with the open sea onone hand, the harbor on the other. In front of them the lightshipwas moving with a slow, majestic roll, and to the right was the longfestoon of Narragansett lights, and as they stopped the lighted bulkof the New York boat appeared, making its way toward Point Judith.
His prolonged silence began to frighten her.
"Ben," she said, "do you seriously mean that you believe friendshipbetween us is impossible?"
"Friendship, nothing," answered Moreton. "I love you."
He said it as if it had always been understood between them, asof course it had, but the instant he said it, he gave her a quick,appealing look to see how she would take so startling an assertion.
If Crystal had poured out just what was in her mind at that second shewould have answered: "Of course you do. I've known that longer thanyou have. And can't you see that if I had had any doubt about itsbeing true, I'd have taken steps to make it true? But, as I really didnot doubt it, I've been able to be quite passive and leave it mostlyto you, which I so much prefer."
But rigorous candor is rarely attained, and Crystal did not saythis. In fact, for a few seconds she did not say anything, but merelyallowed her eyes to shine upon him, with the inevitable result thatat the end of precisely six seconds of their benevolent invitation hetook her in his arms and kissed her. It was a very unprotected point,and several cars were standing not too far away, but Crystal, who hadan excellent sense of proportion, made no objection whatever. She wasbeing proved right in two important particulars--first, that she wasa human being, and second, that there was no barrier between them.She was very generous about it. She did not say, "Where's your barriernow?" or anything like that; she simply said nothing, and the barrierpassed out of the conversation and was no more seen.
Very soon, alleging that she must get home at the time at which sheusually did get home from dinners, she took him back; but she soothedhim with the promise of an uninterrupted day to follow.
Time--the mere knowledge of unbroken hours ahead--is a boon whichreal love cannot do without. Minor feelings may flourish on snatchedinterviews and stolen meetings, but love demands--and usuallygets--protected leisure. The next day these lovers had it. They spentthe morning, when Mr. Cord was known to be playing golf, at theCords' house, and then when Mr. Cord telephoned that he was staying toluncheon at the club, if Crystal did not object (and Crystal did not),she and Ben arranged a picnic--at least Tomes did, and they went offabout one o'clock in the blue car. They went to a pool in the rocksthat Crystal had always known about, with high walls around it, andhere, with a curtain of foam between them and the sea, for the waveswere rising, they ate lunch, as much alone as on a desert island.
It was here that Ben asked her to marry him, or, to be accurate, itwas here that they first began talking about their life together, andwhether Nora would become reconciled to another woman about the flat.
The nearest approach to a definite proposal was Ben's saying:
"You would not mind my saying something about all this to your fatherbefore I go this evening, would you?"
And Crystal replied: "Poor father! It will be a blow, I'm afraid."
"Well," said Ben, "he told me himself that he liked me better thanDavid."
"That's not saying much."
At this Ben laughed lightly.
He might have had his wrong-headed notions about barriers, but he wasnot so un-American as to regard a father as an obstacle.
"But, oh, Crystal," he added, "suppose you find you do hate beingpoor. It is a bore in some ways."
Crystal, who had been tucking away the complicated dishes of herluncheon basket, looked at Ben and lightly sucked one finger to whichsome raspberry jam from Tomes's supernal sandwiches had adhered.
"I sha'n't mind it a bit, Ben," she said, "and for a goodreason--because I'm terribly conceited." He did not understand atall, and she went on: "I believe I shall be just as much of aperson--perhaps more--without money. The women who really mind beingpoor are the humble-minded ones, who think that they are made by theirclothes and their lovely houses and their maids and their sables. Whenthey lose them they lose all their personality, and of course thatterrifies them. I don't think I shall lose mine. Does it shock you toknow that I think such a lot of myself?"
It appeared it did not shock him at all.
"Suppose you find you do hate being poor?"]
When they reached the house she established him in the drawing-roomand went off to find her father.
She was a true woman, by which is meant now and always that shepreferred to allow a man to digest his dinner before she tried tobring him to a rational opinion. But in this case her hands were tied.The Cords dined at eight--or sometimes a little later, and Ben'sboat left for New York at half past nine, so that it would be utterlyimpossible to postpone the discussion of her future until afterdinner. It had to be done at once.
Crystal ran up and knocked at his bedroom door. Loud splashings fromthe adjoining bathroom were all the answer she got. She sat down onthe stairs and waited. Those are the moments that try men's and evenwomen's souls. For the first time her enterprise seemed to her alittle reckless. For an instant she had the surprising experience ofrecognizing the fact that Ben was a total stranger. She looked at thegray-stone stairway on which she was sitting and thought that her lifehad been as safe and sheltered as a cloister, and now, steered by thistotal stranger, she proposed to launch herself on an unchartedcourse of change. And to this program she was to bring her father'sconsent--for she knew very well that if she couldn't, Ben wouldn't beable to--in the comparatively short time between now and dinner. Then,the splashing having ceased, the sound of bureau drawers succeeded,and Crystal sprang up and knocked again.
"That you, Peters?" said an unencouraging voice. (Peters was Mr.Cord's valet.)
"No, dear, it's I," said Crystal.
"Oh, come in," said Mr. Cord. He was standing in the middle of theroom in his shirt sleeves and gloomily contemplating the shirt hewore. "What's this laundress, anyhow? A Bolshevist or a pastry-cook?"he said. "Did you ever see anything like this shirt?"
Crystal approached and studied the shirt. It appeared to her to beperfectly done up, but she said: "Yes, dear, how terrible! I'll packher off to-morrow, but you always look all right whatever you wear;that's some comfort." She saw that even this hadn't done much good,and, going to the heart of the problem, she asked, "How did your golfgo?"
Mr. Cord's gloom gathered as he answered, with resignation, "Oh, allright."
His manner was exactly similar to Ben's in his recent moment ofdepression, and not unlike McKellar's when he had explained what hesuffered under the good Lord's weather.
"Is Eddie's game any better?" asked Crystal, feeling her way.
"No," cried her father, contemptuously. "He's rotten, but I'm worse.And golf-clubs, Crystal! No one can make a club any more. Have younoticed that? But the truth of the matter is, I'm getting too oldto play golf." And Mr. Cord sat down with a good but unconsciousimitation of a broken old man.
Of course Crystal swept this away. She scolded him a little, pointedout his recent prowess, and spoke slightingly of all younger athletes,but she really had not time to do the job thoroughly, for the thoughtof Ben, sitting so anxious in the drawing-room alone, hurried her on.
"Anyhow, dear," she said, "I've come to talk to you about somethingterribly important. What would you say, father, if I told you I wasengaged?"
Mr. Cord was so startled that he said, what was rare for him, thefirst thing that came into his head:
"Not to Eddie?"
The true diplomatist, we have been told, simply takes advantage ofchance, and Crystal was diplomatic. "And suppose it is?" she replied.
"I should refuse my consent," replied her father.
Crystal looked hurt. "Is there anything against Eddie," she asked,"except his golf?"
"Yes," answered her father, "there are two of the most serious thingsin the world against him--first, that he doesn't amount to anything;and second, that you don't love him."
"No," Crystal admitted, "I don't, but then--love--father, isn't loverather a serious undertaking nowadays? Is it a particularly helpfuladjunct to marriage? Look at poor Eugenia. Isn't it really moresensible to marry a nice man who can support one, and then if in timeone does fall in love with another man--"
"Never let me hear you talk like that again, Crystal," said herfather, with a severity and vigor he seldom showed outside of boardmeetings. "It's only your ignorance of life that saves you from beingactually revolting. I'm an old man and not sentimental, you'llgrant, but, take my
The Beauty and the Bolshevist Page 11