Berkeley once sat and considered theillusion of matter. They stopped at length at the edge of a sandybeach. Crystal parked her car neatly with a sharp turn of the wheel,and got out.
"There's a tea basket," she called over her shoulder.
Ben's heart bounded at the news--not that he was hungry, but as thehour was now but little past half after two a tea basket indicated aprolonged interview. He found it tucked away in the back of the car,and followed her. They sat down at the edge of the foam. He lit apipe, clasped his hands about his knees and stared out to sea; shecurled her feet backward, grasped an ankle in her hand, and, lookingat him, said:
"Now what makes you groan so?"
"I haven't meant to be dishonest," he said, "but I have been obtainingyour friendship--trying to--under false pretenses."
"Trying to?" said Crystal. "Now isn't it silly to put that in."
He turned and smiled at her. She was really incredibly sweet. "But,all the same," he went on, "there is a barrier, a real, tangiblebarrier between us."
Crystal's heart suffered a chill convulsion at these words. "Goodgracious!" she thought. "He's entangled with another woman--ohdear!--_marriage_"--But she did not interrupt him, and he continued:
"I let you think that I was one of the men you might have known--thatI was asked to your party last night, whereas, as a matter of fact, Ionly watched you--"
Crystal's mind, working with its normal rapidity, invented, faced, andpassed over the fact that he must have been one of the musicians. Shesaid aloud:
"I think I ought to tell you that I'm not much of a believer inbarriers--between sensible people who want friendship."
"Friendship!" exclaimed Ben, as if that were the last thing he hadcome out on a lovely summer afternoon to discuss.
"There aren't any real barriers any more," Crystal continued."Differences of position, and religion, and all those things don'tseem to matter now. Romeo and Juliet wouldn't have paid any attentionto the little family disagreement if they had lived to-day."
"In the case of Romeo and Juliet, if I remember correctly," said Ben,"it was not exactly a question of friendship."
She colored deeply, but he refused to modify his statement, for, afterall, it was correct. "But difference of opinion _is_ an obstacle,"he went on. "I have seen husbands and wives parted by differences ofopinion in the late war. And as far as I'm concerned there's a waron now--a different war, and I came here to try to prevent my brothermarrying into an enemy influence--"
"Good Heavens!" cried Crystal. "You are Ben Moreton! Why didn't I seeit sooner? I'm Crystal Cord," and, lifting up her chin, she laughed.
That she could laugh as the gulf opened between them seemed to himterrible. He turned his head away.
She stopped laughing. "You don't think it's amusing?" (He shook hishead.) "That we're relations-in-law, when we thought it was all sounknown and romantic? No wonder I felt at home with you, when I'veread so many of your letters to David--such nice letters, too--and Isubscribe to your paper, and read every word of the editorials. Andto think that you would not lunch with me to-day, when my father askedyou."
"To think that it was you I was being asked to lunch with, and didn'tknow it!"
"Well, you dine with us to-morrow," she answered, stating a simplefact.
"Crystal," he said, and put his hand on hers as if this would help himthrough his long explanation; but the continuity of his thought wasdestroyed and his spirit wounded by her immediately withdrawing it;and then--so exactly does the spring of love resemble the uncertainglory of an April day--he was rendered perfectly happy again byperceiving that her action was due to the publicity of their positionand not to repugnance to the caress.
Fortunately he was a man not without invention, and so when a fewminutes later she suggested opening the tea basket, he insisted onmoving to a more retired spot on the plea that the teakettle wouldburn better out of the wind; and Crystal, who must have known thatTomes never gave her a teakettle, but made the tea at home and put itin a thermos bottle, at once agreed to the suggestion.
They moved back across the road, where irregular rocks sheltered smallplots of grass and wild flowers, and here, instead of an Arcadianduet, they had, most unsuitably, their first quarrel.
It began as quarrels are so apt to do, by a complete agreement. Ofcourse he would stay over the next day, which was Sunday, and not verybusy in the office of _Liberty_. In return he expected her undividedattention. She at once admitted that this was part of the plan--onlythere would have to be one little exception; she was dining out thisevening. Oh, well, that could be broken, couldn't it? She would liketo break it, but it happened to be one of those engagements that hadto be kept. Ben could not understand that.
At first she tried to explain it to him: She had chosen her ownevening several weeks ago with these people, who wanted her to meet afriend of theirs who was motoring down specially from Boston. She feltshe must keep her word.
"I assure you I don't want to, but you understand, don't you?"
If she had looked at his face she would not have asked the lastquestion. He did not understand; indeed, he had resolved not to.
"No," he said, "I must own, I don't. If you told me that you _wanted_to go, that would be one thing. I shouldn't have a word to say then."
"Oh yes, you would, Ben," said Crystal, but he did not notice her.
"I can't understand your allowing yourself to be dragged there againstyour will. You say you despise this life, but you seem to take itpretty seriously if you can't break any engagement that you may make."
"How absurd you are! Of course I often break engagements."
"I see. You do when the inducement is sufficient. Well, that makes itall perfectly clear."
She felt both angry and inclined to cry. She knew that to yield toeither impulse would instantly solve the problem and bring a veryunreasonable young man to reason. She ran over both scenes in herimagination. Registering anger, she would rise and say that, really,Mr. Moreton, if he would not listen to her explanation there was nouse in prolonging the discussion. That would be the critical moment.He would take her in his arms then and there, or else he would lether go, and they would drive in silence, and part at the little park,where of course she might say, "Aren't you silly to leave me likethis?"--only her experience was that it was never very practical tomake up with an angry man in public.
To burst into tears was a safer method, but she had a naturalrepugnance to crying, and perhaps she was subconsciously aware thatshe might be left, after the quarrel was apparently made up by thismethod, with a slight resentment against the man who had forced her toadopt so illogical a line of conduct.
A middle course appealed to her. She laid her hand on Ben's. A fewminutes before it would have seemed unbelievable to Ben that his ownhand would have remained cold and lifeless under that touch, but suchwas now the case.
"Ben," she said, "if you go on being disagreeable a second longer youmust make up your mind how you will behave when I burst into tears."
"How I should behave?"
She nodded.
His hands clasped hers. He told her how he should behave. He evenoffered to show her, without putting her to the trouble of tears.
"You mean," she said, "that you would forgive me? Well, forgive me,anyhow. I'm doing what I think is right about this old dinner. PerhapsI'm wrong about it; perhaps you're mistaken and I'm not absolutelyperfect, but if I were, think what a lot of fun you would miss inchanging me. And you know I never meant to abandon you for the wholeevening. I'll get away at half past nine and we'll take a littleturn."
So that was settled.
The Beauty and the Bolshevist Page 9