The Man in Lonely Land

by Kate Langley Bosher

  VIII

  THE RECEPTION

  Going down the crowded steps into the crowded drawing-room, WinthropLaine slowly made his way through the door to the place where Mr. andMrs. Taillor and their daughter were receiving their guests andpassing them on with a rapidity that would have been creditable tothe custodian of a game of human roulette, and as he reached them hisname was called with uncomfortable clearness.

  "Well, this is a surprise!" Both of Mrs. Taillor's hands heldLaine's. "But commend me to a person who knows when to change hismind. Jessica, you should feel honored. Awfully good of you tocome! How do you do, Mrs. Haislip?" And Laine, too, was passed on,and a moment later found himself in a corner where he could watch thedoor and all who came in.

  What was he here for? He didn't know. The air was heavy withperfume. In the distance music reached him faintly, and the throband stir and color and glow for some minutes interested him as heglanced around the handsome room with its massed palms, its wealth offlowers, its brilliant lights, and streams of gorgeously gowned womenand prosperous-looking men, and then he wondered what had made himstart anything of this sort again. To come had been a suddendecision. Long ago the dreariness of functions such as these hadcaused their giving-up, but a fancy to look once more upon one hadpossessed him unaccountably, and he had come.

  Up-stairs in the men's room his reappearance had been banteringlycommented on, and with good-natured hand-shaking he had been welcomedback; but down here many faces were strange and figuresunrecognizable; and with something of shock he realized how few werethe years necessary to change the personnel of any division ofhumanity. The heat was intense, and moving farther back toward ascreen of palms near a half-open window, he pulled one slightlyforward that he might see and not be seen, and again watched eachnewcomer with mild speculation as to whether he or she were known ornot.

  For a while it was puzzling, this continuing arrival of new faces,with here and there one he knew well or slightly; but gradually itseffect chilled, and he was wondering if he could get away when heheard his name called.

  "Winthrop Laine! Of all people!" Miss French held out her hand."From what loophole were you watching this passing show for man'sderision given? May I come in?"

  "You may."

  Miss French moved behind the palms and pushed a tall leaf aside."You and I are too old for these things, Winthrop. I don't know whyI come--to get away from myself, I suppose. Look at that MissCantrell! She parades her bones as if they were a private collectionof which she was proud! And did you ever see anything as hideous asthat gown Miss Gavins has on? Paris green couldn't be more deadly.I heard Mathilda Hickman tell her just now to be sure and wear it toher dinner next week, it was so becoming; and only yesterday she wasshrieking over it at a luncheon where everybody was talking about it,Mr. Trehan is to be at the dinner, and Mathilda wants every woman tolook her worst. Hello! There comes Channing and Hope and the cousinfrom the country. Rather a nice sort of person, awfully young andinexperienced, but--" She put up her lorgnette. "They are talkingto Miss Cantrell. Miss Keith is not becoming to Miss Cantrell, orMiss Gavins, either. Her shoulders are excellent and her headperfectly poised. That white dress suits her. Have you been in thedining-room?"

  Laine came from behind the palms. "No; I was to wait for Hope.Awfully glad to have seen you, Robin. A stranger in a strange landhas a chance, but a man who has lost his place hasn't. People have away of closing up if you lose step, and I"--he laughed--"I lost steplong ago. I'll see you again." And, watching, Miss French saw himtake possession of Miss Keith and go with her out of the room.

  Half an hour later Laine found a chair for Claudia at the end of thehall opposite the dining-room, and as she sat down he wiped hisforehead. "I used to play football, but--"

  "You're out of practice? I don't believe you did take more thanthree men by the shoulders and put them aside. I don't understandfootball very well, but a dining-room seems to be the center-rush.Please look at that crowd over there!" She nodded toward the opendoor, through which a mass of men could be seen struggling. "Isn'tit queer--the eagerness with which a plate of salad is pursued?"

  "And the earnestness with which it is devoured." Laine put hishandkerchief in his pocket. Will you wait here a moment until I canget you something? I'll be back--"

  "Indeed I won't." Claudia stood up. "It's fun to watch, but onlyfruit from the tree of life would be worth a scrimmage of that kind.If I could get on top of a picture-frame or a curtain-pole, oranything from which I could look down on a show like this, I'd have abeautiful time, but"--she opened her fan--"it's rather stuffy to bein it."

  Laine glanced around. He knew the house well. Next to the library,but not opening into it, was a small room of Taillor's which couldonly be reached by a narrow passage at their right. He walked awayand looked in at the door. The room was empty.

  "I think it will be more comfortable over there," he said, comingback, then saw she was talking to a man he had long known and longdisliked. He stopped a servant who was passing, a man who had oncebeen in the employ of one of his clubs. "Bring some stuff over hereand be quick, will you, David?" he said, then spoke to the mantalking to Miss Keith.

  His greeting to Dudley was not cordial. It was with difficultyindeed that he did not take Claudia away at once. Dudley was not thesort of man for her to have anything to do with. In a timeincredibly short, but to Laine irritatingly long, David was back,abundantly supplied; and with a nod he was directed to the room atthe end of the narrow hall, and Laine turned to the girl at his side."Are you ready?"

  "Good night." Miss Keith held out her hand. "Bettina sent you manymessages."

  "I'm coming to get them--may I?" Mr. Dudley's eyes were franklyeager. "But where are you going? Laine always was a monopolist.What are you doing at a thing of this kind, anyhow, Laine? Don't payany attention to him, Miss Keith. He's mere facts and figures, andthe froth of life is not in him. I'm much better company."

  The last words were lost in the push of new arrivals, and quicklyLaine led the way to the room where David was waiting. Through theopen door the sound of music reached them faintly over the shrillrise and fall of many voices; and as Claudia sat down near the tableon which various plates had been placed she put her hands to thesides of her face and, laughing, drew them away.

  "Did you ever put a cockle-shell to your ear and notice its roar?"she asked. "That's how a Tea sounds when there're only women at it.When there're men it's more so. What is this?" She held her forksuspended for a moment. "It's awfully good, but very elusive. Whatdo you suppose it is?"

  "A bunch of guesses wouldn't hit it. Clicot is providing theprovender, I believe; I see his men here, and the ambition ofClicot's life is to create a new dish. I'm glad you like it. It'sas near nothing as anything I ever ate. Are you comfortable? Isthat chair all right?"

  Claudia nodded. "Why don't you sit down? I'm sorry we can't see thepeople, but it's nice to be out of the crowd." She looked around theroom. "This is a very handsome house. I never saw more gorgeousflowers, and tomorrow," she gave a queer little sigh, "tomorrow itwill all be over--and the flowers faded."

  "Faded things are the penalties of wealth. It's the one compensationfor follies of this sort that they are soon over."

  "I don't think they are always follies. When I was young--"

  He looked down at her, in his eyes a quiet gleam. "When you werewhat?"

  "Young. Really young, I mean. I had my party when I was eighteen.I remember it just as well." She gave a happy little laugh. "But ofcourse we change with time. My sister says I am developing adreadful disease. It's a tendency. Did you ever have it?"

  "A what?"

  "A tendency--to think and wonder and ask questions, you know. Shesays people who have it are very trying. But how can you help athing you're born with?" She leaned forward, pushed the platesaside, and folded her arms on the table. "I always wondered aboutthings, but I didn't entirely wake up until I was over
twenty. Idon't blame people for having things like this"--she waved her handsinclusively--"that is, if they like this kind of thing." She lookedup at him. "We're just like children. All of us love to splurgeevery now and then. Don't we?"

  "It looks that way. Splurge has a variety of forms." Laine leanedforward, hands clasped loosely between his knees. "But thetendency--is it catching?"

  She laughed. "In the country it is. I live in the country, but itdidn't develop in me until I had several winters in the city. I usedto love things like this. I didn't know much about a good many otherthings, and it was when I found out that I began to look at peopleand wonder if they knew, and cared, and what they were doing withit--their life I mean, their chance, their time, their money. Onewinter it got so bad Lettice sent me home. Lettice lives inWashington; she's my second sister. My oldest sister is a widow, andis still in London, where her husband died two years ago. I keptlooking for glad faces and real, sure-enough happiness; and so manypeople looked bored and bothered and tired that I couldn'tunderstand--and Lettice made me go home. Her husband is in Congress,and she said I wanted to know too much."

  "Have you yet found what you were looking for?" Laine leaned back inhis chair and shaded his eyes with his hand.

  "Yes." She laughed lightly and got up. "You can find anything, Iguess, if you look for it right. And in such unexpected places youfind things!" She stopped and listened. "I believe people are goinghome. Please take me to Hope. I can't imagine what made us stay inhere so long!"