The Danger Mark Part 41

"How bad have I been, Kathleen? It sounds pretty bad to tell it. But Muriel says 'd.a.m.n!' and Rosalie says 'the devil!' and when anything goes wrong and I say, 'Oh, fluff!' I mean swearing, so I thought I'd do it.... And almost every woman I know smokes and has her favourite c.o.c.ktail, and they all bet and play for stakes; and from what I hear talked about, n.o.body's conduct is modified because anybody happens to be married----"

The horror in Kathleen's blue eyes checked her; she hid her face in her hands for a moment, then flung out her arms and crushed Kathleen to her breast.

"I'm going to tell Duane how I've behaved. I couldn't rest until he knows the very worst ... how fearfully common and bad a girl I can be.

Darling, don't break down. I don't want to go any closer to the danger line than I've been. And, oh, I'm so ashamed, so humiliated--I--I wish I could go to Duane as--as clean and sweet and innocent as he would have me. For he is the dearest boy--and I love him so, Kathleen. I'm so silly about him.... I've got to tell him how I behaved, haven't I?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'I want to confess! I've been horribly depraved for a week!'"]

"Are--are you going to?"

"Of course I am!" ... She drew away and sat up very straight in bed, serious, sombre-eyed, hands clasped tightly about her knees.

"Do you know," she said, as though to herself, "it is curious that a trivial desire for anything like that"--pointing to Rosalie's gift--"should make me restless--annoy me, cause me discomfort. I can't understand why it should actually torment me. It really does, sometimes."

"That is the terrible part of it," faltered Kathleen. "For G.o.d's sake, keep clear of anything with even the faintest odour of alcohol about it.... Where did you find that cut-gla.s.s thing?"

"Rosalie gave it to me."

"What is in it?"

"I don't know--creme de something or other."

Kathleen took the girl's tightly clasped hands in hers:

"Geraldine, you've got to be square to Duane. You can't marry him until you cleanse yourself, until you scour yourself free of this terrible inclination for stimulants."

"H-how can I? I don't intend, ever again, to----"

"Prove it then. Let sufficient time elapse----"

"How long? A--year?"

"Dear, if you will show a clean record of self-control for a year I ask no more. It ought not to be difficult for you to dominate this silly weakness. Your will-power is scarcely tainted. What fills me with fear is this habit you have formed of caressing danger--this childish trifling with something which is still asleep in you--with all that is weak and ign.o.ble. It is there--it is in all of us--in you, too. Don't rouse it; it is still asleep--merely a little restless in its slumber--but, oh, Geraldine! Geraldine!--if you ever awake it!--if you ever arouse it to its full, fierce consciousness----"

"I won't," said the girl hastily. "Oh, I won't, I won't, Kathleen, darling. I do know it's in me--I feel that if I ever let myself go I could be reckless and wicked. But truly, truly, I won't. I--darling, you mustn't cry--please, don't--because you are making me cry. I cried in my sleep, too.... I ought to be very happy--" She forced a laugh through the bright tears fringing her lashes, bent forward swiftly, kissed Kathleen, and sprang from the bed.

"I want my bath and breakfast!" she cried. "If I'm to be a Louis XVI doll this week, it's time my face was washed and my sawdust reinforced.

Do fix my tray, dear, while I'm in the bath--and ring for my maid....

And when you go down you may tell Duane to wait for me on the stairs.

It's good discipline; he'll find it stupid because I'll be a long time--but, oh, Kathleen, it is perfectly heavenly to bully him!"

Later she sent a note to him by her maid:

"TO THE ONLY MAN IN THE WORLD, ON THE STAIRS.

"_Patient Sir_: If you will go to the large beech-tree beyond Hurryon Gate and busy yourself by carving upon it certain initials intertwined within the circ.u.mscribed outlines of a symbol popularly supposed to represent a human heart, your industry will be presently and miraculously rewarded by the apparition of her who presumably occupies no inconsiderable place in your affections."

At the Hurryon Gate Duane found Rosalie trying to unlock it, a dainty, smiling Rosalie, fresh as a blossom, and absurdly like a schoolgirl with her low-cut collar, snowy neck, and the thick braid of hair. Under her arm she carried her bathing-dress.

"I'm going for a swim; I nearly perished with the heat last night....

Did you sleep well, Duane?"

"Rather well."

She hesitated, looked up: "Are you coming with me?"

"I have an appointment."

"Oh!... Are you going to let me go alone?"

He laughed: "I've no choice; I really have an appointment this morning."

She inspected him, drew a step nearer, laid both hands lightly on his shoulders.

"Duane, dear," she said, "are you really going to let me drift past you out to sea--after all?"

"What else can I do? Besides, you are not going to drift."

"Yes, I am. You were very nice to me yesterday."

"It was you who were very sweet to me.... But I told you how matters stand. You care for your husband."

"Yes, you did tell me. But it is not true. I thought about it all night long; I find that I do not care for him--as you told me I did."

He said, smiling: "Nor do you really care for me."

"I could care."

Her hands still lay lightly on his shoulders; he smilingly disengaged them, saluted the finger tips, and swung them free.

"No, you couldn't," he said--"nor could I."

She clasped her hands behind her, confronting him with that gaily audacious allure which he knew so well:

"Does a man really care whether or not he is in love with a woman before he makes love to her?"

"Do you want an honest answer?"

"Please."

"Well, then--if she is sufficiently attractive, a man doesn't usually care."

"Am I sufficiently attractive?"

"Yes."

"Then--why do you hesitate?... I know the rules of the game. When one wearies, the other must pretend to.... And then they make their adieux very amiably.... Isn't that a man's ideal of an affair with a pretty woman?"