CHAPTER XV
THE EMBASSY GARDEN PARTY
Craig dined at the Secretary of State's that night, and reveled in themarked consideration every one showed him. He knew it was not because ofhis political successes, present and impending; in the esteem of thatfashionable company his success with Margaret overtopped them. And whilehe was there, drinking more than was good for him and sharing in thegeneral self-complacence, he thought so himself. But waking up aboutthree in the morning, with an aching head and in the depths of theblues, the whole business took on again its grimmest complexion. "I'lltalk it over again with Grant," he decided, and was at the Arkwrighthouse a few minutes after eight.
It so happened that Grant himself was wakeful that morning and had gotup about half-past seven. When Craig came he was letting his valet dresshim. He sent for Craig to come up to his dressing-room. "You can talk tome while Walter shaves me," said Grant from the armchair before hisdressing table. He was spread out luxuriously and Josh watched theprocess of shaving as if he had never seen it before. Indeed, he neverhad seen a shave in such pomp and circumstance of silver and gold, ofivory and cut glass, of essence and powder.
"That's a very ladylike performance for two men to be engaged in," saidhe.
"It's damn comfortable," answered Grant lazily.
"Where did you get that thing you've got on?"
"This gown? Oh, Paris. I get all my things of that sort there. LatterlyI get my clothes there, too."
"I like that thing," said Craig, giving it a patronizing jerk of hishead. "It looks cool and clean. Linen and silk, isn't it? Only I'dchoose a more serviceable color than white. And I'd not have a pink silklining and collar in any circumstances."
He wandered about the room.
"Goshalimity!" he exclaimed, peering into a drawer. "You must have amillion neckties. And"--he was at the partly open door of a hugecloset--"here's a whole roomful of shirts--and another of clothes." Hewheeled abruptly upon the smiling, highly-flattered tenant of thearmchair. "Grant, how many suits have you got?"
"Blest if I know. How many, Walter?"
"I really cannot say, sir. I know 'em all, but I never counted 'em.About seventy or eighty, I should say, not counting extra trousers."
Craig looked astounded. "And how many shirts, Walter?"
"Oh, several hundred of them, sir. Mr. Grant's most particular about hislinen."
"And here are boots and shoes and pumps and gaiters and Lord knows whatand what not--enough to stock a shoe-store. And umbrellas andcanes--Good God, man! How do you carry all that stuff round on yourmind?"
Grant laughed like a tickled infant. All this was as gratifying to hisvanity as applause to Craig's. "Walter looks after it," said he.
Craig lapsed into silence, stared moodily out of the window. The idea ofhis thinking of marrying a girl of Grant's class! What a ridiculous,loutish figure he would cut in her eyes! Why, not only did he not havethe articles necessary to a gentleman's wardrobe, he did not even knowthe names of them, nor their uses! It was all very well to pretend thatthese matters were petty. In a sense they were. But that sort of triflesplayed a most important part in life as it was led by MargaretSeverence. She'd not think them trifles. She was probably assuming that,while he was not quite up to the fashionable standard, still he had agentleman's equipment of knowledge and of toilet articles. "She'd thinkme no better than a savage--and, damn it! I'm not much above the savagestate, as far as this side of life is concerned."
Grant interrupted his mournful musings with: "Now, if you'll excuse me,I'll have my bath."
And, Walter following, he went in at a door to the right, through whichCraig had a glimpse of marble walls and floor, of various articles ofmore than Roman luxury. The moments dragged away until half an hour hadpassed.
"What the devil!" Josh called out. "What are you doing all this time?"
"Massage," responded Grant. "You can come in."
Craig entered the marble chamber, seated himself on a corner of thewarmed marble couch on which Grant lay luxuriating in Walter's powerfulmassage. "Do you go through this thing often?" demanded he.
"Every morning--except when I'm roughing it. You ought to take massage,Josh. It's great for the skin."
Craig saw that it was. His own skin, aside from his hands and face, wasfairly smooth and white; but it was like sandpaper, he thought, besidethis firm, rosy covering of the elegant Arkwright's elegant body. "Getthrough here and send Walter away," he said harshly. "I want to talk toyou. If you don't I'll burst out before him. I can't hold in anylonger."
"Very well. That'll do, Walter," acquiesced Grant. "And please go andbring us some breakfast. I'll finish dressing afterward."
As soon as the door closed on the valet, Craig said, "Grant, I've gotmyself into a frightful mess. I want you to help me out of it."
Grant's eyes shifted. He put on his white silk pajamas, thrust his feetinto slippers, tossed the silk-lined linen robe about his broad, toosquare shoulders, and led the way into the other room. Then he said: "Doyou mean Margaret Severence?"
"That's it!" exclaimed Craig, pacing the floor. "I've gone and gotmyself engaged--"
"One minute," interrupted Arkwright in a voice so strange that Joshuapaused and stared at him. "I can't talk to you about that."
"Why not?"
"For many reasons. The chief one--Fact is, Josh, I've acted like ahowling skunk about you with her. I ran you down to her; tried to gether myself."
Craig waved his hand impatiently. "You didn't succeed, did you? Andyou're ashamed of it, aren't you? Well, if I wasted time going roundapologizing for all the things I'd done that I'm ashamed of I'd have notime left to do decently. So that's out of the way. Now, help me."
"What a generous fellow you are!"
"Generous? Stuff! I need you. We're going to stay friends. You can dowhat you damn please--I'll like you just the same. I may swat you if youget in my way; but as soon as you were out of it--and that'd be mightysoon and sudden, Grant, old boy--why, I'd be friends again. Come, tellme how I'm to get clear of this engagement."
"I can't talk about it to you."
"Why not?"
"Because I love her."
Craig gasped: "Do you mean that?"
"I love her--as much as I'm capable of loving anybody. Didn't I tell youso?"
"I believe you did say something of the kind," admitted Craig. "But Iwas so full of my own affairs that I didn't pay much attention to it.Why don't you jump in and marry her?"
"She happens to prefer you."
"Yes, she does," said Craig with a complacence that roiled Arkwright. "Idon't know what the poor girl sees in me, but she's just crazy aboutme."
"Don't be an ass, Josh!" cried Grant in a jealous fury.
Craig laughed pleasantly. "I'm stating simple facts." Then, with abruptchange to earnestness, "Do you suppose, if I were to break theengagement, she'd take it seriously to heart?"
"I fancy she could live through it if you could. She probably cares nomore than you do."
"There's the worst of it. I want her, Grant. When I'm with her I can'ttolerate the idea of giving her up. But how in the mischief can I marryHER? I'm too strong a dose for a frail, delicate little thing like her."
"She's as tall as you are. I've seen her play athletes to a standstillat tennis."
"But she's so refined, so--"
"Oh, fudge!" muttered Arkwright. Then louder: "Didn't I tell you not totalk to me about this business?"
"But I've got to do it," protested Craig. "You're the only one I cantalk to--without being a cad."
Arkwright looked disgusted. "You love the girl," he said bitterly, "andshe wants you. Marry her."
"But I haven't got the money."
Craig was out with the truth at last. "What would we live on? My salaryis only seventy-five hundred dollars. If I get the Attorney-Generalshipit'll be only eight thousand, and I've not got twenty thousand dollarsbesides. As long as I'm in politics I can't do anything at the law. Allthe clients that pay well are clients I'd n
ot dare have anything to dowith--I may have to prosecute them. Grant, I used to think Governmentsalaries were too big, and I used to rave against office-holdersfattening on the people. I was crazy. How's a man to marry a LADY andlive like a GENTLEMAN on seven or eight thousand a year? It can't bedone."
"And you used to rave against living like a gentleman," thrust Grantmaliciously.
Craig reddened. "There it is!" he fairly shouted. "I'm going to thedevil. I'm sacrificing all my principles. That's what this mixing withswell people and trying to marry a fashionable lady is doing for me!"
"You're broadening out, you mean. You're losing your taste fortommy-rot."
"Not at all," said Craig surlily and stubbornly. "I'll tell you what I'mgoing to do. I'm going to see the girl to-day and put the whole casebefore her. And I want you to back me up."
"I'll do nothing of the sort," cried Grant. "How can you ask such athing of ME?"
"Yes, you must go with me to-day."
"I've got an engagement--garden-party at the British Embassy."
"Going there, are you?... Um!... Well, we'll see."
The breakfast came and Craig ate like a ditch-digger--his own breakfastand most of Grant's. Grant barely touched the food, lit a cigarette, satregarding the full-mouthed Westerner gloomily. "What DID Margaret see inthis man?" thought Grant. "True, she doesn't know him as well as I do;but she knows him well enough. Talk about women being refined! Why,they've got ostrich stomachs."
"Do you know, Grant," said Craig thickly, so stuffed was his mouth, "Ithink your refined women like men of my sort. I know I can't bearanything but refined women. Now, you--you've got an ostrich stomach.I've seen you quite pleased with women I'd not lay my finger on. Yetmost people'd say you were more sensitive than I. Instead, you're muchcoarser--except about piffling, piddling, paltry non-essentials. Youstrain at a gnat and swallow a camel. I shouldn't be a bit surprised ifMargaret had penetrated the fact that your coarseness is in-bred whilemine is near surface. Women have a surprising way of getting at thebottom of things. I'm a good deal like a woman in that respect myself."
Grant thrust a cigar upon him, got him out of the room and on the wayout of the house as quickly as possible. "Insufferable egotist!" hemumbled, by way of a parting kick. "Why do I like him? Damned if Ibelieve I do!"
He did not dress until late that afternoon, but lay in his rooms, verylow and miserable. When he issued forth it was to the garden-party--andimmediately he ran into Margaret and Craig, apparently lying in wait forhim. "Here he is!" exclaimed Josh, slapping him enthusiastically on theback. "Grant, Margaret wants to talk with you. I must run along." Andbefore either could speak he had darted away, plowing his way rudelythrough the crowd.
Margaret and Grant watched his progress--she smiling, he surly andsneering. "Yet you like him," said Margaret.
"In a way, yes," conceded Arkwright. "He has a certain sort ofmagnetism." He pulled himself up short. "This morning," said he, "Iapologized to him for my treachery; and here I am at it again."
"I don't mind," said Margaret. "It's quite harmless."
"That's it!" exclaimed Grant in gloomy triumph. "You can't care for mebecause you think me harmless."
"Well, aren't you?"
"Yes," he admitted, "I couldn't give anybody--at least, not a blaseWashington society girl--anything approaching a sensation. I understandthe mystery at last."
"Do you?" said Margaret, with a queer expression in her eyes. "I wish Idid."
Grant reflected upon this, could make nothing of it. "I don't believeyou're really in love with him," he finally said.
"Was that what you told him you wished to talk to me about?"
"I didn't tell him I wanted to talk with you," protested Grant. "Heasked me to try to persuade you not to marry him."
"Well--persuade!"
"To explain how coarse he is."
"How coarse is he?"
"To dilate on the folly of your marrying a poor man with no moneyprospects."
"I'm content with his prospects--and with mine through him."
"Seven or eight thousand a year? Your dresses cost much more than that."
"No matter."
"You must be in love with him!"
"Women take strange fancies."
"What's the matter, Rita? What have you in the back of your mind?"
She looked straight at him. "Nothing about YOU. Not the faintest, littleshadow of a regret." And her hazel eyes smiled mirth of the kind that iscruelest from woman to man.
"How exasperating you are!"
"Perhaps I've caught the habit from my man."
"Rita, you don't even like me any more."
"No--candidly--I don't."
"I deserve it."
"You do. I can never trust you again."
He shrugged his shoulders; but he could not pretend that he wasindifferent. "It seems to me, if Josh forgave me you might."
"I do--forgive."
"But not even friendship?"
"Not EVEN friendship."
"You are hard."
"I am hard."
"Rita! For God's sake, don't marry that man! You don't love him--youknow you don't. At times you feel you can hardly endure him. You'll bemiserable--in every way. And I--At least I can give you materialhappiness."
She smiled--a cold, enigmatic smile that made her face seem hergrandmother's own peering through a radiant mask of youth. She glancedaway, around--"Ah! there are mamma and Augusta Burke." And she left himto join them.
He wandered out of the garden, through the thronged corridors, into thestreet, knocking against people, seeing no one, not heeding the frequentsalutations. He went to the Wyandotte, to Craig's tawdry, dingysitting-room, its disorder now apparently beyond possibility ofrighting. Craig, his coat and waistcoat off, his detachable cuffs on thefloor, was burrowing into masses of huge law-books.
"Clear out," said he curtly; "I'm busy."
Grant plumped himself into a chair. "Josh," cried he desperately, "youmust marry that girl. She's just the one for you. I love her, and herhappiness is dear to me."
Craig gave him an amused look. "However did she persuade you to comehere and say that?" he inquired.
"She didn't persuade me. She didn't mention it. All she said was thatshe had wiped me off the slate even as a friend."
Craig laughed uproariously. "THAT was how she did it--eh? She's a deepone."
"Josh," said Arkwright, "you need a wife, and she's it."
"Right you are," exclaimed Craig heartily. "I'm one of thosesurplus-steam persons--have to make an ass of myself constantly,indulging in the futility of blowing off steam. Oughtn't to do itpublicly--creates false impression. Got to have a wife--no one else buta wife always available and bound to be discreet. Out with you. I'm toobusy to talk--even about myself."
"You will marry her?"
"Like to see anybody try to stop me!"
He pulled Arkwright from the chair, thrust him into the hall, slammedthe door. And Arkwright, in a more hopeful frame of mind, went home."I'll do my best to get back her respect--and my own," said he. "I'vebeen a dog, and she's giving me the whipping I deserve."
The Fashionable Adventures of Joshua Craig: A Novel Page 15