To-day he walked home with her.
She suggested tea. He let his eyes dwell on her an instant—she on the top step, he just below—and in that instant he forgot Peter. “All right,” said he, a pleasant glow in his breast, “if you'll have dinner with me. They have a fresh lot of those deep-sea oysters8 at Jim's.”
Then he caught her hesitation9 and recalled Peter. For a moment they stood in silence, then: “Don't let's trade,” she said. “Come in for tea anyway.”
He followed her in, reflecting. Peter or no Peter, it disturbed him to sec this restraint in Sue Wilde. He felt that it disturbed her a little, too. It was possible, of course, that this was one of the evenings when Peter expected to appropriate her. The Worm was the least obtrusive10 of men, but he could be stubborn. Then and there he asked if this was Peter's evening.
She was stooping to unlock the apartment door. “No,” she replied rather shortly, “he's working tonight.”
They had hardly got into the apartment before the bell rang, and Sue went out to answer it. The Worm, sandy of hair, mild of feature, dropped into the willow11 armchair, rested elbows on knees, surveyed the half-furnished living-room and smiled.
In a mason jar on the mantel, next to a hit-or-miss row of Russian novels, Havelock Ellis's Sex in Relation to Society, Freud on Dreams and Psychanalysis, and two volumes of Schnitzler's plays, blazed a large cluster of jonquils. At the other end of the mantel, drooping12 over the rim13 of a green water pitcher14, were dusty yellow roses, full blown, half their petals15 scattered16 on books, mantel and hearth17, their scent18 heavy in his nostrils19. A tin wash basin, on the mission table by the wall, was packed, smothered20, with pansies—buff, yellow, orange, purple, velvet21 black. A bunch of violets surmounted22 an old sugar bowl that shared with cigarette boxes, matches and an ash receiver, the tabouret by the couch-bed. But what widened the Worm's faint smile into a forthright23 grin, square and huge on the table, towering over the pansies, was a newly opened five-pound box of sweets.
Sue came in, smiling herself, with a hint of the rueful, bearing before her a long parcel with square ends.
“I'll bet it's roses,” observed the Worm.
She tore off the paper, opened the box with quick fingers—it was roses—deep red ones.
She took a chocolate, nibbled24 it; then stepped back, laughing a little and threw out her hands. “Henry,” she cried, “what on earth am I to do with him! I've hinted. And I've begged. I'm afraid I'll hurt him—”
“You would go and get engaged to him, Sue. And I must say he plays the r?le with all his might.” After which remark, the Worm produced, scraped, filled and lighted his pipe.
“I'll start the water,” said Sue; then instead, stood gazing at the flowers. “It's so—Victorian!”
The Worm grinned cheerfully. “Peter isn't so easy to classify as that.”
“I know.” She reached for another chocolate. “He isn't Victorian.”
“Not all the time, certainly. And not all over. Just in spots.”
Her color deepened slightly. “You've never read the scenario25 he did for us, Henry. Nothing Victorian about that. There's a ring to it—and power. Nobody who misses the modern spirit could have written it. Not possibly. It's the real battle cry of woman's freedom. And a blow for honesty! It is when I think of that—how the pictures are to be shown in every city and every village, all over this country—reaching people that the books never reach and touching26 their emotions, yes, their hearts where feminist27 speakers and such just antagonize them—”
The sentence died out in mid-air. Sue, a flash in her deep-green eyes, stared out the window at the old red brick walls that surrounded the score of fenced-in little back yards, walls pierced with hundreds of other rear windows and burdened with cluttered28 fire-escapes, walls hidden here and there by high-hung lines of washing.
She spoke29 again. “Don't you see, Henry, that's what makes this miserable30 business worth while, that's what justifies31 it—all this posing before those camera people, working with hired actors that don't for a moment know what it's all about and don't understand my being in it or my relations with Peter or the friendly feeling I have for Zanin—it's getting so I have to fight it out with myself all over again every morning to get through it at all. But when I'm almost hopelessly stale all I have to do is come home here and shut the door and curl up on the couch and read the thing as Peter wrote it—it brings the vision back, Henry!—and then I think of him staking all his savings32 to make it a success—Oh, I know that's personal, just for me...”
Sue was having some trouble with sentences today. This one didn't get finished either. She stood there brooding; started another one: “Henry, Zanin couldn't do it—with all his intelligence and drive—it took Peter to phrase Zanin's own ideas and then add the real quality to them and form and human feeling—Zanin is cold, an intellectualist not an artist.” Suddenly she broke out with this—“Of course this marriage means a long series of adjustments. Do you suppose I don't know that? Doesn't every marriage?”
The Worm was silent; smoking slowly and watching her. He was thinking very soberly. “Whom among women the gods would destroy they first make honest.”
Sue felt his gaze and raised her chin with a little jerk; tried to smile; finally caught up the box of roses and buried her face in them.
“Peter oughtn't to spend the money,” she cried, not unhumorously, “but it is dear of him. Every time I come into the room the flowers sing to me.”
“After all,” said he, helping33 her out, “it's a relief, in these parts, to see some one taking marriage seriously. Date set yet?”
She nodded.
“Not telling?”
She shook her head.
“Soon?”
She nodded. “That's all. No more questions.”
“Religious ceremony?”
“Hardly, Henry.” She was a thought grim about this.
“You can be as rationalistic as you like,” said he, musing34, “but marriage is a fairy story. Like the old-fashioned Christmas with tree and candles and red bells—yes, and Santa Claus. You can't rationalise love, and you can't casualize it. Not without debasing it. Love isn't rational. It is exclusive, exacting35, mysterious. It isn't even wholly selfish.” His tone lightened. “All of which is highly heterodox, here on Tenth Street.”
She smiled faintly and busied herself over the teakettle.
“I'm glad to see that Zanin keeps friendly, Sue.” She sobered, and said: “There, it's boiling.” The bell sounded again—two short rings, a pause, one long ring.
She started, bit her lip. “That's Zanin now,” she said. “He hasn't been here since—” She moved toward the door, then hesitated. “I wish you would—”
She bit her lip again, then suddenly went. He heard the door open and heard her saying: “Henry Bates is here. Come in.”
Zanin entered the room, and the Worm quietly considered him. The man had a vision. And he had power—unhindered by the inhibitions of the Anglo-Saxon conscience, undisciplined by the Latin instinct for form, self-freed from the grim shackles36 of his own ancestry37. He wore a wrinkled suit, cotton shirt with rolling collar, his old gray sweater in lieu of waistcoat.
He drank three cups of tea, chatted restively38, drummed with big fingers on the chair-arm and finally looked at his watch.
The Worm knocked the ashes from his pipe and considered. Just what did Sue wish he would do? No use glancing at her for further orders, for now she was avoiding his glances. He decided39 to leave.
Out on the sidewalk he stood for a moment hesitating between a sizable mess of those deep-sea bivalves at Jim's oyster7 bar and wandering back across Sixth Avenue and Washington Square to the rooms. It wasn't dinner time; but every hour is an hour with oysters, and Jim's was only a step. But then he knew that he didn't want to eat them alone. For one moment of pleasant self-forgetfulness he had pictured Sue sitting on the other side of the oysters. They went with Sue to-night, were dedicated40 to her. He considered this thought, becoming rather severe with himself, called it childish sentimentality; but he didn't go to Jim's. He went to the rooms.
“What is it, Jacob?” she asked, not facing him.
He wasted no words. “You know something of our business arrangements, Sue—Peter's and mine.”
She nodded.
“There's a complication. When we formed The Nature Film Company we had, as assets, my ideas and energy and Peters money and theatrical43 experience. And we had you, of course. You were vital—I built the whole idea around your personality.”
“Yes, I know,” she broke in with a touch of impatience44.
“Peter stood ready to put in not more than four to five thousand dollars. That was his outside figure. He told me that it was nearly all he had—and anyway that he is living on his capital.”
“I know all that,” said she.
“Very good!” He put down his teacup and spread his hands in a sweeping45 gesture. “Now for the rest of it. Of course we had no organization or equipment, so we made the deal with the Interstellar people. They took a third interest. They supply studio, properties, camera men, the use of their New Jersey place and actors and hand us a bill every week. Naturally since we got to work with all our people on the outside locations, the bills have been heavy—last week and this—especially this. Before we get through they'll be heavier.” He drew a folded paper from his pocket; spread it out with a slap of a big hand; gave it to her.
He nodded. “It's running into regular money. And here we are! Peter has put in three thousand already.”
“Three thousand!”
“More—about thirty-two hundred.”
“But, Jacob, at this rate—”
“What will the whole thing cost? My present estimate is twelve to fifteen thousand.”
Sue flushed with something near anger. “This is new, Jacob! You said three or four thousand.”
“It was as new to me as to you. The situation is growing. We must grow with it. We've got a big idea. It has all our ideals in it, and it's going to be a practical success, besides. It's going to get across, Sue. We'll all make money. Real money. It'll seem queer.”
Sue, eyes wide, was searching that mask of a face.
“But here's the difficulty. Peter isn't strong enough to swing it. Within another week we'll be past his limit—and we can't stop. He can't stop. Don't you see?”
“Well, now.” He found a cigarette on the tabouret; lighted it, squared around. “The Interstellar people aren't fools. They know we're stuck. They've made us an offer.”
“For the control?”
He nodded. “For the control, yes. But they leave us an interest. They'd have to or pay us good big salaries. You see, they're in, too. It means some sacrifice for us, but—oh, well, after all, 't means that the Nature Film has a value. They'll finance it and undertake the distribution. There's where we might have come a cropper anyway—the distribution. I've just begun to see that. You keep learning.”
She was trying to think. Even succeeding after a little.
“Jacob,” she said, very quiet, “why do you bring this to me?”
She nodded, lips compressed.
“You and Peter—you're to be married, the minute we get the picture done, I suppose.”
“But that—”
He waved at the flowers, stared grimly at the huge box of candy. “Peter's an engaged man, an idiot. He's living in 1880. I'm the man who offered you love with freedom. Don't you realize that the time has come when Peter and I can't talk. It's the truth, Sue. You know it. You're the only human link between us. Therefore, I'm talking to you.” He waited for her to reply; then as she was still, added this quite dispassionately: “Better watch Peter, Sue. He's not standing50 up very well under the strain. I don't believe he's used to taking chances. Of course, when a nervous cautious man does decide to plunge—”
She interrupted him. “I take it you're planning to go ahead, regardless, Jacob.”
“Of course.” he shrugged his shoulders. “I've told you—we can't stop. Peter least of all. It's pure luck to us that the Interstellar folks can't stop either.”
“You mean—if they could—we'd...”
“Fail? Certainly. Smash.”
Sue felt his strength; found herself admiring him, as she had admired him in the past—coldly, with her mind only.
“I will not go to him as your messenger,” she said, again partly angry.
“All right—if you won't! Call him—” He waved toward the telephone. “Is he home now?” She nodded.
“It's a partnership51 for him—a good offer—responsible people. See here, Sue, you must be made to grasp this. We're going straight on. Got to! The problem is to make Peter understand—the shape he's in, frightened to death... he won't listen to me.... It's up to you, Sue. It's a job to be handled. I'm trying to tell you. One way or another, it's got to be broken to him tonight. We've got precious little time to give him for his nervous upset before he comes around.”
Sue looked at him. Her hands were folded in her lap..
“Well—?” said he.
“Jacob, you shouldn't have come to me.”
“You won't even call him?”
“No.”
“May I?”
“Of course.”
He got up, moved toward the telephone, hesitated midway, changed his mind and picked up his hat. Holding it between his hands he stood over her. She waited. But instead of speaking, he went out.
She sat there a brief time, thinking; went over to the telephone herself; even fingered the receiver; gave it up; busied herself hunting a receptacle for Peter's roses, finally settling on an earthenware52 crock.
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1
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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7
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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oysters
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| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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obtrusive
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| adj.显眼的；冒失的 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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21
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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23
forthright
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| adj.直率的，直截了当的 [同]frank | |
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nibbled
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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scenario
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| n.剧本，脚本；概要 | |
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touching
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feminist
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| adj.主张男女平等的，女权主义的 | |
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cluttered
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| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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29
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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justifies
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| 证明…有理( justify的第三人称单数 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
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savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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restively
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| adv.倔强地，难以驾御地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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41
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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42
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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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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44
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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45
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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46
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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47
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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48
daze
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| v.(使)茫然，(使)发昏 | |
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49
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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50
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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51
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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52
earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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