When MacBirney reached home with thevictoria Alice had not yet taken off her hat, and a maid was bringing vases for the lilies. Hehad been driving toward Sea Ridge and taken thewrong road and was sorry for his delay in gettingto the church. Alice accepted his excuses ingood part. He tried to explain hismisunderstanding about the engagement with Kimberly.She relieved his endeavors by making everythingeasy, telling him finally how Kimberly had broughther home and had left the grapes and lilies. Whenthe two sat down at luncheon, MacBirney noticedAlice's preoccupation; she admitted she had aslight headache. She was glad, however, to havehim ask her to go for a long motor drive in theafternoon, thinking the air would do her good, and they spent three hours together.

When they got home it was dusk. The dinnerserved on the porch was satisfying and the daywhich had opened with so little of promise seemedto do better at the close. Indeed, Alice all dayhad sought quiet because she had something tosay which she was resolved to say this day. Afterdinner she remained with her husband in themoonlight. He was talking, over his cigar, of anidea for adding a strip of woodland to the lowerend of their new estate, when she interrupted him.

"Should you be greatly shocked, Walter, if Isaid I wish we could go away from here?" Shewas leaning toward him on the arm of her chairwhen she spoke and her hands were clasped.

His astonishment was genuine. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Yet I feel as if we ought to go,Walter."

"What for?"

She was looking earnestly at him, but in theshadow he could not see, though he felt, her eyes.

"It is hard to explain." She paused a moment."These people are delightful; you know I likethem as much as you do."

MacBirney took his cigar from his mouth toexpress his surprise. "I thought you were crazyabout the place and the people and everythingelse," he exclaimed. "I thought this was justwhat you were looking for! You've said so muchabout refined luxury and lovely manners-"

"I am thinking of all that." There was enoughin her tone of an intention to be heard to cause himto forget his favorite expedient of drowning thesubject in a flood of words. "But with all this,or to enjoy it all, one needs peace of mind, andmy peace of mind is becoming disturbed."

Quite misunderstanding her, MacBirney thoughtshe referred to the question of church-going, andthat subject offered so much delicate ground thatAlice continued without molestation.

"It is very hard to say what I meant to say, without saying too little or too much. You know,Walter, you were worried at one time about howMr. Robert Kimberly would look at yourproposals, and you told me you wanted me to beagreeable to him. And without treating him differentlyfrom any one else here, I have tried to pay particularregard to what he had to say and everythingof that kind. It is awfully hard to specify," shehesitated in perplexity. "I am sure I haven'tdiscriminated him in any way from his brother,or Mr. De Castro, for instance. But I havealways shown an interest in things he had to pointout, and he seemed to enjoy-perhaps more thanthe others-pointing things out. And-"

"Well?"

"It seems to me now as if he has begun to takean interest in everything I do-"

Her husband became jocular. "Oh, has he?"

Alice's words came at last bluntly. "And itcompletely upsets me, Walter."

MacBirney laughed again. "Why so?"

She took refuge in a shade of annoyance."Because I don't like to think about it."

"Think about what?"

"About any man's-if I must say it-payingattention to me, except my husband."

"Now you are hitting me, aren't you, Alice?You are pretty clever, after all," declaredMacBirney still laughing.

She threw herself back in her chair. "Oh,Walter, you don't understand at all! Nothingcould be further from what I am thinking. Iought not to say he has been attentive enoughto speak of. It is not that I dislike Mr. Kimberly.But he does somehow make me uncomfortable.Perhaps I don't understand their way here."

"Why, that is all there is to it, Alice. It'smerely their way. Give it no thought. He issimply being agreeable. Don't imagine that everyman that sends you flowers is interested in you.Is that all, Allie?"

"Yes." Her acuteness divined about what hewould reply. "And," she added, "I think, however foolish it may sound, it is enough."

"Don't worry about bridges you will never haveto cross. That's the motto I've followed."

"Yes, I know, but-"

"Just a moment. All you have to do is totreat everybody alike."

"But, Walter-"

"You would have to do that anywhere-shouldn'tyou? Of course. Suppose we shouldgo somewhere else and find a man that threatenedto become an admirer-"

"Don't use such a word!"

"Call it what you please-we can't keep movingaway from that kind of a possibility, can we?"

"Still, Walter, I feel as if we might get awayfrom here. I have merely told you exactly whatI thought."

"We can't get away. This is where everythingis done in the sugar business. This is the littleworld where the big moves are decided upon. Ifyou are not here, you are not in it. We are in theswim now; it took long enough to get in it, Godknows. Now let us stay. You can take care ofyourself, can't you?"

"How can you ask me!"

He pursued her with a touch of harshness."How can I ask you? Aren't you talking aboutrunning away from a situation? I don't runaway from situations. I call the man or womanthat runs away from a situation, a coward. Faceit down, work it out-don't dodge it."

MacBirney finished without interruption.

In the living room the telephone bell rang. Hewent in to answer it and his wife heard him amoment in conversation. Then on the garagewire he called up the chauffeur and ordered a car.Coming out again on the porch he explained: "Lottie wants us to come over."

"Lottie?" There was a shade of resentment, almost of contempt, in Alice's echo and inquiry.

"Lottie Nelson."

"Don't call her Lottie, Walter."

"She calls me Walter."

"She has no business to. What did you tellher? Don't let us go out to-night."

"It is a little celebration of some kind and Itold her we would come."

"My head has ached all day."

"It will do your head good. Come on. I toldher we were coming."

CHAPTER XV

They found a lively party at the Nelsons'.Guyot was there, with Lambert, thick-lippedand voluble. Dora Morgan with Doaneand Cready Hamilton had come, worn andbedraggled, from a New England motoring trip.Dora, still quite hoarse, was singing a music-hallsong when the MacBirneys entered the room.

She stopped. "My ears are crazy to-night-Ican't sing," she complained, responding toAlice's greeting. "I feel as if there were a motorin my head. Tired? Oh, no, not a bit. But thedust!" Her smile died and her brows rose tillher pretty eyes shone full. She threw herexpiring energy into two husky words: "Somethingfierce!"

Dolly and her husband with Imogene andCharles had responded to Lottie's invitation, andRobert Kimberly came later with Fritzie Venable.Dolly greeted Alice with apologies. "I am here,"she admitted with untroubled contempt, "but notpresent. I wanted to see what Lambert lookslike. We hear so much about his discoveries.Robert doesn't think much of them."

Mrs. Nelson, languidly composed, ledMacBirney to the men who were in an alcove off themusic room. Near them sat Robert Kimberlytalking to Imogene. Dora could not be coaxed tosing again. But the hostess meant to force thefighting for a good time. Dora joined the menand Guyot, under Nelson's wing, came over tomeet Alice, who had taken refuge with Dolly. Ata time when the groups were changing, Nelsonbrought Lambert over. But neither Alice norDolly made objection when his host took himaway again.

Kimberly came after a while with Fritzie toAlice's divan and, standing behind it, tried byconversation and such attraction of manner as hecould offer, to interest Alice. He failed to wakenany response. She quite understood a woman'srefuge from what she wishes to avoid andpersevered in being indifferent to every effort.

Kimberly, not slow to perceive, left presentlyfor the party in the dining-room. But even as hewalked away, Alice's attitude toward him calledto her mind a saying of Fritzie's, that it is notpleasant to be unpleasant to pleasant people, even if it is unpleasant to be pleasant tounpleasant people.

"Were you tired after yesterday's ride?" askedDolly of Alice.

"Not too tired."

"Robert told you about Tennie Morgan's death."

Alice looked at her inquiringly. "How didyou know?"

"You were in the Morgan chapel together.And you looked upset when you came back. Ihad promised to tell you the story sometimemyself. I know how easy it is to get a falseimpression concerning family skeletons. So I askedRobert about it the minute you left the car, and Iwas annoyed beyond everything when he said hehad told you the whole story."

"But dear Mrs. De Castro! Why should yoube annoyed?"

Dolly answered with decision: "Robert has nobusiness ever to speak of the affair." Alice couldnot dispute her and Dolly went on: "I knowjust how he would talk about it. Not that Iknow what he said to you. But it would be likehim to take very much more of the blame onhimself than belongs to him. Men, my dear, look atthese things differently from women, and usuallymake less of them than women do. In this caseit is exactly the reverse. Robert has always hadan exaggerated idea of his responsibility in thetragedy-that is why it annoys me ever to havehim speak about it. I know my brother better, Ithink, than anybody alive knows him, and I amperfectly familiar with all the circumstances. Iknow what I am talking about."

Very much in earnest Dolly settled back. "Tobegin with, Tennie was an abnormal boy. Hewas as delicate in his mental texture as cobweblace. His sensitiveness was something incredibleand twenty things might have happened to upsethis mental balance. No one, my dear, likes totalk state secrets."

"Pray do not, then. It really is not necessary,"pleaded Alice.

"Oh, it is," said Dolly decidedly, "I want youto understand. Suicide has been a spectre to theKimberlys for ages. Two generations agoSchuyler Kimberly committed suicide at sixty-six-thinkof it! Oh! I could tell you stories. Therehas been no suicide in this generation. But theshadow," Dolly's tones were calm but inflectedwith a burden of what cannot be helped may aswell be admitted, "seems only to have passed itto fall upon the next in poor Tennie. Two yearsafterward they found his mother dead onemorning in bed. I don't know what the troublewas-it was in Florence. Nobody knows-there wasjust a little white froth on her lips. The doctorssaid heart disease. She was a strange woman,Bertha, strong-willed and self-indulgent-like allthe rest of us."

"Don't say that of yourself. You are notself-indulgent, you are generous."

"I am both, dear. But I know the Kimberlys, men and women, first and last, and that is why Ido not want you to get wrong impressions of them.My brother Robert isn't a saint, neither is Charles.But compare them with the average men of theirown family; compare them with the average menin their own situation in life; compare them withthe Nelsons and the Doanes; compare them withthat old man that Robert is so patient with!Compare them, my dear, to the men everywherein the world they move in-I don't think theKimberly men of this generation need apologizeparticularly.

"Robert was so completely stunned by Tennie'sdeath that for years I did not know what wouldhappen. Then a great industrial crisis came inour affairs, though afterward it seemed, in a way, providential. Poor old Uncle John got it intohis head he could make sugar out of corn andended by nearly ruining us all. If things hadgone on we should all have been living inapartments within another year. When we were sodeep in the thing that the end was in sight wewent to Robert on our knees, and begged him totake hold of the business and save the family-oh,it had come quite to that. He had been doingabsolutely nothing for a year and I feared allsorts of things about him. But he listened anddid take hold and made the business so big-well, dear heart, you have some idea what it isnow when they can take over a lot of factories, such as those of your husband and his associates,on one year's profits. I suppose, of course, theseare state secrets-you mustn't repeat them-"

"Certainly not."

"And for years they have been the largestlenders of ready money in the Street. So you can'twonder that we think a great deal of Robert. Andhe likes you-I can see that. He has been morenatural since you came here than for years."

"Surely your brothers never can say they havenot a devoted sister."

"I can't account for it," persisted Dolly, continuing. "It is just that your influence is a goodone on him; no one can explain those things. Ithought for years he would never be influencedby any woman again. You've seen how thisone," Dolly tossed her head in disgust as sheindicated Lottie Nelson, then passing, "throwsherself at him." With the last words Dolly rose tosay she was going home. Imogene was ready tojoin her, and Lottie's protests were of no avail.Charles was upstairs conferring with Nelson andImogene went up to get him.

Alice walked to the dining-room. Herhusband, in an uncommonly good-humor, was drinkingwith their hostess. In the centre of the room,Hamilton, Guyot, Lambert, and Dora Morgansat at the large table. Guyot offered Alice a chair.She sat down and found him entertaining. Hetook her after a time into the reception room whereLottie had hung a Degas that Guyot had broughtover for her. Alice admired the fascinatingswiftness and sureness of touch but did not agree withGuyot that the charm was due to the merit ofcolor over line. When the two returned to thedining-room, Kimberly stood at a cellaret withFritzie.

Lottie and MacBirney sat with the group at thebig table. "Oh, Robert," Lottie called toKimberly as Alice appeared in the doorway, "mix mea cocktail."

Turning, Kimberly saw Alice: "I am out ofpractice, Lottie," he said.

"Give me some plain whiskey then."

Kimberly's shortness of manner indicated hisannoyance. "You have that at your hand," hesaid sitting down.

"How rude, Robert," retorted Lottie, withassumed impatience. She glanced loftily around."Walter," she exclaimed, looking across the tableat Alice's husband and taking Alice's breath awaywith the appeal, "give me some whiskey."

"Certainly, Mrs. Nelson."

"No, stop; mix me a cocktail."

"Is your husband an expert, Mrs. MacBirney?"asked Guyot as MacBirney rose.

"Not to my knowledge," answered Alice frankly."I hope," she added, with a touch of asperity asher husband stepped to a sideboard, "thatMrs. Nelson is not fastidious."

"It is disgusting the way my friends arebehaving," complained Lottie turning to Lambert."This is my birthday-"

"Your birthday!"

"That is why you are all here. And whoeverrefuses now to drink my health I cast off forever."

"Is this a regular birthday or are you springingan extra on us?" demanded Fritzie.

"Go on, MacBirney, with your mixture,"exclaimed Lambert, "I'll serve at the table. Youare going to join us, of course, Mrs. MacBirney?"

Alice answered in trepidation: "It must besomething very light for me."

"Try whiskey, Mrs. MacBirney," suggestedDora Morgan benevolently, "it is really the easiestof all."

Alice grew nervous. Kimberly, without speaking, pushed a half-filled glass toward her. Shelooked at him in distress. "That will not hurtyou," he said curtly.

The men were talking Belgian politics. Lambertwas explaining the antiquated customs ofthe reactionaries and the battle of the liberals forthe laicizing of education. He dwelt on thestubbornness of the clericals and the difficulties metwith in modernizing their following.

Kimberly either through natural dislike forLambert or mere stubbornness objected to thespecific instances of mediævalism adduced andsoon had the energetic chemist nettled. "Whatdo you know about the subject?" demandedLambert at length. "Are you a Catholic?"

"I am not a Catholic," returned Kimberlyamiably. "I am as far as possible, I suppose, from being one. The doors of the church arewide, but if we can believe even a small part ofwhat is printed of us they would have to bebroadened materially to take in American refiners."

"If you are not a Catholic, what are you?"persisted Lambert with heat.

"I have one serious religious conviction; that is, that there are just two perfectly managed humaninstitutions; one, the Standard Oil Company, theother the Catholic Church."

There was now a chance to drop the controversyand the women together tried to effect adiversion. But Lambert's lips parted over hiswhite teeth in a smile. "I have noticedsometimes that what we know least about we talk bestabout." Kimberly stirred languidly. "I was bornof Catholic parents," continued Lambert,"baptized in the Catholic Church, educated in it. Ishould know something about it, shouldn't I?You, Mr. Kimberly, must admit you know nothingabout it." Kimberly snorted a little. "All thesame, I take priests' fables for what they areworth," added Lambert; "such, for example, asthe Resurrection of Christ." Lambert laughedheartily. Fritzie looked uneasily at Alice as thewords fell. Her cheeks were crimsoned.

"Can a central fact of Christianity such as theResurrection fairly be called a priests' fable?"asked Kimberly.

"Why not?" demanded Lambert withcontemptuous brevity. "None but fossilizedCatholics believe such nonsense!"

"There are still some Protestants left,"suggested Kimberly mildly.

"No priest dictates to me," continued thechemist, aroused. "No superstition for me. I wantCatholics educated, enlightened, made free. Ishould know something about the church, shouldI not? You admit you know nothing-"

"No, I did not admit that," returned Kimberly."You admitted it for me. And you asked me amoment ago what I was. Lambert, what are you?"

"I am a Catholic-not a clerical!" Lambertemphasized the words by looking from one toanother in the circle. Kimberly spread one of hisstrong hands on the table. Fritzie watching himshrank back a little.

"You a Catholic?" Kimberly echoed slowly."Oh, no; this is a mistake." His hand closed."You say you were born a Catholic. And youridicule the very corner-stone of your faith. The lasttime I met you, you were talking the same sortof stuff. I wonder if you have any idea what ithas cost humanity to give you the faith you sneerat, Lambert? To give you Catholic parents, men nineteen hundred years ago allowedthemselves to be nailed to crosses and torn by dogs.Boys hardly seven years old withstood starvationand scourging and boys of fifteen were burned inpagan amphitheatres that you might be born aChristian; female slaves were thrown into boilingoil to give you the privilege of faith; delicatewomen died in shameful agonies and Romanmaidens suffered their bodies to be torn to pieceswith red-hot irons to give you a Christianmother-and you sit here to-night and ridiculethe Resurrection of Christ! Call yourself liberal,Lambert; call yourself enlightened; call yourselfModern; but for God's sake don't call yourself aCatholic."

"Stop a moment!" cried Lambert at white heat.

Lottie put out her arm. "Don't let's be cross,"she said with deliberate but unmistakableauthority. "I hate a row." She turned her languideyes on MacBirney. "Walter, what are thesepeople drinking that makes them act in this way?Do give Mr. Kimberly something else; he began it."

Kimberly made no effort to soothe any one'sfeelings. And when Fritzie and Alice found anexcuse to leave the room he rose and walkedleisurely into the hall after them.

The three talked a few moments. A sound ofhilarity came from the music room. Alice lookeduneasily down the hall.

"I never knew your husband could sing," said Fritzie.

CHAPTER XVI

It dawned only gradually on Alice that herhusband was developing a surprising tendency.He walked into the life that went on at the Nelsonhome as if he had been born to it. From anexistence absorbed in the pursuit of business he gavehimself for the moment to one absorbed in pursuitof the frivolous. Alice wondered how he couldfind anything in Lottie Nelson and her followingto interest him; but her husband had offered twoor three unpleasant, even distressing, surpriseswithin as few years and she took this new one withless consternation than if it had been the first.

Yet it was impossible not to feel annoyance.Lottie Nelson, in what she would have termed aninnocent way, for she cared nothing forMacBirney, in effect appropriated him, and Alicebegan to imagine herself almost third in the situation.

Tact served to carry the humiliated wife oversome of the more flagrant breaches of mannersthat Mrs. Nelson did not hesitate at, if theyserved her caprice. MacBirney became "Walter"to her everywhere. She would call him from thecity in the morning or from his bed at night; nohour was too early to summon him and none toolate. The invitations to the Nelsons' eveningswere extended at first both to Alice and to him.Alice accepted them in the beginning with ahopeless sort of protest, knowing that her husbandwould go anyway and persuading herself thatit was better to go with him. If she went, shecould not enjoy herself. Drinking was anessential feature of these occasions and Alice'sefforts to avoid it made her the object of aridicule on Lottie's part that she took no pains toconceal.

It was at these gatherings that Alice began tolook with a degree of hope for a presence shewould otherwise rather have avoided. Kimberlywhen he came, which was not often, brought toher a sense of relief because experience had shownthat he would seek to shield her from embarrassmentrather than to expose her to it.

Lottie liked on every occasion to assume tomanage Kimberly together with the other menof her acquaintance. But from being, at first, complaisant, or at least not unruly, Kimberlydeveloped mulish tendencies. He would not, infact, be managed. When Lottie attempted toforce him there were outbreaks. One came aboutover Alice, she being a subject on which bothwere sensitive.

Alice, seeking once at the De Castros' to escapeboth the burden of excusing herself and ofdrinking with the company, appealed directly toKimberly. "Mix me something mild, will you, please,Mr. Kimberly?"

Kimberly made ready. Lottie flushed withirritation. "Oh, Robert!" She leaned backward inher chair and spoke softly over her fan. "Mixme something mild, too, won't you?"

He ignored Lottie's first request but she wasfoolish enough to repeat it. Kimberly checkedthe seltzer he was pouring long enough to replyto her: "What do you mean, Lottie? 'Mixyou something mild!' You were drinking rawwhiskey at dinner to-night. Can you neverunderstand that all women haven't the palates ofostriches?" He pushed a glass toward Alice. "Idon't know how it will taste."

Lottie turned angrily away.

"Now I have made trouble," said Alice.

"No," answered Kimberly imperturbably, "Mrs. Nelsonmade trouble for herself. I'm sorry to berude, but she seems lately to enjoy baiting me."

Kimberly appeared less and less at the Nelsons'and the coolness between him and Lottieincreased.

She was too keen not to notice that he nevercame to her house unless Alice came and thatserved to increase her pique. Such revenge asshe could take in making a follower of MacBirneyshe took.

Alice chafed under the situation and made everyeffort to ignore it. When matters got to a pointwhere they became intolerable she uttered aprotest and what she dreaded followed-anunpleasant scene with her husband. While she fearedthat succeeding quarrels of this kind would endin something terrible, they ended, in matter offact, very much alike. People quarrel, as theyrejoice or grieve, temperamentally, and a wife placedas Alice was placed must needs in the end submitor do worse. MacBirney ridiculed a little, bullieda little, consoled a little, promised a little, andurged his wife to give up silly, old-fashioned ideasand "broaden out."

He told her she must look at manners andcustoms as other people looked at them. WhenAlice protested against Lottie Nelson's callinghim early and late on the telephone and receivinghim in her room in the morning-MacBirney hadonce indiscreetly admitted that she sometimes didthis-he declared these were no incidents forgrievance. If any one were to complain, Nelson, surely, should be the one. Alice maintained thatit was indecent. Her husband retorted that it wasmerely her way, that Lottie often received RobertKimberly in this way-though this, so far as Robertwas concerned, was a fiction-and that nobodylooked at the custom as Alice did. However, hepromised to amend-anything, he pleaded, butan everlasting row.

Alice had already begun to hate herself in thesefutile scenes; to hate the emotion they cost; tohate her heartaches and helplessness. She learnedto endure more and more before engaging in them,to care less and less for what her husband said inthem, less for what he did after them, less fortrying to come to any sort of an understandingwith him.

In spite of all, however, she was not minded tosurrender her husband willingly to another woman.She even convinced herself that as his wife she wasnot lively enough and resolved if he wanted gayetyhe should have it at home. The moment sheconceived the notion she threw the gage at Lottie'saggressive head. Dolly De Castro, who saw andunderstood, warmly approved. "Considerationand peaceable methods are wasted on that kind ofa woman. Humiliate her, my dear, and she willfawn at your feet," said Dolly unreservedly.

Alice was no novice in the art of entertaining;it remained only for her to turn her capabilities toaccount. She made herself mistress now of thetelephone appointment, of the motoring lunch, ofthe dining-room gayety. Nelson himselfcomplimented her on the success with which she hadstocked her liquor cabinets.

She conceived an ambition for a wine cellarreally worth while and abandoned it only whenRobert Kimberly intimated that in this somethingmore essential than ample means and the desireto achieve were necessary. But while gentlydiscouraging her own idea as being impractical, hebegged her at the same time to make use of TheTowers' cellars, which he complained had fallenwholly into disuse; and was deterred only withthe utmost difficulty from sending over with hisbaskets of flowers from the gardens of The Towers, baskets of wines that Nelson and Doane with theirtrained palates would have stared at if served byAlice. But MacBirney without these aids wasput at the very front of dinner hosts and his tablewas given a presage that surprised him more thanany one else. As a consequence, Cedar Lodgeinvitations were not declined, unless perhaps attimes by Robert Kimberly.

He became less and less frequently a guest atAlice's entertainments, and not to be able to counton him as one in her new activities came after a timeas a realization not altogether welcome. Hisdeclining, which at first relieved her fears of seeinghim too often, became more of a vexation than sheliked to admit.

Steadily refusing herself, whenever possible, togo to the Nelsons' she could hear only through herhusband of those who frequented Lottie's suppers, and of the names MacBirney mentioned nonecame oftener than that of Robert Kimberly.Every time she heard it she resented his preferringanother woman's hospitalities, especially those ofa woman he professed not to like.

Mortifying some of her own pride she evenconsented to go at times to the Nelsons' with herhusband to meet Kimberly there and rebuke him.Then, too, she resolved to humiliate herself enoughto the hateful woman who so vexed her to observejust how she made things attractive for her guests; reasoning that Kimberly found some entertainmentat Lottie's which he missed at Cedar Lodge.

Being in the fight, one must win and Alice meantto make Lottie Nelson weary of her warfare.But somehow she could not meet Robert Kimberlyat the Nelsons'. When she went he was neverthere. Moreover, at those infrequent intervalsin which he came to her own house he seemed illentertained. At times she caught his eye whenshe was in high humor herself-telling a storyor following her guests in their own livelyvein-regarding her in a curious or critical way; andwhen in this fashion things were going at their best,Kimberly seemed never quite to enter into themirth.

His indifference annoyed her so that as a guestshe would have given him up. Yet this wouldinvolve a social loss not pleasant to face. Herinvitations continued, and his regrets were frequent.Alice concluded she had in some way displeased him.