful enthusi- 
 asm. She was always alive and responsive to his 
 slightest touch or caress, and each kiss he gave her 
 seemed more wonderful than the last. He felt a 
 little nervous fear that he might not be young 
 enough for her; and that his more mature passion 
 might pall on her after the glamour of the honey- 
 moon had worn away. But he was too much in love 
 to let that deter him, he thought earnestly that per- 
 haps he was letting down a little, and that would 
 never do. He would sleep less and walk more, he 
 had been eating too many luncheons and drinking 
 too much champagne, that was all. He squared his 
 handsome shoulders and registered an inward deter-
 
 216 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 urination to be less easy with himself. Ellie should 
 find him on his mettle. He would not disappoint 
 her in anything. And meanwhile he must order a 
 lot of new clothes and take off at least ten pounds.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WOOIXG BY THEORY 
 
 AMOS THOMAS, though no longer able to air his 
 theories to the mingled alarm and amusement of 
 the Widow Howard, was not without solace. He 
 had tried frequently enough to see her, but each time 
 he called she sent Anna down to dispose of him. The 
 maid was definitely instructed to stay below until 
 Thomas had unmistakably taken his leave. Mrs. 
 Howard wanted to be sure he did not force his way 
 in again as he had on that memorable afternoon 
 which led to his dismissal. 
 
 But, to go back to that important day, something 
 else had happened then which concerned only Anna 
 and the Socialist. As Thomas reached the foot of 
 the stairway, after leaving Mrs. Howard's sitting- 
 room, he heard a light footstep behind him and turned 
 to find the sympathetic face of Anna looking into 
 his. He regarded her with sudden hope. 
 
 "Mrs. Howard has sent for me to come back?'* 
 he asked quickly. 
 
 " No, Monsieur Thomas," she returned, the colour 
 flaming a little in her cheeks. 
 
 217
 
 218 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 "What is it, then?" He surveyed her plentiful 
 charms hungrily and forgot for the moment his 
 anger and chagrin. 
 
 " I am so, so sorry for Monsieur," she said 
 sympathetically. " Perhaps he would come and sit 
 a moment in the dining-room while I get him some- 
 thing to warm him up. I fear he has caught a cold 
 from the long time on the fire-escape." 
 
 " Really, that's awfully kind of you. I do need 
 a drop." He followed her as she showed him the 
 way and then sat with a new curiosity while she hur- 
 ried off to the butler's pantry. 
 
 She was back in a moment with a tray on which 
 she had placed a bit of wine and cake. She handled 
 it with a Gallic deftness which pleased him immensely. 
 He noted her youth, her grace, her foreign charm of 
 manner. True, she was a servant, but class to 
 Thomas was one of the abominations of a civilisa- 
 tion he affected to despise highly and he was quite 
 as ready to have an affair with maid as with 
 mistress. 
 
 He continued to regard her between sips and bites. 
 " Anna," he began with the wine glass in one hand and 
 the cake in the other, " do you know that you have 
 great possibilities ? " 
 
 " Merci, Monsieur," she replied, dropping a pretty
 
 WOOING BY THEORY 219 
 
 courtesy. " You mean I will have the success with 
 the ladies I make ready ? " 
 
 "Not at all." He looked her over boldly. She 
 stood his scrutiny calmly. 
 
 " I fear Monsieur flatters me," she said. " He is 
 very kind to notice a poor, young girl who has no 
 friends. For me I am very sorry for Monsieur. 
 Madame is not at all nice to him. She has been most 
 unkind and I feel, oh, so badly, Monsieur Thomas! 
 I weep that you have been treated so amd Monsieur 
 was so impetuous a lover, del, he has, what you 
 call it, the grand manner in the affaire de coeur. 
 My countrywomen, they would all love him." 
 
 " Anna, you interest me singularly. Tell me 
 about yourself." 
 
 " Non, non, Monsieur, there is nothing to tell. I 
 am just a poor, young girl who has the misfortune to 
 have to earn her own living. And to be honest with 
 Monsieur I am not French at all, I am Swiss. My 
 father and my mother had a little hotel in the Enga- 
 dine, but they die when I am young and I must make 
 my way as I can. It is not easy. I have done many 
 things, but always I try to improve myself." 
 
 " That's right, Anna, you are a wise girl. But how 
 did you get to America? " 
 
 " I went with a French lady as her maid to Italy.
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 We do not understand each other. I leave her in 
 Rome and I engage with an English lady. She is 
 worse than the French lady and then I find an Ameri- 
 can lady who bring me to Boston and there Mrs. How- 
 ard take me. But I am growing tired of her. She 
 do not appreciate what I do for her. Already she 
 complain of her clothes and she must eat and she 
 must sleep and she must have comfort." 
 
 " Ah," interrupted Thomas, " the butterfly is find- 
 ing her wings a burden." 
 
 " Bah ! " cried Anna, " I could tear her hair out 
 when she is so silly and stupid. She has so much 
 money and she does so little with it. Oh, these Amer- 
 icans ! They are not glad to suffer for beauty, they 
 are not willing to pay." 
 
 " Some day, Anna, all their money will be taken 
 from them and they will have no more chance than 
 you or I. The world has treated me little better 
 than it has you. Both my father and my mother 
 were wage slaves who wore their lives away in a New 
 England shoe factory. Between the two of them 
 they made hardly enough money to exist and they 
 even begrudged my mother the time away from her 
 work that it took to bring me into the world. Both 
 of them died years before they should from confining
 
 WOOING BY THEORY 221 
 
 work and over-hours. Do you wonder that I am an 
 enemy of society as I find it? " 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur ! " cried the emotional Anna, 
 " again I am so sorry for you." 
 
 He rose and stood opposite her. " Your sympathy 
 is wonderful," he said. " You are not tutored in the 
 deceits and sophistries of the polite world. You are 
 real. And you are also sound, mentally and physi- 
 cally. Why, it's from such as you that a new civili- 
 sation must have its beginnings. We must lop off at 
 the top and bottom, slash away the unfit from both 
 ends of a deteriorating humanity." 
 
 " I do not understand," she returned, looking at 
 him admiringly. " Monsieur is so clever. It is won- 
 derful for a man to both think and love in this coun- 
 try. It is more like France." 
 
 " Have you ever heard of the science of eugenics ? " 
 he asked impressively. 
 
 " Non, Monsieur." She shook her head. 
 
 " I haven't time to explain it to you to-day, but 
 sometime I shall tell it all to you." He reflected a 
 moment. " Sometime soon," he added. " You have 
 given me a new interest in life. At the bitterest mo- 
 ment of my existence you step in, the rainbow across 
 my cloud." He came toward her impulsively.
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Monsieur ! " she cried warningly, " someone will 
 hear us. Metz is not far away and the maids may 
 be in at any moment." 
 
 " I must see you soon and tell you all of these won- 
 derful things," he continued, ignoring her warning. 
 " Who knows what possibility may be hidden away 
 in you? " He grasped her wrist, but she wriggled 
 away and darted to the stairs. Thomas heard the 
 voices of Dallas and Mrs. Howard. He scowled, then 
 smiled, and found his own way out. Once more a 
 woman had come into his " shattered life." 
 
 And so Thomas came often to Mrs. Brinton's and 
 Anna was just as often sent to dismiss him. If it oc- 
 casionally took her long, the delay was laid to the 
 Socialist's well-known obduracy. None of the others 
 dreamed of the nature and direction of his new affair,, 
 
 Through Anna, Thomas kept himself fully posted 
 as to the progress of the Dallas-Howard courtship. 
 He snarled the day the engagement was announced 
 and spent many a half -hour trying to make Anna 
 see what a monster any man was who had as much 
 money as Dallas. 
 
 " But Monsieur Dallas is charming and handsome 
 and so thoughtful of Madame," Anna objected. For 
 herself she regarded a bank account as one of the 
 great essentials of life. She quite approved of Dallas,
 
 WOOING BY THEORY 223 
 
 but thought he was " throwing himself away on 
 Madame." 
 
 " Think," she said to Thomas, " if he had seen her 
 before she was made over ! " 
 
 " Made over? " asked Thomas. " What do you 
 mean? " 
 
 " Why, Madame look twenty years older when 
 first I see her. She is now the triumph of myself 
 and the modiste, the hair-dresser and the corset- 
 maker, the shoeman and the milliner." 
 
 " How barbaric," commented the Socialist. " You 
 see in a capitalistic society the women are no more 
 civilised than they were two thousand years ago." 
 
 " Monsieur Thomas, you are absurd when you talk 
 so. What does it matter how the lady gets beauty 
 so long as she has it ? Beauty is all. Without beauty 
 the woman is nothing." 
 
 " Anna, how can you talk so, especially after all I 
 have told you. Come with me to-morrow, which I 
 believe is your day off, to my pet coffee house and 
 we'll have a long talk for the good of your mind." 
 
 Anna was getting rather tired of having her mind 
 improved, but she agreed to go. She admired the 
 Socialist's love-making, not his thinking. That bored 
 her. It made her head ache to try to follow Thomas 
 through the mental mazes of one of his long exhorta-
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 tions. She was yearning to have scenes made over 
 her, to have him forget his theories and all things ex- 
 cept the fact that he was a man and that she was an 
 attractive woman. 
 
 But at the appointed hour she met him at a safe 
 distance from Mrs. Brinton's and he carried her off 
 triumphantly (by trolley, of course) to the smoky, 
 stuffy, coffee house which had been the scene of a 
 previous visit with Mrs. Howard. Anna, however, 
 fitted into the atmosphere much more appropriately 
 than her mistress had. She liked the continental 
 quality of the place, the interesting and ardent men 
 she saw there and the Bohemianism of the service. 
 
 If not like Paris it was at least like many places 
 she knew well in Berlin or Vienna and once there she 
 felt miles away from New York and the thoroughly 
 exacting duties of keeping Mrs. Howard up to the 
 mark in dress and diet. And since her engagement 
 the widow had shown an inclination to get back to sim- 
 pler and more comfortable things, a tendency which 
 Anna combatted fiercely. It was a great relief to get 
 away from that now continual conflict of the boudoir. 
 
 In the beginning the relations of Thomas and the 
 maid were those of teacher and pupil. He not only 
 had for her the interest of a man in a woman, but 
 also that of a political zealot looking for a convert.
 
 WOOING BY THEORY 
 
 Thomas was a sympathiser in the feminist move- 
 ment and believed quite sincerely that the hope of 
 society lay in an upheaval which should place woman 
 . in a place of greater economic and marital freedom. 
 
 Anna's mind, however, had never even been ploughed 
 by ideas, and seeds of political thought, therefore, fell 
 on rather unsympathetic soil. She was neither rebel 
 nor reactionary. She had, however, a conventional 
 morality which was proof against all of the Socialist's 
 advanced ideas as to the untrammelled relationships of 
 the sexes. 
 
 She always admitted that his tirades must be just, 
 for did they not come from him and was he not an 
 extremely clever man, but she always parried his ad- 
 vances with a defence which was the more difficult to 
 overcome because of its very instinctiveness. She did 
 not reason against indiscretion. She simply did not 
 consider it. Nevertheless he continued stubbornly to 
 convert her to the doctrines of the " varietist," to 
 .win her away from her conventionalism, to inoculate 
 her in some degree with the spirit of revolt which 
 burned so within himself. 
 
 " Oh, -my head is so weary ! " she exclaimed as 
 Thomas began to explain some great victory which 
 had just been won by radicalism. " Why must you 
 always talk so far away from ourselves ? " she added.
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " I was about to get to that," he apologised. " But 
 I think it wise always to see that you are well in- 
 formed. The women who are to be the mothers of the 
 new race should not only have good bodies, but good 
 minds as well. Now, you would make a splendid 
 parent if you would only think more." 
 
 " Monsieur Thomas ! " she cried, pretending to be 
 much shocked. 
 
 " But perhaps it would come out all right," he 
 added musingly. " I have mind enough for both of 
 us. By Jove, it's a great idea." 
 
 "What is?" she asked. 
 
 " Why, that you and I should form a union based 
 on sound eugenical principles." 
 
 " You mean that you want to marry me? " 
 
 " Now, what has that got to do with it? " he 
 snorted vehemently. " Are you going to be foolish 
 and reactionary like these stupid Dallases and How- 
 ards? I thought better of you than that." 
 
 " I may be foolish, but I am no fool," she returned 
 spiritedly. " If you want to marry, very well. We 
 will have a priest or nothing." 
 
 " And I thought you were a lundred soul," he 
 returned sadly, " that your mind would go with my 
 mind and that we were to glory in the strength of
 
 WOOING BY THEORY 
 
 our own individualities. But you are just another 
 little puppet out of the conventional mould." 
 
 " I will leave you here, if you talk to me so. You 
 haven't said once that you love me, and that is to me 
 the important matter. I adore you when you make 
 love, but I hate you when you talk." 
 
 "Anna!" 
 
 She blinked tearfully and he melted. 
 
 " Forgive me, dear girl," he began apologetically, 
 " but you know I am carried away always by my 
 thoughts. You know I am mad to have you. Other- 
 wise I never should have proposed this wonderful 
 scheme for the improvement of the world. It would 
 be too bad to spoil it all by a foolish little quibble over 
 a few mumbled words. Bring on your priest if you 
 want. He will comfort you, and as for me, I will 
 coolly ignore the fact that he is there. So both of 
 us will be satisfied." He reached across the table in 
 the dim light quite sure that no one in that gathering 
 of absorbed souls had any time to be watching others. 
 He took her hand and thrilled at the velvety touch 
 of it. He forgot theories and was fired to even 
 greater desire for her.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS 
 
 TRUE to her promise to her impatient lover, Mrs. 
 Howard was ready for the wedding two weeks after 
 their visit to the riverside inn. Dallas realised what 
 inroads all of these preparations were making on her 
 time, for he was allotted so little of it that he com- 
 plained bitterly and continually that he never saw 
 her at all any more. 
 
 The widow submitted herself absolutely to modiste, 
 bootmaker, coiffeur, masseur, jeweller and merchant. 
 She swept along in a fury of preparation ; finding in 
 the activities of the fleeting days relief from intro- 
 spection. She was doing her best to prevent herself 
 from thinking things out to inevitable conclusions. 
 She knew only that she had given her word to Dallas 
 and that she was going to live up to the woman she 
 had superimposed on the Mrs. Howard that Brookline 
 knew. 
 
 Even Mrs. Brinton, who was a very dynamo of 
 energy, was surprised by her friend's feverish whirl of 
 
 buying and fitting. The hostess, of course, was con- 
 
 228
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS 
 
 suited continually as to the plans for the wedding 
 and her advice was always wanted in the matter of 
 clothing, for if Mrs. Howard had trusted her own 
 instinctive tastes she would not always have pur- 
 chased the smart and torturing gowns and garments 
 which were literally thrust upon her. But she was 
 so busy that she hardly felt the punishment contin- 
 ually inflicted on her by her clothes. For the time 
 she bore her fashionable martyrdom uncomplainingly. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton, too, was worried about the wedding. 
 She feared that the excitement of the ceremony and 
 the inevitable reaction after it would bring her friend 
 to a collapse which her present burning energy prom- 
 ised. Mrs. Howard had never been hardened to the 
 strenuous daily existence of the urban woman. All 
 of the entertainment and frivolity of the early weeks 
 had told on her strength, her struggle with her clothes 
 also had worn her and the complication into which 
 her fervent admirers pitched her had made further 
 levy on her stamina. In short, she was in no condi- 
 tion to go through another ordeal. Mrs. Brinton 
 thought that the wedding would prove one. 
 
 But the widow did not want to lose an item in the 
 list of affairs which naturally were arranged in ad- 
 vance of the wedding. So after hard, difficult days 
 in the shops and parlours devoted to the adornment
 
 230 
 
 and beautification of women she spent nights in varied 
 entertainment. There were affairs which Mrs. Brin- 
 ton gave, Doyle felt it incumbent on him to alter- 
 nately dine and sup his friend and the woman who 
 might have been his, John Strong struggled for open 
 dates, and Dallas literally had hundreds of friends all 
 anxious to entertain him and the fiancee in some way. 
 So it was not surprising the widow grew thinner and 
 more tired-looking each day. She struggled desper- 
 ately to keep up her appearance and scourged on mas- 
 seur and specialist to work their hardest on her. 
 
 She postponed going to Brookline for the mid- 
 June wedding until the last moment. She had decided 
 to limit the attendance at the ceremony to just the 
 intimates of the Brinton household and a very few 
 of the Boston relatives who could not possibly be 
 left out. Somehow she did not relish the idea of 
 confronting her Brookline friends in all her recreated 
 beauty and her youthful clothes. For that sort of 
 thing one needed the glare and artificiality of the 
 metropolis. 
 
 But the inevitable time crept closer and closer. 
 John Strong had gone on ahead, taking Metz and 
 some of Mrs. Brinton's servants with him to assist 
 the old-fashioned Howard retinue in the house ar-
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS 231 
 
 rangements for the wedding. To Farrell had been 
 intrusted what other few charges there were. 
 
 Mrs. Howard and Mrs. Brinton and their maids 
 were to have gone to Brookline the day before the 
 ceremony, but the widow balked at the last moment. 
 
 " Oh, Peg, I can't do it ! " she wailed. 
 
 "Can't do what, Ellie? " Mrs. Brinton asked. 
 " And for heaven's sake, do hold yourself together." 
 
 " 1 can't spend the night at Brookline in that 
 house. This Ellie Howard never lived here." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, you are tired and nervous." 
 
 " I tell you I won't, I can't. I should have the 
 creeps." 
 
 " I thought you loved your old place. You've done 
 nothing but talk about it for two weeks." 
 
 " That's the trouble ! " Mrs. Howard sank into a 
 chair. Mrs. Brinton was much perturbed. 
 
 '* Ellie, Ellie, this will never do. You've got to go." 
 
 " But not until to-night," Mrs. Howard begged pit- 
 eously. " Can't we take the night train and get 
 there in the morning? " 
 
 " But you are to be married at noon ! " 
 
 " What of that ? Is it going to make any differ- 
 ence in the ceremony where I sleep, or rather where 
 I don't sleep, for I know I'm not going to have a
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 wink to-night. That's why I can't bear to be alone in 
 that big house. Don't you understand, Peg? " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton, seeing that her friend was desperate, 
 agreed. Their trunks had already gone, but Anna 
 and Mrs. Brinton's maid had held enough hand bag- 
 gage to make the Pullman journey possible. Anna 
 rushed out to change the tickets and the widow re- 
 tired to spend the afternoon in a nervous chill. Mrs. 
 Brinton exhausted every resource in her command 
 to cheer the other, but it was a hopeless task. 
 
 In the evening they motored down to the station. 
 Mrs. Howard stared at every familiar light with a 
 sort of " I-shall-never-look-on-you-again " expression. 
 
 " Don't be so silly," finally Mrs. Brinton could 
 stand it no longer. " Everyone feels this way when 
 they are about to be married. Perhaps that's the 
 reason I've never said ' yes ' to John," she added. 
 
 " You're a great comfort," Mrs. Howard inter- 
 rupted fiercely. " Say something else soothing like 
 that and I'll never leave." 
 
 " It's a good thing you are with me, Peg," said 
 Mrs. Howard as they finally went down to the train 
 gate. " I should never have the courage to go 
 through here alone." 
 
 " Now, Ellie, do be calm," urged Mrs. Brinton. 
 " Don't make a scene in the station."
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS 233 
 
 "Why, Peg! I believe you are just as upset as 
 I am." 
 
 " Well, who wouldn't be ? " Mrs. Brinton returned 
 somewhat querulously, " I've done nothing for the 
 past two weeks but repress my nerves to save yours. 
 It's about time for me to have an outbreak." 
 
 Both women, however, became calmer as they set- 
 tled down in their adjoining drawing-rooms. Mrs. 
 Howard rushed in to her friend, however, as the 
 wheels began to roll and the lights of the long plat- 
 form to glide by. She gazed into Mrs. Brinton's face 
 and then held onto her. 
 
 " There, there," the other said soothingly, " you 
 are all right. Now do quiet down." 
 
 Mrs. Howard yielded herself for a few moments 
 to the helpful ministrations of Anna, who mercifully 
 permitted her mistress to be comfortable in the pri- 
 vacy of the compartment. Perhaps it was not with- 
 out design, for the maid remarked, " Mrs. Howard, 
 after you are all quiet and comfortable may I talk to 
 you a moment ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Anna," she answered, " only I must 
 write out a message to Farrell, telling him when we 
 are coming and you will have to take it out to 
 the porter and have him drop it off at some conven- 
 ient station."
 
 234 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 The maid brought her a blank and she wrote out 
 the brief wire. When Anna returned she hesitated 
 for a moment. 
 
 " Now what is it, Anna? " Mrs. Brinton said. 
 
 " I am sorry to bother Madame now," the maid be- 
 gan, " but as she sails so soon after the wedding I 
 must say it when I can. Madame, I cannot go 
 abroad." 
 
 " Anna," Mrs. Howard was much taken back. 
 " What a time to tell me anything like that ! I won't 
 hear of your leaving." 
 
 " But I must leave." There was absolute urgency 
 in the maid's tone. 
 
 " I tell you you can't go ! That's flat. I wouldn't 
 let you off unless you were to be married or buried. 
 There!" 
 
 " That's just it. I am to be married! " 
 
 " Anna ! " Mrs. Howard stared at the maid. 
 " Why this isn't possible. You haven't seen a soul 
 here." 
 
 " But it is true." Anna didn't know what more to 
 say. 
 
 "Who is it?" asked her mistress. "Some for- 
 eigner here in Boston? " 
 
 " No, I marry a New York man." 
 
 " Someone you met there since we left Boston ? "
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS 35 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Anna, you are the most secretive person I've ever 
 known. Tell me who it is? Do I know him? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Not Metz, Anna?" 
 
 " Non, non, non. I could not marry the good 
 Metz. He is too old, too stiff, too unromantic. I 
 want the young, ardent man, the fiery lover." 
 
 " Then it's the chauffeur. He's a rakish looking 
 young devil." 
 
 Anna shook her head. She hesitated, then, feel- 
 ing that the truth would have to come out sooner or 
 later, she made her confession. 
 
 " It is the Socialist gentleman, Amos Thomas." 
 Anna hung her head to hide her confusion. 
 
 " What, Anna ? Say it again ! " 
 
 " I marry Amos Thomas." 
 
 Mrs. Howard was overcome. She laughed until 
 the tears came and then Mrs. Brinton came rushing 
 in from the other compartment, fearing that her 
 friend had fallen into hysterics. 
 
 " Madame, Madame, you are not to tell ! " Anna 
 cautioned. 
 
 "What in the world is the matter, Ellie?" asked 
 Mrs. Brinton. 
 
 " Oh, Anna has nearly killed me. She has just
 
 236 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 told me something extraordinary which has amused 
 me almost to death. But I'm furiously angry, too, 
 because she is going to leave me." 
 
 " But, Ellie, you wouldn't want her with you on 
 a honeymoon, anyway." 
 
 " Think, Peg, dear, how long this honeymoon 
 journey is to last. Dal says we'll be gone a year 
 and a half. I'll need Anna in two weeks." 
 
 " You can get another maid when you land." 
 
 " But it will be awkward. Oh, dear, nothing 
 seems to go right. I suppose I'll have to let you off, 
 Anna." 
 
 " Merci, Madame, you are so kind." 
 
 " Well, Ellie, I'm dying for sleep," interrupted 
 Mrs. Brinton. " I'll drop off where I stand if I 
 don't get to bed. Try to sleep, dear, and don't 
 worry." The two women embraced. Mrs. Howard 
 wept silently a minute on her friend's shoulder. 
 
 " I'm just nervous, that's all, Peg. Forgive me 
 for acting like a fool." Mrs. Brinton went back, 
 closing her door, and Mrs. Howard turned again 
 to Anna. " What are you and Thomas going 
 to live on ? " she asked. " You know he has no 
 money." 
 
 " I have my savings account." 
 
 " Don't ever let him get hold of it."
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS 237 
 
 " Indeed I won't, Madame, I know enough not to 
 do that." 
 
 " And here is a present for you." Mrs. Howard 
 took her cheque-book out of her bag and wrote out 
 an order for five hundred dollars. " Put that in 
 your savings account and don't let Thomas ever 
 touch it." 
 
 The widow tossed fitfully through the night, but 
 she did get snatches of sleep now and then mingled 
 with strange dreams in which Farrell, Dallas, Doyle, 
 Mrs. Brinton, Thomas and Anna were weirdly inter- 
 mixed. The train reached Boston early and they 
 were in Brookline soon after 8 o'clock. Farrell, 
 much dressed up, and John Strong were at the sta- 
 tion to greet them. She saw no one else she knew, 
 for which she was grateful, and they were soon bowl- 
 ing along in the car through verdant and picturesque 
 Brookline. 
 
 Farrell was chirping and pleasant. He seemed 
 to be half reconciled to the marriage and this morn- 
 ing spared his mother the usual protests. Strong, 
 having been separated from his Margaret Brinton 
 for a whole day, was extravagantly glad to see her 
 again. Mrs. Howard was quite silent. The weeks 
 since that March day when she had stood at her 
 garden window and planned to really " taste " life
 
 238 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 seemed years. Never before had existence been so 
 crowded and never before in her life had problems so 
 forced her into quick decisions. 
 
 Brookline looked unutterably serene and peaceful 
 after all the turmoil of New York. 
 
 " Oh," she said to herself, " if we could only stay 
 here for a few quiet weeks ! " 
 
 There was a tearful scene after the car had wound 
 down the long elm sheltered drive to the carriage 
 door. Mrs. Hopkins, who had been cooking for the 
 Howards since the gas-lit days, the two maids, 
 Hannah and Abigail, and Simpson, the gardener, 
 were gathered in the background and all wept as 
 Farrell and Strong helped the returning widow from 
 the car. Even the Howard maids were middle-aged, 
 having grown up in the service there, so they were 
 entitled to their display of emotion. 
 
 There were many expressions of surprise in good 
 New England tones as to how young and well Mrs. 
 Howard was looking. Much curiosity, also, was 
 voiced as to Dallas, who had not yet made his appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Mrs. Howard quickly retired to her rooms after 
 seeing that Mrs. Brinton had been made comfortable. 
 !&nd then she turned herself to Anna for the final 
 lime. The maid was much affected, and interspersed
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS 239 
 
 the dressing of the bride with frequent sniffles and 
 sobs. 
 
 " Now see here, Anna," finally expostulated the 
 mistress. " How do you expect me to keep up with 
 you going on so? " 
 
 " I'll try to control myself, Madame," Anna re- 
 turned, " but I weep for myself, too." 
 
 " That's so, I'd forgotten in my self-absorption 
 that you were getting into the same boat." 
 
 Never had the Howard place, as the Brookline 
 cab drivers insisted on calling it, looked better than 
 it did on that mid-June day. A fresh breeze had 
 literally brought down the flawless skies of highland 
 New Hampshire, the elms stood in green grandeur 
 under the blue of the heavens and the white New 
 England house with its ample verandahs and its 
 multitude of green blinds seemed a refuge from all 
 the world. Behind the house the old-fashioned gar- 
 den was a riot of bloom. The catalpas were thrust- 
 ing out their bright cup-shaped blossoms and beneath 
 the beds revealed all manner of blues, reds, yellows 
 and fainter pastel shades. 
 
 The garden had been half a century in the making 
 and Simpson had grown from a lad to a stooping 
 veteran over it. He had taken its traditions from 
 the older gardener brought out from Roxbury by
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Farrell's father and no upstart flower, no new- 
 fangled blossom, no freak plant ever found its way 
 there. In their season came forth lilacs, forsythia, 
 primroses, varied flags, holly-hocks, corn-flowers, 
 four-o'clocks, marigolds, pansies, stock, bachelor's 
 buttons, and just now the sunken rose garden was 
 showing forth its mosaic of red, magenta, scarlet, 
 pink, white and yellow. 
 
 Mrs. Howard had written on that she wanted the 
 house left as simple as possible. Therefore the 
 decorations for the wedding were not pretentious, 
 consisting mostly of great vases of gloriously fresh 
 flowers from the overflowing garden just without. 
 
 Dallas and his man arrived soon after Mrs. 
 Howard did and were sent up immediately to their 
 suite as the wedding was to be promptly at noon. 
 
 Half an hour before that time Mrs. Howard, 
 radiant but trembling, was ready. Somehow the old 
 house had given her a new strength and purpose. 
 She sent Anna in to Mrs. Brinton to tell her friend 
 to come in to see the bride as soon as she was dressed. 
 
 When Mrs. Brinton saw Mrs. Howard in her wed- 
 ding gown, all her fears took flight and she took 
 renewed courage. After all, she felt, Ellie's ner- 
 vousness was only natural and was not a matter of 
 age or faltering. Mrs. Brinton remembered vividly
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS 
 
 that far off day when she had married Paul Brinton, 
 both of them young and thoughtless and full of 
 the carefree happiness that only youth knows. She 
 had a distinct recollection of the wave of nervous 
 agitation that swept over her young soul that day. 
 Cold chills crept all over her when she heard the wed- 
 ding march. And Mrs. Howard in her bridal finery 
 was so lovely that Mrs. Brinton knew even Farrell 
 would feel a thrill of pride over her. 
 
 Celeste had outdone herself in creating Mrs. 
 Howard's wedding gown. It was of palest dove 
 grey charmeuse, soft and clinging. It draped and 
 fitted Mrs. Howard's slender figure lovingly. Its 
 embroideries were exquisite and a bit or two of rare 
 lace added to its glories. All about it in some elusive 
 way there floated or hung clouds of cobwebby chiffon 
 of the same colour. Mrs. Howard's feet were in 
 satin slippers with sparkling rhinestone buckles and 
 her slim ankles in grey lace stockings. She had an 
 indescribable but adorable hat with the better part 
 of some rare bird drooping over its brim. Her beau- 
 tiful pearls were about her neck and in her ears. 
 One of Dallas* many gifts, a priceless emerald pen- 
 dant, lay on her breast. Her lovely face, a trifle 
 grave, was flushed and tinted to perfection by Anna's 
 skilful hand.
 
 When the bride finally appeared below her eyes 
 were downcast. Her hair like live gold, rippled 
 softly about her ears and her mouth never looked 
 more alluring. She radiated charm and beauty. 
 The Boston relatives gazed at her in fearful admira- 
 tion. And Dallas, awaiting her, felt sweep over him 
 a wave of emotion that fairly choked him. She 
 came to meet him on FarrelPs arm. She looked like 
 a girl, and he felt old and grey beside her. Farrell, 
 his face white and awe stricken, gave his wonderful 
 mother to Dallas, and stepped into the background. 
 Then as in a dream Mrs. Howard heard the quaver- 
 ing voice of her old Pastor, and realised that the 
 moment had come. She was being married to Chris- 
 topher Dallas!
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 SINGLE BLESSEDNESS 
 
 TOWARDS the end of the afternoon Mrs. Brinton and 
 John Strong, finding the house intolerable with 
 gloomy evidences of the impending journey every- 
 where, retreated to the garden. They found two 
 comfortable wicker chairs under a bloom-covered tree 
 near the garden wall and seated themselves with every 
 evidence of deep depression. Yet one could not have 
 found anywhere a more peaceful, restful or reassur- 
 ing spot. Everywhere were trees, shrubs and 
 flowers, all growing in old-fashioned profusion. To 
 their right the brick garden wall led to a street gate 
 and at their left was the quaint rear entrance to the 
 house. Just off the porch were several trunks and 
 on the steps were hat boxes, steamer rugs and bags 
 of various sizes. 
 
 Strong watched wearily the men carrying the 
 trunks and bags to the gate and sighed profoundly. 
 Mrs. Brinton, gowned in her usual good taste, was 
 a most pleasing picture in a mauve dress with parasol 
 
 and hat that matched, but she, too, stared gloomily 
 
 243
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 ahead. An oriole dropped a cheery call to no avail 
 and a wren tried its happy lay, but nothing would 
 lift the weight that pressed down on these two good 
 friends. They were practically the only guests left. 
 The town folk had long ago gone. Doyle was wan- 
 dering through a far-off corner of the grounds and 
 Farrell was bustling about somewhere within the 
 house, which also held, indefinitely, the bride and 
 groom. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton was the first to speak. " Well, 
 thank God, the wedding's over ! " she exclaimed. 
 " Who was it told that lie about something being as 
 merry as a marriage bell? I'm sure I've been on the 
 verge of tears all day. I have rarely felt so over- 
 come." She seemed about to give in at once but 
 Strong leaned over and patted her reassuringly. 
 
 " I couldn't feel worse if I had been to a hang- 
 ing," he returned. " Being best man at this wed- 
 ding was very much like being pall-bearer, which 
 post I have filled much more frequently." 
 
 She wiped her eyes and slowly shook her head. 
 " I never go to weddings or funerals," she com- 
 mented. " One is of so little importance at either." 
 
 Strong tried to puzzle it out. He looked at Mrs. 
 Brinton, then studied the leaves above him and finally 
 said, " For the life of me, I don't see what was the
 
 SINGLE BLESSEDNESS 245 
 
 matter with this particular wedding. Even Michael's 
 champagne cup wouldn't lift it." 
 
 Just as she was about to answer, two girlish heads 
 appeared above the garden, there were giggles and 
 then the rice came rattling down. Strong bobbed 
 up indignantly. 
 
 " More of that rice ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton raised her handsome parasol. " I 
 wonder if ElhVs neighbours think I am the bride," 
 she said. Evidently they did for rice again rattled 
 down on her parasol and a moment later an old shoe 
 hurtled into the garden. 
 
 " Another slipper," commented Strong. A second 
 followed. He picked both up and stuffed them in 
 his trousers pocket. " Those Newton girls won't 
 have any left, soon." 
 
 " How stupid girls are ! " was Mrs. Brinton's 
 comment. Her mind went back to the wedding. 
 " Poor Ellie ! " she cried. " Poor Dallas, poor 
 things." She sniffled. " I assure you, John, matri- 
 mony is not popular with me this afternoon. A 
 vigorous feeling of spinsterhood has taken posses- 
 sion of me. I wouldn't be married for the world." 
 She brought her parasol down decisively. 
 
 Strong saw his only hope, his own long-sought 
 widow, evading him. He tried to take her hand.
 
 246 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Oh ! I say, Margaret," he objected. He looked 
 at her with tremendous devotion. She refused to see 
 the look and she brushed away his hand. 
 
 " No, no, John, don't. Single blessedness appeals 
 to me as it hasn't for months." She felt she had 
 hurt him. He turned on her mournfully. She re- 
 lented a little and said comfortingly, " To be honest 
 with you, John, I've been leaning more and more in 
 your direction for some weeks past." 
 
 His expression turned to one of extreme delight. 
 
 " What ? " he asked to make sure. 
 
 She looked at him with affection. " I almost felt 
 that I" 
 
 He interrupted her. " And I've felt it, too," he 
 said. 
 
 She suddenly fell back to her earlier mood. The 
 wedding clearly had depressed her. " Well, that 
 feeling is over. Perhaps this is just reaction. How 
 long have you been making love to me? " 
 
 He sighed volumes. " Only ten years ! " 
 
 " Well, when I recover from the effects of this 
 wedding you will have to begin all over again." 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! " he cried completely crushed. 
 
 Mrs. Brinton was going through one of those 
 periods of depression which follow a long sustained 
 course of excitement. She was feeling the effects
 
 SINGLE BLESSEDNESS 247 
 
 not only of the strenuous weeks which had marked 
 the visit to New York of Mrs. Howard, now Mrs. 
 Dallas, but of months and months and even years of 
 fast driving on the social track. Being a merry soul 
 she had always had the desire for company, much 
 company. And being quite as rich as she was merry 
 she had not failed to gratify the pleasure which peo- 
 ple gave her. But she always gave out quite as 
 much as she took. Naturally, since there were so 
 many people to give to, she exhausted great quanti- 
 ties of vital energy. It is not surprising then that 
 the inevitable let-down following the wedding has 
 found her particularly unable to bear up against it. 
 Consequently her treatment of her faithful cavalier, 
 John Strong. But he had weathered similar storms 
 with her. 
 
 She stared about nervously. Her brows twitched 
 a little and he noted a drawn expression. " What's 
 happened to us all to-day ? " she cried. " Why does 
 everyone feel so horribly gloomy ? " 
 
 Strong was a firm believer in the doctrine of 
 comfortableness. He never crossed Mrs. Brinton. 
 He made a point of agreeing with her, especially 
 when she was nervous. " The Lord only knows," 
 he answered. " I'm sure I don't ! There's something 
 in the air it's probably Brookline. I can't abide
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 the suburbs. And an old garden fills me with a pent- 
 up sort of sentiment that's very uncomfortable." 
 He looked down on her fondly. He would have 
 given much to have been one of the day's bride- 
 grooms. But he knew Mrs. Brinton was in no mood 
 for sentimental conversation. 
 
 She looked to him for some sort of diversion or 
 consolation, nevertheless. " Do cheer me up, John," 
 she urged. " Tell me a funny story, you know, 
 nearly naughty. I'm sure you must know dozens. 
 I shan't mind if it's very naughty if only it's very 
 funny. That's a good soul." 
 
 He held his cigarette case out to gain time. 
 " Have a cigarette," he said, " and I'll try to remem- 
 ber a story. Stories never will come when you really 
 need them. Aren't you going to smoke? " He was 
 surprised to find her ignoring the proffered case. 
 
 Thinking she had not heard him he repeated the 
 remark. She shook her head. " Since we are call- 
 ing things by their real names," she explained, " I'll 
 confess to you that I particularly dislike cigarettes. 
 They always disagree with me, I can't bear the taste 
 or smell of them, and I only smoke them to be smart. 
 I couldn't endure one to-day." 
 
 " Margaret, I thought you loved them." Strong 
 was surprised.
 
 SINGLE BLESSEDNESS 249 
 
 She stirred uneasily. She was in one of those 
 exaggerated nervous conditions when a woman is un- 
 kind to those whom she loves the best. He was quite 
 unprepared, well as he knew her, for her next remark. 
 " Well, I don't," she snapped, referring to the smok- 
 ing. " You don't know a great deal about me, and 
 now you never will. Oh, I am so grateful that I 
 am still single, that no words will express it ! " 
 
 Strong looked very unhappy. He felt it was quite 
 hopeless to say anything further. He got up and 
 stood dejectedly wondering what he should do when 
 from across the garden wall came the sounds of the 
 wedding march played on a piano. 
 
 " There they are again, the little cats." Strong 
 almost swore. He was quite sure that the young 
 women of the rice and the old shoes were plaguing 
 them again. " It's all for Ellie's benefit, but we 
 are the ones who suffer." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton began to weep. " Oh, dear," she 
 cried, " Oh, John ! " Strong was getting a bit bored. 
 
 " My word, Margaret," he exclaimed, " this is 
 fearful! You aren't the bride, you know! Do be 
 sensible ! You are looking beautiful and we are all 
 going back to New York and we will have a j oily time. 
 Cheer up ! " 
 
 Voices, full of gay mischief, joined the music.
 
 250 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Mrs. Brinton, no longer able, to stand it, rose up, 
 putting her fingers in her ears. " Oh ! I wish 
 they'd stop. I shall scream in a moment ! How can 
 they think it is funny ? " The last was delivered 
 over the wall so violently that it had its effect. The 
 playing and singing ceased. 
 
 " Thank heaven," said the tortured wedding 
 guest, sinking back into her chair. She wiped her 
 eyes, sniffed a bit and then looked at the trunks 
 piled up at the gate. " John, aren't you glad, hon- 
 estly glad, we are still unshackled, and that that 
 fearful array of trunks doesn't belong to us ? " 
 
 " Oh, I can't say that," he answered truthfully. 
 " I want to marry you more than I want to do any- 
 thing." 
 
 " Put it out of your mind, John, forever. A wed- 
 ding and a wedding trip are beyond me. I simply 
 couldn't I simply wouldn't ! Just picture lifting 
 the trays out of those trunks day by day, and finding 
 the key of each one on your key ring, and rounding 
 up the whole lot on those beastly little station plat- 
 forms abroad. Fancy going about with an umbrella 
 and a porter and pointing them out with a weary, 
 if accustomed eye ! And always losing the one that 
 one really wanted." 
 
 " I hate Europe myself. And I really am sorry
 
 SINGLE BLESSEDNESS 251 
 
 for Ellie. It's a bore, her maid leaving just now." 
 
 " It's more than that," she added. " Ellie can 
 never keep herself up alone." 
 
 " How up ? " He looked at her curiously. 
 
 "Oh, nothing -just up. Dressed fixed 
 groomed. You ought to know, you have a valet." 
 
 The picture did not look quite so hopeless to him. 
 He thought it all over. It rather fascinated him. 
 " I should think Dal could hook and unhook or 
 even help her keep up whatever that means I 
 How I should love to hook and unhook " He 
 caught himself. " Nothing personal, you know," he 
 added quickly. 
 
 " You don't understand," she resumed. " Ellie 
 has my deepest sympathy, but, poor soul, that won't 
 help her. She has got to go around the world, and 
 be handsome and young and amusing, whether she 
 feels like it or not, every inch of the way." She 
 rose tearfully and went over to him. " Oh, John, 
 I'm so glad we're not going on a wedding trip. And 
 after to-day, I know I never, never will find courage." 
 She gave him an affectionate touch. 
 
 " John, dear," she began softly, " I don't want 
 ever to hurt you, but I feel I must tell you how all of 
 this to-day has alarmed me. It isn't because I don't 
 care for you that I hesitate, but it is because I love
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 you so much. I am so afraid that if I married I 
 should lose the John I know and admire. Your 
 faithfulness, your devotion and your consideration 
 are absolutely necessary to me. I must always have 
 them, but would I have them if we were married? 
 Many of the happiest women I know are not mar- 
 ried. Wedlock instead of resulting in a division of 
 care and responsibility seems simply to double them. 
 Not that these women have any prejudice against 
 marriage. They realise it is a necessary and valu- 
 able institution. They respect its traditions and 
 realise what it means for the human race at large 
 but they have found useful places in the world with- 
 out it. John, dear, don't you think it better for us 
 to go on as we are? I am always happy with you. 
 Would I be if a greater intimacy brought you to a 
 realisation that I am far from perfect, that I have 
 as many faults as I have virtue? Tell me, John, if 
 I'm mistaken. I am sure I am not." 
 
 He demurred gently and pulled her close to him. 
 
 She yielded to him. " Kiss me, John," she said. 
 " I love you but I will not marry you." 
 
 " You haven't said you loved me for ages, that's 
 encouraging," he said, stooping down to grant her 
 sentimental request. " That is most propitious," he 
 added. " I'll wait for the rest."
 
 SINGLE BLESSEDNESS 253 
 
 "Don't," she sighed. "This is final. I'm kiss- 
 ing you good-bye." She gently freed herself. 
 
 " Was that a good-bye kiss ? " he asked amusedly. 
 
 " So far as marriage is concerned." 
 
 " It seemed like a stay kiss to me. Perhaps you 
 forgot what kind you started to give. I don't feel 
 a bit as if I had been kissed farewell." 
 
 " Oh, John," she exclaimed. " How can you jest 
 at a time like this ? " The tearful mood was on her 
 again. 
 
 But he was much more hopeful than he had been. 
 She had shown that she really was dependent on him 
 when most sorely tried. He was more than a fair- 
 weather anchor for her.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 CONCERNING A JOURNEY 
 
 FARRELI, haft not gotten through the day without 
 coming into a share of the general gloom which had 
 settled on bride and groom and their intimate friends. 
 His was a nature that indicated the appearance of 
 depression as quickly and surely as litmus paper 
 does the presence of acid. He may have been recon- 
 ciled in part to the marriage, now that it had actually 
 taken place, but he regarded the world-wide honey- 
 moon journey as a piece of extravagance which no 
 sane man would countenance. 
 
 The absurdity of the thing had been impressed 
 particularly upon him for in his capacity of general 
 home functionary at the wedding he had completed 
 the final arrangements for the tickets at the steam- 
 ship office in Boston. He supervised the checking 
 of the baggage and sighed over each piece. Deep 
 down in his heart he felt that he would be saying 
 good-bye to his mother forever, once she started out 
 on any such difficult and unending trip as that which 
 
 Dallas had outlined. 
 
 254
 
 CONCERNING A JOURNEY 255 
 
 Late in the afternoon, quite mournful and alone, 
 he walked out into the garden for a, final look at the 
 trunks. There he found Strong and Mrs. Brinton, 
 the former somewhat abjectly staring into space, 
 while the latter was dabbing her eyes with one of 
 those futile lace bits which women carry instead of 
 handkerchiefs. He sat down near them. 
 
 " Tired out, Farrell? " Strong asked sympa- 
 thetically. "Warm, isn't it?" 
 
 Farrell looked about cautiously and then began, 
 " Mrs. Brinton, have either of you ever thought 
 about this trip mother is going to take ? It's appall- 
 ing. I've seen the tickets for part of the way. 
 Green wavering things like serpents and fully as 
 long. Yards of them ! " 
 
 He dove down into an inside pocket and fished out a 
 little red atlas. " I have figured out the j ourney 
 by this little map of the world," he began, " and I 
 want you to listen to it, and remember that mother 
 is supposed to do it in one year. Boston to Hull; 
 from Hull by that fearful North Sea to Stockholm, 
 then by boat across the Baltic to St. Petersburg. 
 A little side trip to Moscow, Berlin and Vienna and 
 in October to Paris. Then down with the season to 
 the South of France, Naples, Athens and old isles 
 of the Grecian seas, to Macedonia, Persia, Ormus
 
 256 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 and India. Later all the queer ratty spots on the ob- 
 scure coasts of India and Siam. Then up for Chi- 
 nese pirates and Japanese cherry blossoms in the 
 spring." 
 
 "Great Scott!" interrupted Strong. "That's 
 work, that isn't honeymooning ! " 
 
 "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Brinton, jnuch over- 
 come again. 
 
 " Lord, it's awful ! " added Strong, who regarded 
 Boston as remote enough from New York. 
 
 " When they are not being tossed about on a 
 boat," continued the sober Farrell, " they'll be 
 shaken up on a train, and when they can't reach a 
 place any other way, they will be jolted around in a 
 motor car. And God knows what that globe trotter 
 will want to do then. He mentions casually, South 
 Africa, the Tyrol, Simla, Sydney, the tombs of the 
 Pharaohs, Buenos-Ayres and the Pampas, Alaska 
 and Alexandria. He wants to sail on the Bosphorus 
 and climb the Himalayas. He has a passion for 
 folding his tent with the Arabs, and he wants to kyak 
 with an Eskimo. Then London, Rome or some other 
 place for the winter or Egypt. Mother is to 
 ride a camel and she can't even sail on the bay. 
 She must be carried in rickshaws and palanquins. 
 He even talked about a Boer bullock cart."
 
 '* Oh, Farrell ! " Mrs. Brinton was suffering all 
 the discomforts of the journey in advance. 
 
 " One would think she had married a motion pic- 
 ture man," he resumed. " Do you realise that up 
 to four months ago, mother considered it tiresome 
 to go into Boston, and New York a trip to be made 
 after making one's will? Mrs. Brinton, I know that 
 mother's last stop on this trip will be a grave- 
 yard 1" 
 
 " Merciful God ! Poor Ellie ! " she exclaimed, 
 weeping. 
 
 " My dear Farrell," Strong said, " they'll never 
 do it all ; they couldn't. Don't worry." 
 
 " It would have been better if she had married 
 Michael," said Mrs. Brinton, recovering possession 
 of herself. 
 
 " Yes, New York's good enough for him," com- 
 mented Strong. 
 
 " It would be much better if she had married 
 nobody," was Farrell's view. " But she wouldn't 
 listen. Mr. Dallas is nice enough, and I feel quite 
 sure he loves mother. Much too ardently, for my 
 ideas of good taste." 
 
 Strong showed dissent by a disgusted smile. He 
 hated a prig. 
 
 " Mother is far from young, Mrs. Brinton,"
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Farrell continued, " and such things seem out of 
 place. You know mother is at least " 
 
 " Dear Farrell, please," she interrupted. " Your 
 mother's age is not an item of news to me; I know 
 it perfectly. In fact, my own is shockingly similar. 
 But I flatter myself, we neither of us look it." 
 
 " Indeed, you don't ! " emphatically seconded 
 Strong. 
 
 " That's what disturbs me so," Farrell said sadly. 
 ** I want a mother, not a creation. My, dear, 
 comfortable, pleasant mother has turned into a 
 dressed-up, perfumed fashion plate. She looks 
 twenty years too young. I tell you, it's out of 
 nature." 
 
 Strong could hardly restrain himself from talk- 
 ing to Farrell with fervent cynicism. Farrell's stiff 
 and punctilious bearing, his smug self-satisfaction 
 and his absolute hatred of the joyous things of life 
 irritated the older man inexpressibly. But he strove 
 to remain calm. He even said mildly, " Once you 
 know Dallas you will love him, Farrell. Everyone 
 does!" 
 
 " I don't know ! " returned Farrell dubiously. 
 " If he would only settle down and be a father to 
 me, I'd be contented enough." 
 
 Strong answered with dry humour. " Perhaps, he
 
 CONCERNING A JOURNEY 259 
 
 doesn't fancy being a father to anybody. It makes 
 one feel so ancient. I shouldn't care, myself, about 
 being your father." 
 
 " It would be very nice to have a father to play 
 golf with," continued Farrell, paying no notice to 
 Strong's joke, " and to talk to of one's business 
 affairs; but Mr. Dallas is just another statuette. 
 He isn't any more real than mother." 
 
 " The brat ! " exclaimed Mrs. Brinton under her 
 breath to Strong. 
 
 Farrell rose sadly and held his hat before him. 
 " I'm going fishing with George Foote," he said, 
 " and I may not see you again before you go. Good- 
 bye, Mrs. Brinton, I am glad you haven't a son, for 
 he would be sure to be wretched over your looking so 
 young and pretty at your age." He held out his 
 hand. 
 
 " That's not nice of you, Farrell," she returned, 
 quite nettled. 
 
 Strong was much annoyed. " My dear Farrell, 
 if Mrs. Brinton did have a son, I'm sure he would 
 adore her as we all do." 
 
 " Never mind, Jack," she said to Strong, and then 
 turned again to Farrell. " Good-bye, dear child, you 
 never were young, so you can't understand why 
 anyone else wants to be." Both shook hands
 
 260 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 with the young man and he started for the garden 
 gate. 
 
 " Please tell mother I'll be back to bid her good- 
 bye," he called back. " And I forgot, Mrs. Brin- 
 ton," he added, " to thank you for bringing your 
 butler over. He is an excellent servant. Our par- 
 lour maid left because she said I was too particular, 
 and perhaps I was. I have grown so suspicious of 
 all females." Hearing the girls across the way at 
 their mock wedding march he climbed up to the wall 
 and shouted, " I say, Lily Lily. Mother's dress- 
 ing where she can't hear you. These are simply 
 guests you're entertaining in our garden. Do stop 
 it ! " There was a sound of laughter but the music 
 ceased. Even Farrell's back looked outraged. He 
 turned and with a curt " Good-bye ! " was off through 
 the gate. 
 
 " Oh, I 'do envy Dal the pleasure of that young 
 man as an adjunct of his family circle," commented 
 Strong. " What a pleasant young person to con- 
 front several hundred meals a year. No wonder his 
 mother ran away from him." 
 
 " Farrell isn't altogether to blame," returned Mrs. 
 Brinton, " though I shall not forget soon how he 
 put me in my place. But he is the product of 
 environment. The suburbs of Boston are full of
 
 CONCERNING A JOURNEY 261 
 
 Farrells. There is something in the air and the tra- 
 ditions of this part of the country which leads either 
 to extreme and impossible virtue or to utter deprav- 
 ity. No one knows how to strike a golden mean. 
 I have been more frozen and more shocked in Boston 
 than in any other city in the country. And, oh, 
 John, the things some of the debutantes talk about. 
 The sophisticated Boston young woman would shock 
 a Broadway soubrette! Not in what she does, of 
 course, but in what she says. Heavens ! " Mrs. 
 Brinton's expressive hands were held up in 
 despair. 
 
 " Really," sighed Strong, " Boston is extraordi- 
 nary. What you tell me doesn't make me feel any 
 more comfortable about it. I wish I was back in 
 New York." He relapsed into gloomy silence. 
 The beauty of the day, the charm of the wonderful 
 garden and the quiet peace of the hour were wasted 
 upon them. They were beyond the comfort which 
 Nature extends to all who listen to her. Their ears 
 and eyes were turned inward. 
 
 Doyle, quietly entering the gate, caught sight of 
 them, stopped for a moment and enjoyed the mirth- 
 less picture with a smile. Then he stepped briskly 
 forward and they started a little shame-facedly, as 
 people do when they are caught off guard.
 
 262 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Well, what are you two up to, anyway ? " he 
 asked mischievously. "Planning an elopement?" 
 
 " No, Michael," returned Mrs. Brinton sadly, 
 " nor any other form of matrimony." 
 
 " But it's grand marrying weather," Doyle re- 
 turned sincerely. " I've had a walk and a think and 
 I'm the better for it. I've got to get the widow out 
 of my system. A wedding's a weird ceremony when 
 you watch the other fellow get the one woman ! " He 
 sat down and pulled himself together. " And now 
 won't you and John, here, oblige me? " 
 
 " No, no, Michael," she broke in firmly. 
 
 "Ain't that a pity, now just when I have my 
 hand in," he returned in a blithe second, " I was 
 countin' on standin' up with ye, and perhaps kissin' 
 the bride." 
 
 "No such luck!" croaked Strong. "What the 
 devil's the matter here to-day, Michael? We all 
 look like tombstones ! Margaret seems to think that 
 Ellie and Dal aren't happy ! " 
 
 " What's that you say ? Not happy ? " Doyle 
 displayed great interest. 
 
 " They both look so damnably wretched. Do you 
 think the marriage was a mistake? " 
 
 The Irishman thought hard a moment as he
 
 CONCERNING A JOURNEY 263 
 
 lighted a cigar. He puffed solemnly. " I wonder if 
 that's true now! Well! Well!" 
 
 Mrs. Brinton's nerves began to jump again and 
 she rose and walked back and forth uneasily. " I 
 tell you we never ought to have let them do it," she 
 said. " They're too " she paused. " I know 
 they're not a bit happy! At all events, Ellie isn't. 
 I'm a woman and I feel that. As for Dal, I know 
 nothing about men, and " 
 
 Doyle quickly interrupted her. " Mrs. Brinton, 
 may the Lord forgive ye. So you know nothing 
 about men? Why, ye were born knowing all 
 about 'em! Every woman is! It's the cunning of 
 nature! And Jack here, ye know, ye're only 
 devilin' him. You wouldn't be such a fool as to 
 give some other woman the chance at him. Ah, well, 
 it's Irish I am and single, and it's warm and I'm 
 lonesome, and I feel sentimental and full of desires 
 and other discomforts. Lucky Dal! Ye couldn't 
 make me believe he hasn't the finest luck in the world, 
 with that witch, Ellie, belonging to him this day. 
 I'd get her yet if somebody would kill Dal off for 
 me." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton, in tears again, shook her head 
 gravely at the Irishman.
 
 264 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Michael, we're on the verge of some awful calam- 
 ity and you won't be serious," she cried. " Do go 
 away ! " 
 
 " Go and cheer Dal up a bit," urged the pacifica- 
 tory Strong. " The last time I saw him, he was 
 watching his man pack his bag and he looked as if 
 he were watching him dig his grave." 
 
 " I'd go and offer to take the bride off his hands 
 if I thought there was a chance for me," said Michael 
 rising. " Perhaps it's only a drink he needs. Well, 
 I'm off to do whatever I can for him. And you two 
 reckless, riotin' devil-may-cares, don't run off and do 
 anything foolish while I am gone."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 AN ADVANCED EXPERIMENT 
 
 MEANWHILE the efforts of Amos Thomas to reach 
 Brookline to claim his bride were not unattended by 
 adventure. Thomas, being always of the opinion 
 that society owed him a living, indulged in little 
 individual providence. He was Pickwickian in a 
 confidence that something would turn up at the mo- 
 ment of need. Thus he bid Anna an airy good-bye a 
 few hours before she left for Brookline, sure that 
 he would be on hand in time to meet her late in the 
 afternoon at the home of the new Mrs. Dallas. The 
 details of his own wedding he was perfectly willing 
 to leave to his bride. He knew she had written on 
 ten days earlier to Boston to her manicure friend and 
 her priest. The latter, she said, had filed the needed 
 notice for the license. All he would have to do 
 would be to call for it when he reached Boston, and 
 pay the fee. 
 
 Not until late in the day did it occur to him that 
 he might need any wedding finery. The related 
 
 matter of money presented itself to his mind. He 
 
 265
 
 266 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 ran through his pockets and found he had only a few 
 dollars less than the fare to Boston. It was there- 
 fore necessary for him to look up some of the com- 
 rades to whom he had given money in moments of 
 comparative affluence. 
 
 Thomas steered his way to Fifth Avenue and the 
 public library quite certain that he would find some 
 of his compatriots reading over the newspapers and 
 magazines. He, himself, had a favoured chair there 
 at one of the reading desks, which he considered his 
 " office." Fate seemed to be propitious. No sooner 
 had he gained his favoured quarter of the building 
 than he saw three of his friends close together. 
 He indistinctly remembered turning over indefinite 
 amounts to each. 
 
 But there was hardly enough of that capitalistic 
 contraband money on any one of them to convict him 
 of subscription to an iniquitous system of govern- 
 ment. 
 
 Thomas left in disgust. He stood on the broad 
 steps of the library and watched the rich flood of 
 traffic flowing up and down the avenue. He did not 
 see one person in motor, carriage, bus or on foot who 
 did not look what he would describe as " rotten with 
 money." Growing desperate he meditated various 
 enterprises. He even wondered how a hold-up was
 
 AN ADVANCED EXPERIMENT 267 
 
 achieved. But, however sure he was of the capital- 
 ist's lack of right to the money he carried, Thomas 
 was no man for strenuous measures. 
 
 The easiest way was always his. He had a brother 
 in New York, a small shop keeper far uptown. 
 Under all ordinary circumstances he despised his 
 relative as a hopeless and acquiescent reactionary. 
 The Socialist turned to Sixth Avenue, paid a nickel 
 out of his small financial store and fared far North 
 on an elevated car. Leaving the train he turned 
 into a narrow side street which on this fine June even- 
 ing was swarming with children, hurdy-gurdies and 
 dogs. He found the shop without difficulty. It 
 was a combination of news-stand, candy store and 
 small grocery. His brother, a small, pale, baldish 
 man with near-sighted eyes peering through untidy 
 steel-rimmed spectacles, looked up from a little pack- 
 age he was handing to a child. 
 
 " Oh, it's you, Amos ! " he exclaimed. " Have you 
 come back to give me that twenty? I'd said good- 
 bye to that." 
 
 " What a nice greeting to a brother who hasn't 
 seen you for a year," returned Amos with some asper- 
 ity. " I'd forgotten about that." He hesitated a 
 moment. " I tell you what I'll do, Will. Give me 
 twenty more and I'll pay you the whole amount in
 
 268 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 two weeks. I'm going to be married. In fact " 
 he looked at his brother impressively " I'm en- 
 gaged to a very rich woman." 
 
 The other looked at him dubiously. *' This prob- 
 ably means throwing good money after bad. And 
 you used to go on about marriage being all foolish- 
 ness. What's changed your mind? " 
 
 " A woman/' returned Amos. " Now don't be an 
 ass." He assumed an attitude of superiority which 
 seemed to impress his cringing relative. " Either 
 give me the money or don't. You can have my note 
 if that will make you feel any better about the 
 matter." 
 
 " I think I'll take it, if you don't mind, and for 
 the whole amount." He wrote out the necessary 
 statement. Thomas signed, and immediately, the 
 moment the money was in hand, he rushed off fearful 
 that his brother might undergo a change of mind. 
 
 He hurried off for his room farther downtown 
 and on the way bought as the principal item of his 
 wedding outfit a black Windsor tie. He changed to 
 his best summer suit of clothes, a rather neat grey, 
 shaved and primped a bit and then hunted for a New 
 York and New Haven time table. It was important 
 to find a night train which carried a day car for he 
 knew he couldn't afford a Pullman fare.
 
 AN ADVANCED EXPERIMENT 269 
 
 Late in the night he began his journey to Boston 
 stiffly propped up in the seat of a coach. The car 
 was crowded. A young man who evidently had been 
 experimenting with life along the Gay White Way 
 exhaled unmistakable fumes by his side; an Italian 
 family, running in all sizes from " padre " to " bam- 
 bino " occupied a pair of double seats ahead and 
 varied other items in the great army of those who 
 travel cheaply noisily marked the way. Thomas 
 slept very little; for the most part he watched the 
 shapeless landscape of the night slip away beside the 
 car. The train stopped everywhere; the engine had 
 a weakness for backing, buckling and jerking and 
 every time there was a halt, the dissonance of snores 
 in the car was terrifying. The Socialist welcomed 
 with great relief the coming of the early dawn and 
 the growing morning. He opened his window wide 
 and revelled in the freshness of the young June day. 
 It was mid-morning when the belated train ran halt- 
 ingly into the Boston terminal. 
 
 By the time he had gotten into communication 
 with Anna's friend and the priest and accomplished 
 the important errand for the license it was after- 
 noon. He then hurried out to Brookline and called 
 Anna on the telephone. She warned him not to 
 appear before 5 o'clock. But he wandered out to
 
 270 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 be sure he would know the house when the time came 
 and then loitered near in a convenient bit of wood- 
 land. Promptly on the stroke of the hour he was 
 at the house. He rang the bell at an innocent-look- 
 ing side door and was quite astonished to be con- 
 fronted by Metz. 
 
 "Tell, tell" he hesitated. "Inform Mrs. 
 Brinton that I am here and would like to see her." 
 
 Metz looked him over coolly but nodded and went 
 off. 
 
 He caught sight of Anna just as Metz left. She 
 rushed to him. " Go back of the house," she said 
 hastily. " I'll be out in a moment or two." 
 
 Metz returned to say that Mrs. Brinton was in 
 the garden and would see him. He followed the 
 butler uncomfortably, but as he reached the garden 
 his step became brisk, he rearranged the red flower 
 in his buttonhole and the ingratiating Thomas man- 
 ner appeared again. As he saw Mrs. Brinton he 
 raised his straw hat with much manner. 
 
 " What on earth do you want of me? " Mrs. Brin- 
 ton asked rising. 
 
 Seeing Strong and Doyle he first said : " How 
 are you, gentlemen? I suppose this felicitous occa- 
 sion has brought you all to Brookline. How is the 
 bride?" He turned to Mrs. Brinton. "Radiant,
 
 AN ADVANCED EXPERIMENT 271 
 
 I am sure, and the happy man I quite envy 
 him." 
 
 " I am certain you did not come all this distance 
 to offer congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Dallas," 
 commented Strong. " If / am in the way here " 
 
 " Not at all," airily interrupted Thomas. " I 
 don't believe in reticence. It's a foolish, old-time 
 conventionality. I always speak out in beautiful, 
 frank freedom. One's soul should rise above the 
 petty ideas and customs of men." 
 
 " That being so," urged Mrs. Brinton, " sit down 
 and tell me your news. I know you well enough to 
 think it worth while. I will say for you, you are 
 never commonplace, Mr. Thomas." 
 
 He took a chair with much ceremony. " I'm 
 going to be married," he said with a smile. " Does 
 that surprise you? Do you ask me to whom? " 
 
 "Why should we?" said Strong, who was much 
 bored. " It doesn't interest us." 
 
 " It interests me ! " Mrs. Brinton insisted. " I'm 
 dying to know." 
 
 " Well," he began, " I do not expect to be under- 
 stood. Natures like mine rarely are. After my 
 unfortunate set-to with the fire-escape, that memor- 
 able afternoon, not one of you even said ' good-bye ' 
 to me. Full of your own selfish desires, you let me
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 go out uncheered into what seemed then a heartless 
 world. But just as I reached the foot of the stair- 
 way that same stairway on which our mutual 
 friend had first leaned towards me in all her womanly 
 charm a little dove fluttered to my bruisad heart. 
 She comforted me, she bewailed my misfortunes, and 
 she took me into the dining-room, your dining-room 
 when I come to think of it, and poured me a glass of 
 sherry to stay my fainting spirit." 
 
 " My sherry, too," commented Mrs. Brinton, 
 amused for the first time in the day. " But what's 
 sherry at a moment like this. And the fluttering 
 dove?" 
 
 " She let me out into the twilight, saddened but 
 comforted." 
 
 " It couldn't have been Cook now, that flutter- 
 ing dove ? " asked Strong, growing interested. " I 
 hope it isn't Mrs. Brinton's cook." 
 
 " It was the handmaiden of our mutual friend, 
 Mrs. Dallas Anna Merkel," announced Thomas 
 with a smirk. 
 
 " Anna ? So that's why she's leaving ! She told 
 me she had a situation," added Mrs. Brinton, laugh- 
 ing. " So you are the situation." 
 
 " Situation is a mild word for him ! " commented 
 Strong under his breath.
 
 " Since then," continued Thomas, now much satis- 
 fied with himself, " we have communed often and 
 written many letters. I find in her fresh, young 
 mind much that interests me." 
 
 " And she is a remarkably good-looking girl," 
 added Strong. 
 
 " Yes, she is pretty," granted Mrs. Brinton. 
 
 " She is indeed ! " Thomas emphasised it, " and 
 who am I to ignore nature's allurements ? " 
 
 "Well, well!" chortled Strong. "We're all 
 human." 
 
 " I have it in my mind to make experiments of 
 theories never fully understood by this scoffing 
 world." Thomas was once more in his own world, 
 the world of discussion. " Anna and I may yet be 
 heard from." 
 
 " Amos Thomas ! " exclaimed Mrs. Brinton, 
 shocked. " You are surely out of your mind. To 
 turn from Eleanor Howard to Anna Merkel. I be- 
 lieve you are only doing this to humiliate her." 
 
 " I suppose it will serve as a petty annoyance," 
 he responded, " but what matter? She has made 
 her choice. I would have guided her into rose-col- 
 oured paths unknown to her, but she would not ! So 
 I have found this modest violet and plucked it for 
 my own."
 
 274 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Hurrah for the violet ! " exclaimed Strong. 
 
 Thomas looked at him, very annoyed. " Anna 
 leaves Mrs. Dallas to-day, and I have come to fetch 
 her. From now on I will protect her." 
 
 " But you don't believe in marriage," said Mrs. 
 Brinton. 
 
 " Really ! Don't you? " asked Strong, much inter- 
 ested. 
 
 " No, I don't, but I waive my views ! " Thomas 
 returned. 
 
 " I actually believe, Margaret, he's going to make 
 a scientific experiment of poor Anna," said Strong. 
 " Excuse me, but I must go and tell Dal. It will 
 really make him smile. Nothing else has to-day." 
 He went towards the house. 
 
 " And send Anna out here," Mrs. Brinton called 
 after him. " I want to speak to her." 
 
 Strong turned. " Very well, and Mr. Thomas, 
 my best wishes to you in your experiment ! " 
 
 " How hateful of you to try and spoil Ellie's wed- 
 ding day," said Mrs. Brinton when Strong had gone. 
 " I wondered why Anna was so ready to leave. She 
 refused to go with Mrs. Howard on her honey- 
 moon." 
 
 Thomas ignored her reproof. " She adores me, 
 and we shall be quite happy."
 
 AN ADVANCED EXPERIMENT 275 
 
 " Well, one might as well give up trying to find 
 out why people marry people. It's quite beyond 
 human understanding." Mrs. Brinton's soul was 
 sinking again. 
 
 Anna came down the steps from the house at this 
 moment, with her hat on and a jacket thrown over 
 her arm. She had a small bag which she dropped as 
 she saw Thomas. He rushed to her delightedly. 
 
 "My own little Anna!" he cried. "Are you 
 ready ? " 
 
 She turned to Mrs. Brinton. " Madame will par- 
 don Monsieur Thomas? He is so romantique. He 
 always speak the word right out." 
 
 " Anna, I sent for you to tell you I think you are 
 making a great mistake to marry Mr. Thomas. 
 He'll never understand you or make you happy. 
 And you are such a good maid. It's a calamity for 
 Mrs. Dallas to have to give you up now." 
 
 " Ah, Madame," Anna returned. " I know what 
 people will say. But for me, I have the aspiration, 
 and Mr. Thomas, he find the way for me. I have 
 always the desire for romance, the excitement. I 
 could not live with the good Metz or someone like 
 him. I want the uncertain, the fairy tale." 
 
 " Do you think Mr. Thomas will always play 
 Romeo? My poor child! Men aren't like that."
 
 276 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " Did you tell Mrs. Dallas? " Thomas turned to 
 Anna. 
 
 " I did, Monsieur Thomas, and I do not know if 
 she laugh or cry. She have a little Tiysterique! 
 But she is so kind, the Madame Dallas. She have 
 given me so wonderful a present I have lose my 
 breath," 
 
 "Some trinket, eh?" he asked. "Or perhaps a 
 gold piece? " 
 
 " If you would only let Anna talk. Do wait. 
 You'll have years to step on her." Thomas galled 
 Mrs. Brinton unusually on this occasion. 
 
 " She has given me five hundred dollar," Anna 
 finally explained. 
 
 " Very generous, upon my word," commented 
 Thomas, trying to be easy. " Most kind, indeed ! " 
 
 " She have said it was cheap at that," Anna con- 
 tinued with a curious little smile, " that she might 
 have paid much more. But I do not know what she 
 mean by that." 
 
 "I do, she's right," said Mrs. Brinton. "A 
 thousand would be cheap." 
 
 " We er shall accept it in the generous spirit 
 it was given," Thomas put in his word in his usual 
 airy manner. " It takes a fine nature to receive 
 properly. Are we ready my nesting bird?"
 
 AN ADVANCED EXPERIMENT 277 
 
 " Anna, when are you to be married to-day ? " 
 demanded Mrs. Brinton. " See that he does marry 
 you. Look out for that." She did not trust 
 Thomas. 
 
 " Do not fear, Madame. I go now to my friend's 
 house, a manicure. She prepare a feast and the 
 Priest marry us in the chapel at eight. I may be 
 fond of Monsieur Thomas, but I have my senses 
 still. Monsieur Thomas, he know that. And I 
 promise Madame to put my money in the Savings 
 Bank in my name, except for a little I put in the 
 manicure shop with my friend, for I stay here. 
 Monsieur Thomas he believe weddings are happier if 
 the woman work as well as the man. And I think 
 so, too. If he is not good to me, then I am not 
 helpless." 
 
 " And what, I pray, is Mr. Thomas going to do? " 
 Mrs. Brinton lifted her eyebrows. 
 
 " Well," he explained pompously, " I will stay 
 here, too. New York no longer appeals to me as a 
 field for my propaganda. It is too big, too wedded 
 to Mammon, too formidable for one poor pawn to 
 move. Here in Boston I hope to find more receptive 
 soil. Don't worry, Mrs. Brinton, you'll hear of me 
 yet!" 
 
 " Adieu, Madame Brinton," said Anna tearfully,
 
 278 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 *' I sorrow to leave Madame Dallas. I fear she 
 grow careless alone." 
 
 " Good-bye, little Anna. I really believe you may 
 make something of your reformer if you are not 
 swallowed up in Eugenics or some other equally dis- 
 mal form of progress. Good-bye, Mr. Thomas. 
 You don't deserve her." 
 
 " Who knows when our paths will cross again? " 
 He kissed Mrs. Brinton's hand with an extravagant 
 gesture. 
 
 Thomas turned to the gate and stalked majes- 
 tically ahead of Anna. She looked back at her bag, 
 which he had ignored calmly. About to speak to 
 him she changed her mind and got it herself, tagging 
 along after him with her burden. 
 
 " My ! " sighed Mrs. Brinton, quite overcome. 
 *' He is making her do all the work already."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE BRIDE CONFESSES 
 
 MICHAEL, DOYLE had joined John Strong in an effort 
 to cheer Dallas, who seemed overcome with a gloom 
 that no amount of drinks or amusing stories could 
 lift. Michael, who still coveted the bride with great 
 desire, could not for the life of him understand 
 Dallas' condition. A little nervousness, even blue 
 funk at the last moment, was natural enough, and he 
 had secretly expected the self-possessed Dallas to 
 make his marriage vows in a trembling, stuttering 
 undertone, or to see him meet his bride with a face 
 as white as the traditional sheet. But to his sur- 
 prise, Dallas had never seemed more at ease nor more 
 graceful than during the little wedding ceremony 
 in which, after all the long, gay years of free lancing, 
 he was made a benedict. That awkward moment 
 passed and the tedium of the family greetings and 
 congratulations over, the wedding breakfast eaten, 
 and the few guests cheered on their various ways, 
 Michael expected to see his friend eager for the de- 
 parture of the faithful three, Margaret Brinton, John 
 
 and himself, so that he might finally have his beauti- 
 
 279
 
 280 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 ful bride to himself. But Dallas was particularly 
 loathe to have his old friends leave him. He insisted 
 upon their waiting until the very late train just 
 before dinner, and they both felt so moved by his 
 depression and the fashion in which he entreated 
 them that they remained without protest, both 
 vaguely realising that something far deeper than 
 ordinary nervousness was troubling the bridegroom. 
 
 Dallas sat wrapped in oppressive silence in a big 
 guest room of Mrs. Howard's old-fashioned house, 
 his trunks and bags about him, his valet busily en- 
 gaged in sorting and arranging his things. Johnson, 
 the man, was to accompany Mr. and Mrs. Dallas 
 abroad, and he was to take the trunks and large bags 
 into Boston, where they were to join him early the 
 next morning to take the boat, for at the last mo- 
 ment Mrs. Dallas had insisted upon spending the 
 night in Brookline. She seemed so upset when Dallas 
 urged their going into Boston that he consented, 
 willing, as he always was, to sacrifice his own pleasure 
 for hers. She had gone to her room to dress and 
 now that he had changed his black coat and other 
 wedding garments for a blue serge suit, in which he 
 looked handsomer than usual, he smoked while 
 Michael and John begged him to have a little courage 
 and take heart.
 
 THE BRIDE CONFESSES 281 
 
 " My word," Michael stormed at him. " Ye ain't 
 the first man to get married to a woman. Ye know, 
 Dal, it's been done often before." The Irishman sat 
 on a trunk smoking like a furnace, a whiskey sour in 
 his hand, and much earnestness in his soul. He was 
 really growing angry at Dal. It seemed almost a 
 slight to Ellie, this melancholy, and he resented it. 
 She still was the one woman in the world worth win- 
 ning as far as he was concerned, and he thought as 
 he sat there that Dallas certainly did not half appre- 
 ciate her. She had looked so exquisite, so girlish 
 and shy in her wedding finery, and there was so 
 wistful a timidity about her, so unlike her usually 
 saucy self, that she had quite touched his warm 
 heart. He longed for her fiercely, so that he felt 
 choked by it, and he scowled over his cigar to keep 
 back tears which had been perilously near the surface 
 all day. 
 
 . John Strong paced up and down like a caged ani- 
 mal. Between Margaret's change of heart and Dai's 
 depression he was almost beside himself. While 
 Johnson was consulting Dallas about the relative 
 merits of a pile of gay hued neckscarfs, John drew 
 Michael over to the doorway. 
 
 " Go off and let me see what I can do with him, 
 Michael," he said in a low tone. " I am sure he'll
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 tell me if we're alone. See if you can't see Ellie and 
 tell her Dal is really unhappy. Perhaps she's been 
 teasing him. She often does." 
 
 Michael nodded. "I'll go," he said, "and I'll 
 see Ellie too, God love her. It's a shame she should 
 be wasted on that gloom cloud ! I'm going now, Dal," 
 he added in a louder tone. 
 
 Dallas turned as Michael went to the door. " I'll 
 see you before you go," he said indifferently. 
 
 Doyle made his way along the hall to Mrs. Dallas' 
 room. Anna had gone, but Mrs. Brinton's Lucy was 
 helping the bride with the last few things. He 
 knocked on the door discreetly. 
 
 " Ellie," he said, " it's Michael, and I'm dyin' for 
 a word with ye. Can't ye come down in the garden 
 a moment alone with me? " 
 
 Mrs. Howard's voice was full of sweetness. " Dear 
 Irishman," she said from the other side of the door, 
 "where is Dal?" 
 
 " Working at his neckties. He's safe enough. Do 
 come," he begged. 
 
 It seemed to her that the old Michael had come 
 back again, and she opened her door a crack as she 
 had on the afternoon she dismissed him. She smiled 
 as she had not done all day.
 
 THE BRIDE CONFESSES 
 
 " I'm dying to talk to you too," she said. "And 
 I'll go down in the garden with you this second." 
 
 She had changed her wedding dress for a delicate 
 white lace, with a touch of pale green at the belt, and 
 she looked to Doyle like an exquisite lily, she was so 
 fair and white. He tucked his arm in hers, and 
 they went in silence down the stairway, and out into 
 the sweet-smelling garden, without meeting anyone. 
 Margaret Brinton sitting in the high-backed bath 
 chair was almost hidden from view and the two did 
 not notice her. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas was a bit tearful, and dabbed her eyes 
 with her tiny lace handkerchief. Even at this junc- 
 ture Michael detected the fragrance of heliotrope and 
 loved it better than all the flowers growing in the 
 garden. He guided Mrs. Dallas to a seat and stood 
 in front of her, gazing down at her with fervent ad- 
 miration in his eyes. 
 
 " What are ye cryin' about, Ellie darling? It was a 
 beautiful weddin', and ye were lovely enough to 
 charm St. Peter out of heaven." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas dabbed her eyes again and sniffled a 
 little. Then she smiled, a slow, tearful smile. " I'm 
 so glad you liked the wedding. It's more than good 
 of you to be here at all after well, I wasn't nice
 
 284 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 to you, Irishman, and I am ashamed of it. I didn't 
 expect you to forgive me and to be so charming. 
 And what a perfect punch," she wiped her eyes 
 again, " you brewed ! You dear Michael " 
 
 He leaned down and patted her hands. " If it was 
 all as easy as brewin' a punch ! " he said. " Now, 
 don't ye worry your pretty head over it, Widow. 
 Once I'd cooled my blood I knew I couldn't have put 
 it over. You're too fine for me. I'd have broken ye 
 body and soul tryin' to understand ye. And Dal is 
 the King pin. He's worthy of ye. Ye'll make a 
 wonderful pair. I envy ye both, Ellie." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas patted his kindly hand warmly. 
 " You're such a comfort," she said. " You'd cheer 
 anybody. I often regret " She paused, for she 
 suddenly realised what she was saying. He smiled at 
 her, she often seemed a big child to him, and he loved 
 that in her. It was so unworldly. 
 
 " Don't ye do it ! " he said. " If Dallas can't make 
 ye happy, I'm glad I didn't get the chance ; for I'm 
 a child with your sex compared to him. When they 
 were givin' out the grey matter, Dallas sat on the 
 front bench. It's himself knows the sex ! Dal al- 
 ways could understand a misunderstood woman. 
 And together ye ought to break a law or two. I 
 wouldn't put anything beyond ye."
 
 THE BRIDE CONFESSES 285 
 
 She smiled again. " I always did love your flatter- 
 ing tongue, Irishman. It's got a great big lure in it 
 somewhere." She looked up at him with genuine af- 
 fection. How understanding he was, and what a 
 friend in need. Mrs. Brinton rose slowly and came 
 over to them. 
 
 " I suppose I seem to be eavesdropping," she said. 
 " But I really wasn't. I was so lost in my own 
 thoughts that I have just realised you two were 
 here. And I won't interrupt you, only, Ellie, what 
 is the matter, dearest? You do seem so, so un- 
 happy." 
 
 Sympathy was too much for Mrs. Dallas at the 
 moment and she rose and threw herself into Mrs. 
 Brinton's arms, tearfully hugging her and trying in- 
 coherently to explain, " Don't go, Peg I it's 
 it's " 
 
 "What is it? " asked Mrs. Brinton nervously, the 
 tears starting in her own eyes. " Ellie dearest, don't 
 cry ! " 
 
 She soothed the tearful bride with her face full of 
 frightened entreaty. Then she turned to Michael 
 who nodded understandingly. 
 
 " Bless your hearts," he said briskly. " What's 
 come over ye both? The bride's unhappy before 
 she's even started on her honeymoon, and the brides-
 
 286 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 maid's cryin' with her. Tell it to Michael Doyle, 
 girls, perhaps he can help ye." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas shook her head, as she drew away from 
 Mrs. Brinton's tender embrace. " No one can help 
 me," she said miserably, " I feel I " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton grew really alarmed. " Ellie, my 
 dear, please, what is it? You know we both love you. 
 Tell us what bothers you." 
 
 Michael put his arm around Mrs. Dallas who was 
 weeping softly. " Come, come," he said to her. 
 " Nothing is so bad as that," Mrs. Brinton looked at 
 Mrs. Dallas, her own eyes overflowing. " Oh, oh, 
 Ellie," she wailed. " What has happened? I'm 
 frightened." Michael put his other arm around Mrs. 
 Brinton and the two women leaned on his shoulders, 
 sobbing, while he patted them gently. Mrs. Dallas 
 found her voice first, and in broken sentences un- 
 burdened her soul. 
 
 " The honeymoon the the trip and all 
 of it ! " she cried between sobs and sniffs. " I don't 
 want to go junketing off on a honeymoon. I can't 
 bear my new clothes. I hate being a bride. I want to 
 stay here in Brookline and be comfortable. I was 
 just looking at my old clothes so nice and homey, 
 and my knitting needles ! There's a little one with a 
 sealing-wax knob that I've had for twenty years. I
 
 THE BRIDE CONFESSES 287 
 
 said I never would knit again, but I'm dying to." 
 She looked about the garden. " When I think of the 
 years I've sat here knitting baby blankets in stripes 
 of blue and white ! It's so restful. I wonder why I 
 got married." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton interrupted her, lifting her head 
 from Michael's friendly shoulder. " Ellie, don't I 
 can't bear it. I thought you adored Dal." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas raised her face, tear stained but lovely, 
 to Mrs. Brinton. " I do adore him. That's just 
 the trouble. I wouldn't mind if I didn't adore him. 
 Oh, Peg ! I want to stay at home." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton dried her eyes briskly. Tears were 
 a luxury she did not often indulge in. They were 
 so ruinous to one's eyes. " My dear, if that's all 
 Dallas would never want you to go away if you didn't 
 wish to. Shall I tell him? " 
 
 Mrs. Dallas shook her head gloomily. " I am 
 going to tell him myself." 
 
 Mrs. Brinton looked at her friend helplessly. She 
 felt as nearly amazed as she could be. " Then what 
 else is the matter? You are the most depressing 
 bride I've ever seen." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas returned her gaze sadly. She realised 
 that even Margaret did not understand her, and she 
 longed to be alone with Michael and say the whole
 
 288 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 truth to him. She would be quite honest with him, 
 and it would be a blessed relief. And she felt 
 Margaret would never let her say what she wanted to. 
 Indeed, she was sure she would not dare to tell half 
 she felt while Mrs. Brinton stood there, a picture of 
 graceful womanhood in her lovely mauve chiffon 
 gown, with its modish parasol and smart rose trimmed 
 hat. Margaret was far too worldly to hear a con- 
 fession of the sort she longed to pour into Michael's 
 ears. 
 
 " Please, Peg," she said. " Do go away, and let 
 me talk to Michael. Women never understand 
 women when they are depressed. My hand-bag isn't 
 packed you do that, Peg." Michael gave Mrs. 
 Brinton a knowing wink. She gathered up her 
 draperies and parasol gladly. Ellie was not pleasant 
 company. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't want to stay," she said. " I'll 
 go with pleasure, and see to the hand-bag." And 
 without further urging she went into the house and 
 left them together. Mrs. Dallas sat down and looked 
 at Doyle, who drew a chair close to her and sat beside 
 her. 
 
 " Are ye frightened, Ellie? " he asked. 
 
 She hesitated. "I Oh, I'm not sure I did 
 want to be married, Irishman."
 
 THE BRIDE CONFESSES 289 
 
 " Aren't ye now ? " he said. " That's the way with 
 us all, once we're caught, we don't like it. It's a bit 
 hard on the bridegroom, though. Ye ought to have 
 said it yesterday. It's past due." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas nodded sadly. " I know that very 
 well, but I lost courage. Now that it's too late, I've 
 found it. Somehow I don't so much mind telling 
 you. You're so human." She smiled through her 
 tears. 
 
 Doyle laughed. " It's plain clay I am, and I guess 
 I'm easy to talk to because I've done so many things 
 I shouldn't. Sinners are always understanding that's 
 why they don't reform oftener." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas twisted her handkerchief. " I don't 
 want to go away with Dal," she explained. " What's 
 your advice ? Shall I tell him so or shall I lie 
 and go? Come, Irishman, advise me." 
 
 He thought a moment. " I'd lie fast enough if 
 it helped matters. But what's the man done? Has 
 he offended ye, or are ye just changeable or 
 what ? Come, my girl, the reason. Right now, since 
 we're talkin' to some purpose what's the real 
 truth?" 
 
 Mrs. Dallas looked at him sorrowfully. " The 
 real truth the unvarnished bitter truth is, I don't 
 dare. I'm not twenty-one."
 
 290 
 
 " Well," he said, " I don't see what that's got to do 
 with it." 
 
 " It's got a great deal to do with it," she said 
 mournfully. 
 
 " What, then ? Ye promised the truth mind," 
 he urged. 
 
 " I tell you I don't dare I'm too old ! " she fal- 
 tered. 
 
 Doyle threw back his head and laughed heartily. 
 " Ellie, my dear ! You with your lovely face and 
 pretty smiles, sittin' there and sayin' you're too old. 
 Do you mean it, Ellie ? I never thought of ye as old, 
 girl. How old are ye now ? " He waited to hear 
 smilingly. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas set her jaw and faced him. She would 
 not lie any more. He should hear the whole truth, 
 and she spoke it grimly. " I'm forty-eight. An 
 awful confession for a woman to make. But I'm 
 beyond caring and I've seen the day, not long ago, 
 when torture wouldn't have dragged it from me. 
 I'm forty-eight ! And it's got to be faced. To-day 
 in all my beautiful clothes and with my hair dressed 
 in the latest mode, and my Louis Quinze heels, I am 
 still forty-eight, and that's almost fifty. If that 
 doesn't sound old enough, just remember that it's half
 
 291 
 
 a century. I tell you, Michael, I don't dare " 
 She leaned back in her chair overcome. 
 
 Doyle stared at her aghast. Her confession stag- 
 gered him for a moment, and before he realised it he 
 gave a little shudder, and then grew very serious. 
 " Ellie, I wish ye hadn't said it. It makes me shiver 
 a bit. For it's Michael Doyle that's getting along 
 fast himself, and he's all alone and no woman cares 
 much. I'd forgotten it the while. But we're all 
 older than we once were." He too leaned back, a 
 trifle heavily. He felt all of a sudden the weight of 
 centuries steal over him. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas looked at him in sincere sympathy. 
 She realised his dismay ; but her own fear quite over- 
 balanced her pride. " All of us. There you see, 
 you don't dispute it. We're all old ; but I, fool that 
 I am, have convinced poor Dal that he and I are 
 young lovers and that the years have never been. 
 And he believes it. It's awful. What shall I do? " 
 
 Michael Doyle got up suddenly and looked at her 
 as she sat there, her sweet face drawn and haggard, 
 her clear blue eyes misty with unshed tears. And 
 all at once he felt the tragedy of it. " God love ye ! " 
 he said solemnly. " It's the truth, but I forgot it 
 when I looked at ye. My blood ran as fast as a lad's,
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 and my old oxheart pounded it all out to ye. I'm 
 sorry for ye, Ellie. It's damned hard on a woman 
 like you." 
 
 He felt sweeping over him a wave of gratitude to 
 her that she had refused him. " Thank God," he 
 said fervently. " I'm a single man this day." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas acquiesced miserably. She was beyond 
 humour. " So that's the reason, and you can be 
 sorry for me and for Dal. We're two miserable souls, 
 and all I want in the world is a little peace and my 
 comfort and my knitting here in the garden. I'll go 
 and tell Peg now, she's waiting for me." She got up 
 slowly and put out her hand to Michael. 
 
 " I wish I could help ye," he murmured, " but God 
 love ye, it's a big shock to me. Why don't ye take 
 a bit of brandy, Ellie? It might put heart in ye.'* 
 Mrs. Dallas smiled faintly. It was so like Michael 
 to suggest a drink for any sorrow or ailment. It 
 was his one panacea for all earthly woes. 
 
 " Bless your soul," she said. " Fm beyond saving, 
 give it to poor Dal ! He'll need it." 
 
 Then she went into the house and Doyle walked up 
 and down, his hands behind his back, his mind occu- 
 pied by a thousand disturbing thoughts.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 DEPARTING GUESTS 
 
 DAI/LAS and John Strong came out of the house to- 
 gether to join Doyle, Dallas still woefully depressed, 
 but struggling bravely to overcome it. The Irish- 
 man turned and looked at him sympathetically. 
 Since he had heard Ellie's confession, he felt sure he 
 understood why Dallas was so disturbed ; but with his 
 heart fairly sick within him, he was determined if 
 possible to help Dal to forget it for the moment, and 
 offered his never varying cure for everything. 
 
 " Come here the two of ye, Madame Dallas, the 
 bride, has just bidden me give Dal a nip of the crea- 
 ture." 
 
 John Strong shook his head. " You'd better not," 
 he advised. " He doesn't need it. I'm sure he's had 
 fifty. Dal is nervous." Dallas stood between them, 
 a superb picture of health and vigour. His gaze fell 
 on Michael's kindly face, and he smiled at him faintly. 
 " What man isn't on his wedding day ? But I'm 
 worse than nervous I'm afraid," he admitted. 
 
 Strong looked at Doyle. What was one to do with 
 293
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Dallas? He gave it up. And he said a trifle irri- 
 tably, " You know there is nothing about your present 
 demeanour, Dal, that would coax the average perfectly 
 single male into double harness. What does ail you? 
 You were keen enough on getting married." 
 
 As Dallas stared moodily at Strong and did not 
 answer him, Doyle ventured a further query. " What 
 are ye afraid of, Dal ? Ye damned fool ! " 
 
 Dallas turned and sat down at the table. " A 
 woman," he said shortly. 
 
 Doyle waved his hands. " That I should live to 
 hear ye admit it." 
 
 But Dallas was not in a mood to be teased. 
 " Don't joke, Michael. I'm very jumpy to-day, and 
 I wish we had decided to honeymoon in Cape May 
 or Old Point Comfort, or even Chicago anywhere 
 but on a boat out on the water. It depresses me." 
 He turned over the leaves of a magazine. An ocean 
 liner stared up at him out of an enticing advertise- 
 ment of ocean travel. He closed the book abruptly. 
 The thought of the trip came to him with relentless 
 prod. What a prospect ! And how soon ! John 
 Strong chuckled. " Water always saddens you, 
 Dal," he said. " When you drink it." 
 
 Just then Metz appeared carrying a large tray 
 of different drinks, ice, shaker, limes, lemons and the
 
 295 
 
 various paraphernalia Michael delighted in. Mrs. 
 Dallas had remembered, even if her heart was ill at 
 ease, so strong within her was the instinct of hospi- 
 tality. 
 
 Michael greeted this timely interruption with 
 much enthusiasm. " Will ye look now ! There's a 
 hostess for ye! What's there, Metz? " 
 
 " About everything, Mr. Doyle, sir," Metz said, 
 " if you'll permit me to mention it, Cook always says 
 I was never a stingy hand at a tray. More than 
 you need, I tell Cook, it's easy to carry it back 
 again, and then all tastes can be studied. Cook says 
 it's a fine rule and praises me for it, and praise from 
 Cook is rare, sir. Whiskey, sir? " 
 
 But Michael moved him to one side, and went over 
 to the tray himself. Holding the shaker in one hand, 
 he asked : " What would the two of ye say to a 
 new one, eh? A young buck from St. Louis taught 
 it to me, and mark ye, it's a real drink ! " 
 
 Dallas was always interested in Michael's new 
 drinks. And even at this moment he felt a faint 
 thrill of anticipation. " I would like a new one. 
 I'm just in the mood," he said. " Has it a name? " 
 
 " Sure it has a name," Michael said, as he busied 
 himself squeezing a lime neatly and deftly. " A 
 most amusin' name. A Gin-daisy he calls it. And
 
 296 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 this is how you make it." He filled the shaker with 
 ice and put in the gin. " Ye snow it first, then half 
 one big lemon and half one baby lime, twisted till 
 they weep, three little triplets of Gordon, and a beau- 
 tiful, passionate, feminine, pink jigger of grenadine. 
 Then a wicked taste of that old monk, yellow char- 
 treuse, fizzy water up to the shaker top, and a bit 
 of bar twirl. There's your Gin-daisy ! " 
 
 He poured the drink out gaily into three glasses 
 and Metz handed it reverently to them. Michael 
 had always been one of Metz's admirations. 
 
 Michael held his glass up to Dal. " Here's a last 
 toast, Dal," he said. " Come, Jack ! Here's to the 
 one woman whether she's yours or mine." They all 
 drank it. John Strong gave his expert opinion. 
 " It's a wonder, Michael. A life saver." 
 
 Dallas laughed. " A poem, you mean. Michael's 
 drinks are all poems. He's missed his vocation." 
 He drained his glass. 
 
 Doyle tasted the new drink critically ; new drinks 
 were always an experiment. " Ain't it funny now, 
 but I can't keep my hands off the makin's of a drink. 
 Metz here knows that. I've taught him dozens," he 
 said in explanation. 
 
 Metz coughed discreetly. " If you'll pardon the 
 liberty, sir," he ventured. " I made a mental note
 
 DEPARTING GUESTS 297 
 
 of the Gin-daisy. Cook always asks me if Mr. 
 Doyle has taught me any new beverages. Cook will 
 be pleased to hear of this one. Anything else Mr. 
 Dallas, sir?" 
 
 Dallas took out his watch. " I ordered the motor 
 at six, and it's just that now. You'll see to the bags, 
 Metz." 
 
 " Very good, sir," and Metz went on into the 
 house. Mrs. Dallas and Mrs. Brinton passed him 
 in the doorway coming out to the garden. Mrs. 
 Brinton had on her automobile wrap and was ready 
 to start. 
 
 " The motor is here," she said. " I'm afraid it's 
 good-bye." 
 
 Strong went over to her. " I always hate saying 
 good-bye," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas, her voice tremulous, embraced him 
 nervously. Then she kissed Mrs. Brinton with des- 
 peration. " Don't say it," she begged. " Dear, 
 good friends that you are. Just run away without 
 it. I can't see you off. I should disgrace myself 
 weeping. Dal and I will stay out here until you're 
 gone. Then it won't be quite so dreadful." 
 
 Dallas took Michael by one hand, while John 
 Strong shook his free arm vigorously. " Write us," 
 Strong urged for want of a better remark.
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " We will, we will," Dallas assured him. 
 
 But even at this moment Doyle's ruling passion 
 found vent. " For the love of heaven, Dal, when 
 you're in South America learn how to make the 
 national drink. They call it a green swizzle; it's a 
 beautiful colour, and I'm dyin' to make one." They 
 all laughed. Dallas turned to Mrs. Brinton, who 
 embraced him sadly. 
 
 Doyle shook his head, his eyes blinking to keep 
 back the tears. " Here's three miserable devils," he 
 murmured. " I'm cryin' for what I've lost, and Dal 
 for what he's won." 
 
 " Go, before I cry," Mrs. Dallas begged, throw- 
 ing kisses at them. " Oh, Peg, dear, good-bye ! " 
 
 Mrs. Brinton embraced her with emotion. " Wire 
 me," she faltered. " I'll be so nervous.'* 
 
 Then she and John Strong went out to the wait- 
 ing motor but Doyle lingered a moment longer, sick 
 at heart. He knew they were both wretchedly 
 unhappy and nervous. He went back and stood 
 between them. 
 
 " God bless ye both," he said. " And I say it 
 from the bottom of my heart, for I cared more for 
 her than you'll ever know." 
 
 " Michael, Michael ! " she cried miserably. Dallas
 
 299 
 
 grasped his hand. Then John Strong called, and 
 Doyle left them. 
 
 The setting sun sent long rays over the garden 
 and little shadows crept in among the flowers. In 
 the houses back of the garden wall the lights were 
 beginning to appear, one by one. The wind caught 
 the breath of the roses, which grew all about the 
 doorway, and sent it faintly towards them. It was 
 very still and peaceful. The evening was perfect 
 and the spot a wonderful one for two married lovers 
 to find themselves. But they stood dumbly looking 
 at each other afraid.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE BEAL WOMAN 
 
 BEOOKLINE at that quiet vesper hour might have 
 been another Eden, but even a child could have seen 
 that in the Howard garden two of the inhabitants 
 of the apparent paradise had bitten deeply into some 
 apple of bitter experience. 
 
 Some minutes already had passed since Doyle's 
 light foot had bounded over the boards of the porch 
 and hall as he hurried out to the motor. Dallas and 
 his bride had listened fearfully as the engine was 
 cranked ; they heard a few words of direction in 
 Doyle's crisp tongue, then the noisy clutch took hold 
 and the engine groaned into its work, the sound 
 dropping into a rapidly lessening drone as the car 
 moved along the drive and into the street. And when 
 the last sound had been lost in the twittering of the 
 evening choir of Brookline birds the pair in the gar- 
 den had turned fearfully to each other quite as if 
 they had just been marooned far at sea on a desert 
 island. Yet they were still silent. 
 
 Neither seemed ready to face a situation which 
 300
 
 THE REAL WOMAN 301 
 
 had been coming closer and closer all of the day. 
 Dallas looked about him almost as if he felt the 
 necessity of escape from something nameless and 
 formless, something which he could not see, but never- 
 theless impending fearfully. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas stood tensely, her fingers clasped 
 tightly in front of her and her eyes fixed on her hus- 
 band. There was in her face such a look of fear 
 that he quite forgot his own disquietude, and went 
 over to her and put his arm around her tenderly. 
 At his touch her body relaxed, and she leaned against 
 him silently. The mere physical nearness of him 
 somehow always brought her heart a peaceful com- 
 fort 
 
 He looked down into her white face inquiringly. 
 " What's the trouble, Ellie? " he asked. " What is 
 it, dear? I know you so well that I have felt intu- 
 itively all day your unhappiness. Are you sorry 
 you said yes to me, Ellie? " 
 
 She shook her head and tried to answer cheerfully. 
 " Why, Dal, of course not. But," she hesitated, 
 " I'm awfully tired, aren't you ? I suppose I've let 
 down now that it's all over. And besides that I am 
 bothered. Anna's leaving has upset me." 
 
 Dallas put a gentle hand under her chin and turned 
 her face up to meet his. Her eyes dropped, she felt
 
 302 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 cold and sick In anticipation. He had never seemed 
 dearer. How could she tell him? 
 
 " My dear, that's not it. You can get a maid 
 any time," he told her. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas evaded it nervously. " Yes, but Anna 
 understood me," she said. " And it's such a long 
 journey, and one must be comfortable on such a long, 
 long trip. One's clothes and hair, and, er oh 
 I hate having a strange person and, oh, dear " 
 
 Dallas put his cheek against hers lovingly. 
 " Dearest," he begged, " tell me. Come, Ellie, what 
 is really the matter? What is it, darling? Why, 
 you're trembling! Ellie!" 
 
 Mrs. Dallas put her agitated hands on his broad 
 shoulders and pushed him away gently. " I must 
 think I " She was pitifully unnerved and he 
 grew more gentle with her. 
 
 " Are you afraid to tell me, darling? Surely you 
 are not. I always understood, you know that. 
 Don't be afraid." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas smiled a weak little smile, as her eyes 
 met his, so full of the tenderness and sincerity she 
 loved. " Perhaps," she said, " I am just afraid of 
 myself." 
 
 " Perhaps it's only a little imaginary trouble that 
 I can kiss away," he said. " But if it's a real one
 
 THE REAL WOMAN 303 
 
 don't deny me of my share of it, for now I'm the 
 other half of you." 
 
 He realised that whatever troubled her was no 
 slight matter. He had never seen her so overcome 
 and it moved him strangely. 
 
 " You know, sweetheart," he began with great 
 sympathy in his voice, " we mustn't begin our life 
 together like this, Ellie something between us. 
 Why do you hang your head? Why don't you look 
 at me? What is it? Come, come, dearie," he 
 added tenderly, after a pause, " tell me. And then 
 we'll laugh." His voice was full of feeling. He 
 drew her towards him again " and be happier 
 happier than ever, my wife." 
 
 She endured his embrace passively. She stood 
 looking at him, not knowing how to begin or what 
 to say. The moment was tense. He waited pa- 
 tiently and she finally plunged into her confession. 
 
 " Dal, since you first met me I've hardly drawn 
 one natural breath," she began. He started to inter- 
 rupt her but she put out her hand. 
 
 " Wait ! " she commanded. " Be patient and I'll 
 tell you, for it's got to come out. I never could 
 keep this up." 
 
 Dallas looked at her bewilderedly. " My God, 
 Ellie!" he said. "Keep what up?" He stood
 
 304 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 dumbly sensing her distress, but not knowing how 
 to help her. 
 
 She drew a long breath and began anew. " I 
 hardly know where to start or how to say what I 
 feel you must know. I've done everything we 
 women know how to do to make you care for me. I 
 have lied and cheated. And all because I wanted 
 you. Because I could not be sure it was just me, 
 the woman soul in me that held you, or the pretty 
 husk outside. I didn't dare be honest, Dal. There 
 you have it! That's it! I didn't dare be honest 
 with you, for fear I might lose you and that 
 would have broken my heart." 
 
 He held his arms out to her entreatingly, for the 
 look in her eyes was crushing him. He almost felt 
 that he could not listen to her, she was so merciless 
 in this baring of her soul. 
 
 " Ellie," he murmured incoherently, but she went 
 on. Now that she had found courage she poured out 
 the hundred thoughts that she had kept hidden in 
 her heart so long, and words poured in torrents 
 from her, words that were ominous with meaning. 
 
 " After it was all over," she continued, " and you 
 said you loved me, I felt I had the strength to lift 
 mountains. If I were only sure of you! And so I 
 have gone on madly, blindly and always refusing to
 
 THE REAL WOMAN 305 
 
 hear the ominous knocking at my heart. To-day, 
 after we were married, the whole frail, pretty, false 
 structure fell about me, and I stood crushed in its 
 ruins. It was the end! I am a wicked, wretched 
 woman, J>al. It can't be, dear. It must all stop 
 here. Before we have really started, and I have 
 tried all day to find strength to tell you so." She 
 paused, her voice choking with sobs. 
 
 Dallas took a step nearer to her. " But still, you 
 haven't told me," he said. " What's the matter ? 
 Your soul is beating and fluttering to come to me, 
 and you hold it back. What have I done, or you 
 or anyone to so change the world? I know you love 
 me and God knows I love you. Then what is 
 there to fear? We shall only know each other bet- 
 ter, Ellie, and I shall see your real self always instead 
 of sometimes. Why do you call yourself dishonest 
 and a coward? You are only nervous, dear. When 
 we are alone together, and we can throw aside all 
 the shams and make-believe, we " 
 
 Mrs. Dallas came over to him and threw her arms 
 outstretched in utter despair. " There you have 
 said it," she answered vehemently. " When we can 
 throw aside all the shams ! Don't you see that I 
 can't bear to have you know all of a sudden what a 
 weak creature I am? I thank you for giving me
 
 306 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 a word to tell it in. Sham! That's it. I'm a 
 cheat! You don't even know my real self! You 
 didn't marry it ! " 
 
 He took her in his arms suddenly. He was terribly 
 moved. He could not believe his ears as he listened. 
 But, manlike, he felt she needed him closer to her 
 if her soul was so troubled. He held her tightly as 
 he answered her. " Nonsense, Ellie ! I married 
 you, and you are a hundred women rolled into one. 
 Perhaps that was why my rather weary heart 
 learned a new beat for you. I didn't expect you to 
 know it in an instant. We're going on a new road, 
 and the mere finding it with you, seemed so fasci- 
 nating that I love to think it may take a long, long 
 time. We aren't children to learn by simple alpha- 
 bets. There are but two letters in our primer: I 
 and you. And that you doubt or fear or shrink 
 from it all, is not strange to me; for you have lived 
 alone so long that even with all my love, I come as a 
 stranger, whom you must make welcome and trust 
 before you half know him. But I am only a beggar, 
 Ellie, at your threshold with outstretched hands 
 waiting for what you may give and patient even 
 if I must wait longer than most beggars, for I bring 
 so little and I have dared to ask so much. Don't 
 be afraid of me, Ellie. I am more humble than I
 
 THE REAL WOMAN 307 
 
 have ever been before, and my heart has its own 
 misgivings when I realise that you have been given 
 into my keeping. God bless you ! " 
 
 They stood clasped in each other's arms vainly 
 striving to find in that very closeness some comfort 
 for themselves. 
 
 Finally she spoke again. " It's not so much your 
 knowing all of a sudden that I am not beautiful or 
 fresh or ardent that I mind so much it's it's " 
 She drew away from him and faced him, trembling 
 with emotion. He listened, his heart aching for her, 
 but now that she had made it clear to him what wor- 
 ried her he knew she must finish it, and he did not 
 interrupt her. 
 
 " It's not my looking different even," she said, 
 " because you must have realised that was bound to 
 come, but it is that awful inside knowing that I can't 
 give what I promised, that you want what I 
 haven't got. You think that I am full of warmth 
 and life, and that I shall pulsate to each touch and 
 kiss. That's one of the lies I've acted so well. At 
 first it was true, and I was on fire if your hand met 
 mine. But I couldn't make it last, Dal. It went 
 away from me. That's the ghastly, awful part of 
 it. It wouldn't stay, and all this journey and honey- 
 moon seem so unreal to me and such an awful
 
 SOS YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 undertaking. My heart won't throb over things any 
 longer, and I'm awfully tired." She made a pathetic 
 little gesture of despair. " I'm tired to death, Dal, 
 and afraid. I want so to be quiet to be alone, 
 not to feel that something is demanded of me that I 
 can't give. I've got to have comfortable clothes 
 and easy shoes and just my own hair. There's 
 no use, I know it now! I want to wash my face 
 clean with soap and slap plain eau de cologne on it, 
 and put my clothes away in old-fashioned lavender. 
 There isn't one inch of my corseted, painted, false 
 self that isn't clamouring to be free. My body has 
 revolted and my soul has sickened. I can't keep it 
 up, Dal. I've got to stop, stop and be absolutely 
 myself, and you've never seen me like that a quiet, 
 gentle, pretty-faced woman over middle age, with 
 no style and no charm. I lived with her for years 
 and I know her well. She was at least a gentle- 
 woman. I am a cheat ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dallas brought out this last statement with 
 a violence which gave it a fearful strength of bitter 
 truth. It was one of those cataclysmic utterances 
 which rend a personality, leaving it something else 
 than it was before. 
 
 She was quite overcome by the violence of this 
 personal reaction. She wavered for a second, as if
 
 THE REAL WOMAN 309 
 
 she had reached the limit of expression. Quite 
 startled he reached for her and held her a second. 
 But she worried out of his arms, feeling an instinc- 
 tive need for air and freedom. She lacked the 
 power to get through with what was still to come. 
 She fought desperately to regain control of her 
 fluttering consciousness. Her mind for the moment 
 would no longer concentrate. Each familiar sound 
 drove it farther away. She had become for the mo- 
 ment a rudderless bark on an emotional sea, each new 
 breeze sweeping her in another direction. 
 
 A bell she had known nearly all her life sono- 
 rously struck the hour of 7 o'clock in a nearby church 
 tower, the voices of oriole and robin, speeding the 
 wonderful June day, came to her with over-powering 
 reminiscences of happy and peaceful evenings in this 
 same spot. Suddenly it all fell away from her; the 
 agony for a moment ceased. She found Dal again 
 and steadied herself. " The fearful part of it is," 
 she resumed when she had controlled herself, " you 
 are real." She went over to him and laid her hand 
 on his chest as if to show him how live and well he 
 looked to her. She ran her fingers down his arm 
 lovingly and nodded vehemently at him. 
 
 " Men are like that," she continued. " If they 
 look young, they feel so. They don't know the little
 
 610 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 deceptions, the tricks, the illusions, we women stoop 
 to. Perhaps you may feel a twinge now and then 
 just to remind you that muscles don't stay hard for- 
 ever, or you may have more grey hairs, or lines, or 
 an extra pound or two, but your skin and hair and 
 splendid body are real. There isn't one lie about 
 them." 
 
 The pain in her face tore his heart. He felt he 
 must stop her. He protested desperately. " Ellie, 
 I beg of you ! Please don't, dear ! " 
 
 But she would not be silenced. She had come to 
 the breaking point, and she could not keep back 
 anything. " A man of fifty and a woman of fifty 
 are a hundred miles apart. I'm old, Dal old, I 
 tell you, and why should I think I could hide it from 
 you or anyone else ? " 
 
 " Ellie! I can't bear it! " he cried. 
 
 " I am ! " she cried relentlessly. " There isn't a 
 muscle in my body that doesn't sag, there isn't a 
 curve that isn't going. I don't see as well as I used 
 to. I hate to say it, but it's true. I am short- 
 breathed. And I am always tired and stiff when 
 the day is over. And hear it all, Dal. Let us be 
 merciless. I'm not what I made you believe I was." 
 She faltered. " The passion left in me is only a 
 poor little fire now. It's not my fault. It's "
 
 THE REAL WOMAN 311 
 
 she hesitated. " Oh, Dal, you know what I 
 mean. I can't pretend any longer. My skin is still 
 smooth and my teeth are my own, I can boast enough 
 greyish hair, uncurled and unwaved, to twist about 
 my head, but when I wash off all this fine, sweet- 
 smelling, French powder, and delicate bloom, the 
 little shadows around my eyes, the touch of red on 
 ears and chin, the little dark pencil marks on my 
 brows, the colour on my lips, the brilliantine from 
 my false hair, put off these long hard corsets and 
 these torturing slippers then I won't be any 
 longer the woman you care for, whom you say allures 
 and maddens you. For I shall wash away all the 
 little allurements you love. They must all go with 
 the paint and powders, dear, for I can't keep them 
 up. They wear me out. I fear each hour that I 
 will forget one,' that I'll fail to attract you, that I 
 may dare to be myself. It was just an insane desire 
 to be thought young again. And now " She 
 sobbed in a choked way and leaned against him, 
 utterly spent with emotion. 
 
 He comforted her gently. " Don't sh sh 
 don't cry, my sweetheart. Don't you know it 
 hurts me even more than it does you, for I have 
 tried so hard to believe it would all last forever. 
 Why need you say it to-day of all days? Could
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 we not have gone on a little while longer? " he mur- 
 mured. 
 
 She sat down weakly, looking up at him. " That's 
 the bitterest part of it," she continued. " It has to 
 hurt you, too. And you have been such a wonderful 
 lover, a lover to satisfy even the woman I seemed to 
 be. Youth seems to dwell with you. You are won- 
 derful, Dal, wonderful ! And I'm afraid I'm 
 afVaid for I am cold, and grey and it's twilight. 
 It breaks my heart, Dal. I wanted so to be young 
 a little longer, to live a little, to love, to dream. I 
 shut my eyes and ears to the truth, but all of a 
 sudden I knew. I had to see. I'm old! old! old! 
 Oh, the tragedy of it all. No more passion, dear, 
 no more heart beats, no more tightening arms and 
 eager kisses, it's over, it's done. Good-bye to it ! 
 There's just memory now. And I won't be the first 
 woman whose heart has only memories to feed on. 
 I'm old and it's over. But oh, Dal, I wanted so to 
 be young and be loved by you ! " She sank ex- 
 hausted on the reclining chair, the tears flooding her 
 eyes. 
 
 Dallas went over and knelt beside her. He stroked 
 her hair away from her tear stained face, and patted 
 her shoulder soothingly. And when he could trust 
 himself to speak he said: "You are the bravest
 
 THE REAL WOMAN 313 
 
 woman I have ever known. Why didn't you tell 
 me? Do you think you are the only one who has 
 feared and struggled? I have tried not to think 
 of it, but I have known many weeks that we were 
 going too fast and that we would have to stop and 
 go back. Do you think you are growing old alone, 
 and that we all stand still? " 
 
 She looked down at him wistfully. He had never 
 seemed younger or more virile. In the soft twilight 
 even the tiny lines on his face were hidden. The 
 grey in his hair was in the shadow, and his eyes, 
 clear and eager burned into hers. She put her 
 hands each side of his face and looked at him hun- 
 grily. He should never know what this hour had 
 cost her. She had crucified her pride to be fair to 
 him, and it had left scars that she knew would never 
 heal. But the thought of his facing the inevitable 
 truth that she had met and battled for so long, filled 
 her with a grief that again overcame her. She felt 
 she would gladly go through it all again, if only she 
 might spare him the anguish of it. 
 
 " Don't, Dal ! " she cried. " I can't bear seeing 
 you wake up to it. I can't. I want to be away off 
 by myself when you first realise that you too are 
 old" 
 
 He put his arms about her as he said, " Time
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 deals with us alike, dearie, and I am afraid before 
 many weeks I should have had to say what you are 
 brave enough to confess first. I too am old." 
 
 " No, no," she protested. " Don't, dear ! " 
 
 He rose and helped her, for she seemed suddenly 
 to need infinite care and protection. They stood 
 together, he with his hands on her shoulders. 
 
 He smiled at her happily. The invisible barrier 
 that had kept them apart all day had faded away 
 with the setting sun. His heart was lighter than it 
 had been in weeks, and instead of despair, a deep 
 thankfulness filled his mind. They had seemed an 
 hour before to be at the parting of the ways ; but 
 he felt solid ground again beneath his feet. He 
 need pretend no longer. 
 
 " Yes, Ellie, I too," he said peacefully. " I too 
 cannot pretend any longer. Do I seem a young, 
 passionate lover? I cannot keep it up, dear. I 
 haven't paints and powders, Ellie, but I have rheu- 
 matism and a great inclination to doze after dinner. 
 I puff when I go upstairs, and I pant when I come 
 down. And I am very fussy. I hate to admit it, 
 for it's a damnable fact. I am very fussy. If any- 
 body moves a brush or comb of mine it disturbs me 
 greatly, and my shoes must all stand at the same 
 line on the shelf. You old why, Ellie, I've
 
 THE REAL WOMAN 315 
 
 crossed the half hundred mark, two-thirds through 
 this game of life, and I was afraid I couldn't keep 
 up with you. Frightened to death, dearie, and won- 
 dering how I could tell you. It's funny, if it 
 wasn't so tragic, both of us eating our hearts out 
 apart, and both of us with the same fear." 
 
 She stroked his hair, her mouth quivering. " Not 
 you, Dal. I can't bear it to have you old. Aren't 
 you afraid you will want a younger wife? A wife 
 who isn't a past, Dal? Good-bye, dear, I am going 
 into the house now and take off all the sham and be 
 comfortable. When I come back perhaps you won't 
 even know me." 
 
 " You dear Ellie," he said, as he put his cheek on 
 hers. " I am going to be comfortable, too. And' 
 it will be such a relief. I have sat out here many 
 an evening and sneezed silently, because the night 
 air made me chilly; and I couldn't bear to put on 
 my little cap for fear you would laugh at me." 
 
 Her eyes filled up again. " Oh, Dal," she wailed, 
 " if only you'd still love me un-made up. It would 
 be so wonderful. But I don't deserve it. I've been 
 too wicked. God wouldn't let you." 
 
 With great tenderness he bent over her. " Kiss 
 me, Ellie. Just a quiet kiss, dear. And remember, 
 we must be brave."
 
 316 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 They clung to each other and kissed sadly and 
 lingeringly. Then Mrs. Dallas drew away from him. 
 " I'm going, Dal forever. I'll never come back 
 again, this Ellie. It's been beautiful, but it came 
 twenty years too late. Good-bye, dear." 
 
 And she went slowly past him up the steps into 
 the house, leaving behind her in the dim old garden 
 the bitterest hour of her life.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 OLD LACE AND LA VENDEE 
 
 IT seemed to Mrs. Dallas that she had gone through 
 miles of space in the few moments after leaving her 
 husband in the June twilight. He was looking after 
 her as she turned at the top of the stairs. Another 
 eternity was occupied in walking through her hall- 
 way and up the old-fashioned flight of stairs. 
 
 She opened the door of her bedroom with numb 
 and nerveless fingers, and entered. Lucy, Mrs. 
 Brinton's maid, had put it in order before she left 
 for New York. There was laid across the couch at 
 the foot of Mrs. Dallas' bed a marvellous and flimsy 
 garment which Celeste had dignified by the name of 
 dressing gown. Near it was a tiny pair of blue 
 satin mules with saucy rosebuds on their pointed 
 toes, and close by a bewildering bit of lace and rib- 
 bon which was supposed to be a boudoir cap. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas sat down heavily in a low rocking 
 chair, one of her favourites of old, and gazed 
 vacantly about her. The world in which she had 
 
 danced and played and laughed for so many weeks 
 
 317
 
 318 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 had crumbled beneath her feet, leaving her dull and 
 drab again. She felt dumbly that the catastrophe 
 she had dreaded so long had come and gone before 
 she even realised it. The horror and fear with which 
 she had anticipated it seemed far away and shadowy. 
 Her eyes travelled about the familiar outline of her 
 room, and came back to the absurdly fragile piece 
 of covering that Lucy had put out for her. She 
 rose and took it in her hands and regarded it 
 stolidly. It was as unreal to her as if she had 
 never ordered it or tried it on, and she did not even 
 stop to remember that she had worn many others 
 quite as youthful and gossamer-like. 
 
 She moved to her mirror, lighted the two old-fash- 
 ioned gas globes on each side of her dressing table 
 and looked earnestly at the reflected face. It was 
 tear-stained and weary but otherwise quite attrac- 
 tive and her false, blonde hair rippled softly across 
 her brow with an alluring naturalness. With a ruth- 
 less hand she unpinned the wave that covered her fore- 
 head and dropped it on the tray that held her hair 
 pins. Again her own soft, greyish hair looked out at 
 her like an old friend whom she had not seen for 
 many a long day. The puffs and curls and the 
 heavy coil of blonde hair were pulled off and thrown 
 down with the wave. Then she brushed and combed
 
 OLD LACE AND LAVENDER 319 
 
 her own pretty hair, parted it in the centre and 
 twisted it on her neck as she had worn it for many 
 years before she converted herself into a fashion 
 plate. She took her little pot of cold cream and 
 rubbed it over her face. As she wiped it off quickly 
 the blush tint on cheeks and ears went and with it 
 the crimson lip salve which had turned her lips into 
 scarlet wonders. The colour made two defiant 
 streaks upon her handkerchief. She lifted her 
 powder puff and dusted it lightly over her face. 
 Then she leaned forward and studied the result 
 relentlessly. She was ten years older; but had lost 
 not a bit of her sweet and womanly charm. She 
 looked longingly at her rouge box and then picked 
 it up between her forefinger and thumb and dropped 
 it into her waste-paper basket. It would not be a 
 temptation again! She regarded her beautiful lace 
 gown ruefully. It had countless little hooks and 
 eyes, and it was a difficult dress to get in or out of 
 alone, for the slightest pull would tear it. But a 
 smile of rather grim humour flitted across her face. 
 Why not tear it? She never expected to wear it 
 or its like again. So with rapid, nervous fingers she 
 ripped it open and stepped out of it. Then she 
 kicked off the slippers that had hurt her feet all 
 day and looked at them with a malice in her eye.
 
 320 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Aiming her foot carefully she sent each dainty 
 slipper flying under her bed swiftly. Shoeless, and 
 dressed in her lacy, beribboned underwear, she 
 opened her closet door and gazed into it. Her 
 trousseau gowns were in trunks and boxes, packed 
 for the journey, and only her smart, mauve, travel- 
 ling gown was left out, for her to put on in the 
 morning. It dangled innocently from a padded 
 clothes hanger as if it were the meekest garment in 
 the closet, but Mrs. Dallas knew better. She remem- 
 bered vividly the torturing narrowness of its skirt and 
 weighted hem ; its perky, j aunty j acket with the 
 long, tight sleeves and its V shaped neck. And 
 before her mind flitted the scandalous thinness of the 
 lace blouse with its waist band inches too small and 
 a bustline out of all reason. She knew also just 
 where she could find a pair of high heeled, narrow, 
 buckled, patent leather torments called " pumps " 
 to wear with the costume. Her eye lighted upon a 
 hat box wherein rested a high, heavy, cocky hat, 
 with a beautiful spray of purple wistaria which was 
 to have aroused Dallas' admiration on the journey. 
 She stepped past them all into the depths of her 
 roomy closet. Gown after gown of quiet pastel 
 colour hung in rows, and from them came the faint 
 fragrance of delicate old-fashioned lavender, the
 
 OLD LACE AND LAVENDER 321 
 
 only perfume beside plain eau de cologne that she 
 had permitted herself before she was led astray by 
 Mrs. Brinton's heliotrope. 
 
 How long it was since she had seen one of her 
 dresses ! She had almost forgotten them or where 
 they hung; but she was faintly amused at their 
 orderliness, for Anna had believed in artistic con- 
 fusion. She remembered her favourite and newest 
 dress of the period preceding her rebellion and she 
 reached up and took it down from its hook. It was 
 a soft, greyish-blue, chiffon taffeta, made comfort- 
 ably and well by one of the best dressmakers in 
 Brookline. It had been designed and cut with a 
 view to suiting the age and quiet personality of the 
 mother of Farrell Howard. Mrs. Dallas regarded 
 it with positive affection. She had always liked it. 
 She took off her lacy petticoat and dainty net under- 
 waist, and with firm fingers unclasped her fashionable 
 brocade stays with their five pairs of pink, satin 
 garters. She flung them furiously into the darkest 
 depths of her closet. Then she got into some com- 
 fortable corsets, dainty embroidered corset cover 
 and a neat blue satin petticoat with a ruffled flounce. 
 She had always had handsome, well-made clothes and 
 fine underwear, and there was little to be ashamed 
 of in the piles of neatly-folded snowy articles that
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 filled the lower drawer of her big bureau. Her dress 
 hooked in front and was easily adjusted. 
 
 She now looked at herself without a pang. She 
 felt at peace and ease again. A bit of rare lace was 
 fastened about her neck with a pin Dallas had given 
 her; and blue slippers with low heels, with good, firm 
 silk stockings to match them, took the place of the 
 flimsy lace hose she had worn earlier. As a last 
 touch she put some tea roses in her belt, a bunch of 
 them filling a vase on her table. She took her glasses 
 from their case and pinned them on her breast. She 
 hadn't dared wear them there for many months, and 
 her weary eyes had missed them sorely. With the 
 curious perversity that inanimate objects obtrude 
 themselves upon our most sacred moments, her knit- 
 ting suddenly flashed over her confused mind. It 
 took possession of her, and she hunted almost fever- 
 ishly for her basket and her favourite needles. 
 Finding the basket she hung it over her arm. Then 
 she went back to her mirror and looked at herself 
 again. She saw a sweet, pretty woman, suitably 
 and becomingly dressed, with a delicate high-bred 
 face and soft, greyish hair, a woman whom she felt 
 was still attractive and desirable despite her some- 
 what old-fashioned gowning, and whose slender figure 
 lent itself easily to the flowing lines of the immodish
 
 OLD LACE AND LAVENDER 323 
 
 skirt. Her hands and wrists were round, white and 
 beautiful, her ankles slim and girlish, and her skin, 
 without its artificial colour, looked clear and white. 
 Mercilessly as she scanned her face in the mirror she 
 did not find herself plain nor lacking in charm. She 
 even thought, but she dared not believe it, that she 
 looked quite beautiful as she stood there. That ven- 
 turesome thought, however, was a great solace to 
 her and a faint flush of pleasure rose in her cheeks. 
 Perhaps Dal would not be so dismayed as she feared. 
 She picked up the evening papers which Metz had 
 laid on her table and took them for Dallas, conjuring 
 up in her mind a restful scene in the garden in which 
 Dallas smoked and read while she moved her knitting 
 needles to and fro over the striped blanket so long 
 laid aside. 
 
 Just before she went out of her room, she opened 
 her top drawer and took out of it the soft Chudda 
 shawl which had belonged to her mother and for 
 which she had longed on many a cool evening. Then 
 she went bravely down the stairs, rapidly, because 
 she no longer had high heels and tight skirt to impede 
 her. She moved easily and gracefully. The tear- 
 ful, haggard, trembling woman who had gone up the 
 stairs twenty minutes earlier had been transformed 
 into a singularly attractive picture of charmingly
 
 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 middle-aged femininity. A beauty which had been 
 driven away by strain, hectic effort and inevitable 
 worry had returned. 
 
 Meanwhile Dallas down in the garden had not been 
 without his moments of readjustment. The discreet 
 and watchful Metz, who had been left to assist the 
 home servants after the wedding, came quietly down 
 the steps shortly after Mrs. Dallas left. He found 
 the bridegroom sitting peacefully under the trees, 
 gazing out into the growing shadows of the oncom- 
 ing twilight. The western sky was still flushed with 
 the rays of the setting sun but the shadows were 
 thickening rapidly through the trees. 
 
 Metz coughed apologetically, Dallas being too 
 wrapped in his thoughts to notice the butler's light 
 step. " I beg pardon, sir, but shall you and Mrs. 
 Dallas be alone for dinner, sir? " 
 
 Dallas started to answer but was checked by an 
 irresistible desire to sneeze. He stopped a moment 
 in the clutch of the impulse and then ridded himself 
 of it heartily. The night air was invading a head 
 none too well protected. " Quite alone, Metz," he 
 finally was able to answer. " I am glad of an oppor- 
 tunity to thank you for your excellent management 
 and service to-day. When Mrs. Brinton told me she 
 had loaned you to us, I knew everything would be
 
 OLD LACE AND LAVENDER 325 
 
 well done. It's easy to make you more material 
 recompense, but I wanted to express my appreciation 
 personally." He sneezed again. 
 
 " Shall I fetch you a hat, sir ? " asked M^tz defer- 
 entially. 
 
 " Oh, no, thanks ! " 
 
 " If it's not too delicate a question, Metz," Dallas 
 asked, "why don't you marry Cook?" 
 
 The old servant halted a moment, shuffled his feet 
 a little, hemmed and hawed and then answered: 
 " Well, sir, as the Frenchman said, when asked why 
 he didn't marry the lady he was courting, where 
 should I spend my evenings, sir ? " 
 
 " That would be a problem to a Frenchman," 
 laughed Dallas. " Is she young, Metz ? " 
 
 " Well, Mr. Dallas, sir she's youngish. But 
 wise, sir, uncommon wise. Cook and I have been in 
 Mrs. Brinton's service for ten years, sir. We met 
 there, sir, and never a harsh word has passed between 
 us. Of course, Cook has had husbands, sir. I 
 won't deny that, and for that matter, I've tasted life 
 myself, sir, in my day. But Cook and I we feel 
 sure we are kin souls, sir, and it would seem a pity 
 to spoil it all by getting married. Marriage is for 
 our betters, sir. It's a great luxury, not a necessity 
 as most people think, sir. And Cook and I we're
 
 326 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 quite snug and friendly about the kitchen, sir. I'm 
 really running on, sir. Cook always reminds me 
 that too much speech is one of my faults." 
 
 " Cook seems to have a remarkable insight, 
 Metz." 
 
 " She has indeed, sir. She first found out the 
 Socialist gentleman, sir. Pardon my repeating hei 
 words, sir, but Cook always said Mr. Thomas was 
 too persistent. Not knowing when you're not wanted 
 is a great lack of brains, Cook insisted, and when- 
 ever Cook heard of Mr. Thomas' presence in the 
 house, she would let out a word of caution : ' He's 
 a fad, Metz,' Cook would say to me. ' And fads 
 melt like butter in the sun. Mark me,' Cook 
 always ended with ' mark me, he'll come once too 
 often.' And he did, sir. I fear for Anna." 
 
 But Dallas was too intimately involved in his own 
 matrimonial conjectures to worry about Thomas and 
 Aj&na. 
 
 Metz, seeing his preoccupation, inquired, "You 
 leave on the early train, sir ? " 
 
 " I believe BO," said Dallas. " Have my man look 
 up the exact time. It's somewhere about nine. And 
 Metz, I'll drink port to-night, not champagne. 
 Have Johnson give you my cap. It's in the jacket 
 of my travelling coat." He sneezed again. " I
 
 OLD LACE AND LAVENDER 327 
 
 think I'm catching cold here. And will you look 
 in the writing desk in my room for my steamer 
 tickets? Please bring them with the cap." 
 
 " Very good, sir," answered Metz. " Cook 
 says " He caught himself and went off remark- 
 ing, " It's a beautiful evening, sir." 
 
 Dallas sat quietly for a moment after Metz had 
 gone out. The lamps in the back of the house had 
 been lighted and a yellow shaft cut through the 
 twilight to where he was sitting. Across the way 
 the illuminated yellow panes of another old-fash- 
 ioned New England house twinkled through the 
 gently swaying branches of the trees. He drank 
 heavily of the peace and quiet and stretched his arms. 
 The natural expansion revealed to him the fact that 
 he was wearing his belt too tight. 
 
 He rose from his chair a little stiffly, realising 
 that there was a suspicious twinge or two. He was 
 glad he had countermanded the order for cham- 
 pagne at dinner. Loosening the belt he let it slip 
 comfortably by three holes after a tug which showed 
 how hard it had been pressing. He then discovered 
 that his waist coat was bothering him and he loosened 
 a few buttons of that. Feeling great relief he sighed 
 blissfully.
 
 328 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Metz came down the steps with the cap and tickets 
 and bowed himself off quickly. 
 
 Putting the little grey travelling cap on his head 
 he looked about him to see that no one was about 
 and then seated himself again. He held the wallet 
 of tickets in the shaft of light coming from the 
 house and attempted to go over the routings and the 
 express company letters of credit. But his right 
 shoe began to bother him. Quite abandoned now to 
 the idea of being comfortable he undid the top but- 
 tons of his smart patent leather shoes. He lifted his 
 foot to the little table in front of him and then 
 leaned back easily in his chair, quite satisfied that 
 all merely physical matters were to his liking. 
 
 But he found that the print on the tickets was a 
 little indistinct in the none-too-strong light from the 
 window. He took out his fashionably-made pince-nez, 
 put them on, and turned again to his scrutiny. 
 They were useless for reading and he put them back 
 in his coat. There was still in his pocket a pair of 
 old-fashioned, gold-framed spectacles which he Had 
 bought to use in his room. He looked to the stairs 
 carefully for he did not want his wife to find him 
 in them, feeling that they made him look old. Hear- 
 ing nothing he fitted them to his eyes, put the ear 
 hooks in place and looked again at his tickets. He
 
 "Mother!" he cried. "My own sweet mother has 
 come back !"
 
 OLD LACE AND LAVENDER 329 
 
 shook his head gloomily over them. The trip, all 
 of a sudden, loomed up as a fearful enterprise. He 
 put the wallet solemnly back into his pocket and 
 gazed for a moment into the trees. Then he slid 
 comfortably into his chair, leaned his head back 
 and began to nod. He started up two or three 
 times ineffectually, but finally, with a contented sigh, 
 succumbed to drowsiness and dropped into a little 
 nap.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 PEACE AT LAST 
 
 MBS. DALIES came out on the porch in her comfort- 
 able clothes. She feared her husband's first glance, 
 not knowing what he would think of the change. 
 Pausing at the top step she hardly dared look at him. 
 What would be his expression? With an effort she 
 turned her face to his chair. For an instant she was 
 sure that he had gone and that someone else had 
 taken his place. Surely this oldish looking man 
 with the spectacles and little cap napping away in 
 her garden was not her dapper Dal! His head 
 rested against the back of his chair, his hands lay 
 loosely on his knees, in one the case of his glasses 
 and in the other the steamship tickets. She heard 
 him breathe a little heavily. She tip-toed forward 
 and looked him over carefully. His spectacles still 
 rested on his nose, his little cap was firmly pulled on 
 his head. Even the unbuttoned shoe did not escape 
 her. 
 
 He awoke with a start and for a moment was not 
 sure where he was. Then he caught sight of her 
 
 and his eyes lighted. 
 
 330
 
 PEACE AT LAST 331 
 
 " Oh, Dal, you darling ! " she cried. " You 
 actually look older than I." She advanced towards 
 him. 
 
 He stood up to look at her more closely. He 
 smiled happily. " What were you worrying 
 about ? " he asked. " You don't look old at all, 
 Ellie. Why, you look perfectly beautiful." 
 
 She put down her basket and went to him. He 
 placed his arms about her and held her close. She 
 clung to him tightly. " Are you really willing to 
 have me just me, and let me grow old in peace 
 you blessed Dal?" 
 
 He beamed on her. " Do you know I like you 
 much better this way. It's so comfy." 
 
 She drew away suddenly with another chill. She 
 remembered the trip. " But, oh, Dal, I forgot. I 
 can't I can't take this long, long journey. I 
 would rather die." 
 
 " You mean the trip ? Our honeymoon ? " he 
 counterfeited surprise. 
 
 She nodded, tearful again. 
 
 " The wonderful world journey? You don't want 
 to go, Ellie?" 
 
 Turning away from him she shook her head. 
 
 "You want to back out?" he continued. 
 
 She raised and lowered her head affirmatively.
 
 332 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " You can't mean it you said it was a life 
 dream. Come here, Ellie I adore you. I 
 wouldn't go for the world. I've hated that trip for 
 weeks. Let's stay here in the garden instead." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas, hardly believing her ears, flew back to 
 him in a rapture of joy. "In Brookline? You 
 mean it? You didn't want to go either? You didn't 
 feel up to it ? Honestly ? Dal, kiss me kiss me 
 again ! There was never anyone like you." 
 
 For a long moment they held tenderly each to the 
 other. Then Dallas drew the chairs together and 
 put a pillow in each. He smilingly placed his wife in 
 one and he took the other. She put her basket be- 
 side her and picked up her knitting, slipping the 
 evening paper into his lap. Lighting his cigar, he 
 leaned back in great content. 
 
 " Dal ! " she said. 
 
 " Ellie ! " 
 
 " I love you." 
 
 " And I adore you. I am so comfortable here." 
 
 " I'm so glad to get my knitting back," she con- 
 fessed. " It's like a lost child." 
 
 As they sat there serene and at peace with them- 
 selves and the world, Farrell came wearily in at the 
 garden gate. He started as he saw them, rubbed his 
 eyes to make sure that he was seeing aright and then
 
 PEACE AT LAST 333 
 
 dashed forward, falling on his knees before his 
 mother and grasping her hands. She had never seen 
 him so moved or so affectionate. Her heart went out 
 to him. 
 
 " Mother ! " he cried. " My own sweet mother has 
 come back. How lovely you look, Mother. And your 
 dear hair is just like it used to be. And you won't 
 go away again, will you, Mother? " 
 
 " No, dear," she promised patting him gently. 
 " I'm through junketing about. I'm home." 
 
 " It's too good to be true ! " he exclaimed rising 
 and going to Dallas who stood to greet him. 
 
 " Father ! " Farrell exploded, thrusting out his 
 hand. 
 
 " My son ! " Dallas exclaimed sincerely, offering his 
 hand to seal the bargain. " We are not going away, 
 Farrell, we've reached years of discretion." 
 
 " Oh, how I shall enjoy my fishing now," the 
 younger man went on. " I'll be gone three days. 
 And I 'm so glad that awful trip is given up. I am 
 going to have them carry those trunks right back 
 again into the house. They make me shiver." 
 
 He kissed his mother fondly, shook hands again 
 with Dallas and then announced ; " I'm going in to 
 Boston to spend the night, Mother, to leave you and
 
 334 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Mr. er father to spend your honeymoon in 
 peace." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas put down her knitting and looked about 
 her with unutterable happiness in her eyes and he 
 smoked with a new relish. Life was right again. 
 From across the way there came the music of some 
 old ballad sung by a clear girl's voice to the accom- 
 paniment of a piano. 
 
 " Listen, dear," Dallas said. " Isn't that a beau- 
 tiful air? " 
 
 Through the still evening air came the words : 
 
 " When we are old and grey, love, 
 When we are old and grey, 
 When at last 'tis all, all over 
 The turmoil of the day. . . . 
 The turmoil of the day, 
 In the still soft hours of even, 
 In our life's fair twilight time. . . . 
 We'll look upon the morn, love, 
 Upon our early prime: 
 'Thank God for all the sweet days' 
 We'll whisper while we may, 
 When we are old and grey, love. 
 When we are old and grey, 
 When we were young and gay, love, 
 When we were young and gay. . . . 
 When distant seemed December 
 And all was Golden May . . . 
 Amid our life's hard turmoil, 
 Our true love made us brave . . . 
 We thought not of to-morrow,
 
 PEACE AT LAST 335 
 
 We reck'd not of the grave; 
 
 So far seemed life's dim twilight, 
 
 So far the close of day. . . . 
 
 When we were young and gay, love, 
 
 When we were young and gay. 
 
 Now we are old and grey, love, 
 Now we are old and grey, 
 The nighttide shadows gather, 
 We have not time to stay; 
 The last sere leaves have fallen, 
 The bare, bleak branches bend. 
 Set your dear hands in mind, love, 
 Thus, thus we'll wait the end. . . . 
 'Thank God for all the gladness,' 
 In peaceful hope we'll say. . . . 
 When we are old and grey, love, 
 When we are old and grey." 
 
 The singing died away leaving an aftermath of 
 subtle harmony which held like the odour of a fra- 
 grant flower. The two, who had not moved during 
 the singing, now leaned closer to each other. She 
 looked up from her work. 
 
 " Dal, dear," she said, gently, and as if she was 
 trespassing on a spell. 
 
 " Yes, sweetheart? " he turned to her. 
 
 " Dal, I love you ! " 
 
 " Ellie, I adore you ! " 
 
 " All the joys are not left for youth alone," he 
 said looking happily at her.
 
 336 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 " God bless them ! " she returned. 
 
 " Some are left over." He laughed quizzically and 
 then touched her with devout affection. " And we 
 are not too old," he added. 
 
 " No," she said with quaint quickness, " we are 
 just a little old, Dal! And we don't care." 
 
 " I did not know such happiness was in the world," 
 he breathed finally. He reached for her hand. 
 
 " Nor I," she answered, returning his pressure. 
 She leaned over and placed her head against his 
 shoulder. His arm crept around and held her closer 
 to him. 
 
 They sat there for a long while in marvellous 
 peace and content, scarcely moving for fear they 
 would frighten away the great new joy which had 
 come into their lives. The last bit of pale sky yielded 
 to night and her stars, and the wind died away. 
 
 " It's wonderful to be" old," he said with a new in- 
 sight into life. 
 
 " Wonderful ! " she echoed.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 FOUR LETTERS 
 FROM MARGARET BRINTON TO ELEANOR DALLAS 
 
 BAR HARBOR, July 1. 
 Dearest Ellie: 
 
 Your last letter was such a relief to me. I had felt 
 so nervous and troubled about you, and I never hated 
 to do anything so much in my life as I did to go away 
 and leave you alone with Dal. I knew you hated it, 
 but what else could I do? I had hysterics after I 
 got home that night. Jack and Lucy had such a 
 time getting me quiet that they sent for Dr. Bar- 
 ton. I wonder if you met him while you were here? 
 He is so attractive and so personal. I love a personal 
 doctor, who treats you as if you were his most in- 
 teresting patient. Dr. Barton was a perfect dear to 
 me. He sat and stroked my hands, and talked to 
 me, and gave me a bromide, holding my head on his 
 shoulder and soothing me, for I was so weak I 
 couldn't sit up. John was rather cross about my 
 
 letting him hold my hands, but of course it's quite 
 
 337
 
 338 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 another matter with a doctor. But to go back to 
 you. I knew some awful thing had happened to you, 
 and I was awake for hours that night. I even asked 
 Lucy what she thought it was, and she said perhaps 
 you didn't like Dal to know you wore false hair, but 
 I was sure it wasn't that. So when you wrote me 
 that it was all right and that you and Dal under- 
 stood each other as you never had before, I was so 
 relieved. Dal is a dear, Ellie, and so considerate. 
 Very few men would have forgiven you that Amos 
 episode, as he did. John is much more jealous. 
 That's one reason I'm afraid to marry him ; perhaps 
 I might smile at someone else and he wouldn't under- 
 stand it. And when I saw your face on your wed- 
 ding day I was sure you knew you were making a 
 mistake, and I don't intend to put myself in any such 
 position. John is delightful as a sweetheart, but I 
 wonder if I'd like any man, now, as a husband. It 
 means no more cold cream or crimps, no more kid 
 gloves at night to soften one's hands, and worst of all, 
 no more nerves ! One must be well dressed, perfumed, 
 powdered, smiling and serene in these advanced days. 
 And I wonder if I could. Still I wouldn't let any 
 other woman get John. I'm afraid of that, too. 
 And Nettie Brent has her eye on him or Michael. 
 Not that I think either of them would, but she's per-
 
 FOUR LETTERS 339 
 
 sistent and very pretty, and ten years younger than I. 
 Do you think he'll get tired of being put off, Ellie? 
 Dai's getting married has made John very insistent. 
 Shall I marry him? For heaven's sake, advise me, 
 and tell me, dear, what was the matter with you on 
 your wedding day? And what was the matter with 
 Dal? Don't fail to tell me, I'm dying to know. I'm 
 so glad you're happy again, for it would make me feel 
 as if I were partly to blame if you weren't, for of 
 course I introduced you two. But, Ellie, don't keep 
 Dal in Brookline too long or he'll hate it. Remember 
 his heart is here in the city, and you must not try 
 to make him over. Forgive me for that, darling, but 
 I just had to say it. Shall I marry John, Ellie? 
 And are you really glad you have Dal? Do, do tell 
 me! I'm so upset and uncertain. Of course I 
 know Jack pretty well, still who knows any man until 
 one marries him, though ten years is a long time. I 
 wish I could make up my mind. Why don't you and 
 Dal come up here for a week; John arrives in a day 
 or two, and I know he'll want an answer. Some- 
 times I wish I had married him five years ago. Give 
 Dal my love and keep a lot for your dear self. How 
 is Farrell ? Poor boy, I finally understood him, and I 
 almost like him. Michael is going to the Adirondacks. 
 Dear creature, I never could have refused Michael.
 
 340 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 Didn't you ever waver between them? Oh, Ellie, I'm 
 dying to see you, and I do wish you were here to ad- 
 vise me. I really suppose I shall end by marrying 
 John for fear someone else will. Write me, dear, 
 and do miss me a little even if you have Dal 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 PEG. 
 
 P. S. If I do decide to say yes to John what 
 would you wear if you were me ? What about apricot 
 charmeuse, or do you think white cloth would be 
 smarter? It would be early fall, you see. I think 
 about September fifteenth, so don't make any engage- 
 ments for that week. 
 
 PEG. 
 
 CHRISTOPHER DALLAS TO JOHN STRONG 
 
 BROOKIJNE^ Mass., July 2. 
 Good old Jack: 
 
 I am a wretch. I promised to write you immedi- 
 ately to let you know how we were, but one beautiful 
 day after another has gone so quickly that I've lost 
 all sense of time. Hours mean nothing to us. For 
 the first time in my life I am not the slave of a clock. 
 And when I think of that awful trip we might have 
 taken, I am so thankful ! " Ah, ha," I hear you
 
 FOUR LETTERS 341 
 
 chuckling, " Dal is getting old ! " It isn't that, 
 Jack. For the first time I've found real true com- 
 fort and content. Always I've flown from boredom, 
 not knowing that it was something attached to my 
 way of living like a shadow. Jack, get married! 
 You will never know what happiness is until you do. 
 I've tried the other thing and I don't need to tell you, 
 as a man, that it doesn't work. But here we are 
 without a secret or a heartache between us. Ellie 
 understands me, Jack. I think she is the only woman 
 who ever did. She doesn't exact high pressure of 
 me ; she knows all the old dog's ingrown ways. 
 
 She is perfectly willing that I should be fifty-two 
 years of age and she very gracefully makes me feel 
 that she is just as old as I am, though I know well 
 enough she isn't. Now don't say that old bromide: 
 " A man is as old as he feels." I know better, he is 
 just as old as he is. 
 
 I feel really rested and comfortable. Ellie lures 
 me into all sorts of little after-dinner naps and easy 
 hours. I should grow fat if it wasn't for Farrell, 
 who has been introducing me to the golf links of 
 Boston and vicinity. He has tried me out now on 
 half a dozen different courses. And would you be- 
 lieve it? The beggar had the audacity to beat me 
 out yesterday after we had carried the match three
 
 342 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 extra holes. Once you know the boy he is very 
 likable. To make me feel more comfortable he takes 
 a cocktail and high ball quite regularly at dinner and 
 now he proposes to whisk me off for a two days* 
 cruise. 
 
 I don't think we shall stay here much longer. I've 
 had my motor sent up and we have become so fasci- 
 nated with our little, impromptu tours on these won- 
 derful Massachusetts roads that Ellie is quite in the 
 mood now for a longer j ourney. I think we shall try 
 the loop out through the Berkshires, then up to the 
 White and Green Mountains and on to Maine, where 
 Margaret is staying. In the fall we are going back 
 to New York either to take an apartment or house. 
 Ellie says she doesn't want me to see too much of 
 her and that she fears I will if we remain too long in 
 this blissful Eden. God! John! You should see 
 the garden now ! I'm fascinated by it and I must 
 have one like it near New York. 
 
 Now, Jack, don't let Margaret put you off too 
 long. You are both making a mistake by waiting. 
 And, Jack, don't go too strong on the emotional side 
 of the thing. Try a new tack, tell her you want to 
 settle down and have a little real peace. Pjerhaps 
 that's what she wants. The harder you woo a mid- 
 dle-aged woman the more firmly she becomes con-
 
 FOUR LETTERS 343 
 
 vinced that all men should have young wives. If you 
 can make her feel that she will be as care-free after 
 marriage as she is before it, all will be much easier 
 for you. 
 
 Jack, did you ever see a woman knit or crochet? 
 I haven't since I was a boy, until now. It's a won- 
 derfully restful sight. Are you going to be at Bar 
 Harbor about the fifteenth? Can't we all get together 
 then? It will be good to see you again. Ellie tells 
 me to send " dear John Strong " her love. Good 
 luck to you, dear Jack, and have a wise heart if not 
 a brave one and the widow will be yours ! 
 
 DAL. 
 
 JOHN STRONG TO CHRISTOPHER DALLAS 
 
 NEW YORK, July 6. 
 Dear Dal: 
 
 Benedict the married man, eh? Bless you both! 
 No one is more pleased than I am. Even in the 
 midst of that wedding gloom I felt hopeful. I'm a 
 great believer in love, you know, and I realised a wed- 
 ding is enough to disconcert anyone. It's like a 
 grief that has to be lived through. Margaret was 
 fearfully upset after she got home, and had an attack 
 of nerves, a very unusual thing for her. She called
 
 344 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 in the famous Beauty Barton, who gave her some 
 sort of a quieter and held onto her hands. She would 
 have none of me and dismissed me finally. I went 
 because I knew she didn't mean it, and she called me 
 up the next morning to say so. I salute your superior 
 knowledge of the fair sex and I will heed your advice. 
 I will cease being ardent and play Old Dog Tray. 
 Perhaps she is afraid. I am not sure I don't feel a 
 bit that way myself. But I will advocate peace and 
 Darby and Joan. I may really arrive somewhere. 
 I've never tried it at all events, and my other method 
 has been going for ten years. Long enough, in all 
 conscience! Of course, I've seen women knit and 
 crochet. Where do you suppose I was brought up? 
 But Margaret doesn't know how to do either. I asked 
 her. However, we both play cribbage and that is a 
 favourite refuge of the married. Dear old chap, 
 I'm going to make Margaret marry me ! I envy you 
 your peace and your home and your wife. Ellie is 
 a charmer, I know that, and she has left a mark on 
 poor Michael that he won't lose for many a day. I 
 am consumed with joy over your newly found paternal 
 interest. I wish I could see you treading the green 
 with Farrell. And the picture of that model soul 
 being led astray enough to consume a highball and 
 cocktail nightly, has been engraved on my brain. I
 
 FOUR LETTERS 345 
 
 don't doubt he will tango before he's done. I fully 
 expect to drop into some Broadway cafe and see him 
 entertaining a soubrette and liking it. Of course, 
 I'll be in Bar Harbor. Isn't Margaret there? And 
 when she's out of town all the harmony becomes dis- 
 cord. I go a lame, halting gait without her. You 
 just wait! I'm going to win that elusive lady of 
 mine, and before the ducks fly again at that. I say, 
 Dal, you're welcome to the garden. It got on my 
 nerves. Give me the Ritz for a pleasant afternoon. 
 And Margaret's drawing-room has always been a 
 refuge in time of need. I don't want any old gar- 
 dens in mine. I'm leaving for Bar Harbor to-mor- 
 row and I shall insist upon being heard. You lucky 
 dog, you're through with the hard part of it; but 
 you've got to stand by me. We'll try a wedding in 
 town, perhaps it will be gayer. My love to Ellie, 
 whom I secretly adore, only I'm afraid you and 
 Margaret might be jealous if I told you how much. 
 Give my reverential regards to that estimable Farrell 
 already being influenced by your worldly example. 
 He did run your wedding rather well, though; he's 
 no fool about practical things. By the way, I 
 actually tried to make Margaret jealous and suc- 
 ceeded. I lunched Mrs. Jimmy Brent at the Ritz, 
 when I knew Margaret was to be there with some
 
 346 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 people I don't like. To say that it made a sensation 
 is mild. Margaret, that night, almost said " yes " 
 to me. And she didn't like my doing it one little bit. 
 I've been full of remorse, though. It was rotten of 
 me. Don't tell Margaret I told you. My best 
 always, and wish me luck. 
 
 As ever, JOHN. 
 
 FROM ELEANOR DALLAS TO MARGARET BRINTON 
 
 BROOKLINE, July 9th. 
 Peg, Dear: 
 
 Your warm hearted, loving letter was such a 
 pleasure to me. There's no one like you, and I am 
 a very lucky creature to have such a friend. 
 
 There are so many things to tell you that I hardly 
 know where to begin them, but if I forget any of 
 them now, I'll remember them when I see you; for 
 Dal and I are going to join you next week, and it 
 will be so delightful to see you and John again. 
 
 I had a quiet little smile over your state of mind. 
 Of course, you're to marry John. As if anyone 
 could really stop you. And it's a pity you didn't 
 do it years ago. Don't worry over it, dear. I did 
 that and after all I am wonderfully, ideally happy. 
 Just shut your eyes and ears to the little ghosts 
 that troop up to frighten you; because they'll soon
 
 FOUR LETTERS 347 
 
 fade away when you refuse to notice them. I want 
 you to be as happy as I am, and both Dal and I 
 think John is the one man in the world for you. 
 Give in, dear. It's not easy, but you'll never be 
 sorry. The wedding was awful ! I can't see now how 
 we ever got through it; but that was just because 
 Dal and I were pretending; we both felt afraid to 
 be just ourselves. It wasn't exactly false hair, Peg, 
 but it was something very much like it. But that's 
 all over, thank heaven, and we've had our say, and 
 we love each other more than ever. Do you know, 
 Peg, I believe we have found the happy medium ! A 
 great discovery. In New York I went to one extreme 
 and in Brookline to another; now I've found an in- 
 between that is what I've always longed for, and I 
 shall never let it go again. 
 
 You see, dear, I'm not young, and neither is Dal, 
 and neither are you or John. Let's face that fact 
 cheerfully. What earthly difference does it make ; 
 we are all sensible people; and you and I are very 
 blessed to have two splendid men like John and Dal 
 to care for us. 
 
 Dal and I struggle no longer; we are just happy 
 and peaceful. I took all of my gowns into Boston 
 to an excellent dressmaker and had her change and 
 alter them until they were both suitable and comfort-
 
 848 YEARS OF DISCRETION 
 
 able. They look just as pretty and Dal says I look 
 better in them. I've taken off the false hair; but I 
 have my own hair waved and I've found a new way 
 of wearing it that I know you'll like. I'm not a 
 frump, Peg; but I've ceased being an idiot. You 
 won't be ashamed of me even at Bar Harbor, because 
 I have a lot of lovely things in which I can walk and 
 sit and breathe. 
 
 I wish I could have seen you in hysterics ! And 
 with Dr. Barton soothing you. No wonder poor 
 John didn't like it. 
 
 The last time I was in Boston I went into Anna's 
 shop, and had a manicure. Anna was overjoyed to 
 see me. She looked well, but chastened, and she said 
 a wonderful thing about Amos. I asked her how he 
 was, and she shrugged her shoulders and replied: 
 " He is always well and he is good to me, but he is a 
 little crazy, as Madame knows." Incidentally I do 
 think Nettie Brent has her eye on John, and not 
 Michael; and as you say, she is very pretty. So 
 don't wait too long, dearest, and remember John has 
 served more than seven years ! 
 
 Farrell was never so nice; and he has grown so 
 attached to Dal that he is actually trying to take 
 him away from me for three days. He told me, not 
 long ago, that he felt he had too narrow a view of
 
 FOUR LETTERS 349 
 
 life, and he intended to broaden it ; and he has bought 
 a car of his own, and now takes a cocktail with us 
 regularly. We're going to spend half the year in 
 New York, be here while the garden is at its best, 
 and drift about when we feel inclined. I'll find a 
 nice housekeeper or wife for Farrell before I'm 
 through. I'd love an apricot charmeuse for you, 
 Peg, and I'll give you some topaz to wear with it. 
 But don't delay. We'll expect to give up the second 
 week in September to marrying you and John. I 
 often think of Michael ! He's the only drop of regret 
 in my cup. I wasn't fair to him, and he's such a 
 dear ! It wouldn't be hard to love Michael ; only I 
 couldn't keep it up. Oh, Peg, Dal is so good to me, 
 and he never looked so well. I know he is happy. 
 And life is beautiful. I'm not one scrap afraid to 
 get old now. Wait until you can say that. 
 
 We'll see you next week. I'll write later what day. 
 And I want to find you engaged when we reach there. 
 Never mind what was the matter the day I was mar- 
 ried. It's past and gone. And I'm more in love 
 than ever. My best love to you, and Dai's, too. 
 
 Your ELLIE. 
 
 THE END
 
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