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What Will People Say? Part 82

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Mrs. Enslee answered with a sudden frigidity, "Of course, but I'll not wait. Good-by."

"Good-by!" said Persis, uneasily, and left the room. The moment she was gone Mrs. Enslee put her hand on Willie's arm and spoke in some confusion.

"Willie, I--it's very hard for me to say it. But I think you allow Persis too much liberty."

Willie snorted. "Gad! a lot of good it does an American husband to try to manage his wife!"

"I know, and Persis is very headstrong," Mrs. Enslee faltered; "but--well, if anything happens, remember I tried to--"

"Enjoying the luxury of an 'I told you so' already, eh?" Willie sneered.

"What's up?"

"Oh, nothing--nothing definite--but I--I'm just a little uneasy. It can't hurt to keep your eyes open, can it?"

She had said this much at last. Willie took it solemnly. "What could hurt a man worse than to have to watch his wife?"

"Well, if that's the way you feel, just forget what I've said. I'm a foolish old woman. Good-by!"

Willie let her make her way out unattended. He stood musing till Persis came back, then he wakened with a start, and demanded, "Who was it telephoned you?"

The question took Persis by surprise. "No one that would interest you."

"Are you sure?"

"Since when this sudden concern in my affairs?"

"Aren't your affairs mine?" he pleaded; but she was curt:

"Indeed they're not. I don't nag you with questions."

He answered this with a sorrowful humility. "Sometimes I wish you would take a little more interest."

"You're in a funny mood," she said, more gently.

"It's not very funny to me," he groaned.

"You'll feel better after dinner. Run along and let Brooks dress you."

"What about you?"

"I had my hair done while I was out. I've got to wait for Nichette to get back. I--I'll come up as soon as I--as soon as I write a letter or two."

"All right," he sighed, and went out obediently, but paused to stare at her with a curious craftiness.

CHAPTER LXIV

Persis awaited his departure impatiently, tapping her foot with restlessness. She fell into reverie of indefinite duration. The bell rang. She gave a start of joy. Crofts went by on his way to the door.

She checked him. "I'm expecting Captain Forbes." He got the name on the third iteration. "If it is he, show him in here." He nodded and set out again. She called after him, "If it is any one else I'm not at home."

She ran to a mirror, preened herself expectantly, and waited with a look of joy. Crofts returned with a card. Persis took it, and asked, "You told her I was out?"

Crofts was alarmed at once. "No, ma'am, I said you were at home."

"But I said I was out to every one except--"

Crofts was in despair at his blunder. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm afraid I'm too old and deaf to--"

She relented and patted his hard shoulder-blade. "There, there! don't worry, we'll get through the day somehow. Show Mrs. Neff in; but n.o.body else except Captain Forbes."

Crofts smiled like a forgiven child, and returned with Mrs. Neff, who bustled in crying, "Ah, my dear, such luck to find you at home."

"So sweet of you to come," said Persis. She was in no mood for Mrs.

Neff. She determined to be rid of her. She explained about the early dinner and begged to be excused lest Willie murder her for being late.

Persis rang for Crofts, kissed Mrs. Neff a grateful good-by, and fled.

As Crofts opened the door to let Mrs. Neff out he let Winifred Mather in. Crofts protested feebly that Persis was not at home, but Winifred came in anyway.

Winifred was just returned from Paris, foiled in her campaign for the late Amba.s.sador, and determined to regain her control over Bob Fielding.

She had not seen Mrs. Neff, and she had much to say. Ignoring the helpless Crofts, they drifted back to the drawing-room to swap scandals from the opposite sh.o.r.es of the ocean. In this fascinating barter they forgot the flight of time, forgot even the place they were in, for they fell to discussing Persis and her affair with Forbes.

Winifred had heard of it even in Paris.

"But what does Willie think of it?" she asked; "if he can think?"

"In any intrigue, my dear," Mrs. Neff p.r.o.nounced, "the last three persons to learn what all the world knows are the husband and the two intriguers."

"I saw Bob Fielding yesterday," said Winifred. "He told me about it on the dock. He's furious at Persis. He said somebody ought to tell Willie."

"He's right, my dear," said Mrs. Neff; "but who wants to do that sort of job? It's like street-cleaning--very necessary and sanitary, but we don't care to do it ourselves, and we don't admire the people who do.

Crooked things have a way of arranging themselves in this naughty world.

Leave Persis alone. Some day some little accident she couldn't foresee--the mistake of a messenger-boy or a postman or somebody--and bang! out comes the whole scandal. Persis is clever, but she's juggling with dynamite."

It was only the last thirteen words that Persis overheard as she came down to the drawing-room, never dreaming that Mrs. Neff had not gone or that Winifred had come. Her slippers were soft, and her gown made no frou-frou. The voices of the women, softened to a ghoulish stealth, reached her with uncanny clearness.

She paused, struck to stone. Her heart pummeled her till her throat throbbed visibly. She wanted to fall down and die. She wanted to run from the house and from the town. Instead, she shook off every primitive impulse, and, tossing her head in defiance of fate, marched into the room with all the gracious majesty of a young queen going to her coronation. Her costume completed the picture: she was robed for the opera, and she wore her all-around crown of diamonds. She stared incredulously at Winifred, and cried with ardent hospitality:

"Winifred, it's you! I didn't know you were in town!"

And Winifred, a.s.sured by her manner that she had not overheard, hastened to embrace her, exclaiming: "Persis, darling! I haven't seen you for a thousand years."

And they kissed each other.

"You see, I haven't gone yet," Mrs. Neff apologized. "Winifred and I fell to talking--about you, of course."

"Say it to my face," said Persis.

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