by Q. Patrick
“There’s no trouble, Lila. Business is on the up and up. I’m doing fine. But the repayment on your loan falls due tomorrow. I—I want to ask you to extend it.”
“But of course I will, darling. You know I never begrudge money to a friend. Five thousand dollars isn’t a matter of life and death to me. I don’t mind what happens to it just so long as it makes you happy.”
“That’s swell.” Larry shifted uneasily, “Of course, I’m darn grateful for all you’ve done, but I want you to know that the garage is a good business proposition. You took a gamble when you lent me the capital to start. It was grand of you, and I’ll never forget it. In fact, I’m going to work like the devil to justify your belief in me. I can go on paying good interest, and in time I’ll be able to pay back every cent of the loan. But just at the moment—“
Lila patted his cheek and murmured; “Oh, darling, let’s not talk about dull business. Let’s talk about us–and tonight.”
“That’s just the point, Lila.” Larry rose and passed a hand through his blond hair. “I can’t come tonight. At least, not the way I used to. Something’s happened and I’ve got to tell you about it now.”
“Happened, Larry?” The curves of Lila’s lips straightened into a hard red line.
“Yes, it’s a—a girl. I met her last month, Lila, and—well, I guess we fell for each other. I want to get married.”
“Married!” The powder could no longer hide the lines around Lila Trenton’s mouth. Her voice had frosted. “But, Larry, is it wise to think of getting married when you have—er—other obligations?”
“I know it was crazy of me, but Lila,”—the blond young man sat down by her side again and gripped her arm— “you’ve always been so understanding. I know, if you’d meet her, you’d realize I couldn’t help it.”
“Meet her!” Lila pulled her hand back swiftly.
“Yes. I was wondering if I could bring her round tonight. Then you could explain that it really was a business arrangement— that I hadn’t taken anything from you under false pretenses.”
“You mean she isn’t willing to accept your explanation,” put in Lila sharply.
“Well, she was mad when I told her about you, of course. Didn’t like the idea of my having taken money from a woman. But if she could see you, she’d realize how decent, how—er—disinterested you’ve been.”
Lila Trenton rose from the couch. All the softness had left her.
She had become harsh, strident.
“My gosh, you expect me to do your dirty work for you, do you? You expect to bring this woman round here to meet me as if I were your—your grandmother! You expect me to give you my money to get married on and then stand back and say ‘God bless you, my children!’ Why, of all the—“
“It isn’t that, Lila. You know it’s just—“
“Just that you want me to tell your lies for you.” Lila twisted the expensive pearls around her throat. “Listen to me. I didn’t lend you that money as a business proposition—and you knew it. I’m not such a fool as to throw away money on stray young men and their dirty garages. I lent you that five thousand dollars because I liked you. As soon as I stop liking you, I want my money back. And I don’t like married men.”
“But, Lila, I can go on paying the interest.”
“Interest! Why should I trust a man like you? Think what you were doing when I first met you! You were little better than a crook. Since you seem to have told that girl so much about me, maybe I should tell her a thing or two about you—tell her that you used to deal in stolen cars, for example. I guess that would interest her—and the police, too.”
“But, Lila, that’s all over now.” Larry’s young face looked old and haggard. “You know I’ve gone straight.”
“Strait-laced, I’d say.” Lila moved to the mantel and stood there, a sneer on her lips. “You’ve got all you wanted out of me, and now you tell me you’re going to be a good little boy and marry some sweet young thing you met at a church social. Well, let’s hope she sings in the choir and gets a salary, because, Heaven knows, it’ll be her job to support you after you get married. I’m through.”
Larry strode across the room and stood squarely in front of her. “I know what you are now, Lila. We understand each other perfectly. I know why you lent me the money, and I realize exactly what you’re going to do about the garage. Well, you can take it and be damned to you. You can ruin me, but you can’t get me to come near this filthy, over-heated place again.”
Lila was laughing at him—and her laughter was not pretty. “You look so funny,” she cried weakly. “So damn funny!”
“Funny, do I?” With a sudden gesture of fury, Larry’s arm shot out and he brought his palm onto her cheek in a stinging blow.
“You—you—“ he muttered.
Lila’s fingers flew up to her cheek and the laughter drained out of her eyes. In its place there came a new, stranger expression.
“Larry!” she whispered hoarsely. “You struck me.”
The young man stood in front of her, stiff and dazed. Then the realization of what he had done seemed to dawn on his face.
“I’m sorry, Lila. I’m all worked up. I didn’t know—“
Lila did not take her eyes off him. As he stood there, angry and ashamed, she realized suddenly that she had never seen him so handsome before. In the past she had thought him weak, pliable, but this new streak of firmness intrigued and attracted her. He had just struck her, but she still had the whip hand. She was not going to let him get away from her.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated dully.
“You should be,” said Lila slowly, “but I think—I think I shall forgive you. That is, if you come and apologize very nicely— when we have dinner together tonight.”
Larry turned away. As he moved to the door, she crossed the room swiftly and took from her pocket-book the key to her apartment. She handed it to him, and he snatched it fiercely.
“I’ll come back,” he muttered thickly.
“That’s right,” she whispered. “You’re going to think it over, aren’t you? You don’t want to lose that lovely new garage, do you?”
After he had gone, she stared at herself in the mirror. On her left cheek were the red imprints of his fingers. It was a new, exciting sensation to think that a man had struck her. Larry! She touched the marks gently, almost caressingly. Somehow, she did not even want to cover them with powder.
III
JEALOUSY
Larry Graves could still smell Lila’s perfume as he hurried out of the Vandolan Hotel. He felt sick—disgusted with himself and with her. He had been crazy to accept that loan. He saw it clearly now. But at the time it had seemed his salvation. He had not realized there would be these complications—that it would end in this. His mind turned back to the picture of Lila handing him the key a few minutes before. He hated her now with a hatred which was almost physical in its intensity. He saw her as a spider, and himself as a wretched creature struggling futilely in her scented mesh.
He thought of the old days before the garage, when there had been no regular job, nothing but small commission on cars doubtfully bought and sold. Of course, if he had strength enough, he could throw it all up, return the money and start from the beginning again. But Larry Graves knew that he would not have the courage for that—that he would not have the courage to face the investigation into his past which a break with Lila would inevitably involve.
As he got into his car, he was gripped by an impulse which made him half-sick with excitement and apprehension. No one except Claire knew Lila had lent him that money. Lila would not have dared tell because of her husband. She had written a check to herself and given him the cash. He, Larry Graves, had tried to play square with her. But she had not any intention of playing square with him. Why should he be so scrupulous? If only he could get that receipt!
Then as his thoughts ran swiftly along this new channel, he remembered the key. No one knew he had that key. Lila Trenton would be
alone tonight—quite alone. He could imagine her there, waiting, triumphant in her victory over him. The remembered scent of her perfume made him feel dizzy. Well, maybe he would go. Maybe she’d get something she wasn’t expecting.
But Claire knew. He had told her about Lila last night. He would have to see her again before—before he made up his mind. If only he could get her to understand the way he had felt when he borrowed that money. If only she would see that things weren’t as ugly as they seemed. Then everything might still be all right. There might be no need. He released the clutch and sent the car sharply forward.
Claire French ran a beauty parlor a few blocks away from the Vandolan Hotel. She had money of her own—money she had earned. Larry had never thought of that before, but Lila’s cynical words brought it back with fresh bitterness. Perhaps that was why she had been so hard on him. She didn’t realize how it was when a guy—
Larry pushed open the door marked “Mayfair Beauty Shop,” and hurried to the girl behind the cash desk.
“Miss French, please.”
“What name is it?”
“Graves.”
“Just a moment.” The girl disappeared and returned almost immediately. Her voice was flat and impersonal. “Miss French says you must have mistaken the address. The Vandolan Hotel is three blocks east.”
“Tell her I’ve got to see her,” said Larry fiercely. “I’m sorry. She’s very busy just now.”
“I can’t help that.”
Larry pushed the girl aside and made for the inner door. He strode down a line of cubicles where women were sitting with electrical equipment on their heads, having permanent waves, face massages, manicures. In a small office at the back he found Claire sitting alone at a desk, busy with accounts. She rose swiftly. As they stood staring at each other, the physical contract between these two young people was almost as violent as the state of their emotions. Claire was as dark as Larry was fair. And while his features were regular, if a trifle weak, hers had the irregularity of strength—a strength which came from within and did not in any way detract from the elusive charm of her face.
Her wide-set, gray eyes smoldered as she spoke.
“I thought I told you last night that I didn’t want to see you again.”
“But, Claire, we’ve got to have this thing out. You’ve got to understand.”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing about you that isn’t very easy to understand.”
“After all, Claire, I’m only human. Lila was an attractive woman. You’re not a prude. You wouldn’t have objected to my knowing her before I met you if it wasn’t for this darn money. And can’t you see that a loan like that has nothing to do with her and me? It was just a business deal—a perfectly good investment for her. She wasn’t doing me a favor.”
Clair French sat down wearily. “It’s no use, Larry. I can’t get worked up over the problems of a man who accepts money from a woman he’s having an affair with. It doesn’t make the slightest difference to me whether she was getting good value for her investment or not.”
“Well, maybe I have made a mess of things, Claire, but you said you loved me. Can’t you give me a break—can’t you take my word that I’m doing my damnedest to straighten everything out?”
“Are you going to pay her back her money, Larry?”
“I can’t yet. You know I can’t. And she won’t extend the loan unless—“
“Unless you go round regularly—paying your interest,” said Claire bitterly.
“She—she did ask me round tonight.” Larry drew away slightly. “You know I don’t want to go, but she threatened to have me dispossessed, to make me bankrupt if I didn’t.”
“Well, why not let her!” Claire’s gray eyes fixed his squarely. “You can start over again. Other people have to.”
“Oh, what’s the use? You see, you don’t know everything. It’s not just a question of the money. I guess I could raise that. I could sell the garage for half of what it’s worth. But Lila Trenton would still have her hooks in me.”
“You mean there’s something else?”
Larry thrust out his jaw. “I’m not handing you a sob story. Heaven knows I’ve had all this coming to me. But I got out of college in the middle of the depression. I tried to get a job—tried for about a year. Then I got tired of starving. When people came along and made offers that weren’t exactly—honest, I didn’t see the sense in having scruples. I got tied up with a concern which dealt in cars and wasn’t too particular about their titles. Lila’s car was stolen, and it was brought around to our place. That’s how I met her. She guessed what the racket was, and I thought it was swell of her at the time not to do anything about it. But now she’s threatened to tell.” He looked down at his feet. “I can’t let her do that, Claire—not so long as there’s any hope with you. I couldn’t ask you to marry me without a cent and with a possible prison sentence hanging over my head.”
“You’d have more chance if you actually were in prison,” said the girl quietly, “than asking me to marry you on that woman’s money.”
“Well, I guess I can’t blame you. That means we’re really through.”
“I thought I made that point clear last night.” Claire turned away. She did not want him to see her face. “I don’t give a damn if you bought or sold a million stolen cars. I don’t give a damn about your being weak, either. Heavens, we’re all of us weak most of the time. It’s—it’s just that I think your type of weakness is particularly unattractive.”
Larry gazed at the back of her head a moment in silence and then turned toward the door. As he reached it, Claire spun round suddenly.
“Larry, are—are you going to see her tonight?”
Larry’s hand was in his pocket. His fingers were clasped tightly around the small, steel key. He stared at Claire with a grim, determined look in his eyes.
“Yes,” he said slowly, “I’m going to see her tonight. Now that we’re washed up, I don’t give a damn what happens to me. I’m— I’m going to do exactly what I want to do.”
For a few seconds after he had gone, Claire’s eyes remained fixed unseeingly on the closed door. Then, throwing herself into a chair, she covered her face with her hands. She did not cry, but her whole body shook with long, strangled sobs.
“Larry said he loved me,” she was thinking desperately, “but it’s Lila Trenton who still owns him, body and soul. Oh, how I wish she were dead, dead, dead!”
She sat there a while, motionless. Her pale face set in a strained, expressionless mask. Then, suddenly, as though an idea had just come to her, she lifted the telephone receiver. Her fingers trembled as she spun to dial.
“Hello, hello…. Is that the Vandolan Hotel…. I want to speak to Mrs. Trenton.”
IV
A WARNING
After Larry had gone, Lila Trenton returned to her room. In the thrill of his violent parting, she had completely forgotten her spurt of anger against him. He would come back. He would have to. The very fact that he would come against his will added a fresh excitement. And she could soon make him forget about that girl, she reflected, feeling assured of her own experienced charms.
She was still enjoying the reassurance of her mirror when the telephone rang.
“Good morning, madam.” A girl’s voice was speaking with saccharine politeness. “This is the Mayfair Beauty Shop. We are running a special today for new clients and we’re eager to get your custom. Is there anything in particular you were wanting?”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Lila cautiously. “I was thinking of having a touch-up this afternoon. But I usually go to the beauty parlor here in the hotel. It’s disgracefully expensive.”
“Our specials are extremely reasonable,” said the voice hurriedly.
Although her appearance meant more to her than anything else, Lila Trenton was always interested in a bargain.
“I might try you out, but I can’t leave the hotel today. I’ve got a nasty cold.”
“Very well. Make it four o’clock.” Lila gave a few details as to her requirements and concluded: “Tell the girl I’m very particular.”
“Thank you, madam. And don’t worry. We are very particular, too.”
Lila had hardly rung off before the phone sounded again. It was the desk downstairs.
“Professor Comroy to see you, Mrs. Trenton.”
“Tell him my husband’s out,” snapped Lila. “But it’s you he wishes to speak to, madam.”
“Tell him I’m in bed with a cold.”
There was a pause. “Professor Comroy says he will not keep you a moment. It’s urgent.”
What did the old fool want, thought Lila impatiently. He was to dine with Paul tonight and he couldn’t have anything to say to her. It was only curiosity that made her give a grudging “All right,” to the telephone operator.
Lila was suspicious of all her husband’s university colleagues. She felt they tried to be intellectual and superior. But even though intellectual, middle-aged, and plump, Professor Comroy was a man. Instinctively she hurried to her vanity dresser, bathed her cheeks with astringent lotion, and fluffed the pink wrap around her. She was ready to greet her husband’s friend with a sweet, invalidish smile.
“Oh, professor, I’m simply miserable about our dinner together tonight.” She pressed a lace handkerchief to her face and held out her left hand. “But you see what a dreadful cold I’ve got. I don’t want to spread it. Please sit over there—away from the germs.”
Professor Comroy took the chair that she indicated and leaned ponderously forward. He was shortish, round man with the spectacled face of a benevolent owl. Behind the thick lenses his eyes, usually bright and twinkling, were grave.
“You must forgive my insisting on seeing you when you are unwell, Mrs. Trenton. But I have come to ask a favor—a favor which I feel sure you will be only too willing to grant.”