The Grain of Dust: A Novel

by David Graham Phillips

  XVII

  About half an hour later the door into the bedroom opened and sheappeared on the threshold of the sitting room, ready for the street. Hestared at her in the dazed amazement of a man faced by the impossible,and uncertain whether it is sight or reason that is tricking him. Shehad gone into the bedroom not only homely but commonplace, not onlycommonplace but common, a dingy washed-out blonde girl whom it would bea humiliation to present as his wife. She was standing there, in themajesty of such proud pale beauty as poets delight to ascribe to asorrowful princess. Her wonderful skin was clear and translucent, givingher an ethereal look. Her hair reminded him again of what marvels he hadseen in the sunlight of Sunday afternoon. And looking at her form andthe small head so gracefully capping it, he could think only of thesimile that had always come to him in his moments of ecstasy--the lilyon its tall stem.

  And once more, like a torrent, the old infatuation sprang from its driedsources and came rushing and overwhelming through vein and nerve. "Am Imad now?--was I mad a few moments ago?--is it she or is it my owndisordered senses?"

  She was drawing on her gloves, was unconscious of his confusion. Hecontrolled himself and said: "You have a most disconcerting way ofchanging your appearance."

  She glanced down at her costume. "No, it's the same dress. I've only theone, you know."

  He longed to take her in his arms, but could not trust himself. And thiswonder-girl, his very own, was talking of leaving him! And he--not anhour before--he, apparently in his right senses had been toleratingsuch preposterous talk! Give her up? Never! He must see to it that thesubject did not find excuse for intruding again. "I have frightenedher--have disgusted her. I must restrain myself. I must be patient--andteach her slowly--and win her gradually."

  They spent an interesting and even exciting afternoon, driving from shopto shop and selecting the first beginnings of her wardrobe. He had onlyabout three hundred dollars. Some of the things they ordered were readyfor delivery, and so had to be paid for at once. When they returned tothe hotel he had but fifty dollars left--and had contracted debts thatmade it necessary for him to raise at least a thousand dollars within aweek. He saw that his freedom with sums of money which terrified herfilled her with awe and admiration--and that he was already moresuccessful than he had expected to be, in increasing her hesitationabout leaving him. Among the things they had bought were a simple blackchiffon dress and a big plumed black hat to match. These needed noalterations and were delivered soon after they returned. Some silkstockings came also and a pair of slippers bought for the dinner toilet.

  "You can dress to-night," said he, "and I'll take you to Sherry's, andto the theater afterwards."

  She was delighted. At last she was going to look like the women of whomshe had been dreaming these last few months. She set about dressingherself, he waiting in the sitting room in a state of acute nervousness.What would be the effect of such a toilet? Would she look like alady--or like--what she had suggested that morning? She was sochangeable, had such a wide range of variability that he dared not hope.When she finally appeared, he was ready to fall down and worship. He wasabout to take her where his world would see her, where every inch of herwould be subjected to the cruelest, most hostile criticism. One glanceat her, and he knew a triumph awaited him. No man and no woman wouldwonder that he had lost his head over such beauty as hers. Hat and dressseemed just what had been needed to bring out the full glory of hercharms.

  "You are incredibly beautiful," he said in an awed tone. "I am proud ofyou."

  A little color came into her cheeks. She looked at herself in the mirrorwith her quiet intense secret, yet not covert vanity. He laughed inboyish pleasure. "This is only the small beginning," said he. "Wait afew months."

  At dinner and in a box at the theater afterwards, he had the mostexquisite pleasure of his life. She had been seen by many of his formerfriends, and he was certain they knew who she was. He felt that he wouldhave no difficulty in putting her in the place his wife should occupy. Awoman with such beauty as hers was a sensation, one fashionable societywould not deny itself. She had good manners, an admirable manner. With alittle coaching she would be as much at home in grandeur as were thosewho had always had it.

  The last fear of losing her left him. On the way back to the hotel he,in a delirium of pride and passion, crushed her in his arms and caressedher with the frenzy that had always terrified her. She resisted onlyfaintly, was almost passive. "She is mine!" he said to himself,exultantly. "She is really mine!"

  * * * * *

  When he awoke in the morning she was still asleep--looked like a tiredlovely child. Several times, while he was dressing, he went in to feasthis eyes upon her beauty. How could he possibly have thought her homely,in whatever moment of less beauty or charm she might have had? Thecrowning charm of infinite variety! She had a delightfully sweetdisposition. He was not sure how much or how little intelligence shehad--probably more than most women. But what did that matter? It wouldbe impossible ever to grow weary or to be anything but infatuated loverwhen she had such changeful beauty.

  He kissed her lightly on her thick braids, as he was about to go. Heleft a note explaining that he did not wish to disturb her and that itwas necessary for him to be at the office earlier. And that morning inall New York no man left his home for the day's struggle for dollarswith a freer or happier heart, or readier to play the game boldly,skillfully, with success.

  Certainly he needed all his courage and all his skill.

  To most of the people who live in New York and elsewhere throughout thecountry--or the world, for that matter--an income of a thousand dollarsa month seems extremely comfortable, to say the least of it. The averageAmerican family of five has to scrape along on about half that sum ayear. But among the comfortable classes in New York--and perhaps in oneor two other cities--a thousand dollars a month is literally genteelpoverty. To people accustomed to what is called luxury nowadays--peoplewith the habit of the private carriage, the private automobile, andseveral servants--to such people a thousand dollars a month is an absurdlittle sum. It would not pay for the food alone. It would not buy for aman and his wife, with no children, clothing enough to enable them tomake a decent appearance.

  Norman, living alone and living very quietly indeed, might have gotalong for a while on that sum, if he had taken much thought aboutexpenditures, had persisted in such severe economies as using streetcars instead of taxicabs and drinking whisky at dinner instead of hiscustomary quart of six-dollar champagne. Norman, the married man, couldnot escape disaster for a single month on an income so pitiful.

  Probably on the morning on which he set out for downtown in search ofmoney enough to enable him to live decently, not less than ten thousandmen on Manhattan Island left comfortable or luxurious homes faced withprecisely the same problem. And each and every one of them knew that onthat day or some day soon they must find the money demanded imperiouslyby their own and their families' tastes and necessities or beruined--flung out, trampled upon, derided as failures, hated by the"loved ones" they had caused to be humiliated. And every man of thatlegion had a fine, an unusually fine brain--resourceful, incessant,teeming with schemes for wresting from those who had dollars the dollarsthey dared not go home without. And those ten thousand quickest and mostenergetic brains, by their mode of thought and action, determined thethought and action of the entire country--gave the mercenary andunscrupulous cast to the whole social system. Themselves the victims ofconditions, they were the bellwethers to millions of victims compelledto follow their leadership.

  Norman, by the roundabout mode of communication he and Tetlow hadestablished, summoned his friend and backer to his office. "Tetlow," hebegan straight off, "I've got to have more money."

  "How much?" said Tetlow.

  "More than you can afford to advance me."

  "How much?" repeated Tetlow.

  "Three thousand a month right away--at the least."

  "That's a big sum," said Tetlow.

&n
bsp; "Yes, for a man used to dealing in small figures. But in reality it's amoderate income."

  "Few large families spend more."

  "Few large or small families in my part of New York pinch along on solittle."

  "What has happened to you?" said Tetlow, dropping into a chair andfolding his fat hands on his stomach.

  "Why?" asked Norman.

  "It's in your voice--in your face--in your cool demand for a bigincome."

  "Let's start right, old man," said Norman. "Don't _call_ thirty-sixthousand a year big or you'll _think_ it big. And if you think it big, youwill stay little."

  Tetlow nodded. "I'm ready to grow," said he. "Now what's happened toyou?"

  "I've got married," replied Norman.

  "I thought so. To Miss--Hallowell?"

  "To Miss Hallowell. So my way's clear, and I'm going to resume themarch."

  "Yes?"

  "I've two plans. Either will serve. The first is yours--the one youpartly revealed to me the other day."

  "Partly?" said Tetlow.

  "Partly," repeated Norman, laughing. "I know you, Billy, and that meansI know you're absolutely incapable of plotting as big a scheme as yousuggested to me. It came either from Galloway or from some one of hisclique."

  "I said all I'm at liberty to say, Fred."

  "I don't wish you to break your promise. All I want to know is, can Iget the three thousand a month and assurance of its lasting and leadingto something bigger?"

  "What is your other scheme?" said Tetlow, and it was plain to theshrewder young lawyer that the less shrewd young lawyer wished to gaintime.

  "Simple and sure," replied Norman. "We will buy ten shares of UniversalFuel Company through a dummy and bring suit to dissolve it. I lookedinto the matter for Burroughs once when he was after the Fosdick-Langdongroup. Universal Fuel wouldn't dare defend the action I could bring. Wecould get what we pleased for our ten shares to let up on the suit. Themoment their lawyers saw the papers I'd draw, they'd advise it."

  Tetlow shook his large, impressively molded head. "Shady," said he."Shady."

  Norman smiled with good-natured patience. "You sound like Burroughs orGalloway when they are denouncing a man for trying to get rich by thesame methods they pursued. My dear Bill, don't be one of those lawyerswho will do the queer work for a client but not for themselves. There'sno sense, no morality, no intelligent hypocrisy even, in that. We didn'tcreate the commercial morality of the present day. For God's sake, let'snot be of the poor fools who practice it but get none of its benefits."

  Tetlow shifted uneasily. "I don't like to hear that sort of thing," saidhe, apologetic and nervous.

  "Is it true?"

  "Yes. But--damn it, I don't like to hear it."

  "That is to say, you're willing to pay the price of remaining small andobscure just for the pleasure of indulging in a wretched hypocrisy of aself-deception. Bill, come out of the small class. Whether you go inwith me or not, come out of the class of understrappers. What's thedifference between the big men and their little followers? Why, the bigmen _see_. They don't deceive themselves with the cant they pour out forthe benefit of the ignorant mob."

  Tetlow was listening like a pupil to a teacher. That was always hisattitude toward Norman.

  "The big men," continued Norman, "know that canting is necessary--thatone must always profess high and disinterested motives, and so on, andso on. But they don't let their hypocritical talk influence theiractions. How is it with the little fellows? Why, they believe theflapdoodle the leaders talk. They go into the enterprise, do all thesmall dirty work, lie and cheat and steal, and hand over the proceeds tothe big fellows, for the sake of a pat on the back and a noisy 'Honestfellow! Here are a few crumbs for you.' And crumbs are all that a weak,silly, hypocritical fool deserves. Can you deny it?"

  "No doubt you're right, Fred," conceded Tetlow. "But I'm afraid Ihaven't the nerve."

  "Come in behind me. I've got nerve for two--_now_!"

  At that triumphant "now" Tetlow looked curiously at his friend. "Yes, _it_has changed you--changed you back to what you were. I don't understand."

  "It isn't necessary that you understand," rejoined Norman."

  "Do you think you could really carry through that scheme you've justoutlined?"

  "I see it fascinates you."

  "I've no objection to rising to the class of big men," said Tetlow. "Butaren't you letting your confidence in yourself deceive you?"

  "Did I ever let it deceive me?"

  "No," confessed Tetlow. "I've often watched you, and thought you'd fallthrough it, or stumble at least. But you never did."

  "And shall I tell you why? Because I use my self-confidence and myhopefulness and all my optimistic qualities only to create an atmosphereof success. But when it comes to planning a move of any kind, when Iassemble my lieutenants round the council board in my brain, I neverpermit a single cheerful one to speak, or even to enter. It's a serious,gloomy circle of faces, Bill."

  Tetlow nodded reminiscently. "Yes, you always were like that, Fred."

  "And the one who does the most talking at my council is the gloomiest ofall. He's Lieutenant Flawpicker. He can't see any hope for anything.He sees all the possibilities of failure. He sees all the chancesagainst success. And what's the result? Why, when the council rises ithas taken out of the plan every chance of mishap that my intelligencecould foresee and it has provided not one but several safe lines oforderly retreat in case success proves impossible."

  Tetlow gazed at Norman in worshipful admiration. "What a brain! Whata mind!" he ejaculated. "And to think that _you_ could be upset by a_woman_!"

  Norman leaned back in his chair smiling broadly. "Not by a woman," hecorrected. "By a girl--an inexperienced girl of twenty."

  "It seems incredible."

  "A grain of dust, dropped into a watch movement in just the rightplace--you know what happens."

  Tetlow nodded. Then, with a sharp, anxious look, "But it's all over?"

  Norman hesitated. "I believe so," he said.

  Tetlow rose and rubbed his thighs. He had been sitting long in the sameposition, and he was now stout enough to suffer from fat man's cramp."Well," said he, "we needn't bother about that Universal Fuel scheme atpresent. I can guarantee you the three thousand dollars, and the otherthings."

  Norman shook his head. "Not enough," he said.

  "You want more money?"

  "No. But I will not work, or rather, wait, in the dark. Tell yourprincipals that I must be let in."

  Tetlow hesitated, walking about the office. Finally he said, "Look here,Fred--you think I deceived you the other day--posed as your friend whenin reality I was simply acting as agent for people who wanted you."

  Norman gave Tetlow a look that made him redden with pleasure. "No, Idon't, old man," said he. "I know you recommended me--and that they wereshy of me because of the way I've been acting--and that you stoodsponsor for me. Isn't that right?"

  "Something like that," admitted Tetlow. "But they were eager to get you.It was only a question of trusting you. I was able to do you a good turnthere."

  "And I'll make a rich man, and a famous one, of you," said Norman.

  "Yes. I believe you will," cried Tetlow, tears in his prominent studiouseyes. "I'll see those people in a day or two, and let you know. Do youneed money right away? Of course you do." And down he sat and drew acheck for fifteen hundred dollars.

  Norman laughed as he glanced to see if it was correctly drawn. "I'd nothave dared return to my bride with empty pockets. That's what it meansto live in New York."

  Tetlow grinned. "A sentimental town, isn't it? Especially the women."

  "Oh, I don't blame them," said Norman. "They need the money, and theonly way they've got of making it is out of sentiment. And you mustadmit they give a bully good quality, if the payment is all right."

  Tetlow shrugged his shoulders. "I'm glad I don't need them," said he."It gives me the creeps to see them gliding about with their beautifuldresses and their sweet, soft faces.
"

  He and Norman lunched together in an out-of-the way restaurant. After abusy and a happy afternoon, Norman returned early to the hotel. He hadcashed his check. He was in funds. He would give her another and morethrilling taste of the joy that was to be hers through him--and soon shewould be giving even as she got--for he would teach her not to fearlove, not to shrink from it, but to rejoice in it and to let it permeateand complete all her charms.

  He ascended to the apartment and knocked. There was no answer. Hesearched in vain for a chambermaid to let him in. He descended to theoffice. "Oh, Mr. Norman," said one of the clerks. "Your wife left thisnote for you."

  Norman took it. "She went out?"

  "About three o'clock--with a young gentleman who called on her. Theycame back a while ago and she left the note."

  "Thank you," said Norman. He took his key, went up to the apartment. Notuntil he had closed and locked the door did he open the note. He read:

  "Last night you broke your promise. So I am going away. Don't look for me. It won't be any use. When I decide what to do I'll send you word."

  He was standing at the table. He tossed the note on the marble, threwopen the bedroom door. The black chiffon dress, the big plumed hat, andall the other articles they had bought were spread upon the bed,arranged with the obvious intention that he should see at a glance shehad taken nothing away with her.

  "Hell!" he said aloud. "Why didn't I let her go yesterday morning?"