Chapter XX

CHAPTER XX "BLUE is safe, anyhow," said Pauline, with a note of delicate derision. "A conservative shade, suitable for an elderly gentleman?" "Oh, quite, madam," the clerk assured her. Very well, she would take the set. Let's buy one for Russ, she and Marta proposed simultaneously. Green, Marta suggested, but would it go with-oddly, neither could remember whether Russ had worn a blue or a brown suit. It had an in visible stripe. "And a sprinkling of fox-fur," Marta said idiotically, visualizing Pauline removing the evi dence from Russ's sleeve. Not to mention a dab of powder on his lapel, whichever of them he had ac quired it from, Russ probably was not sure himself. How often he must have worn that smutch of white it came back to her that he had looked down at it un surprised and unembarrassed, not troubling to brush it off; there it was as usual! Maybe the souvenir was agreeable ... The clerk was waiting. They bought the green tie. Leaving the shop, they turned into the park idly. They had "done" their sightseeing for the day.

"Let's sit here awhile.'; With a flower-bed before N EVE R ASK THE END 251 them and the Serpentine beyond, Marta was satisfied. She enjoyed the strnngenessof the city, ha.d no wish to dissipate it by drudging through it. We're simply waiting for Russ to come over, Marta thought, indulging the harmless folly. Why not? When one comes to the point of having no more to expect, life is over. Perhaps mercifully there are always small pleasant things; spring returns perennially to a garden. Russ was following a deep right instinctabout his farm. And one of the trivial advantagesof middle age-there aren't many, Marta admitted ruefully, and very slight weighed against the treasure of youth is that friendship is refined to its essential quality. You cease to require anything from your friends except that they shall exist. Just to see them sometimes, taking them for what they are, not for what they may do or become ... It wasn't enough for Pauline yet. Marta' knew herself defeated and could endure it, for she had at least spent herself; but Pauline had been caught.

She, who could not tolerate a locked door: was the fear born of foreknowledge, or had the fear shut her in? ... The 'park attendant collected their pennies for the chairs. You can't sit down, though, Marta reflected, without paying. A bit of your life goes. It won't actually stop for you. Pauline balanced the two little packages from the haberdashers; her brows lifted quizzically. She said, as if resuming a conversation, that David would be gratified by the Bond Street label. He had no other 252 N EVE R ASK THE END criterion. Marta thought, Pauline ought to make her self expensive and exigeant; he'd believe she must be worth whatever she demanded. Worth marrying, if that was her price. ('Why don't you marry the man?» Marta quoted. "For instance, how?" Pauline retorted, and they both laughed. uOh, I've heard there are ways," said Marta. "There must be; it's been done. I fancy it's hard for a man to say n~before breakfast." Madame de Pompadour said that Louis the Fifteenth was not in love with her but with the private stair to her apartments) that he was accustomed to descend.... Various emotions con tended in Pauline's expression: fastidious protest: out rageous mirth, and a trace of guilt. "Supposing," she said in a strangled voice, <'supposing he wears a night shirt!" Marta managed to reply: "Impossible; I'm sure his pajamas are p-perfeetly elegant, the most c-cor rect ..." They regained composure with an effort, to avert the attention of passersby. Pauline said: "While we are plumbing the depths of vulgarity-[ daresay he might as well have had his money's worth, for the dinners and flowers."

No, thought Marta, it wouldn't do. Not for Pau line. She's too good for him. She wants to be fair; and it is himself he cheapens. He has a genuine attach ment for her. Why else should he hang about for twenty years, except that she is the one woman he cares for honestly? When he fell in 'love with her he had just begun to make his fortune. Getting ahead, getting N EVE R ASK THE END 253 in with the ((prominent people," is easier for a single man; and no doubt he had contemplated marrying for money or connections. He was the kind who does; and Pauline possessed neither. But he hadn't; the fact was sufficiently significant. Of course Pauline could marry him if she chose. Marta's inveterate curiosity teased her to find out what prevented them. "He's a souse, isn't he? I guess once is enough." Pauline replied indifferently: "He stopped drinking several years ago. Had to." Marta was on the point of remarking that in the fifties ref ormation is generally by necessity . • . I shall never give impuissance thanks for any good it can do me . . .

Oh, but that's the reason! It wouldn't occur to Pau line; girls really don't think of that, and she still has a mind like a girl ... Pauline said, her face turned away: "1 don't want any more children." No chance, thought Marta. ('Cathy was such a darling," said Pauline. "For a year or so after she had scarlet fever she wasn't very strong and I had to take great care of her, but nothing could spoil her. Look! " Pauline took out a snapshot she carried constantly. During an anxious winter, she roused every night to assure herself that Cathy was covered warm. Sometimes she took Cathy into her own bed. She often woke now with the feeling of that light live weight on her arm, and the little heart beating under bones as fine as a bird's. A girl child is such a tender creature, as if made of finer elements than our mortal clay, in 254 N EVE R ASK THE END another mould-the floss silk hair, the Hower-like skin, the angelic straight lines of the small body .•. rvIarta said: "She was a-dear child, with those starry eyes. But she'll never be old. And you gave her a happy life."

What can one say? "Yes, I did. In spite of George. But I can't for give him." Marta said: "It must have been pretty bad. Still, there are far worse things for a child, than having a father who gets drunk occasionally." "Not that," Pauline replied. "It was what he said about Cathy. Why I threw the flowerpot at him. If he hadn't got out of the room-" "What he said?" Marta was at a loss. Pauline continued: ((Cathy was a few minutes late for supper. I'd let her go to spend the afternoon with a schoolmate. George was in one of his tempers. He said, if 1 didn't look after that girl, some day she'd come home with-" "But-but-eathy was only ten, wasn't she?" Marta asked, incredulous. "Yes, but even if she'd been older, if you'd ever seen Cathy ..." "Oh, or any child-" Marta found no adequate expression. Evil exists. Something unspeakable, the obscene cruelty that leers furtively on street corners, prowls in dark places, and emerges hideously in war.... ((I didn't speak to George for a week," said Pauline. ('If he had died then, I'd have been glad. He knew it."

She will never marry David, thought Marta. She cannot trust him . . . Marta remembered Alma, with her deep clear melanch~ly, sayingthat a woman's point N EVE R ASK THE END 255 of view differs from a man's because women can be used.... Even the processof childbearingis a physical indignity which no sentimentalizing can alter. One might resign oneself to that; the flesh is an increasing humiliation to the spirit, until in the end it is cast off with' relief as a worn-out rag. But one may learn the lesson too soon. At her age, Marta thought, women were supposed to be overcome by regret if they were childless. When she was depressed, reckoning her errors, she was glad that at least she had no children. Otherwise she did not think of it at all. The exhorta tions of priests, moralists, statesmen, aroused only her remote contempt. Fat comfortable men in robes of office ... Their insistence that tired, overworked, un willing women must "submit," bear more and more children, the fruit of apathy, fear, or even disgust, seemed to Marta a mental rape, a refinement of lust.

She would answer to neither man nor God for her re fusal. If it, was women's business to have children, then it was their business; and a child is entitled to a birthright of health and hope . . . Yet if evil exists, there is also much kindness in the world. Pauline is better than I am, Marta thought. She is not hard. ('I got even with George," Pauline said. "How?" asked Marta blankly. "Never mind," said Pauline, and brushed her finger tips together. "That's one thing he didn't suspect." Marta was invaded by an irrational sensation, as if the whole universe had in that instant revealed that its essential meaning was comic. Maybe 256 N EVE R ASK THE END it is! Why else do we laugh after irreparable disaster? And in the article of death, it is said that our most im portant affairs shrink to trifles, of no more consequence than the markers after a game is played ... On his way to the block, Sir Thomas More was detained by a woman who complained that he had not answered a letter she wrote him. He excused himself with grim humor ..• And yet one must have loved life passionately to quit it without fear or bitterness. More forfeited his head sooner than perform an action to which his will did not consent. At any cost men must have values.•..

Pour their heart's blood to flourish one green leaf. Fol 10'WsomeHelen for her gift of grief . .. But it is not the same thing to value what you pay for as to pay for what you value. David's was a second-hand soul. To be a snob is to be nothing, an echo, a shadow . . • She did not come off very well herself. She had been wilful and light, choosing to pretend that what she did was not to count either way. And if she re pented, it was for having committed the wrong sins! Were there an omnipotent power disposed to witness folly on the grand scale, it would need only to give back youth to middle age. They'd set the heather afire! Pauline could not rest for long; they returned leisurely to the hotel. No letters •.. It was half an hour till tea; they went upstairs to prink. Marta re proached herself again for not having brought introN EVE R ASK THE END 257 ductions, made certain of Pauline's entertainment. New York was so distracting,one longed only to fly from it to some blessed nowhere. But when she went there first she had felt forgotten and lost in the indifferent multitude, as Pauline now felt in London. To make up for it, Marta resolved that when Russ came over, she would vanish discreetly for the day. Go to Strat ford perhaps with a busload of tourists; it might be fun . . . She was turning away from the mirror before she noticed the slip of paper on the dresser, a pencil memorandum: Mrs. Brovm. Call from Antwerp.

It's Russ, she thought joyfully, to say he'll be here in the morning. She would ring the operator, and then fetch Pauline; the connection would take some time to put through. The operator said: Hold the wire please ... Antwerp? Your party is waiting.... Are you there? ... ((Hello. Brownie?" ... l'Russ-is that you? You're coming over tonight?" She asked becauseshe had no doubt of the answer. "No, I can't make it till Sunday morning." lCOh," she cried, "Sunday morning!" "The report took longer than I expected; it's got to be typed yet." He seemed so near, she wanted to reach out, ask him to wait for Pauline. She made a little mournful sound. "What?" Russ enquired. She said: "Pauline is sailing Saturday." "I'm sorry. Tell her I'm sorry to miss her. Give her my love."

258 N EVE R ASK THE END 'CYes," said Marta, and repeated: "Not till Sunday." Too late. Russ went on: "I've got to be in Antwerp again Tues day; and then go to Paris, and Rome the week after." One can't ever manage things, Marta thought. "Can you hear me?" Russ said. ''Yes, yes, perfectly." As if he were downstairs. "'Listen," he said very clearly, "will you come back to Antwerp with me Monday night!" "Sure I will," said Marta. "And will you"-he had a nice voice, she thought, pitched true, in the middle register, and he stressed the request with the slight emphasis of deliberation "come to Paris with me?" "0h, won't I?" said Marta in ringing tones. "That's fine," she could hear him chuckle. "I'll call you when ] get in Sunday morning. Say goodbye for me to Pauline." "She's in her room; let me-" The telephone clicked; the operator cut through with an unintelligible formula; Russ suddenly became removed to a great distance, across the Channel.

She sat dejected for five minutes before summoning resolution to walk down the hall and tap on Pauline's door. "I'll be ready in a minute." Pauline was ad dressing postcards, wearing an air of martyrdom. "Shall I send David the Albert Memorial or the British l\tluseum?" ... Her attitude of indecision altered subtly to enquiry.

N EVE R ASK THE END 259 Marta said: "Russ called, long distance." Paulineremainedfixed,her brows drawnin a straight line. "He's not coming?" she said. Bad.news is easy to guess. "Not till-till next week," Marta said. Sunday was next week. It seemed less painful than to say, the day after Pauline must leave. "He sent you his love; he's sorry to miss you.)) "How long will he be here?" "Only one day. He has to be in Paris" ... "You could just as well go to Paris," said Pauline. "He-he asked me to," said Marta. "It won't be as much fun without you." ((We did have a. good time, didn't we?" said Pauline. "When we said goodbye at the dock I knew I'd never see him again." During the remainder of the week Marta was de pressed and apprehensive. She would miss Pauline for her own sake. And the charm would be broken. Pau line)s intuitive wit had sustained it like a crystal ball upheld by the jet of a fountain. Marta wished to keep its fragile perfection intact. She would rather have absented herself than destroy it by any ineptitude ....

Going to Southampton on the boat train was a melan choly business. Fortunately the Schaefers would be embarking at Havre. Pauline hurried aboard, and seized a steward. "I can't stand this mob," she mut tered between her teeth. They found the double state room empty, and Pauline flung her hat in the upper 260 N EVE R ASK THE END berth and herself in the lower. ((If they put another woman in with me, I shall quietly shove her through the porthole. I hate strange females, spilling violet powder and cheery good-mornings, and showing you snapshots of Napoleon's tomb." She brooded. "I hate this ship. Do you suppose there is any chance of it sinking?" ('!)m afraid not," said Marta, and they smiled wanly. "Do you want me to give Russ any message?" "No," said Pauline. "Do you think hOe'll write or send a wireless?" "He doesn't to anybody," said Marta. "1 don't know why not." "1 do," said Pauline. "He's right. Give him my love."

('He'll wire you when he lands in Seattle next spring," Marta added sincerely. "You believe he really will come?" Pauline asked. (cYes,"said Marta, and grinned. "By way of China. Haven't you guessed-. there's a dame in Shanghai." "What of it?" said Pauline. "As long as she stays in Shanghai-l can't be worrying about other people's troubles all the time, can I?" The bugles began to sound. "Don't come up on deck," said Marta. "I'll see you at Easter." ..• Nothing had ever estranged them . . . She took the wrong turning in the corridor, pushed irritably through the mob at the gangway, and was maddened by the discovery that she"would have to go N EVE R ASK THE END 261 to a station across town for the return train. She knew she would miss it, and did. The taxi-driver derived gratification from her discomfiture, or she imagined he did, and barely repressed a profound impulse toward homicide. If there were any redeeming features of Southampton she did not wish to perceive them, and sat inertly in the station for an hour, till the next train.

London seemed utterly empty. The afternoon was half gone; she stayed in her room, washed her hair, and was sad. At dinner she drank a solitary pint of hock, hoping to induce sleep.... She had a dark conviction that she would bore Russ the next day ... Even sleep, when it came, was leaden with sadness.