In July he was ordered abroad, and their tenderness and desire reached a crescendo9. Paula considered a last-minute marriage—decided against it only because there were always cocktails10 on his breath now, but the parting itself made her physically11 ill with grief. After his departure she wrote him long letters of regret for the days of love they had missed by waiting. In August Anson's plane slipped down into the North Sea. He was pulled onto a destroyer after a night in the water and sent to hospital with pneumonia12; the armistice13 was signed before he was finally sent home.
Then, with every opportunity given back to them, with no material obstacle to overcome, the secret weavings of their temperaments14 came between them, drying up their kisses and their tears, making their voices less loud to one another, muffling15 the intimate chatter16 of their hearts until the old communication was only possible by letters, from far away. One afternoon a society reporter waited for two hours in the Hunters' house for a confirmation17 of their engagement. Anson denied it; nevertheless an early issue carried the report as a leading paragraph—they were "constantly seen together at Southampton, Hot Springs, and Tuxedo18 Park." But the serious dialogue had turned a corner into a long-sustained quarrel, and the affair was almost played out. Anson got drunk flagrantly and missed an engagement with her, whereupon Paula made certain behavioristic demands. His despair was helpless before his pride and his knowledge of himself: the engagement was definitely broken.
"Dearest," said their letters now, "Dearest, Dearest, when I wake up in the middle of the night and realize that after all it was not to be, I feel that I want to die. I can't go on living any more. Perhaps when we meet this summer we may talk things over and decide differently—we were so excited and sad that day, and I don't feel that I can live all my life without you. You speak of other people. Don't you know there are no other people for me, but only you...."
But as Paula drifted here and there around the East she would sometimes mention her gaieties to make him wonder. Anson was too acute to wonder. When he saw a man's name in her letters he felt more sure of her and a little disdainful—he was always superior to such things. But he still hoped that they would some day marry.
Meanwhile he plunged20 vigorously into all the movement and glitter of post-bellum New York, entering a brokerage house, joining half a dozen clubs, dancing late, and moving in three worlds—his own world, the world of young Yale graduates, and that section of the half-world which rests one end on Broadway. But there was always a thorough and infractible eight hours devoted21 to his work in Wall Street, where the combination of his influential22 family connection, his sharp intelligence, and his abundance of sheer physical energy brought him almost immediately forward. He had one of those invaluable23 minds with partitions in it; sometimes he appeared at his office refreshed by less than an hour's sleep, but such occurrences were rare. So early as 1920 his income in salary and commissions exceeded twelve thousand dollars.
As the Yale tradition slipped into the past he became more and more of a popular figure among his classmates in New York, more popular than he had ever been in college. He lived in a great house, and had the means of introducing young men into other great houses. Moreover, his life already seemed secure, while theirs, for the most part, had arrived again at precarious24 beginnings. They commenced to turn to him for amusement and escape, and Anson responded readily, taking pleasure in helping25 people and arranging their affairs.
There were no men in Paula's letters now, but a note of tenderness ran through them that had not been there before. From several sources he heard that she had "a heavy beau," Lowell Thayer, a Bostonian of wealth and position, and though he was sure she still loved him, it made him uneasy to think that he might lose her, after all. Save for one unsatisfactory day she had not been in New York for almost five months, and as the rumors26 multiplied he became increasingly anxious to see her. In February he took his vacation and went down to Florida.
Palm Beach sprawled27 plump and opulent between the sparkling sapphire28 of Lake Worth, flawed here and there by house-boats at anchor, and the great turquoise29 bar of the Atlantic Ocean. The huge bulks of the Breakers and the Royal Poinciana rose as twin paunches from the bright level of the sand, and around them clustered the Dancing Glade30, Bradley's House of Chance, and a dozen modistes and milliners with goods at triple prices from New York. Upon the trellissed veranda31 of the Breakers two hundred women stepped right, stepped left, wheeled, and slid in that then celebrated32 calisthenic known as the double-shuffle, while in half-time to the music two thousand bracelets33 clicked up and down on two hundred arms.
At the Everglades Club after dark Paula and Lowell Thayer and Anson and a casual fourth played bridge with hot cards. It seemed to Anson that her kind, serious face was wan19 and tired—she had been around now for four, five, years. He had known her for three.
"Two spades."
"Cigarette? ... Oh, I beg your pardon. By me."
"By."
"I'll double three spades."
There were a dozen tables of bridge in the room, which was filling up with smoke. Anson's eyes met Paula's, held them persistently34 even when Thayer's glance fell between them....
"What was bid?" he asked abstractedly.
"Rose of Washington Square"
sang the young people in the corners:
In basement air——"
The smoke banked like fog, and the opening of a door filled the room with blown swirls36 of ectoplasm. Little Bright Eyes streaked37 past the tables seeking Mr. Conan Doyle among the Englishmen who were posing as Englishmen about the lobby.
"You could cut it with a knife."
"... cut it with a knife."
"... a knife."
At the end of the rubber Paula suddenly got up and spoke38 to Anson in a tense, low voice. With scarcely a glance at Lowell Thayer, they walked out the door and descended39 a long flight of stone steps—in a moment they were walking hand in hand along the moonlit beach.
"Darling, darling...." They embraced recklessly, passionately40, in a shadow.... Then Paula drew back her face to let his lips say what she wanted to hear—she could feel the words forming as they kissed again.... Again she broke away, listening, but as he pulled her close once more she realized that he had said nothing—only "Darling! Darling!" in that deep, sad whisper that always made her cry. Humbly41, obediently, her emotions yielded to him and the tears streamed down her face, but her heart kept on crying: "Ask me—oh, Anson, dearest, ask me!"
"Paula.... Paula!"
The words wrung42 her heart like hands, and Anson, feeling her tremble, knew that emotion was enough. He need say no more, commit their destinies to no practical enigma43. Why should he, when he might hold her so, biding44 his own time, for another year—forever? He was considering them both, her more than himself. For a moment, when she said suddenly that she must go back to her hotel, he hesitated, thinking, first, "This is the moment, after all," and then: "No, let it wait—she is mine...."
He had forgotten that Paula too was worn away inside with the strain of three years. Her mood passed forever in the night.
He went back to New York next morning filled with a certain restless dissatisfaction. Late in April, without warning, he received a telegram from Bar Harbor in which Paula told him that she was engaged to Lowell Thayer, and that they would be married immediately in Boston. What he never really believed could happen had happened at last.
Anson filled himself with whiskey that morning, and going to the office, carried on his work without a break—rather with a fear of what would happen if he stopped. In the evening he went out as usual, saying nothing of what had occurred; he was cordial, humorous, unabstracted. But one thing he could not help—for three days, in any place, in any company, he would suddenly bend his head into his hands and cry like a child.
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1
personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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2
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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imperviousness
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| 不透性；不通透性；不透水 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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crescendo
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| n.(音乐)渐强，高潮 | |
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10
cocktails
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| n.鸡尾酒( cocktail的名词复数 )；餐前开胃菜；混合物 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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armistice
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| n.休战，停战协定 | |
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temperaments
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| 性格( temperament的名词复数 )； （人或动物的）气质； 易冲动； （性情）暴躁 | |
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15
muffling
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| v.压抑，捂住( muffle的现在分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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16
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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17
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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tuxedo
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| n.礼服，无尾礼服 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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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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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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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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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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27
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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turquoise
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| n.绿宝石；adj.蓝绿色的 | |
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30
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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swirls
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| n.旋转( swirl的名词复数 )；卷状物；漩涡；尘旋v.旋转，打旋( swirl的第三人称单数 ) | |
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37
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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38
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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39
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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40
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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41
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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42
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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43
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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44
biding
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| v.等待，停留( bide的现在分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待；面临 | |
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