the price she paid-第23节

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e　off　the　fat　of　the　land。''

‘‘That's　good　news；''　said　Mildred。　　She　began　to　like　the　landladynot　for　what　she　said；　but　for　the　free　and　frank　and　friendly　way　of　the　sayinga　human　way；　a　comradely　way；　a　live…and…let…live　way。

‘‘I　didn't　escape　from　New　England　without　a　struggle；''　continued　Mrs。　Belloc；　who　was　plainly　showing　that　she　had　taken　a　great　fancy　to　‘‘Mary　Stevens。''

‘‘I　suppose　it　was　hard　to　save　the　money　out　of　your　salary；''　said　Mildred。

Mrs。　Belloc　laughed。　　She　was　about　thirty…five　years　old；　though　her　eyes　and　her　figure　were　younger　than　that。　　Her　mouth　was　pleasant　enough；　but　had　lost　some　of　its　freshness。　　‘‘Save　money！''　cried　she。　‘‘I'd　never　have　succeeded　that　way。　　I'd　be　there　yet。　I　had　never　marriedhad　two　or　three　chances；　but　all　from　poor　sticks　looking　for　someone　to　support　them。　　I　saw　myself　getting　old。　　I　was　looking　years　older　than　I　do　now。　　Talk　about　sea　air　for　freshening　a　woman　upit　isn't　in　it　with　the　air　of　New　York。　Here's　the　town　where　women　stay　young。　　If　I　had　come　here　five　years　ago　I　could　almost　try　for　the　squab　class。''

‘‘Squab　class？''　queried　Mildred。

‘‘Yes；　squabs。　　Don't　you　see　them　around　everywhere？　the　women　dressed　like　girls　of　sixteen　to　eighteenand　some　of　them　are　that；　and　younger。　They　go　hopping　and　laughing　aboutand　they　seem　to　please　the　men　and　to　have　no　end　of　a　good　time。　Especially　the　oldish　men。　　Oh；　yes；　you　know　a　squab　on　sighttight　skirt；　low　shoes　and　silk　stockings；　cute　pretty　face；　always　laughing；　hat　set　on　rakishly　and　hair　done　to　match；　and　always　a　big　purse　or　bagwith　a　yellow…back　or　so　in　itas　a　kind　of　a　hint；　I　guess。''

Mildred　had　seen　squabs。　　‘‘I've　envied　themin　a　way；''　said　she。　　‘‘Their　parents　seem　to　let　them　do　about　as　they　please。''

‘‘Their　parents　don't　knowor　don't　care。　　Sometimes　it's　one；　sometimes　the　other。　　They　travel　in　two　sets。　　One　is　where　they　meet　young　fellows　of　their　own　classthe　kind　they'll　probably　marry；　unless　they　happen　to　draw　the　capital　prize。　　The　other　set　they　travel　inwell；　it's　the　older　men　they　meet　round　the　swell　hotels　and　so　onthe　yellow…back　men。''

‘‘How　queer！''　exclaimed　Mildred；　before　whose　eyes　a　new　world　was　opening。　　‘‘But　how　do　theythese　squabsaccount　for　the　money？''

‘‘How　do　a　thousand　and　one　women　in　this　funny　town　account　at　home　for　money　and　things？''　retorted　Mrs。　Belloc。　　‘‘Nothing's　easier。　　For　instance；　often　these　squabs　door　pretend　to　doa　little　something　in　the　way　of　worka　little　canvassing　or　artists'　model　or　anything　you　please。　　That　helps　them　to　explain　at　homeand　also　to　make　each　of　the　yellow…　back　men　think　he's　the　only　one　and　that　he's　being　almost　loved　for　himself　alone。''

Mrs。　Belloc　laughed。　　Mildred　was　too　astonished　to　laugh；　and　too　interestedand　too　startled　or　shocked。

‘‘But　I　was　telling　you　how　_I_　got　down　here；''　continued　the　landlady。　　‘‘Up　in　my　town　there　was　an　old　manabout　seventy…fiveclose　as　the　bark　on　a　tree；　and　ugly　and　mean。''　　She　paused　to　draw　a　long　breath　and　to　shake　her　head　angrily　yet　triumphantly　at　some　figure　her　fancy　conjured　up。　‘‘Oh；　he　WAS　a　pup！and　is！　　Well；　anyhow；　I　decided　that　I'd　marry　him。　　So　I　wrote　home　for　fifty　dollars。　　I　borrowed　another　fifty　here　and　there。　　I　had　seventy…five　saved　up　against　sickness。　　I　went　up　to　Boston　and　laid　it　all　out　in　underclothes　and　house　thingsnot　showy　but　fine　and　good　to　look　at。　　Then　one　day；　when　the　weather　was　fine　and　I　knew　the　old　man　would　be　out　in　his　buggy　driving　roundI　dressed　myself　up　to　beat　the　band。　　I　took　hours　to　itscrubbing；　powdering；　sacheting；　perfuming；　fixing　the　hair；　fixing　my　finger…nails；　fixing　up　my　feet；　polishing　every　nail　and　making　them　look　better　than　most　hands。''

Mildred　was　so　interested　that　she　was　excited。　　What　strange　freak　was　coming？

‘‘You　never　could　guess；''　pursued　Mrs。　Belloc；　complacently。　　‘‘I　took　my　sunshade　and　went　out；　all　got　up　to　kill。　　And　I　walked　along　the　road　until　I　saw　the　old　man's　buggy　coming　with　him　in　it。　　Then　I　gave　my　ankle　a　frightful　wrench。　　My！　　How　it　hurt！''

‘‘What　a　pity！''　said　Mildred　sympathetically。　‘‘What　a　shame！''

‘‘A　pity？　　A　shame？''　cried　Mrs。　Belloc；　laughing。　‘‘Why；　my　dear；　I　did　it　a…purpose。''

‘‘On　purpose！''　exclaimed　Mildred。

‘‘Certainly。　　That　was　my　game。　　I　screamed　out　with　painand　the　scream　was　no　fake；　I　can　tell　you。　　And　I　fell　down　by　the　roadside　on　a　nice　grassy　spot　where　no　dust　would　get　on　me。　　Well；　up　comes　the　old　skinflint　in　his　buggy。　　He　climbed　down　and　helped　me　get　off　my　slipper　and　stocking。　　I　knew　I　had　him　the　minute　I　saw　his　old　face　looking　at　that　foot　I　had　fixed　up　so　beautifully。''

‘‘How　DID　you　ever　think　of　it？''　exclaimed　Mildred。

‘‘Go　and　teach　school　for　ten　years　in　a　dull　little　town；　my　dearand　look　in　the　glass　every　day　and　see　your　youth　fading　awayand　you'll　think　of　most　anything。　　Well；　to　make　a　long　story　short；　the　old　man　took　me　in　the　buggy　to　his　house　where　he　lived　with　his　deaf；　half…blind　old　widowed　daughter。　　I　had　to　stay　there　three　weeks。　　I　married　him　the　fourth　week。　　And　just　two　months　to　a　day　from　the　afternoon　I　sprained　my　ankle；　he　gave　me　fifty　dollars　a　weekall　signed　and　sealed　by　a　lawyerto　go　away　and　leave　him　alone。　　I　might　have　stood　out　for　more；　but　I　was　too　anxious　to　get　to　New　York。　　And　here　I　am！''　　She　gazed　about　the　well…furnished　room；　typical　of　that　almost　luxurious　house；　with　an　air　of　triumphant　satisfaction。　　Said　she：　　‘‘I've　no　patience　with　a　woman　who　says　she　can't　get　on。　　Where's　her　brains？''

Mildred　was　silent。　　Perhaps　it　was　a　feeling　of　what　was　hazily　in　the　younger　woman's　mind　and　a　desire　to　answer　it　that　led　Mrs。　Belloc　to　say　further：　　‘‘I　suppose　there's　some　that　would　criticize　my　way　of　getting　there。　　But　I　want　to　know；　don't　all　women　get　there　by　working　men？　　Only　most　of　them　are　so　stupid　that　they　have　to　go　on　living　with　the　man。　I　think　it's　low　to　live　with　a　man　you　hate。''

‘‘Oh；　I'm　not　criticizing　anybody；''　said　Mildred。

‘‘I　didn't　think　you　were；''　said　Mrs。　Belloc。　　‘‘If　I　hadn't　seen　you　weren't　that　kind；　I'd　not　have　been　so　confidential。　　Not　that　I'm　secretive　with　anybody。　I　say　and　do　what　I　please。　　Anyone　who　doesn't　like　my　way　or　me　can　take　the　other　side　of　the　street。　I　didn't　come　to　New　York　to　go　in　society。　　I　came　here　to　LIVE。''

Mildred　looked　at　her　admiringly。　　There　were　things　about　Mrs。　Belloc　that　she　did　not　admire；　other　thingssuspected　rather　than　known　thingsthat　she　knew　she　would　shrink　from；　but　she　heartily　admired　and　profoundly　envied　her　utter　indifference　to　the　opinion　of　others；　her　fine　independent　way　of　walking　her　own　path　at　her　own　gait。

‘‘I　took　this　boarding…house；''　Mrs。　Belloc　went　on；　‘‘because　I　didn't　want　to　be　lonesome。　　I　don't　like　allor　even　most　ofthe　ladies　that　live　here。　　But　they're　all　amusing　to　talk　withand　don't　put　on　airs　except　with　their　men　friends。　　And　one　or　two　are　the　real　thinggood…hearted；　fond　of　a　joke；　with…　out　any　meanness。　　I　tell　you；　New　York　is　a　mighty　fine　place　if　you　get　‘in　right。'　　Of　course；　if　you　don't；　it's　h…e…l…l。''　　（Mrs。　Belloc　took　off　its　unrefined　edge　by　spelling　it。）　　‘‘But　what　place　isn't？''　she　added。

‘‘And　your　husband　never　bothers　you？''　inquired　Mildred。

‘‘And　never　will；''　replied　Mrs。　Belloc。　　‘‘When　he　dies　I'll　come　into　a　little　moreabout　a　hundred　and　fifty　a　week　in　all。　　Not　a　fortune；　but　enough　with　what　the　boarding…house　brings　in。　　I'm　a　pretty　fair　business　woman。''

‘‘I　should　say　so！''　exclaimed　Mildred。

‘‘You　said　you　were　Miss　Stevens；　didn't　you？''　said　Mrs。　Bellocand　Mildred　knew　that　her　turn　had　come。

‘‘Yes；''　replied　she。　　‘‘But　I　am　also　a　married　woman。''　　She　hesitated；　reddened。　　‘‘I　didn't　give　you　my　married　name。''

‘‘That's　your　own　business；''　said　Mrs。　Belloc　in　her　easiest　manner。　　‘‘My　right　name　isn't　Belloc；　either。　But　I've　dropped　that　other　life。　　You　needn't　feel　a　bit　embarrassed　in　this　house。　　Some　of　my　boarders　SEEM　to　be　married。　　All　that　have　regular…appearing　husbands　SAY　they　are。　　What　do　I　care；　so　long　as　everything　goes　along　smoothly？　　I　don't　get　excited　about　trifles。''

‘‘Some　day　perhaps　I'll　tell　you　about　myself；''　said　Mildred。　　‘‘Just　at　present　Iwell；　I　seem　not　to　be　able　to　talk　about　things。''

‘‘It's　not　a　bad　idea　to　keep　your　mouth　shut；　as　long　as　your　affairs　are　unsettled；''　advised　Mrs。　Belloc。　‘‘I　can　see　you've　had　little　experience。　　But　you'll　come　out　all　right。　　Just　keep　cool；　and　don't　fret　about　trifles。　　And　don't　let　any　man　make　a　fool　of　you。　　That's　where　we　women　get　left。　　We're　afraid　of　men。　　We　needn't　be。　　We　can　mighty　easily　make　them　afraid　of　us。　　Use　the　soft　hand　till　you　get　him　well　in　your　grip。　　Then　the　firm　hand。　　Nothing　coarse　or　cruel　or　mean。　　But　firm　and　self…respecting。''

Mildred　was　tempted　to　take　Mrs。　Belloc　fully　into　her　confidence　and　get　the　benefit　of　the　advice　of　shrewdness　and　experience。　　So　strong　was　the　temptation；　she　would　have　yielded　to　it　had　Mrs。　Belloc　asked　a　few　tactful；　penetrating　questions。　　But　Mrs。　Belloc　refrained；　and　Mildred's　timidity