Chapter XXI

CHAPTER XX] SHE woke perversely at five o'clock,to a pearl-grey dawn. Wide awake. She considered rising and going out to walk through the somnolent city, but then she would be hungry and want breakfast immediately and there mightn't be any; and she had better wait for Russ, though he might have his on the boat-train from Harwich, and she was unable to recall whether it got in at seven or eight, when he would call her room. Through the casement she watched the sky changing color, while she meditated on the infinite odds against the most transient pleasure, since it depends upon an exact conjuncture of inclination and a thousand trivial circumstances beyond control. Even planning is a handicap; she would not have waked at such an hour on any other morning. The best moments of life are fortuitous ... Stop it, she adjured herself. You are positively boring that sparrow on the windowsill, though it doesn't know what ails it. • . . The sparrow gaped its beak, chirped, and flew away_ . . . She took up Crotchet Castle and tried to read; it was not the right book; what kind of book could one read at five in the N 'E V ERA S K THE END 263 morning~ None. She darned a stocking neatly and thought,how shouldshe talk to Russ withoutPauline?

Their relation included Pauline; at her departure, it ceased to exist. . • . Dh, go and soak your head. . . . A practical idea; she dawdled through her bath, and observed before the mirror that she must have gained five pounds. Her shoulder blades were now respect ably covered; this afforded her a reassurance she pre ferred not to analyze. There is no woman, she thought, who would not exchange brains for beauty, if she had any brains. Men find in power, wealth, a partly effective substitute; but only a substitute. In youth, one can enjoy romantic unhappiness, just as a millionaire can afford to be extravagant ... At least she had a new frock, sent on from Paris; it hadn't been finished when she left. Light green crepe with a cobweb pattern of grey, sleeveless) and completed by a jacket of the same material, and grey sandals and stockings; she laid them out ready to put on. Once she had asked Alma, resignedly, if she could wear green? It made her paler, that biscuit tone, and her eyes looked like a eat's. No human being, she complained, ever had such a complexion; it's neither blonde nor brune. Alma scrutinized her kindly. You look like one of those pats of cream cheese on a let tuce leaf. Quite nice. With that Marta had to be content. It was as near a complimentas she was likely to get.

Since they were few enough, she could remember 264 N EVE R ASK THE END most of the compliments she had ever received; partly because they were apt to be back-handed. Women are pathetic; the plainest cherishes a belief that she possesses some unique perfection. A dimple in her knee, taper fingers, Katisha's left elbow. Or the com monest delusion, Marta admitted sardonically that it had been her own, though discarded several years since, that "there was something about her." Thisbe, a grey eye or so, hut not to the purpose ... She rested on the bed, she must have been dozing, for her mind seemed to have floated out of the window) when the ringing of the telephone ripped through the tenuous web of con sciousness; so that she felt as if she were in two places at once, and that it was urgently necessary for her to be somewhere else immediately. "I'll be right down," she protested, and Russ was obliged to repeat: "In about twenty minutes." As soon as he had attended to his luggage. That gave her time to dress, but she could not collect her wits, pick up some essential thread.

Impossible to utter anything but good morning, when they met in the lounge; there were so many peo ple about, and more in the breakfast room, multitudes occupying adjacent tables. Five in all, she counted them with bewilderment; and those at some distance, preoccupied with newspapers. They "seemed numer ous" because they were so few, making one aware of each separately; they imposed a gelid discretion, one would be overheard. "Did you have a good cross ing?" Russ appeared very fresh and fit. How old [8 N EVE R ASK THE END 265 he, she wondered. Fortyish?-he must be older, if he'd been with the companylongenoughto retire. The onIy discernible difference in ten years was that he used to dance ardently.. He was always rather quiet otherwise; she retained a permanent impression of him in the background, at Alma's. A noticeable quiet ness, smoldering was the word that suggested itself, whether because of his ability to actually sit still, or just the unexpectedness of his eyes, turquoise, with his olive complexion. Only the music took him out of himself. Dancing with Alma especially, keeping pace with her light lovely feet, when he reversed and swung her about against his arm, the action was pure fire and grace. Marta invariably watched for it. For a moment, it made her oblivious to her own sick fatigue. That was what one desired, not merely to do, but to be.

The waiter brought their coffee; Marta poured it while Russ replied to her question: "1 guess there was a head-wind; I slept through, but the boat was late docking at Harwich. Where do you want to go today?" Windsor, she said tentatively; the reason occurred to her after she had spoken.. Windsor Forest. He needed to be outdoors; she carefully did not men tion that. .She too resented advice for her own good. He looked perfectly well. If one night at sea set him up appreciably, a long vacation was all he needed. He had never visited Windsor and accepted the plan at once. He said: "1 meant to order a car; but when I 266 N EVE R li S K THE END called up our London office, the manager said he'd meet me at the station. So I said I'd not be over till Monday. They don't know I'm here." His expression of secret obstinacy amused Marta; he was playing hookey! She had learned the meaning of that look from Wint Shelby and Floyd Jernegan. One morning in the office she pointed out to Floyd Jernegan a spot of machine oil on the back of his coat-cuff. He glanced at it, said: The starter went wrong. Then he shut his mouth.

No doubt as a boy he came home innocently with his hair wet from forbidden swimming.•.•I'll bet they do know Russ is here, she thought . . • It was a back-handed compliment that she didn't count. No bother; he could put her in his pocket. He said: "I told Aleck Owen I was bringing you back with me, and taking you on to Paris." For a moment she thought nothing at all. Russ was staring at her, and she had just set down her coffee cup. He told Owen, that means the whole office. And be damned to them. You couldn't beat that. It was the grand manner. If I had any reputation,it would be safe now. "What did Owen say?" "He thought it was a splendid idea; he was glad you could go." ('And does Ernest know?" Marta enquired. "Dh, yes, he was delighted." "In my lucid intervals," said Marta, "1 cannot be lieve there is any such person as Ernest, There can't be. He is highly improbable. I shall miss Ernest; I N EVE R ASK THE END 267 only wish I could miss him altogether. I don't suppose it has occurredto him-"

"It hadn't when I left," saidRuss. "No, of course, it wouldn't," said Marta, and fin ished her toast pensively. The enchanted mosquito net must remain forever an unattained vision. Russ thought, but anyhow, you ... He had about an hour's work to do before he was free. "The report?" Marta asked. He said, with relief, that the report was already mailed to Goodwin. "This is an estimate for the English factory. They say they can't meet our figures. They'll have to; we could do it cheaper in Antwerp." It was policy to place orders with the home factory. "The real trouble is that Colville, the chief engineer here, is bucking me. They don't like Americans." Marta hazarded, that she understood Russ was technical director for the Con tinent, not England. "Well, it's saving face for the English office, but it comes to the same thing. I'm consultant; when Goodwin isn't here) I represent him. That's why I had to come over. If Colville had sense enough to put the job through, he'd have got the credit." Court politics, Marta thought; the generals of Louis Fourteenth preferred to throwaway a vic tory rather than see a rival win.

In the elevator, they called the same Boor, the top; Marta read the number on Russ's key. She exclaimed: "You've got the room next to Pauline's." And Pau line was gone. ((Wait a minute," Marta said at her 268 N EVE R ASK THE END own door. "1 was to give you this." Russ opened the little package rather shyly; he was pleased. "Why, you didn't need to." "Absolutely," she assured him. "words could not express how mournfully we watched your feet vanish in that freightshed at the Antwerp dock." "My feet?" "Under a string of trucks. After you got past them you went through an archway and turned to the left in the street, and that's all there was, there wasn't any more. So we went below, to restrain ourselves from going ashore again." He hesitated, as if on the verge of saying some thing; and then remarked that he would call her when he had finished his chore.... Waiting in her room again, Marta indulged her suppressed risibilities. What he had put over was at once too simple and too com plex for direct statement. Nothing to do with her reputation. The strictest proprieties would hardly be infringed by two middle-aged people crossing on the same boat, taking the same train to Paris. He had used the occasion to intimate that if he didn't choose to in troduce her, it was not because he was engaged in a surreptitious escapade. All I want is cee-vility, and damn little of that. . . . Armor plate manufacturers ought to investigate Ernest. He was completely im pervious. What is the nature of a bore, she specu lated. I suppose they don't wish to be bores. They must bore themselves, too. Egotism-but we're all egotists. It is the condition of individuality. Her own N EVE R ASK THE END 269 ego was tough enough to withstand comprehensive dis satisfactionwith almost every detail of her person and character. It protested at being so inadequately repre sented by her appearance, accomplishments and abilities.

It rejected the verdict of the mirror. That is not Me. I'm looking for the face I had hefore the world was made. ".• The trains to Windsor ran every half hour. or so; they secured a first-class compartment to themselves. It was so spacious and bright, with large windows and ample settees covered with tapestry stuff, it made her feel prim and shy as a child at a party. Russ too had the air of a small boy in a clean collar, minding his man ners. Not exactly a good boy, but subdued by the odds. The humble suburban gardens, tidy hedges and toy stations were soothing to watch running by. One could almost fancy oneself contented with that gentle monot ony as a way of life. At the last, the heart turns to ward peace. But only at the last . . . She roused to attention; Russ was saying that the Owens had intimated a hospitable readiness to give her a dinner. e'l told them I thought you'd be too busy,"

he said. A wonderful excuse, she reflected; busy with what? She suspected he had it on his conscience, re fusing without affording her a choice. It was of no cons~quence to her, though she did not despise the courteous intention. Russ had to escape. One got to that point.

270 N EVE R ASK THE END She said: "I'd prefer to do just whatever suits vou. It's so restful tagging along. No responsibility. You're not to worry about me at all." ('They give dinners in turn," he said morosely. "And talk over everything next day. When Ernest's sister in-law was there, nobody did any work for a week. They even had a story that she and I had run off to Brussels. " "Why to Brussels?" ('1 don't know," said Russ. "It was her idea; she was driving." "What?" Sheer curiosity was Marta's besetting sin. "Do you mean to say-" "I didn't mean to say so." Why had he said it? He wasn't sure himself. "And then what didn't you do?" Marta pursued. "We came back again." "I'm glad of that," said Marta. "I was afraid you might be there yet. Well, there's no reason why one shouldn't drive to Brussels and back.." "It wouldn't have mattered," Russ said reluctantly, "only she told everyone we really had run off to Brus sels. She told Ernest and Caroline."

"Not Ernestl Did he turn her out of his house?" "He explained to me that she didn't mean it that way. She was always unconventionaI." "Let me get this straight," said Marta, animated by the pure zeal of cross examination. "A blue-print would be useful. Do I understand that she intimated N EVE R ASK THE END 271 you went to Brussels and-and registered at a hotel? You needn't answerif it would ~end to anything what ever." "We didn't register," said Russ) hunching his shoulders. . "No, no," said Marta soothingly. "It's so conven tional. The main facts are (a), that you didn't go to Brussels; (b), that you came back again. And (c), that it's none of my business." Now you'll never find out, she thought; it's his nature to curl up like a porcupine when he's prodded with questions. She was mistaken, for once. Russ muttered: "You don't have to register, in Brussels." Marta gazed at him uncertainly, during a perceptible pause. She said at length: "1 hope-well, you know the story of the man who was asked if his wife was en tertaining this winter; and he said, not very."

"I wasn't," said Russ, as if the admission were dragged from him. "I guess she was disappointed." Marta thought, noW if I could only say, I see what you mean; but I can't any more than he can say it if that's what he means. The tradition of gallantry has turned against men with a vengeance •••She said: uProbably Ernest explained it to her." The con versation had nowhere to go from there. To fill in, Marta enquired: "Is she pretty?" "She must have been a stunner a few years ago," said Russ. ((But the way she laps it up. . . . And in Paris she tried to take on the whole International Power staff. She got Gil 272 N EVE R ASK THE END Hutchins thrown out of a hotel." Marta asked, by circumlocution, what overt act constituted grounds for ejection from a hotel in Paris? None whatever, it appeared. To the contrary .•.•Hutchins had escorted the lady home from a party. After seeing her out of the elevator, on her own floor, he tried to break aV/ay.

Her somewhat hysterical protests brought the manager. Hutchins' French was inadequate; and he was es corted to the street door. "Gil was mad as hell. She did her best to square him next day, told the manager she was the one who raised the row, she was drunk, not Gil; but the story had gone allover town." "It ought to be a lesson to him," said Marta virtu ously. "There's a moral in everything, if you can find it. The only couple who ever got thrown out of a hotel in New Yark happened to be married." "New Yark must have changed a lot since I left," said Russ. "Why, no, it's-it's more so," Marta cor rected herself. "The tall buildings aren't just scat tered around-there's nothing else but. You don't notice while it's happening, but when you look back, you see the difference." Terrible and marvelous. As a child, reading of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world, she had regretted that she should never behold them. Now she was satisfied. New York could have accommodated imperial Rome in the back-yard. She had seen the tops of the tallest buildings hidden in the clouds. Even though it should crumble and vanish, it would become the most splendid of all legend~.

N EVE R ASK THE END 273 But most terrible. • . . No abiding place . "The old crowd is sort of scattered,"she said. It came to her with faint surprise that she'd gone on thinking of Russ as still one of them, though he'd been away six years. "Nonie must have told you all the news." Buddy Millard and Doris were married be fore he left, weren't they? Yes, they moved to Croton five years ago. So did Alma after Chase died-her husband, Chase Kirwin. The Connors were in Florida; Marta had heard that Dinty Connor was rumrunning. And Bruce Dwyer had been transferred to Detroit. "There's hardly anyone left but Nonie and me." "I never had any use for Bruce Dwyer," said Russ. "He was the only one I didn't like." leGh, he's a light weight," Marta hedged. "Agreeable enough." Russ maintained doggedly, that he couldn't stand the way Bruce used to shoot his cuffs! The crowd was an odd menagerie, Marta agreed; only Alma could have brought them together. "Do you suppose Alma will marry again?" Russ enquired. Marta said: "1 shouldn't think so, on account of Cicely." Alma's only child had a weak heart, born so. A gentle, resigned little creature, wistfully pretty. "Besides, losing Chase hit Alma hard." Marta felt Russ's silent reservation, indicated by sheer immobility. She knew, but-Or per haps she didn't; Russ might know Alma best, some side of her nature hidden from another woman. For we all know different things about our friends, she thought confusedly, and what we don't know might 274 N EVE.R. ASK THE END alter the reading of what we do know. What did she know about Russ? The total of facts was slight and immaterial; nevertheless, she had an intangible cer tainty about him. Perplexingly, it was when he re treated into his shell that she had the deepest sense of intimacy; she was shy of speaking to him then, it seemed unfair ...

"This must be Windsor," they recognized simul taneously.