II
"Well," said Edward Henry, "shall I tell you what I've decided?"
"Please do!" Rose Euclid entreated him.
"I've decided to make you a present of my half of the option."
"But aren't you going in with us?" exclaimed Rose, horror-struck.
"No, madam."
"But Mr. Bryany told us positively you were! He said it was allarranged!"
"Mr. Bryany ought to be more careful," said Edward Henry. "If hedoesn't mind he'll be telling a downright lie some day."
"But you bought half the option!"
"Well," said Edward Henry, reasoning. "What _is_ an option? What doesit mean? It means you are free to take something or leave it. I'mleaving it."
"But why?" demanded Mr. Marrier, gloomier.
Carlo Trent played with his eyeglasses and said not a word.
"Why?" Edward Henry replied. "Simply because I feel I'm not fitted forthe job. I don't know enough. I don't understand. I shouldn't go theright way about the affair. For instance, I should never have guessedby myself that it was the proper thing to settle the name of thetheatre before you'd got the lease of the land you're going to buildit on. Then I'm old-fashioned. I hate leaving things to the lastmoment; but seemingly there's only one proper moment in thesetheatrical affairs, and that's the very last. I'm afraid there'd betoo much trusting in providence for my taste. I believe in trustingin providence, but I can't bear to see providence overworked. AndI've never even tried to be intellectual, and I'm a bit frightened ofpoetry plays--"
"But you've not read my play!" Carlo Trent mutteringly protested.
"That is so," admitted Edward Henry.
"Will you read it?"
"Mr. Trent," said Edward Henry, "I'm not so young as I was."
"We're ruined!" sighed Rose Euclid, with a tragic gesture.
"Ruined?" Edward Henry took her up smiling. "Nobody is ruined whoknows where he can get a square meal. Do you mean to tell me you don'tknow where you're going to lunch to-morrow?" And he looked hard ather.
It was a blow. She blenched under it.
"Oh, yes," she said, with her giggle, "I know that."
("Well you just don't!" he answered her in his heart. "You thinkyou're going to lunch with John Pilgrim. And you aren't. And it servesyou right!")
"Besides," he continued aloud, "how can you say you're ruined when I'mmaking you a present of something that I paid L100 for?"
"But where am I to find the other half of the money--L2250?" she burstout. "We were depending absolutely on you for it. If I don't get it,the option will be lost, and the option's very valuable."
"All the easier to find the money then!"
"What? In less than twenty-four hours? It can't be done. I couldn'tget it in all London."
"Mr. Marrier will get it for you ... one of his certainties!" EdwardHenry smiled in the Five Towns manner.
"I _might_, you knaoo!" said Marrier, brightening to full hope in thefraction of a second.
But Rose Euclid only shook her head.
"Mr. Seven Sachs, then?" Edward Henry suggested.
"I should have been delighted," said Mr. Sachs, with the most perfectgracious tranquillity. "But I cannot find another L2250 to-morrow."
"I shall just speak to that Mr. Bryany!" said Rose Euclid, in theaccents of homicide.
"I think you ought to," Edward Henry concurred. "But that won't helpthings. I feel a little responsible, especially to a lady. You have aquarter of the whole option left in your hands, Miss Euclid. I'll payyou at the same rate as Bryany sold to me. I gave L100 for half. Yourquarter is therefore worth L50. Well, I'll pay you L50."
"And then what?"
"Then let the whole affair slide."
"But that won't help me to my theatre!" Rose Euclid said, pouting. Shewas now decidedly less unhappy than her face pretended, because EdwardHenry had reminded her of Sir John Pilgrim, and she had dreams ofworld-triumphs for herself and for Carlo Trent's play. She was almostglad to be rid of all the worry of the horrid little prospectivetheatre.
"I have bank-notes," cooed Edward Henry, softly.
Her head sank.
Edward Henry rose in the incomparable yellow dressing-gown and walkedto and fro a little, and then from his secret store he produced abundle of notes, and counted out five tens and, coming behind Rose,stretched out his arm, and laid the treasure on the table in front ofher under the brilliant chandelier.
"I don't want you to feel you have anything against me," he cooedstill more softly.
Silence reigned. Edward Henry resumed his chair, and gazed at RoseEuclid. She was quite a dozen years older than his wife, and shelooked more than a dozen years older. She had no fixed home, nohusband, no children, no regular situation. She accepted the homageof young men, who were cleverer than herself save in one importantrespect. She was always in and out of restaurants and hotels andexpress trains. She was always committing hygienic indiscretions. Shecould not refrain from a certain girlishness which, having regardto her years, her waist and her complexion, was ridiculous. Hiswife would have been afraid of her and would have despised her,simultaneously. She was coarsened by the continual gaze of the gapingpublic. No two women could possibly be more utterly dissimilar thanRose Euclid and the cloistered Nellie.... And yet, as Rose Euclid'shesitant fingers closed on the bank-notes with a gesture of relief,Edward Henry had an agreeable and kindly sensation that all women werealike, after all, in the need of a shield, a protection, a strong andgenerous male hand. He was touched by the spectacle of Rose Euclid, asnaive as any young lass when confronted by actual bank-notes; and hewas touched also by the thought of Nellie and the children afar off,existing in comfort and peace, but utterly, wistfully, dependent onhimself.
"And what about me?" growled Carlo Trent.
"You!"
The fellow was only a poet. He negligently dropped him five fivers,his share of the option's value.
Mr. Marrier said nothing, but his eye met Edward Henry's, and insilence five fivers were meted out to Mr. Marrier also.... It was soeasy to delight these persons who apparently seldom set eyes on realready money.
"You might sign receipts, all of you, just as a matter of form," saidEdward Henry.
A little later the three associates were off.
"As we're both in the hotel, Mr. Sachs," said Edward Henry, "you mightstay for a chat and a drink."
Mr. Seven Sachs politely agreed.
Edward Henry accompanied the trio of worshippers and worshipped to thedoor of his suite, but no further, because of his dressing-gown. RoseEuclid had assumed a resplendent opera-cloak. They rang imperially forthe lift. Lackeys bowed humbly before them. They spoke of taxi-cabsand other luxuries. They were perfectly at home in the grandeur of thehotel. As the illuminated lift carried them down out of sight, theirsmiling heads disappearing last, they seemed exactly like persons ofextreme wealth. And indeed for the moment they were wealthy. They hadparted with certain hopes, but they had had a windfall; and two ofthem were looking forward with absolute assurance to a profitable mealand deal with Sir John Pilgrim on the morrow.
"Funny place, London!" said the provincial to himself as he re-enteredhis suite to rejoin Mr. Seven Sachs.
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