It was very cold, and his little car was open to the weather. But he felt no chill. He wore the mustard-colored top-coat which had been his lieutenant’s garb3 in the army. The collar was turned up to protect his ears. His face showed pink and wedge-shaped between his soft hat and his collar.
He had the eye of an artist, and he liked the ride. Even in winter the countryside was attractive—and as the road slipped away, there came a few big houses surrounded by wide grounds, with glimpses through their high hedges of white statues, of spired4 cedars5, of sun-dials set in the midst of dead gardens.
Beyond these there was an arid6 stretch until the Lake was reached, then the links of one country club, the old buildings of another, and at last on the crest7 of a hill, a view of the city—sweeping on[25] the right towards Arlington and on the left towards Soldiers’ Home.
Turning into Sixteenth Street, he crossed a bridge with its buttresses8 guarded by stone panthers—and it was on this bridge that his car stopped.
Climbing out, he blamed Fate furiously. Years afterward9, however, he dared not think of the difference it might have made if his little flivver had not failed him.
He raised the hood10 and tapped and tinkered. Now and then he stopped to stamp his feet or beat his hands together. And he said things under his breath. He would be late at the office—life was just one—darned thing—after another!
Once when he stopped, a woman passed him. She was tall and slender and wrapped up to her ears in moleskin. Her small hat was blue, from her hand swung a gray suede11 bag, her feet were in gray shoes with cut-steel buckles12.
Baldy’s quick eyes took in the details of her costume. He reflected as he went back to work that women were fools to court death in that fashion, with thin slippers13 and silk stockings, in this bitter weather.
He found the trouble, fixed14 it, jumped into his car and started his motor. And it was just as he was moving that his eye was caught by a spot of blue bobbing down the hill below the bridge. The woman who had passed him was making her way[26] slowly along the slippery path. On each side of her the trees were brown and bare. At the foot of the hill was a thread of frozen water.
It was not usual at this time to see pedestrians15 in that place. Now and then a workman took a short cut—or on warm days there were picnic parties—but to follow the rough paths in winter was a bleak16 and arduous17 adventure.
He stayed for a moment to watch her, then suddenly left his car and ran. The girl in the blue hat had caught her high heels in a root, had stumbled and fallen.
When he reached her, she was struggling to her feet. He helped her, and picked up the bag which she had dropped.
“Thank you so much.” Her voice was low and pleasing. He saw that she was young, that her skin was very fair, and that the hair which swept over her ears was pale gold, but most of all, he saw that her eyes were burning blue. He had never seen eyes quite like them. The old poets would have called them sapphire18, but sapphires19 do not flame.
“It was so silly of me to try to do it,” she was protesting, “but I thought it might be a short cut——”
He wondered what her destination might be that this remote path should lead to it. But all he said was, “High heels aren’t made for—mountain climbing——”
[27]“They aren’t made for anything,” she said, looking down at the steel-buckled slippers, “useful.”
“Let me help you up the hill.”
“I don’t want to go up.”
“I do,” she hesitated, “but I suppose I can’t.”
He had a sudden inspiration. “Can I take you anywhere? My little flivver is up there on the bridge. Would you mind that?”
“Would I mind if a life-line were thrown to me in mid-ocean?” She said it lightly, but he fancied there was a note of high hope.
They went up the hill together. “I want to get an Alexandria car,” she told him.
“But you are miles away from it.”
“You might. But you might also freeze to death in the attempt like a babe in the wood, without any robins22 to perform the last melancholy23 rites24. What made you think of such a thing?”
She melted. “No, it is I who should be forgiven. It must look strange to you—but I’d rather not—explain——”
On the last steep rise of the hill he lifted her over[28] a slippery pool, and as his hand sank into the soft fur of her wrap, he was conscious of its luxury. It seemed to him that his mustard-colored coat fairly shouted incongruity27. His imagination swept on to Raleigh, and the velvet28 cloak which might do the situation justice. He smiled at himself and smiling, too, at her, felt a tingling29 sense of coming circumstance.
It was because of that smile, and the candid30, boyish quality of it, that she trusted him. “Do you know,” she said, “I haven’t had a thing to eat this morning, and I’m frightfully hungry. Is there any place that I could have a cup of coffee—where you could bring it out to me in the car?”
“Without the world looking on?”
“Without your world looking on,” boldly.
She hesitated, then told the truth. “I’m running away——”
He was eager. “May I help?”
“Perhaps you wouldn’t if you knew.”
“Try me.”
He helped her into his car, tucked the rug about her, and put up the curtains. “No one can see you on the back seat,” he said, and drove to Georgetown on the wings of the wind.
He brought coffee out to her from a neat shop where milk was sold, and buns, and hot drinks, to motormen and conductors. It was a clean little[29] place, fresh as paint, and the buttered rolls were brown and crisp.
“I never tasted anything so good,” the runaway32 told Baldy. “And now I am going to ask you to drive me over the Virginia side—I’ll get the trolley33 there.”
When at last he drew up at a little way station, and unfastened the curtain, he was aware that she had opened the suede bag and had a roll of bills in her hand. For a moment his heart failed him. Was she going to offer him money?
But what she said, with cheeks flaming, was: “I haven’t anything less than ten dollars. Do you think they will take it?”
“It’s doubtful. I have oodles of change.” He held out a handful of silver.
“Thank you so much, and—you must let me have your card——”
“Oh, please——”
Her voice had an edge of sharpness. “Of course it must be a loan.”
He handed her his card in silence. She read the name. “Mr. Barnes, you have been very kind. I am tremendously grateful.”
“It was not kindness—but now and then a princess passes.”
For a breathless moment her amazed glance met his—then the clang of a bell heralded34 an approaching car.
As he helped her out hurriedly she stumbled over[30] the rug. He caught her up, lifted her to the ground, and motioned to the motorman.
The car stopped and she mounted the steps. “Good-bye, and thank you so much.” He stood back and she waved to him while he watched her out of sight.
His work at the office that morning had dreams for an accompaniment. He went out at lunch-time but ate nothing. It was at lunch-time that he bought the violets—paying an unthinkable price for them, and not caring.
He had wild thoughts of following the road to Alexandria—of finding his Juliet on some balcony and climbing up to her. Or of sending the flowers forth35 addressed largely to “A Princess who passed.” One could not, however, be sure of an uncomprehending mail service. He would need more definite appellation36.
He had not, indeed, bought the flowers for Jane. He had had no thought of his sister as he passed the florist’s window. He had been drawn37 into the shop by the association of ideas—when he entered all the scent38 and sweetness seemed to belong to a garden in which his lady walked.
He did not eat any lunch, and he took the box of violets back with him to the office, wrapped to prodigious39 size to protect it from the cold. It was an object of much curiosity to his fellow-clerks as it sat on the window-sill. They all wanted to know who it was for, and one of the abhorred40 flappers,[31] who, at times, took Baldy’s dictation, tried to peep between the covers.
He felt that her glance would be desecration41. What did she know of delicate fragrances42? Her perfumes were oriental, and she used a lipstick43!
He managed, however, to carry the thing off lightly. He was, in the opinion of the office, a gay and companionable chap. They knew nothing of his reactions. And he was popular.
So now he said to the girl, “If you’ll let that alone, I’ll bring a box of chocolates for the crowd.”
“Why can’t I look at it?”
“Because curiosity is a deadly sin. You know what happened to Bluebeard’s wife?”
“Oh, Bluebeard.” She had read of him, she thought, in the Paris papers. He had killed a lot of wives. She giggled44 a little in deference45 to the spiciness46 of the subject. Then pinned him down to his promise of sweets. “You know the kind we like?”
“This week?”
“Yes. Butter creams.”
“Last week it was the nut kind. One never knows. I should think you ought to standardize47 your tastes.”
“That would be stupid, wouldn’t it? It’s much more exciting to change.”
He went back to his work and forgot her. She was one of the butterflies who had flitted to Washington[32] during the war, and had set that conservative city by the ears in defiance48 of tradition.
It was these young women who had eaten their lunches within the sacred precincts of Lafayette Square, draping themselves on its statues at noon-time, and strewing49 its immaculate sward with broken boxes and bags, who had worn sheer and insufficient50 clothing, had motored under the moon and without a moon, unchaperoned, until morning, and had come through it all a little damaged, perhaps, as to ideals, but having made a definite impress on the life of the capital. The days of the cave-dwellers were dead. For better, for worse, the war-worker and the women of old Washington had been swept out together from a safe and snug51 harbor into the raging seas of social readjustment.
It was after office that Baldy carried the flowers to his car. He set the box on the back seat. In the hurry of the morning he had forgotten the rug which still lay where his fair passenger had stumbled over it. He picked it up and something dropped from its folds. It was the gray suede bag, half open, and showing the roll of bills. Beneath the roll of bills was a small sheer handkerchief, a vanity case with a pinch of powder and a wee puff52, a new check-book—and, negligently53 at the very bottom, a ring—a ring of such enchantment54 that as it lay in Baldy’s hand, he doubted its reality. The hoop55 was of platinum56, slender, yet strong enough to bear up a carved moonstone in a circle of diamonds.[33] The carving57 showed a delicate Psyche—with a butterfly on her shoulder. The diamonds blazed like small suns.
Inside the ring was an inscription—“Del to Edith—Forever.”
Del to Edith? Where had he seen those names? With a sudden flash of illumination, he dropped the ring back into the bag, stuffed the bag in his pocket, and made his way to a newsboy at the corner.
There it was in startling headlines: Edith Towne Disappears. Delafield Simms’ Yacht Said to Have Been Sighted Near Norfolk!
So his passenger had been the much-talked-about Edith Towne—deserted at the moment of her marriage!
He thought of her eyes of burning blue,—the fairness of her skin and hair—the touch of haughtiness58. Simms was a cur, of course! He should have knelt at her feet!
The thing to do was to get the bag back to her. He must advertise at once. On the wings of this decision, his car whirled down the Avenue. The lines which, after much deliberation, he pushed across the counter of the newspaper office, would be ambiguous to others, but clear to her. “Will passenger who left bag with valuable contents in Ford59 car call up Sherwood Park 49.”
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1
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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spired
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| v.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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buttresses
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| n.扶壁，扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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suede
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| n.表面粗糙的软皮革 | |
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buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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pedestrians
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| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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18
sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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sapphires
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| n.蓝宝石，钢玉宝石( sapphire的名词复数 )；蔚蓝色 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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robins
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| n.知更鸟，鸫( robin的名词复数 )；（签名者不分先后，以避免受责的）圆形签名抗议书（或请愿书） | |
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23
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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24
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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frigidity
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| n.寒冷；冷淡；索然无味；（尤指妇女的）性感缺失 | |
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26
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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28
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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29
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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30
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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31
corking
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| adj.很好的adv.非常地v.用瓶塞塞住( cork的现在分词 ) | |
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32
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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33
trolley
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| n.手推车，台车；无轨电车；有轨电车 | |
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34
heralded
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| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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appellation
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| n.名称，称呼 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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38
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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39
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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40
abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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41
desecration
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| n. 亵渎神圣, 污辱 | |
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42
fragrances
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| n.芳香，香味( fragrance的名词复数 )；香水 | |
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43
lipstick
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| n.口红，唇膏 | |
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44
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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46
spiciness
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| n.香馥，富于香料；香味 | |
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47
standardize
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| v.使符合标准，使标准化 | |
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48
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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49
strewing
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| v.撒在…上( strew的现在分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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50
insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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51
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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52
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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53
negligently
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54
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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55
hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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56
platinum
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| n.白金 | |
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57
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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58
haughtiness
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| n.傲慢；傲气 | |
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59
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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