She had not, it is true, always felt this way—until quite recently, in fact, had not been greatly concerned about the things that didn’t go with her destiny. But she had encountered the novel heroine Irmengarde, and then—well, then the letter from Elsa, brief but wonderful, and really the first letter since they were small girls living on the same street—before the Utterbournes began mysteriously to rise. There had been postcards through the years: now and then from the eastern school where Elsa had gone so young to escape domestic unpleasantness; sometimes, later on, a card startlingly from Europe or the Orient. For her part, Stella had answered as many as she could with long, impulsive5 letters, in which lay revealed the germ which had at length so unhappily sprung to flower.
Of course Elsa was never very demonstrative, and a postcard is only a postcard; but that she hadn’t forgotten was the essential fact. Then, at last, the letter: “I’m going to open the house in Berkeley for dad. He’s been living at his club long enough, he says. When I get there I’ll look you up.”
Stella had waited, and watched the mails eagerly for another glimpse of Elsa’s thrilling scrawl6. Perhaps she would ask her over to tea. Or perhaps she would take her to a matinée and they would pour out their hearts to each other afterward7.[7] However, the time since Elsa must have reached town had at length run into weeks—and no word.
Stella thought of phoning; had even sketched8 problematical telephone conversations; but hadn’t, after all, brought herself to do it. There was something about Elsa—well, something that always made approaches a little difficult. This seemed a part of her almost terrible charm. Yet once they had come together again, everything would be quite simple and natural. And so restlessly did she long for a breath of that richer life, that at last she asked herself: “Why not just go and see Elsa without waiting to hear—just drop in as though I happened to be passing by? I’ll do it!” Her day gave promise of turning out rather better than it had begun.
A desperately9 conventional maid seated her in the Berkeley drawing room. Then there was a long, long wait.
Stella, nervously10 fingering her gloves, adjusting and readjusting her hat, had plenty of time to note her surroundings: a room sumptuous11 yet severe, but above all incommunicative—formal to a degree which suggested its ostracism12 from familiar domestic uses; yes, forbidding. It was like a blind, a decorous façade, behind which who knew what might be in progress? And the silence—something almost ominous—a sense of something beyond or underneath13 it all....
She rejoiced in the luxury, but at length grew restive14, as ten, fifteen, twenty minutes—half an hour crept by. She stirred, coughed. Finally she crossed the room. Just as she reached the door, however, the spell was broken.
A figure came racing15 down the stairs. It was Elsa—an active girl, yet inscrutably calm, heavy dark curly hair and very droopy eyes at once extremely soft and extremely bold, and possessed16 of a kind of unassailable bovine17 quality. She stopped abruptly18 at sight of Stella, stood a moment facing her with an expression of wholly tactless blankness, then came forward with hands hospitably19 extended.
“Stella—you old peach! Hello there!” They kissed lightly. “Please forgive me. I forgot all about you.”
[8]
Stella wished she hadn’t come; but her friend went on with really disarming20 cordiality: “We can talk for a couple of minutes while the car’s being brought round. I’m sorry I have to run off. I’ve been rushed to death getting ready for my dance—the biggest thing I ever attempted, and a good deal of a bore, but I’m horribly indebted.” (The Utterbourne family tree was aristocratic—men now and then in public life, and streaks21 of real genius, always more or less money—and of course the social fruits were proportionate.) “Sit down.” Her eyes drooped22 very much indeed at the corners.
Certainly Elsa couldn’t be called a snob23; the fact is, she was so very much at ease with everybody that no one could accuse her of not treating all people exactly alike. There was even something a little humorous in her utter disregard of anything even approaching the conventions; and what made it the more surprising just now was her background of the most immaculate conventionality.
Stella leaned forward, obviously constrained24, and wriggled25 nervously. “You mustn’t let me keep you.” But Elsa gazed at her in a perfectly26 steady yet detached manner, and exclaimed out of a silence which, it was clear, bore no impress of awkwardness for her: “You’re looking ripping!”
Stella longed to throw her arms around Elsa and free her heart of its accumulated turbulence27. Instead they merely sat facing each other on conventional chairs.
Talk of the dance resumed. “A week from tomorrow—I’m dreadfully excited.” The girl’s eyes drooped pleasantly, however, and certainly didn’t display any excitement to speak of. She just gazed on, with disconcerting blankness; and since it couldn’t have occurred to her that any embarrassment28 might accompany this frank chatter29 about the approaching festivity, it must have been sheer impulse that brought out the suggestion: “If you’d care to come, Stella, I’ll see you get an invitation. Aunt Flora’s engineering everything. If you like I’ll give her your name.”
[9]
All very quiet, ordinary, off-hand; yet Stella flushed and felt her heart plunged30 into confusion. She was at once delighted and terrified. “I shouldn’t know a single person but you—I’m afraid....” Pride, at first, prevented her framing it any more forcefully; but the next moment she felt so very wretched about her life that her pride just caved in and she was faltering31, though with a stiff little laugh: “I’m afraid a ball gown would be a good deal of a problem!” Her eyelids32 were burning. She was furious. She felt crushed.
Elsa’s gaze was still upon her, yet it was plain her friend’s commotion33 of soul made no overwhelming impression. Her eyes drooped to signify a forthcoming confidence. “If you’ll promise not to let it out—we’re planning to announce something that night—during the supper dance!” Stella thought miserably34 of her own lagging and forlorn engagement. But it didn’t appear that the other girl, with everything so bewilderingly romantic, was particularly thrilled. All at once, her expression never changing, she disconcertingly demanded: “Was that the horn?” and strode to the door. “Let me take you wherever you’re bound for, Stella—I’ve a little time to spare. Sorry I can’t stay and talk.”
“Oh, thanks—I think I’ll just be going back to San Francisco. Please don’t bother, Elsa.”
“Come along. I’ll take you as far as the ferry.”
The doggy little car in which one sat luxuriously35 low gave one a sense of distinction, made one forget, even, that in a few short hours there would be dish water again. Elsa drove expertly. She could almost have driven a locomotive. Stella, a little bewildered by the rate at which things had moved since her slow wait in the silence of the drawing room, watched her friend with awe36 and admiration37. The only trouble with the ride to the ferry was its appalling38 brevity. And Elsa’s affectionate drawl was in her ears: “Here we are. I’m going to look you up one of these days. Bye-bye.” She nodded pleasantly without smiling, and Stella alighted.
“Oh, by the way—hold on a minute.” Elsa dove into one[10] of the car’s leather pockets and with blithe39 tactlessness produced a current Vogue40. “It will amuse you going across, and you’ll find some nifty patterns near the back.”
A moment later she had departed, full speed in a bath of blue smoke—breezed off exactly as she had breezed in, leaving behind her a vast unhappy vacuum. Stella felt desperately let down. It was only now she realized how much she had counted on Elsa.
“I’ll never hear from her again,” she brooded darkly; for she was rather given to indulging in premonitions. Of course there would be no invitation to the dance. Elsa would tremble for what her friend might arrive in! She beat back the tears angrily with her lashes41. This was all that had come of her hopeful, desperate little expedition.
In the plodding42 ferry boat Stella thumbed the fashions, her mood growing ever darker. “What will come next?” she muttered. The murk of discontent settled thicker and thicker in her heart, like the fog across the harbour, where whistles were hooting43 “Beware!” on every side.
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1
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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2
rambles
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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3
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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4
slumped
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| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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5
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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6
scrawl
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| vt.潦草地书写；n.潦草的笔记，涂写 | |
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7
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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8
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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9
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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10
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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11
sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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12
ostracism
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| n.放逐；排斥 | |
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13
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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14
restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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15
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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16
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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17
bovine
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| adj.牛的；n.牛 | |
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18
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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19
hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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20
disarming
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| adj.消除敌意的，使人消气的v.裁军( disarm的现在分词 )；使息怒 | |
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21
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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22
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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24
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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25
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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26
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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27
turbulence
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| n.喧嚣，狂暴，骚乱，湍流 | |
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28
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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29
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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30
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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31
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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32
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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33
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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34
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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35
luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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36
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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37
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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38
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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39
blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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40
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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41
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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42
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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43
hooting
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 )； 倒好儿； 倒彩 | |
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