the price she paid-第37节

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ng　than　the　solitude　and　the　taunt　and　sneer　and　lash　of　her　own　thoughts。　　It　was　late　in　the　afternoon　before　she　nerved　herself　to　go　home。　　She　hoped　the　others　would　have　gone　off　somewhere；　but　they　were　waiting　for　her；　Stanley　anxious　and　Cyrilla　Brindley　irritated。　　Her　eyes　sought　Keith。　　He　was；　as　usual；　the　indifferent　spectator。

‘‘Where　have　you　been？''　cried　Stanley。

‘‘Making　up　my　mind；''　said　she　in　the　tone　that　forewarns　of　a　storm。

A　brief　pause。　　She　struggled　in　vain　against　an　impulse　to　look　at　Keith。　　When　her　eyes　turned　in　his　direction　he；　not　looking　at　her；　moved　in　his　listless　way　toward　the　door。　　Said　he：

‘‘The　auto's　waiting。　　Come　on。''

She　vacillated；　yielded；　began　to　put　on　the　wraps　Stanley　was　collecting　for　her。　　It　was　a　big　touring…　car；　and　they　sat　two　and　two；　with　the　chauffeur　alone。　Keith　was　beside　Mildred。　　When　they　were　under　way；　she　said：

‘‘Why　did　you　stop　me？　　Perhaps　I'll　never　have　the　courage　again。''

‘‘Courage　for　what？''　asked　he。

‘‘To　take　your　advice；　and　break　off。''

‘‘MY　advice？''

‘‘Yes；　your　advice。''

‘‘You　have　to　clutch　at　and　cling　to　somebody；　don't　you？　　You　can't　bear　the　idea　of　standing　up　by　your　own　strength。''

‘‘You　think　I'm　trying　to　fasten　to　you？''　she　said；　with　an　angry　laugh。

‘‘I　know　it。　　You　admitted　it。　　You　are　not　satisfied　with　the　way　things　are　going。　　You　have　doubts　about　your　career。　　You　shrink　from　your　only　comfortable　alternative；　if　the　career　winks　out。　　You　ask　me　my　opinion　about　yourself　and　about　careers。　　I　give　it。　Now；　I　find　you　asked　only　that　you　might　have　someone　to　lean　on；　to　accuse　of　having　got　you　into　a　mess；　if　doing　what　you　think　you　ought　to　do　turns　out　as　badly　as　you　fear。''

It　was　the　longest　speech　she　had　heard　him　make。　She　had　no　inclination　to　dispute　his　analysis　of　her　motives。　　‘‘I　did　not　realize　it；''　said　she；　‘‘but　that　is　probably　so。　　Butremember　how　I　was　brought　up。''

‘‘There's　only　one　thing　for　you　to　do。''

‘‘Go　back　to　my　husband？　　You　knowabout　me　don't　you？''

‘‘Yes''

‘‘I　can't　go　back　to　him。''

‘‘No。''

‘‘Thenwhat？''　she　asked。

‘‘Go　on；　as　now；''　replied　he。

‘‘You　despise　me；　don't　you？''

‘‘No。''

‘‘But　you　said　you　did。''

‘‘Dislike　and　despise　are　not　at　all　the　same。''

‘‘You　admit　that　you　dislike　me；''　cried　she　triumphantly。　He　did　not　answer。

‘‘You　think　me　a　weak；　clinging　creature；　not　able　to　do　anything　but　make　pretenses。''

No　answer。

‘‘Don't　you？''　she　persisted。

‘‘Probably　I　have　about　the　same　opinion　of　you　that　you　have　of　yourself。''

‘‘What　WILL　become　of　me？''　she　said。　　Her　face　lighted　up　with　an　expression　of　reckless　beauty。　　‘‘If　I　could　only　get　started　I'd　go　to　the　devil；　laughing　and　dancingand　taking　a　train　with　me。''

‘‘You　ARE　started；''　said　he；　with　an　amiable　smile。　‘‘Keep　on。　　But　I　doubt　if　you'll　be　so　well　amused　as　you　may　imagine。　　Going　to　the　devil　isn't　as　it's　painted　in　novels　by　homely　old　maids　and　by　men　too　timid　to　go　out　of　nights。　　A　few　steps　farther；　and　your　disillusionment　will　begin。　　But　there'll　be　no　turning　back。　　Already；　you　are　almost　too　old　to　make　a　career。''

‘‘I'm　only　twenty…four。　　I　flattered　myself　I　looked　still　younger。''

‘‘It's　worse　than　I　thought；''　said　he。　　‘‘Most　of　the　singers；　even　the　second…rate　ones；　began　at　fifteen　began　seriously。　　And　you　haven't　begun　yet。''

‘‘That's　unjust；''　she　protested。　　‘‘I've　done　a　little。　Many　great　people　would　think　it　a　great　deal。''

‘‘You　haven't　begun　yet；''　repeated　he　calmly。　　‘‘You　have　spent　a　lot　of　money；　and　have　done　a　lot　of　dreaming　and　talking　and　listening　to　compliments；　and　have　taken　a　lot　of　lessons　of　an　expensive　charlatan。　　But　what　have　those　things　to　do　with　a　career？''

‘‘You've　never　heard　me　sing。''

‘‘I　do　not　care　for　singing。''

‘‘Oh！''　said　she　in　a　tone　of　relief。　　‘‘Then　you　know　nothing　about　all　this。''

‘‘On　the　contrary；　I　know　everything　about　a　career。　And　we　were　talking　of　careers；　not　of　singing。''

‘‘You　mean　that　my　voice　is　worthless　because　I　haven't　the　other　elements？''

‘‘What　else　could　I　have　meant？''　said　he。　　‘‘You　haven't　the　strength。　　You　haven't　the　health。''

She　laughed　as　she　straightened　herself。　　‘‘Do　I　look　weak　and　sickly？''　cried　she。

‘‘For　the　purposes　of　a　career　as　a　female　you　are　strong　and　well；''　said　he。　　‘‘For　the　purpose　of　a　career　as　a　singer''　　He　smiled　and　shook　his　head。　‘‘A　singer　must　have　muscles　like　wire　ropes；　like　a　blacksmith　or　a　washerwoman。　　The　other　day　we　were　climbing　a　hilla　not　very　steep　hill。　　You　stopped　five　times　for　breath；　and　twice　you　sat　down　to　rest。''

She　was　literally　hanging　her　head　with　shame。　　‘‘I　wasn't　very　well　that　day；''　she　murmured。

‘‘Don't　deceive　yourself；''　said　he。　　‘‘Don't　indulge　in　the　fatal　folly　of　self…excuse。''

‘‘Go　on；''　she　said　humbly。　　‘‘I　want　to　hear　it　all。''

‘‘Is　your　throat　sore　to…day？''　pursued　he。

She　colored。　　‘‘It's　better；''　she　murmured。

‘‘A　singer　with　sore　throat！''　mocked　he。　　‘‘You've　had　a　slight　fogginess　of　the　voice　all　summer。''

‘‘It's　this　sea　air；''　she　eagerly　protested。　　‘‘It　affects　everyone。''

‘‘No　self…excuse；　please；''　interrupted　he。　　‘‘Cigarettes；　champagne；　all　kinds　of　foolish　food；　an　impaired　digestionthat's　the　truth；　and　you　know　it。''

‘‘I've　got　splendid　digestion！　　I　can　eat　anything！''　she　cried。　　‘‘Oh；　you　don't　know　the　first　thing　about　singing。　　You　don't　know　about　temperament；　about　art；　about　all　the　things　that　singing　really　means。''

‘‘We　were　talking　of　careers；''　said　he。　　‘‘A　career　means　a　person　who　can　be　relied　upon　to　do　what　is　demanded　of　him。　　A　singer's　career　means　a　powerful　body；　perfect　health；　a　sound　digestion。　　Without　them；　the　voice　will　not　be　reliable。　　What　you　need　is　not　singing　teachers；　but　teachers　of　athletics　and　of　hygiene。　To　hear　you　talk　about　a　career　is　like　listening　to　a　child。　　You　think　you　can　become　a　professional　singer　by　paying　money　to　a　teacher。　　There　are　lawyers　and　doctors　and　business　men　in　all　lines　who　think　that　way　about　their　professionsthat　learning　a　little　routine　of　technical　knowledge　makes　a　lawyer　or　a　doctor　or　a　merchant　or　a　financier。''

‘‘Tell　meWHAT　ought　I　to　learn？''

‘‘Learn　to　thinkand　to　persist。　　Learn　to　concentrate。　　Learn　to　make　sacrifices。　　Learn　to　handle　yourself　as　a　great　painter　handles　his　brush　and　colors。　Then　perhaps　you'll　make　a　career　as　a　singer。　　If　not；　it'll　be　a　career　as　something　or　other。''

She　was　watching　him　with　a　wistful；　puzzled　expression。　‘‘Could　I　ever　do　all　that？''

‘‘Anyone　could；　by　working　away　at　it　every　day。　If　you　gain　only　one　inch　a　day；　in　a　year　you'll　have　gained　three　hundred　and　sixty…five　inches。　　And　if　you　gain　an　inch　a　day　for　a　while　and　hold　it；　you　soon　begin　to　gain　a　foot　a　day。　　But　there's　no　need　to　worry　about　that。''　　He　was　gazing　at　her　now　with　an　expression　of　animation　that　showed　how　feverishly　alive　he　was　behind　that　mask　of　calmness。　　‘‘The　day's　workthat's　the　story　of　success。　　Do　the　day's　work　persistently；　thoroughly；　intelligently。　　Never　mind　about　to…morrow。　　Thinking　of　it　means　dreaming　or　despairingboth　futilities。　　Just　the　day's　work。''

‘‘I　begin　to　understand；''　she　said　thoughtfully。　‘‘You　are　right。　　I've　done　nothing。　　Oh；　I've　been　a　foolmore　foolish　even　than　I　thought。''

A　long　silence；　then　she　said；　somewhat　embarrassed　and　in　a　low　voice；　though　there　was　no　danger　of　those　in　front　of　them　hearing：

‘‘I　want　you　to　know　that　there　has　been　nothing　wrongbetween　Stanley　and　me。''

‘‘Do　you　wish　me　to　put　that　to　your　credit　or　to　your　discredit？''　inquired　he。

‘‘What　do　you　mean？''

‘‘Why；　you've　just　told　me　that　you　haven't　given　Stanley　anything　at　all　for　his　moneythat　you've　cheated　him　outright。　　The　thing　itself　is　discreditable；　but　your　tone　suggests　that　you　think　I'll　admire　you　for　it。''

‘‘Do　you　mean　to　say　that　you'd　think　more　highly　of　me　if　I　werewhat　most　women　would　be　in　the　same　circumstances？''

‘‘I　mean　to　say　that　I　think　the　whole　business　is　discreditable　to　both　of　youto　his　intelligence；　to　your　character。''

‘‘You　are　frank；''　said　she；　trying　to　hide　her　anger。

‘‘I　am　frank；''　replied　he；　undisturbed。　　He　looked　at　her。　　‘‘Why　should　I　not　be？''

‘‘You　know　that　I　need　you；　that　I　don't　dare　resent；''　said　she。　　‘‘So　isn't　ita　little　cowardly？''

‘‘Why　do　you　need　me？　　Not　for　money；　for　you　know　you'll　not　get　that。''

‘‘I　don't　want　it；''　cried　she；　agitated。　　‘‘I　never　thought　of　it。''

‘‘Yes；　you've　probably　thought　of　it；''　replied　he　coolly。　　‘‘But　you　will　not　get　it。''

‘‘Well；　that's　settledI'll　not　get　it。''

‘‘Then　why　do　you　need　me？　　Of　what　use　can　I　be　to　you？　　Only　one　use　in　the　world。　　To　tell　you　the　truththe　exact　truth。　　Is　not　that　so？''

‘‘Yes；''　she　said。　　‘‘That　is　what　I　want　from　you　what　I　can't　get　from　anyone　else。　　No　one　else　knows　the　truthnot　even　Mrs。　Brindley；　though　she's　intelligent。　　I　take　back　what　I　said　about　your　being　cowardly。　　Oh；　you　do　stab　my　vanity　so！　　You　mustn't　mind　my　crying　out。　　I　can't　help　itat　least；　not　till　I　get　used　to　you。''

‘‘Cry