She pretended to be waiting for somebody, made her gaze seem more abstracted than demure2. Inwardly she quivered with the excitement, the exaltation of forming a part of that rich and sensuous3 scene.
There were women all about her, many women of all ages and from every grade of society, alike in one respect alone, that they were radiantly dressed and, like Joan, found pleasure in sunning themselves in the soft, diffused4 glow of the many shaded electric lamps as well as in the regard, as a rule less shaded, of that endless parade of men who moved, sometimes alone, again with other men, more commonly with women, continually from one part to another of the hotel.
Muted strains from an excellent orchestra, not too near, added the final touch of enchantment5 to this ensemble6.
Entranced though, indeed, seeming little more conscious of her surroundings than one in a day-dream, Joan was acutely sensitive to all that passed in her vicinity. Not a woman came within the range of her vision without being critically inspected, dissected7, analyzed8, catalogued, both as to her apparel and as to the foundations for her pretensions9 to social position or beauty. Not a man strolled by, were he splendid in evening dress or merely "smart" in the ubiquitous "sack suit" of the period, without being scrutinized10 and appraised11 with a minute attention to detail that would have flattered him had it been less covert12.
Joan felt the lust13 for this life burning like a fire through all her being: there was nothing she could imagine more desirable than to live always as lived, apparently14, these hundreds of well-groomed, high-spirited, carefree people....
She had been steeping her soul in the blandishments of this atmosphere for fully15 half an hour, and was beginning to think it time to return to her room, when she was momentarily startled out of her assumed preoccupation by sight of one who hadn't been far from her thoughts at any time since her break with Quard.
He came walking her way from the general direction of the bar, with another man—both attired16 as richly as masculine conventions permit in America, and not altogether unconscious of the fact, each in his way guilty of a mild degree of swagger. Of the two, the one betraying the most ease and freedom from ostentation17 was one known to Joan, chiefly through the medium of his portraits published in The Morning Telegraph and other theatrical18 organs, as "Arlie" Arlington, a producing manager locally famous both for his wit and the shrewdness and success with which he contrived19 to gauge20, year in, year out, public taste in musical comedies. Broadway had tagged him "the only trustworthy friend of the Tired Business Man." Infrequently Arlington adventured in plays without music or dancing, but as a rule with far less success.
His companion, the man whom, Joan felt, she had been subconsciously21 waiting for ever since entering the hotel, was Vincent Marbridge.
She was impressed with the appositeness of his appearance there to her unexpressed desire, this man who had been so plainly struck by her charms at first sight and who was credited with silent partnership22 in many of Arlington's enterprises. And comprehending for the first time fully how much she had been subjectively23 counting on meeting him again and enlisting24 his sympathies—his sympathies at least—she steeled herself against the shock of recognition, lest she betray her fast mounting anxiety. He must not for a moment be permitted to suspect she considered him anything but the most distant of acquaintances or believed him to have been the anonymous25 author of that magnificent gift of roses....
But Marbridge passed without seeing her, at all events without knowing that he saw her. Rolling a little as he walked, with that individual sway of his body from the hips26, he leaned slightly toward Arlington and gesticulated with immense animation27 while recounting some inaudible anecdote28 which seemed to amuse both men mightily29. And in the swing of his narrative30 his glance, wandering, flickered31 across Joan's face and on without in the least comprehending her as anything more than a lay figure in a familiar setting.
But Arlington, less distracted, looked once keenly, and after he had passed turned to look again.
In spite of this balm to her vanity, Joan flushed with chagrin32. She knew in her heart that Marbridge had not other than inadvertently slighted her; yet she felt the cut as keenly as though it had been grossly intentional33.
Nevertheless she waited there for many minutes more, in the hope that he would return and this time know her.
At length, however, she saw the two men again, at some distance, standing34 by the revolving35 doors at the Thirty-third Street entrance. Both now wore top-coats and hats. Marbridge was still talking, and Arlington listening with the same expression of faintly constrained36 but on the whole genuine amusement. And almost as soon as Joan discovered them, they were joined by two women in brilliant evening gowns and wraps. An instant later the party was feeding itself into the inappeasable hopper of the revolving door, and so disappeared.
A prey37 to a sudden sensation of intense loneliness and disappointment—and with this a trace of jealousy38; for in spite of the distance she had been able to see that both women were very lovely—Joan got up and returned to her room....
An hour later she rose from a restless attempt to go to sleep, went to the telephone and asked the switchboard operator to find out whether or not Mr. Vincent Marbridge was a guest of the hotel.
The answer was in the affirmative, if modified by the information that the party wasn't in just then.
Intensely gratified, the girl went back to bed and promptly39 fell asleep formulating40 ingenious schemes to meet Marbridge by ostensible41 accident.
On the following day she lunched at the hotel, spent two fruitless hours in its public corridors between tea time and time to dress for dinner, and another in Peacock Alley after dinner, seeing nothing whatever of Marbridge.
And the day after provided her with a fatiguing42 repetition of this experience.
She began to be tremendously bored by this mode of existence, to sense the emptiness, the vapidity43 of hotel life for a friendless woman.
Once or twice she revived and let her fancy play about her project to revisit her family in the guise44 of Lady Bountiful, but only to defer45 its execution against the time when she could go to them with another engagement to drive home the stupendous proportions of her success.
Besides (she told herself) they seemed to be worrying along without her, all right. If they cared anything about her, they could have written, at least; Edna had the West Forty-sixth Street address....
Not once or twice but many a time and oft she found herself yearning46 back to the homely47 society of the Sisters Dean's salon48 in the establishment of Madame Duprat. And though she held back from revisiting the house through fear of meeting Matthias, she wasted many an hour promenading49 Broadway from Thirty-eighth Street north to Forty-eighth, in the hope of encountering Maizie or May or one of their friends.
But it was singularly her fate to espy50 not one familiar face among the multitude her wistful eyes reviewed during those dreary51 mid-afternoon patrols.
Everybody she knew, it would seem, was either busy or resting out of town.
On her fourth morning at the Waldorf, reading The Morning Telegraph over the breakfast tray in her room, Joan ran across an illuminating52 news item that carried a Buffalo53 date line. It chronicled the first performance of Arlington's most recent venture, "Mrs. Mixer," announced as a satirical comedy of manners by an author unknown either to Joan or to fame, and projected by Arlington as a vehicle to exploit the putative54 talents of Nella Cardrow, "the stage's latest recruit from the Four Hundred." The Buffalo performance was, it appeared, the first of a fortnight's trial on the road, following which the production was to be withdrawn55 pending56 a metropolitan57 début in the Autumn.
The story of the first night was infused with a thinly sarcastic58 humour.
"After the final curtain," it pursued, "the audience filed reverently59 from the house, omitting flowers, and Arlie Arlington broke a track record reaching the nearest Western union office to summon several well-known ante-mortem specialists of New York to the bedside of the patient. Meanwhile, Vincent Marbridge was hastily organized into a posse of one to prevent Undertaker Cain from laying hands upon the sufferer and carting it off to what might prove premature60 interment in the mausoleum of his celebrated61 storage warehouses62...."
Dropping the paper, Joan went directly to the telephone and asked the office to have her bill ready within an hour's time.
From this she turned to pack her new possessions in a trunk as new.
It had never occurred to her that Marbridge might have left the hotel.
Now she said that it was "just her luck!..."
By one o'clock that afternoon she had shifted bag and baggage to a stuffy63 and poorly furnished bedchamber in a crowded, noisy, and not overclean theatrical hotel situated64 on a corner of Longacre Square.
This establishment consisted of an old and rambling65 structure of four storeys, of which the street floor was given over to tradesmen. An all-night drug-store held the corner shop, while other subdivisions were occupied by a "tonsorial parlor," a dairy-lunch room in the favour of many taxicab chauffeurs66, a boot-blacking business, and a theatrical hair-dresser's. Next door, off Broadway, stood one of those reticent67 brown-stone residences with perennially68 shuttered windows and a front-door to all appearances hermetically sealed, but negotiable, none the less, to those whom fortune had favoured with the password and sufficient money and witlessness to make them welcome with proprietors69 of crooked70 gambling71 layouts. Across the street rose the side wall of a theatre, decorated with an angular iron fire-escape.
The day was almost unseasonably warm, but the hour appointed when the city should blossom out in awnings72 had not arrived. Joan's room was hot with sunlight that mercilessly enhanced the shabbiness of all its appointments, from the stained and threadbare carpet to the cheap bureau with its mottled, dark mirror, and the scorched73 and blistered74 edges of its top where cigarettes had been suffered to burn out, forgotten.
But when Joan had unpacked75 and disposed of her belongings76, she went to the window as she was, in a loose kimono generously open at the throat, and stood there for a long time, contentedly77 looking out.
Taxicabs darted78 or stood with motors sonorously79 rumbling80 in the street below. Round the corner, Longacre Square roared with the traffic of its several lines of surface-cars and its unending procession of motor-driven vehicles. The windows of the theatre across the way were open, and through them drifted the clatter81 of a piano with the surge of half a hundred feminine voices repeating over and over the burden of a chorus—betraying the fact that a rehearsal82 was in progress. At one of the open fire-escape exits lounged a youth in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a cigarette, and conversing83 amiably84 with a young woman in a stiffly-starched white shirtwaist, ankle-length skirt, and brazen85 hair: principals, Joan surmised86, waiting for their turn, when the chorus had learned its business acceptably.
Nearer at hand, in the room to the right of Joan's, a woman with a good voice was humming absently an aria87 from "La Tosca," while to the left another woman was audible, her strained and nervous accents stuttering on in an endless monologue88 of abuse, evidently aimed at the head of a husband who, if he had been "drinking again," retained at least wit enough to attempt no sort of interruption or rejoinder.
Joan smiled in comprehension.
Breathing long and deep of tepid89 air flavoured strongly with dust and the effluvia of dead cigars and cigarettes, she turned away from the window, lifted her arms and spread them wide, luxuriously90.
"Thank God!" she murmured with profound sincerity—"for a place you can stretch in!"
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1
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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ensemble
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| n.合奏(唱)组；全套服装；整体，总效果 | |
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dissected
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| adj.切开的，分割的，（叶子）多裂的v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的过去式和过去分词 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
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8
analyzed
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| v.分析( analyze的过去式和过去分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析 | |
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9
pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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appraised
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| v.估价( appraise的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
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12
covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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13
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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15
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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21
subconsciously
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| ad.下意识地，潜意识地 | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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subjectively
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| 主观地； 臆 | |
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enlisting
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| v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的现在分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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intentional
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| adj.故意的，有意（识）的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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35
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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40
formulating
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| v.构想出( formulate的现在分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
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41
ostensible
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| adj.(指理由)表面的，假装的 | |
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fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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43
vapidity
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| n.乏味；无滋味；无生气；无趣 | |
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44
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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45
defer
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| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
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46
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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48
salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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49
promenading
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| v.兜风( promenade的现在分词 ) | |
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50
espy
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| v.（从远处等）突然看到 | |
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51
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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52
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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53
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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54
putative
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| adj.假定的 | |
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55
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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56
pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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57
metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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58
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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60
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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66
chauffeurs
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| n.受雇于人的汽车司机( chauffeur的名词复数 ) | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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perennially
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| adv.经常出现地；长期地；持久地；永久地 | |
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proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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70
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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awnings
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| 篷帐布 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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75
unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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76
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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sonorously
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| adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；堂皇地；朗朗地 | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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81
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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82
rehearsal
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| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
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83
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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84
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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85
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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86
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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87
aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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88
monologue
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| n.长篇大论，（戏剧等中的）独白 | |
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89
tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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90
luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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