PAULINE MANFORD left Mrs. Landish's door with the uncomfortable sense of having swallowed a new frustration1. In this crowded life of hers they were as difficult to avoid as germs—and there was not always time to have them extirpated2!
Manford had evidently found out about Lita's Dawnside frequentations; found it out, no doubt, as Pauline had, by seeing her photograph in that loathsome3 dancing group in the "Looker-on." Well, perhaps it was best that he should know; it would certainly confirm his resolve to stop any action against the Mahatma.
Only—if he had induced the Lindons to drop the investigation4, why was he still preoccupied5 by it? Why had he gone to Mrs. Landish to make that particular inquiry6 about Lita? Pauline would have liked to shake off the memory of his voice, and of the barely disguised impatience7 with which he had waited for her to go before putting his question. Confronted by this new riddle8 (when there were already so many others in her path) she felt a reasonless exasperation9 against the broken doorknob which had let her into the secret. If only Kitty Landish, instead of dreaming about Mesopotamian embroideries10, would send for a locksmith and keep her house in repair!
All day Pauline was oppressed by the nervous apprehension11 that Manford might have changed his mind about dropping the investigation. If there had been time she would have gone to Alvah Loft12 for relief; she had managed so far to squeeze in a daily séance, and had come to depend on it as "addicts13" do on their morphia. The very brevity of the treatment, and the blunt negative face and indifferent monosyllables of the Healer, were subtly stimulating14 after the verbiage15 and flummery of his predecessors16. Such stern economy of means impressed Pauline in much the same way as a new labour-saving device; she liked everything the better for being a short-cut to something else, and even spiritual communion for resembling an improved form of stenography17. As Mrs. Swoffer said, Alvah Loft was really the Busy Man's Christ.
But that afternoon there was literally18 not time for a treatment. Manford's decision to spend the Easter holidays at Cedarledge necessitated19 one of those campaigns of intensive preparation in which his wife and Maisie Bruss excelled. Leading the simple life at Cedarledge involved despatching there a part of the New York domestic staff at least ten days in advance, testing and lighting20 three complicated heating systems, going over all the bells and electric wiring, and making sure that the elaborate sanitary21 arrangements were in irreproachable22 order.
Nor was this all. Pauline, who prided herself on the perfect organization of every detail of both her establishments, had lately been studying the estimate for a new and singularly complete system of burglar-alarm at Cedarledge, and also going over the bills for the picturesque23 engine-house and up-to-date fire-engine with which she had just endowed the village patriarchally clustered below the Cedarledge hill. All these matters called for deep thought and swift decision; and the fact gave her a sudden stimulus24. No rest-cure in the world was as refreshing25 to her as a hurried demand on her practical activity; she thrilled to it like a war-horse to a trumpet26, and compelled the fagged Maisie to thrill in unison27.
In this case their energy was redoubled by the hope that, if Manford found everything to his liking28 at Cedarledge, he might take a fancy to spending more time there. Pauline's passionate29 interest in plumbing30 and electric wiring was suffused31 with a romantic glow at the thought that they might lure32 her husband back to domestic intimacy33. "The heating of the new swimming-pool must be finished too, and the workmen all out of the way—you'll have to go there next week, Maisie, and impress on everybody that there must not be a workman visible anywhere when we arrive."
Breathless, exultant34, Pauline hurried home for a late cup of tea in her boudoir, and settled down, pencil in hand, with plans and estimates, as eagerly as her husband, in the early days of his legal career, used to study the documents of a new case.
Maisie, responding as she always did to the least touch of the spur, yet lifted a perplexed35 brow to murmur36: "All right. But I don't see how I can very well leave before the Birth Control dinner. You know you haven't yet rewritten the opening passage that you used by mistake at the—"
Pauline's colour rose. Maisie's way of putting it was tactless; but the fact remained that the opening of that unlucky speech had to be rewritten, and that Pauline was never very sure of her syntax unless Maisie's reinforced it. She had always meant to be cultivated—she still thought she was when she looked at her bookshelves. But when she had to compose a speech, though words never failed her, the mysterious relations between them sometimes did. Wealth and extensive social activities were obviously incompatible37 with a complete mastery of grammar, and secretaries were made for such emergencies. Yes; Maisie, fagged as she looked, could certainly not be spared till the speech was remodelled38.
The telephone, ringing from downstairs, announced that the Marchesa was on her way up to the boudoir. Pauline's pencil fell from her hand. On her way up! It was really too inconsiderate... Amalasuntha must be made to understand... But there was the undaunted lady.
"The footman swore you were out, dear; but I knew from his manner that I should find you. (With Powder, now, I never can tell.) And I simply had to rush in long enough to give you a good hug." The Marchesa glanced at Maisie, and the secretary effaced39 herself after another glance, this time from her employer, which plainly warned her: "Wait in the next room; I won't let her stay."
To her visitor Pauline murmured somewhat coldly: "I left word that I was out because I'm desperately40 busy over the new plumbing and burglar-alarm systems at Cedarledge. Dexter wants to go there for Easter, and of course everything must be in order before we arrive..."
The Marchesa's eyes widened. "Ah, this marvellous American plumbing! I believe you all treat yourselves to a new set of bathrooms every year. There's only one bath at San Fedele, and my dear parents-in-law had it covered with a wooden lid so that it could be used to do the boots on. It's really rather convenient—and out of family feeling Venturino has always reserved it for that purpose. But that's not what I came to talk about. What I want is to find words for my gratitude41..."
Pauline leaned back, gazing wearily at Amalasuntha's small sharp face, which seemed to glitter with a new and mysterious varnish42 of prosperity. "For what? You've thanked me already more than my little present deserved."
The Marchesa gave her a look of puzzled retrospection. "Oh—that lovely cheque the other day? Of course my thanks include that too. But I'm entirely43 overwhelmed by your new munificence44."
"My new munificence?" Pauline echoed between narrowed lips. Could this be an adroit45 way of prefacing a fresh appeal? With the huge Cedarledge estimates at her elbow she stiffened46 herself for refusal. Amalasuntha must really be taught moderation.
"Well, Dexter's munificence, then—his royal promise! I left him only an hour ago," the Marchesa cried with rising exultation47.
"You mean he's found a job for Michelangelo? I'm very glad," said Pauline, still without enthusiasm.
"No, no; something ever so much better than that. At least," the Marchesa hastily corrected herself, "something more immediately helpful. His debts, dear, my silly boy's debts! Dexter has promised ... has authorized48 me to cable that he need not sail, as everything will be paid. It's more, far more, than I could have hoped!" The happy mother possessed49 herself of Mrs. Manford's unresponsive hand.
Pauline freed the hand abruptly50. She felt the need of assimilating and interpreting this news as rapidly as possible, without betraying undue51 astonishment52 and yet without engaging her responsibility; but the effort was beyond her, and she could only sit and stare. Dexter had promised to pay Michelangelo's debts—but with whose money? And why?
"I'm sure Dexter wants to do all he can to help you about Michelangelo—we both do. But—"
Pauline's brain was whirling; she found it impossible to go on. She knew by heart the extent of Michelangelo's debts. Amalasuntha took care that everyone did. She seemed to feel a sort of fatuous53 pride in their enormity, and was always dinning54 it into her cousin's ears. Dexter, if he had really made such a promise, must have made it in his wife's name; and to do so without consulting her was so unlike him that the idea deepened her bewilderment.
"Are you sure? I'm sorry, Amalasuntha—but this comes as a surprise... Dexter and I were to talk the matter over ... to see what could be done..."
"Darling, it's so like you to belittle55 your own generosity—you always do! And so does Dexter. But in this case—well, the cable's gone; so why deny it?" triumphed the Marchesa.
When Maisie Bruss returned, Pauline was still sitting with an idle pencil before the pile of bills and estimates. She fixed56 an unseeing eye on her secretary. "These things will have to wait. I'm dreadfully tired, I don't know why. But I'll go over them all early tomorrow, before you come; and—Maisie—I hate to ask it; but do you think you could get here by eight o'clock instead of nine? There's so much to be done; and I want to get you off to Cedarledge as soon as possible."
Maisie, a little paler and more drawn57 than usual, declared that of course she would turn up at eight.
Even after she had gone Pauline did not move, or give another glance to the papers. For the first time in her life she had an obscure sense of moving among incomprehensible and overpowering forces. She could not, to herself, have put it even as clearly as that—she just dimly felt that, between her and her usual firm mastery of facts, something nebulous and impenetrable was closing in... Nona—what if she were to consult Nona? The girl sometimes struck her as having an uncanny gift of divination58, as getting at certain mysteries of mood and character more quickly and clearly than her mother... "Though, when it comes to practical things, poor child, she's not much more use than Jim..."
Jim! His name called up the other associated with it. Lita was now another source of worry. Whichever way Pauline looked, the same choking obscurity enveloped59 her. Even about Jim and Lita it clung in a dense60 fog, darkening and distorting what, only a short time ago, had seemed a daylight case of domestic harmony. Money, health, good looks, a beautiful baby ... and now all this fuss about having to express one's own personality. Yes; Lita's attitude was just as confusing as Dexter's. Was Dexter trying to express his own personality too? If only they would all talk things out with her—help her to understand, instead of moving about her in the obscurity, like so many burglars with dark lanterns! This image jerked her attention back to the Cedarledge estimates, and wearily she adjusted her eye-glasses and took up her pencil...
Her maid rapped. "What dress, please, madam?" To be sure—they were dining that evening with the Walter Rivingtons. It was the first time they had invited Pauline since her divorce from Wyant; Mrs. Rivington's was the only house left in which the waning61 traditions of old New York still obstinately62 held out, and divorce was regarded as a social disadvantage. But they had taken Manford's advice successfully in a difficult case, and were too punctilious63 not to reward him in the one way he would care about. The Rivingtons were the last step of the Manford ladder.
"The silver moiré, and my pearls." That would be distinguished64 and exclusive-looking. Pauline was thankful Dexter had definitely promised to go with her—he was getting so restive65 nowadays about what he had taken to calling her dull dinners...
The telephone again—this time Dexter's voice. Pauline listened apprehensively66, wondering if it would do to speak to him now about Amalasuntha's extraordinary announcement, or whether it might be more tactful to wait. He was so likely to be nervous and irritable67 at the end of the day. Yes; it was in his eleventh-hour voice that he was speaking.
"Pauline—look here; I shall be kept at the office rather late. Please put off dinner, will you? I'd like a quiet evening alone with you—"
"A quiet... But, Dexter, we're dining at the Rivingtons'. Shall I telephone to say you may be late?"
"The Rivingtons?" His voice became remote and utterly68 indifferent. "No; telephone we won't come. Chuck them... I want a talk with you alone ... can't we dine together quietly at home?" He repeated the phrases slowly, as if he thought she had not understood him.
Chuck the Rivingtons? It seemed like being asked to stand up in church and deny her God. She sat speechless and let the fatal words go on vibrating on the wire.
"Don't you hear me, Pauline? Why don't you answer? Is there something wrong with the line?"
"No, Dexter. There's nothing wrong with the line."
"Well, then... You can explain to them ... say anything you like."
Through the dressing-room door she saw the maid laying out the silver moiré, the chinchilla cloak, the pearls...
Explain to the Rivingtons!
"Very well, dear. What time shall I order dinner here?" she questioned heroically.
She heard him ring off, and sat again staring into the fog, which his words had only made more impenetrable.
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1
frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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extirpated
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| v.消灭，灭绝( extirpate的过去式和过去分词 )；根除 | |
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3
loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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4
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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5
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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6
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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7
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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8
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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9
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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embroideries
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| 刺绣( embroidery的名词复数 )； 刺绣品； 刺绣法 | |
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11
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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12
loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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13
addicts
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| 有…瘾的人( addict的名词复数 )； 入迷的人 | |
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14
stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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15
verbiage
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| n.冗词；冗长 | |
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16
predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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17
stenography
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| n.速记，速记法 | |
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18
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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19
necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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21
sanitary
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| adj.卫生方面的，卫生的，清洁的，卫生的 | |
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22
irreproachable
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| adj.不可指责的，无过失的 | |
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23
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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24
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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25
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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26
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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27
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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28
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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29
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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30
plumbing
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| n.水管装置；水暖工的工作；管道工程v.用铅锤测量（plumb的现在分词）；探究 | |
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31
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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33
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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34
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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35
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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incompatible
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| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
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38
remodelled
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| v.改变…的结构[形状]( remodel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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40
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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41
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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42
varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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43
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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44
munificence
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| n.宽宏大量，慷慨给与 | |
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45
adroit
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| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
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46
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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47
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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48
authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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49
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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50
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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51
undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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52
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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53
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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54
dinning
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| vt.喧闹（din的现在分词形式） | |
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55
belittle
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| v.轻视，小看，贬低 | |
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56
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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57
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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58
divination
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| n.占卜，预测 | |
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59
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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61
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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62
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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63
punctilious
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| adj.谨慎的，谨小慎微的 | |
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64
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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65
restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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66
apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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67
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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68
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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