The Streets of Ascalon Part 3

"I am. So's every man here who met her. We don't deny it! We glory in our fall! What was that costume of hers, Karl? Mourning?"

"Fancy a glorious creature like her wearin' black for that nasty little cad," observed O'Hara disgustedly.

"It's probably fas.h.i.+on, not grief," remarked Westguard.

"I guess it's nix for the weeps," said O'Hara--"after all she probably went through with Reggie Leeds, I fancy she had no tears left over."

"I want to talk," cried Lacy; "I want to tell Rix what he missed. I'd got as far as her gown, I think----"

"Go on," smiled Quarren.

"Anyway," said Lacy, "she wore a sort of mourning as far as her veil went, and her furs and gown and gloves were black, and her purse was gun-metal and black opals--rather brisk? Yes?--And all the dingles on her were gun-metal--everything black and sober--and that ruddy gold head--and--those eyes!--a kind of a purple-gray, Ricky, slanting a little, with long black lashes--I noticed 'em--and her lips were very vivid--not paint, but a kind of noticeably healthy scarlet--and that straight nose--and the fresh fragrant youth of her----"

"For Heaven's sake, Jack----"

"Sure. I'm through with 'em all. I'm wise to the s.e.x. That was merely a word picture. I'm talking like a writer, that's all. That's how you b.o.o.bs talk, isn't it, Karl?"

"Always," said Westguard gravely.

"Me for Mrs. Leeds," remarked O'Hara frankly. "I'd ask her to marry me on the drop of a hat."

"Well, I'll drop no hat for _you_!" said Lacy. "And there'll be plenty of lunatics in this town who'll go madder than you or me before they forget Mrs. Leeds. Wait! Town is going to sit up and take notice when this new planet swims into its social ken. How's that epigram, Karl?"

Westguard said thoughtfully: "There'll be notoriety, too, I'm afraid. If n.o.body knows her everybody knows about that wretched boy she married."

Quarren added: "I have always understood that the girl did not want to marry him. It was her mother's doings."

O'Hara scowled. "I also have heard that the mother engineered it....

What was Mrs. Leeds's name? I forget----"

"Strelsa Lanark," said Quarren who never forgot anything.

"Ugh," grunted Westguard. "Fancy a mother throwing her daughter at the head of a boy like Reggie Leeds!--as vicious and unclean a little whelp as ever--Oh, what's the use?--and _de mortius nihil_--et cetera, c.o.c.k-a-doodle-do!"

"That poor girl had two entire years of him," observed Lacy. "She doesn't look more than twenty now--and he's been in--been dead two years. Good Heavens! What a child she must have been when she married him!"

Westguard nodded: "She had two years of him--and I suppose he seldom drew a perfectly sober breath.... He dragged her all over the world with him--she standing for his rotten behaviour, trying to play the game with the cards hopelessly stacked against her. Vincent Wier met them in Naples; Mallison ran across them in Egypt; so did Lydon in Vienna.

They said it was heartbreaking to see her trying to keep up appearances--trying to smile under his nagging or his drunken insults in public places. Lydon told me that she behaved like a brick--stuck to Reggie, tried to s.h.i.+eld him, excuse him, make something out of the miserable pup who was doing his best to drag her to his own level and deprave her. But I guess she was too young or too unhappy or something, because there's no depravity in the girl who was here a few minutes ago.

I'll swear to that."

After a moment Lacy said: "Well, he got his at last!"

"What was comin' to him," added O'Hara, with satisfaction.

Lacy added, curiously: "_How_ can a man misbehave when he has such a woman for a wife?"

"I wonder," observed Quarren, "how many solid citizens read the account in the papers and remained scared longer than six weeks?"

"Lord help the wives of men," growled Westguard.... "If any of you fellows are dressing for dinner you'd better be about it.... Wait a moment, Rix!"--as Quarren, the last to leave, was already pa.s.sing the threshold.

The young fellow turned, smiling: the others went on; Westguard stood silent for a moment, then:

"You're about the only man I care for very much," he said bluntly. "If I am continually giving you the Bible and the Sword it's the best I have to give."

Quarren replied laughingly.

"Don't worry, old fellow. I take what you say all right. And I really mean to cut out a lot of fussing and begin to hustle.... Only, isn't it a wise thing to keep next to possible clients?"

"The people you train with don't buy lots in Tappan-Zee Park."

"But I may induce them to go into more fas.h.i.+onable enterprises----"

"Not they! The eagle yells on every dollar they finger. If there's any bleeding to be done they'll do it, my son."

"Lester Caldera has already asked me about acreage in Westchester."

"Did he do more than ask?"

"No."

"Did you charge him for the consultation?"

"Of course not."

"Then he got your professional opinion for nothing."

"But he, or others, may try to a.s.semble several farms----"

"Why don't they then?--instead of dragging you about at their heels from house to house, from card-room to ball-room, from cafe to opera, from one week-end to the next!--robbing you of time, of leisure, of opportunity, of ambition--spoiling you--making a bally monkey of you!

You're always in some fat woman's opera box or on some fat man's yacht or coach, or doing some d.a.m.n thing--with your name figuring in everything from Newport to Hot Springs--and--and how can you ever turn into anything except a tame cat!"

Quarren's face reddened slightly.

"I'd be perfectly willing to sit in an office all day and all night if anybody would give me any business. But what's the use of chewing pencils and watching traffic on Forty-second Street?"

"Then go into another business!"

"I haven't any money."

"I'll lend it to you!"

"I can't risk _your_ money, Karl. I'm too uncertain of myself. If anybody else offered to stake me I'd try the gamble." ... He looked up at Westguard, ashamed, troubled, and showing it like a boy. "I'm afraid I don't amount to anything, Karl. I'm afraid I'm no good except in the kind of thing I seem to have a talent for."

"Fetching and carrying for the fas.h.i.+onable and wealthy," sneered Westguard.

Quarren's face flushed again: "I suppose that's it."

Westguard glared at him: "I wish I could shake it out of you!"