XVI
IT was now growing rather dark in the room.
"I'm terribly sorry you feel this way," he said.
She had averted her eyes and was now seated, chin in hand, looking out ofthe window.
"Do you know," he said, "this is a rotten condition of affairs."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"This attitude of women."
"Is it more odious than the attitude of men?"
"After all," he said, "man is born with the biceps. He was made to do thefighting."
"Not all of the intellectual fighting."
"No, of course not. But--you don't want him to rock the cradle, do you?"
"Cradles are no longer rocked, Captain Jones. I don't think _you_ wouldbe qualified to pass this examination with which you menace us."
He began to be interested. She turned from the window, saw he wasinterested, hesitated, then:
"I wish I could talk to you--to such a man as you seem to be--sensibly,without rancour, without personal enmity or prejudice----"
"Can't you?"
"Why, yes. _I_ can. But--I am not sure what _your_ attitude----"
"It is friendly," he said, looking at her. "I am perfectly hap--I meanwilling to listen to you. Only, sooner or later, you must return to methose papers."
"Why?"
"The Governor entrusted them to me officially----"
She said smiling: "But you--your Governor I mean--can frame anothersimilar bill."
"I'm a soldier in uniform," he said dramatically. "My duty is to guardthose papers with my life!"
"I am a soldier, too," she said proudly, "in the Army of Human Progress."
"Very well," he said, "if you regard it that way."
"I do. Only brute violence can deprive me of these papers."
"That," he said, "is out of the question."
"It is no more shameful than the mental violence to which you havesubjected us through centuries. Anyway, you're not strong enough to getthem from me."
"Do you expect me to seize you and twist your arm until you drop thosepapers?"
"You can never have them otherwise. Try it!"
He sat silent for a while, alternately twisting his moustache and thecat's tail. Presently he flung the latter away, rose, inspected the starson the wall, and then began to pace to and fro, his gloved hands behindhis back, spurs and sword clanking.
"It's getting late," he said as he passed her. Continuing his promenadehe added as he passed her again. "I've had no luncheon. Have you?"
He poked around the room, examining the fantastic furnishings in alltheir magnificence of cotton velvet and red cheesecloth.
"If this is Dill's room it's a horrible place," he thought to himself,sitting down by a table and shuffling a pack of cards.
"Shall I cast your horoscope?" he asked amiably. "Here's a chart."
"No, thank you."
Presently he said: "It's getting beastly cold in this room."
"Really!" she murmured.
He came back and sat down in the gilded chair. It was now so dusky in theroom that he couldn't see her very plainly.
So he folded his arms and abandoned himself to gloomy patience until theroom became very dark. Then he got up, struck a match, and lighted thegas.
"By Jupiter!" he muttered, "I'm hungry."
For nearly five minutes she let the remark go apparently unnoticed. Butthe complaint he had made is the one general and comprehensive appealthat no woman ever born can altogether ignore. In the depths of hersomething always responds, however faintly. And in the soul of this younggirl it was answering now--the subtle, occult response of woman to theeternal and endless need of man--hunger of one kind or another.
"I'm sorry," she said, so sincerely that the sweetness in her voicestartled him.
"Why--why, do you know I believe you really are!" he said in gratefulsurprise.
"I am a great many things that you have no idea I am," she said, smiling.
"What is one of them?"
"I'm afraid I'm a--a fool."
She came forward and stood looking at him.
"I've been thinking," she said, "that I can do you no kinder service thanto destroy those papers and let you go home."
For a moment he thought she was joking, then something in her expressionchanged his opinion and he took a step forward, eyes fixed on her face.
"Yes," he said, "it would be the kindest thing you can do for me. Shall Itell you why? It's because I'm hopelessly near-sighted. I wear glasseswhen I'm alone in my study, where nobody can see me."
"What in the world has _that_ to do with my leaving you?" she asked,colouring up.
"Suffragettes would never marry a near-sighted man, would they?"
"They ought not to."
"_You_ wouldn't, would you?"
"Why do you ask--such a thing?"
"I want to know."
"But how does your myopia concern _me_?" she said faintly.
"_Couldn't_ it--ever?" he asked, reddening.
"No," she said, turning pale.
"Then we'd better not stay here; and I'm going to be as generous as youare," he said, advancing toward her. "I'm going to let you go home."
She backed away, thrusting the papers behind her; his arm slipped aroundher, after them, strove to grasp them, to hold and restrain her, butthere was a strength in her tall, firm young body which matched his own;she resisted, turned, twisted, confronted him with high colour, and lipscompressed, and they came to a deadlock, breathing fast and irregularly.
Again, coolly, dexterously, he pitted his adroitness, then his sheerstrength against hers; and it came again to a deadlock.
Suddenly she crook'd one smooth knee inside of his; her arms slid aroundhim like lightning; he felt himself rising into the air,descending--there came a crash, a magnificent display of ocularfireworks, and nothing further concerned him until he discovered himselflying flat on the floor and heard somebody sobbing incoherencies besidehim.
He was mean enough to keep his eyes shut while she, on her knees besidehim, slopped water on his forehead and begged him to speak to her, andtold him her heart was broken and she desired to die and repose inmortuary simplicity beside him forever.
Certain terms she employed in addressing what she feared were only hismortal remains caused him to prick up his ears. He certainly was one ofthe meanest of men.
"Dear," she sobbed, "I--I have l-loved you ever since your lithographswere displayed during the election! Only speak to me! Only open thosebeloved eyes! I don't care whether they are near-sighted! Oh, please,please wake up!" she cried brokenly. "I'll give you back your papers.What do I care about that old bill? I'm p-perfectly willing to do allthose things! Oh, oh, oh! How conscience does make Haus-fraus of us all!"
His meanness now became contemptible; he felt her trembling hands on hisbrow; the fragrant, tearful face nearer, nearer, until her hot, flushedcheeks and quivering lips touched his. And yet, incredible as it seems,and to the everlasting shame of all his sex, he kept eyes and mouth shutuntil a lively knocking on the door brought him bolt upright.
She uttered a little cry and shrank away from him on her knees, the tearsglimmering in her startled and wide open eyes.
"Good heavens, darling!" he said seriously; "how on earth are we going toexplain this?"
They scrambled hastily to their feet and gazed at each other while kicksand blows began to rain on the door.
"I believe it's Dill," he whispered; "and I seem to hear the Mayor'svoice, too."
"Help! Help! For heaven's sake!" screamed the Mayor, "let us in, George!There's a mob of suffragettes coming up the stairs!"
The Governor unlocked the door and jerked it open, just as severalunusually beautiful girls seized Mr. Dill and the Military Secretary.
The Mayor, however, rushed blindly into the room, his turban-swirl wasover one eye, his skirt was missing, his apron hung by one pin.
He ran headlong for a sofa and tried to scramble under it, but lovely andvigorous arms se
ized his shins and drew him triumphantly forth.
"Hurrah!" they cried delightedly, "we have carried the entire ticket!"
"Hurrah!" echoed a sweet but tremulous voice, and a firm young arm wasslipped through the Governor's.
He turned to meet her beautiful, level gaze.
"Check!" she said.
"Make it check-mate," he said steadily.
"Mate _you_?"
"Will you?"
She bent her superb head a moment, then lifted her splendid eyes to his.
"Of course I will," she said, as steadily as her quickening heartpermitted. "Why do you suppose I ran after you?"
"Why?" whispered that infatuated man.
"Because," she said, naively, "I was afraid some other girl would getyou. . . . A girl never can be sure what another girl might do to a man.. . . And I wanted you for myself."
"Thank God," he said, "that six-foot Professor Challis will never get me,anyway."
She bent her adorable face close to his.
"Your excellency," she murmured, "_I_ am Professor Challis!"
At that instant a pretty and excited suffragette dashed up the stairs andsaluted.
"Professor," she cried, "all over the city desirable young men are beingpursued and married by the thousands! We have swept the State, withBrooklyn and West Point yet to hear from!" Her glance fell upon theGovernor; she laughed glee-fully.
"Shall I call a taxi, Professor?" she asked.
An exquisite and modest pride transformed the features of Professor BettyChallis to a beauty almost celestial.
"Let George do it," she said tenderly.
The Gay Rebellion Page 17
