“Who saw her?” demanded Brandes.
“Doc. He didn’t get a good square look at her. You know the hats women wear.”
“All right. I’m off, Ben. Good-bye.”
The haunting uneasiness which had driven him to the telephone persisted when he came out of the booth. He cast a slow, almost sleepy glance around him, saw no familiar face in the thronged5 lobby, then he looked at his watch.
The car had been ordered for ten; it lacked half an hour of the time; he wished he had ordered the car earlier.
For now his uneasiness was verging6 on that species of superstitious7 inquietude which at times obsesses8 all gamblers, and which is known as a “hunch9.” He had a hunch that he was “in wrong” somehow or other; an overpowering longing10 to get on board the steamer 113assailed him—a desire to get out of the city, get away quick.
The risk he had taken was beginning to appear to him as an unwarranted piece of recklessness; he was amazed with himself for taking such a chance—disgusted at his foolish and totally unnecessary course with this young girl. All he had had to do was to wait a few months. He could have married in safety then. And even now he didn’t know whether or not the ceremony performed by Parson Smawley had been an illegally legal one; whether it made him a bigamist for the next three months or only something worse. What on earth had possessed11 him to take such a risk—the terrible hazard of discovery, of losing the only woman he had ever really cared for—the only one he probably could ever care for? Of course, had he been free he would have married her. When he got his freedom he would insist on another ceremony. He could persuade her to that on some excuse or other. But in the meanwhile!
He entered the deserted12 dining-room, came over to where Rue13 was waiting, and sat down, heavily, holding an unlighted cigar between his stubby fingers.
“Well, little girl,” he said with forced cheerfulness, “was I away very long?”
“Not very.”
“You didn’t miss me?” he inquired, ponderously14 playful.
His heavy pleasantries usually left her just a little doubtful and confused, for he seldom smiled when he delivered himself of them.
He leaned across the cloth and laid a hot, cushiony hand over both of hers, where they lay primly15 clasped on the table edge:114
“Don’t you ever miss me when I’m away from you, Rue?” he asked.
“I think—it is nice to be with you,” she said, hotly embarrassed by the publicity16 of his caress17.
“I don’t believe you mean it.” But he smiled this time. At which the little rigid18 smile stamped itself on her lips; but she timidly withdrew her hands from his.
“Rue, I don’t believe you love me.” This time there was no smile.
She found nothing to answer, being without any experience in give-and-take conversation, which left her always uncertain and uncomfortable.
For the girl was merely a creature still in the making—a soft, pliable19 thing to be shaped to perfection only by the light touch of some steady, patient hand that understood—or to be marred20 and ruined by a heavy hand which wrought21 at random22 or in brutal23 haste.
Brandes watched her for a moment out of sleepy, greenish eyes. Then he consulted his watch again, summoned a waiter, gave him the parcels-room checks, and bade him have a boy carry their luggage into the lobby.
As they rose from the table, a man and a woman entering the lobby caught sight of them, halted, then turned and walked back toward the street door which they had just entered.
Brandes had not noticed them where he stood by the desk, scratching off a telegram to Stull:
“All O. K. Just going aboard. Fix it with Stein.”
He rejoined Rue as the boy appeared with their luggage; an under porter took the bags and preceded them toward the street.
“There’s the car!” said Brandes, with a deep breath 115of relief. “He knows his business, that chauffeur24 of mine.”
Their chauffeur was standing25 beside the car as they emerged from the hotel and started to cross the sidewalk; the porter, following, set their luggage on the curbstone; and at the same instant a young and pretty woman stepped lightly between Rue and Brandes.
“Good evening, Eddie,” she said, and struck him a staggering blow in the face with her white-gloved hand.
Brandes lost his balance, stumbled sideways, recovered himself, turned swiftly and encountered the full, protruding27 black eyes of Maxy Venem staring close and menacingly into his.
From Brandes’ cut lip blood was running down over his chin and collar; his face remained absolutely expressionless. The next moment his eyes shifted, met Ruhannah’s stupefied gaze.
“Go into the hotel,” he said calmly. “Quick––”
“Stay where you are!” interrupted Maxy Venem, and caught the speechless and bewildered girl by the elbow.
Like lightning Brandes’ hand flew to his hip28 pocket, and at the same instant his own chauffeur seized both his heavy, short arms and held them rigid, pinned behind his back.
“Frisk him!” he panted; Venem nimbly relieved him of the dull black weapon.
“Can the fake gun-play, Eddie,” he said, coolly shoving aside the porter who attempted to interfere29. “You’re double-crossed. We got the goods on you; come on; who’s the girl?”
The woman who had struck Brandes now came up again beside Venem. She was young, very pretty, but deathly white except for the patches of cosmetic30 on 116either cheek. She pointed31 at Brandes. There was blood on her soiled and split glove:
“You dirty dog!” she said unsteadily. “You’ll marry this girl before I’ve divorced you, will you? And you think you are going to get away with it! You dog! You dirty dog!”
The porter attempted to interfere again, but Venem shoved him out of the way. Brandes, still silently struggling to free his imprisoned32 arms, ceased twisting suddenly and swung his heavy head toward Venem. His hat had fallen off; his face, deeply flushed with exertion33, was smeared34 with blood and sweat.
“What’s the idea, you fool!” he said in a low voice. “I’m not married to her.”
But Ruhannah heard him say it.
“You claim that you haven’t married this girl?” demanded Venem loudly, motioning toward Rue, who stood swaying, half dead, held fast by the gathering35 crowd which pushed around them from every side.
“Did you marry her or did you fake it?” repeated Venem in a louder voice. “It’s jail one way; maybe both!”
“He married her in Gayfield at eleven this morning!” said the chauffeur. “Parson Smawley turned the trick.”
Brandes’ narrow eyes glittered; he struggled for a moment, gave it up, shot a deadly glance at Maxy Venem, at his wife, at the increasing throng4 crowding closely about him. Then his infuriated eyes met Rue’s, and the expression of her face apparently36 crazed him.
Frantic37, he hurled38 himself backward, jerking one arm free, tripped, fell heavily with the chauffeur on top, twisting, panting, struggling convulsively, while all around him surged the excited crowd, shouting, pressing 117closer, trampling39 one another in eagerness to see.
Rue, almost swooning with fear, was pushed, jostled, flung aside. Stumbling over her own suitcase, she fell to her knees, rose, and, scarce conscious of what she was about, caught up her suitcase and reeled away into the light-shot darkness.
She had no idea of what she was doing or where she was going; the terror of the scene still remained luridly40 before her eyes; the shouting of the crowd was in her ears; an indescribable fear of Brandes filled her—a growing horror of this man who had denied that he had married her. And the instinct of a frightened and bewildered child drove her into blind flight, anywhere to escape this hideous41, incomprehensible scene behind her.
Hurrying on, alternately confused and dazzled in the patches of darkness and flaring42 light, clutched at and followed by a terrible fear, she found herself halted on the curbstone of an avenue through which lighted tramcars were passing. A man spoke43 to her, came closer; and she turned desperately44 and hurried across a street where other people were crossing.
From overhead sounded the roaring dissonance of an elevated train; on either side of her phantom45 shapes swarmed—figures which moved everywhere around her, now illumined by shop windows, now silhouetted46 against them. And always through the deafening47 confusion in her brain, the dismay, the stupefaction, one dreadful fear dominated—the fear of Brandes—the dread48 and horror of this Judas who had denied her.
She could not drive the scene from her mind—the never-to-be forgotten picture where he stood with blood from his cut lip striping his fat chin. She heard his voice denying her through swollen49 lips that scarcely moved—denying that he had married her.118
And in her ears still sounded the other voice—the terrible words of the woman who had struck him—an unsteady, unreal voice accusing him; and her brain throbbed50 with the horrible repetition: “Dirty dog—dirty dog—dirty dog––” until, almost out of her mind, she dropped her bag and clapped both hands over her ears.
One or two men stared at her. A taxi driver came from beside his car and asked her if she was ill. But she caught up her suitcase and hurried on without answering.
She was very tired. She had come to the end of the lighted avenue. There was darkness ahead, a wall, trees, and electric lights sparkling among the foliage51.
Perhaps the sudden glimpse of a wide and star-set sky quieted her, calmed her. Freed suddenly from the cañon of the city’s streets, the unreasoning panic of a trapped thing subsided52 a little.
Her arm ached; she shifted the suitcase to her other hand and looked across at the trees and at the high stars above, striving desperately for self-command.
Something had to be done. She must find some place where she could sit down. Where was she to find it?
For a while she could feel her limbs trembling; but gradually the heavy thudding of her pulses quieted; nobody molested53 her; nobody had followed her. That she was quite lost did not matter; she had also lost this man who had denied her, somewhere in the depths of the confusion behind her. That was all that mattered—escape from him, from the terrible woman who had struck him and reviled54 him.
With an effort she checked her thoughts and struggled for self-command. Somewhere in the city there 119must be a railroad station from which a train would take her home.
With the thought came the desperate longing for flight, and a rush of tears that almost choked her. Nothing mattered now except her mother’s arms; the rest was a nightmare, the horror of a dream which still threatened, still clutched at her with shadowy and spectral55 menace.
For a moment or two she stood there on the curb26, her eyes closed, fighting for self-control, forcing her disorganized brain to duty.
Somebody must help her to find a railroad station and a train. That gradually became clear to her. But when she realised that, a young man sauntered up beside her and looked at her so intently that her calmness gave way and she turned her head sharply to conceal56 the starting tears.
“Hello, girlie,” he said. “Got anythin’ on tonight?”
With head averted57, she stood there, rigid, dumb, her tear-drenched eyes fixed58 on the park; and after one or two jocose59 observations the young man became discouraged and went away. But he had thrust the fear of strangers deep into her heart; and now she dared not ask any man for information. However, when two young women passed she found sufficient courage to accost60 them, asking the direction of the railroad station from which trains departed for Gayfield.
The women, who were young and brightly coloured in plumage, displayed a sympathetic interest at once.
“Gayfield?” repeated the blonder of the two. “Gee, dearie, I never heard of that place.”
“Is it on Long Island?” inquired the other.
“No. It is in Mohawk County.”120
“That’s a new one, too. Mohawk County? Never heard of it; did you, Lil?”
“Search me!”
“Is it up-state, dearie?” asked the other. “You better go over to Madison Avenue and take a car to the Grand Central––”
“Wait,” interrupted her friend; “she better take a taxi––”
“Nix on a taxi you pick up on Sixth Avenue!” And to Rue, curiously61 sympathetic: “Say, you’ve got friends here, haven’t you, little one?”
“No.”
“What! You don’t know anyone in New York!”
Rue looked at her dumbly; then, of a sudden, she remembered Neeland.
“Yes,” she said, “I know one person.”
“Where does your friend live?”
In her reticule was the paper on which he had written the address of the Art Students’ League, and, as an afterthought, his own address.
Rue lifted the blue silk bag, opened it, took out her purse and found the paper.
“One Hundred and Six, West Fifty-fifth Street,” she read; “Studio No. 10.”
“Why, that isn’t far!” said the blonder of the two. “We are going that way. We’ll take you there.”
“I don’t know—I don’t know him very well––”
“Is it a man?”
“Yes. He comes from my town, Gayfield.”
“Oh! I guess that’s all right,” said the other woman, laughing. “You got to be leery of these men, little one. Come on; we’ll show you.”
It was only four blocks; Ruhannah presently found herself on the steps of a house from which dangled62 121a sign, “Studios and Bachelor Apartments to Let.”
“What’s his name?” said the woman addressed as Lil.
“Mr. Neeland.”
By the light of the vestibule lantern they inspected the letter boxes, found Neeland’s name, and pushed the electric button.
After a few seconds the door clicked and opened.
“Now, you’re all right!” said Lil, peering into the lighted hallway. “It’s on the fourth floor and there isn’t any elevator that I can see, so you keep on going upstairs till your friend meets you.”
“Thank you so much for your great kindness––”
“Don’t mention it. Good luck, dearie!”
The door clicked behind her, and Rue found herself alone.
The stairs, flanked by a massive balustrade of some dark, polished wood, ascended63 in spirals by a short series of flights and landings. Twice she rested, her knees almost giving way, for the climb upward seemed interminable. But at last, just above her, she saw a skylight, and a great stair-window giving on a court; and, as she toiled64 up and stood clinging, breathless, to the banisters on the top landing, out of an open door stepped Neeland’s shadowy figure, dark against the hall light behind him.
“For heaven’s sake!” he said. “What on earth––”
The suitcase fell from her nerveless hand; she swayed a little where she stood.
The next moment he had passed his arm around her, and was half leading, half carrying her through a short hallway into a big, brilliantly lighted studio.
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1
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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2
chafing
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| n.皮肤发炎v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的现在分词 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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3
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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verging
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| 接近，逼近（verge的现在分词形式） | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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obsesses
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| v.时刻困扰( obsess的第三人称单数 )；缠住；使痴迷；使迷恋 | |
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9
hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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12
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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13
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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14
ponderously
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15
primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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16
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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17
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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18
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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19
pliable
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| adj.易受影响的；易弯的；柔顺的，易驾驭的 | |
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20
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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21
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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22
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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23
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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24
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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25
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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26
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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27
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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28
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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29
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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30
cosmetic
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| n.化妆品；adj.化妆用的；装门面的；装饰性的 | |
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31
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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32
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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34
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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35
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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36
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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37
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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38
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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39
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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40
luridly
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| adv. 青灰色的(苍白的, 深浓色的, 火焰等火红的) | |
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41
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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42
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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43
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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44
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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45
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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46
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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47
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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48
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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49
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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50
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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51
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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52
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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53
molested
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| v.骚扰( molest的过去式和过去分词 )；干扰；调戏；猥亵 | |
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54
reviled
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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56
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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57
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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58
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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59
jocose
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| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
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60
accost
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| v.向人搭话，打招呼 | |
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61
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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62
dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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63
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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