by Jack London
CHAPTER XVIII
Daylight had been wholly truthful when he told Dede that he had no realfriends. On speaking terms with thousands, on fellowship and drinkingterms with hundreds, he was a lonely man. He failed to find the oneman, or group of several men, with whom he could be really intimate.Cities did not make for comradeship as did the Alaskan trail. Besides,the types of men were different. Scornful and contemptuous of businessmen on the one hand, on the other his relations with the San Franciscobosses had been more an alliance of expediency than anything else. Hehad felt more of kinship for the franker brutality of the bosses andtheir captains, but they had failed to claim any deep respect. Theywere too prone to crookedness. Bonds were better than men's word inthis modern world, and one had to look carefully to the bonds.
In the old Yukon days it had been different. Bonds didn't go. A mansaid he had so much, and even in a poker game his appeasement wasaccepted.
Larry Hegan, who rose ably to the largest demands of Daylight'soperations and who had few illusions and less hypocrisy, might haveproved a chum had it not been for his temperamental twist. Strangegenius that he was, a Napoleon of the law, with a power of visioningthat far exceeded Daylight's, he had nothing in common with Daylightoutside the office. He spent his time with books, a thing Daylightcould not abide. Also, he devoted himself to the endless writing ofplays which never got beyond manuscript form, and, though Daylight onlysensed the secret taint of it, was a confirmed but temperate eater ofhasheesh. Hegan lived all his life cloistered with books in a world ofagitation. With the out-of-door world he had no understanding nortolerance. In food and drink he was abstemious as a monk, whileexercise was a thing abhorrent. Daylight's friendships, in lieu ofanything closer, were drinking friendships and roistering friendships.And with the passing of the Sunday rides with Dede, he fell back moreand more upon these for diversion. The cocktail wall of inhibition hereared more assiduously than ever.
The big red motor-car was out more frequently now, while a stable handwas hired to give Bob exercise. In his early San Francisco days, therehad been intervals of easement between his deals, but in this presentbiggest deal of all the strain was unremitting. Not in a month, or two,or three, could his huge land investment be carried to a successfulconsummation. And so complete and wide-reaching was it thatcomplications and knotty situations constantly arose. Every daybrought its problems, and when he had solved them in his masterful way,he left the office in his big car, almost sighing with relief atanticipation of the approaching double Martini. Rarely was he madetipsy. His constitution was too strong for that. Instead, he was thatdirest of all drinkers, the steady drinker, deliberate and controlled,who averaged a far higher quantity of alcohol than the irregular andviolent drinker. For six weeks hard-running he had seen nothing ofDede except in the office, and there he resolutely refrained frommaking approaches. But by the seventh Sunday his hunger for herovermastered him. It was a stormy day.
A heavy southeast gale was blowing, and squall after squall of rain andwind swept over the city. He could not take his mind off of her, and apersistent picture came to him of her sitting by a window and sewingfeminine fripperies of some sort. When the time came for his firstpre-luncheon cocktail to be served to him in his rooms, he did not takeit.
Filled with a daring determination, he glanced at his note book forDede's telephone number, and called for the switch.
At first it was her landlady's daughter who was raised, but in a minutehe heard the voice he had been hungry to hear.
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm coming out to see you," he said."I didn't want to break in on you without warning, that was all."
"Has something happened?" came her voice.
"I'll tell you when I get there," he evaded.
He left the red car two blocks away and arrived on foot at the pretty,three-storied, shingled Berkeley house. For an instant only, he wasaware of an inward hesitancy, but the next moment he rang the bell. Heknew that what he was doing was in direct violation of her wishes, andthat he was setting her a difficult task to receive as a Sunday callerthe multimillionaire and notorious Elam Harnish of newspaper fame. Onthe other hand, the one thing he did not expect of her was what hewould have termed "silly female capers."
And in this he was not disappointed.
She came herself to the door to receive him and shake hands with him.He hung his mackintosh and hat on the rack in the comfortable squarehall and turned to her for direction.
"They are busy in there," she said, indicating the parlor from whichcame the boisterous voices of young people, and through the open doorof which he could see several college youths. "So you will have tocome into my rooms."
She led the way through the door opening out of the hall to the right,and, once inside, he stood awkwardly rooted to the floor, gazing abouthim and at her and all the time trying not to gaze. In his perturbationhe failed to hear and see her invitation to a seat. So these were herquarters. The intimacy of it and her making no fuss about it wasstartling, but it was no more than he would have expected of her. Itwas almost two rooms in one, the one he was in evidently thesitting-room, and the one he could see into, the bedroom. Beyond anoaken dressing-table, with an orderly litter of combs and brushes anddainty feminine knickknacks, there was no sign of its being used as abedroom. The broad couch, with a cover of old rose and banked high withcushions, he decided must be the bed, but it was farthest from anyexperience of a civilized bed he had ever had.
Not that he saw much of detail in that awkward moment of standing. Hisgeneral impression was one of warmth and comfort and beauty. Therewere no carpets, and on the hardwood floor he caught a glimpse ofseveral wolf and coyote skins. What captured and perceptibly held hiseye for a moment was a Crouched Venus that stood on a Steinway uprightagainst a background of mountain-lion skin on the wall.
But it was Dede herself that smote most sharply upon sense andperception. He had always cherished the idea that she was very much awoman--the lines of her figure, her hair, her eyes, her voice, andbirdlike laughing ways had all contributed to this; but here, in herown rooms, clad in some flowing, clinging gown, the emphasis of sex wasstartling. He had been accustomed to her only in trim tailor suits andshirtwaists, or in riding costume of velvet corduroy, and he was notprepared for this new revelation. She seemed so much softer, so muchmore pliant, and tender, and lissome. She was a part of thisatmosphere of quietude and beauty. She fitted into it just as she hadfitted in with the sober office furnishings.
"Won't you sit down?" she repeated.
He felt like an animal long denied food. His hunger for her welled upin him, and he proceeded to "wolf" the dainty morsel before him. Herewas no patience, no diplomacy. The straightest, direct way was nonetoo quick for him and, had he known it, the least unsuccessful way hecould have chosen.
"Look here," he said, in a voice that shook with passion, "there's onething I won't do, and that's propose to you in the office. That's whyI'm here. Dede Mason, I want you. I just want you."
While he spoke he advanced upon her, his black eyes burning with brightfire, his aroused blood swarthy in his cheek.
So precipitate was he, that she had barely time to cry out herinvoluntary alarm and to step back, at the same time catching one ofhis hands as he attempted to gather her into his arms.
In contrast to him, the blood had suddenly left her cheeks. The handthat had warded his hand off and that still held it, was trembling. Sherelaxed her fingers, and his arm dropped to his side. She wanted tosay something, do something, to pass on from the awkwardness of thesituation, but no intelligent thought nor action came into her mind.She was aware only of a desire to laugh. This impulse was partyhysterical and partly spontaneous humor--the latter growing frominstant to instant. Amazing as the affair was, the ridiculous side ofit was not veiled to her. She felt like one who had suffered the terrorof the onslaught of a murderous footpad only to find out that it was aninnocent pedestrian asking the time.
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p; Daylight was the quicker to achieve action. "Oh, I know I'm a sureenough fool," he said. "I--I guess I'll sit down. Don't be scairt,Miss Mason. I'm not real dangerous."
"I'm not afraid," she answered, with a smile, slipping down herselfinto a chair, beside which, on the floor, stood a sewing-basket fromwhich, Daylight noted, some white fluffy thing of lace and muslinoverflowed. Again she smiled. "Though I confess you did startle mefor the moment."
"It's funny," Daylight sighed, almost with regret; "here I am, strongenough to bend you around and tie knots in you. Here I am, used tohaving my will with man and beast and anything. And here I am sittingin this chair, as weak and helpless as a little lamb. You sure takethe starch out of me."
Dede vainly cudgeled her brains in quest of a reply to these remarks.Instead, her thought dwelt insistently upon the significance of hisstepping aside, in the middle of a violent proposal, in order to makeirrelevant remarks. What struck her was the man's certitude. Solittle did he doubt that he would have her, that he could afford topause and generalize upon love and the effects of love.
She noted his hand unconsciously slipping in the familiar way into theside coat pocket where she knew he carried his tobacco and brown papers.
"You may smoke, if you want to," she said. He withdrew his hand with ajerk, as if something in the pocket had stung him.
"No, I wasn't thinking of smoking. I was thinking of you. What's a manto do when he wants a woman but ask her to marry him? That's all thatI'm doing. I can't do it in style. I know that. But I can usestraight English, and that's good enough for me. I sure want youmighty bad, Miss Mason. You're in my mind 'most all the time, now.And what I want to know is--well, do you want me? That's all."
"I--I wish you hadn't asked," she said softly.
"Mebbe it's best you should know a few things before you give me ananswer," he went on, ignoring the fact that the answer had already beengiven. "I never went after a woman before in my life, all reports tothe contrary not withstanding. The stuff you read about me in thepapers and books, about me being a lady-killer, is all wrong. There'snot an iota of truth in it. I guess I've done more than my share ofcard-playing and whiskey-drinking, but women I've let alone. There wasa woman that killed herself, but I didn't know she wanted me that bador else I'd have married her--not for love, but to keep her fromkilling herself. She was the best of the boiling, but I never gave herany encouragement. I'm telling you all this because you've read aboutit, and I want you to get it straight from me.
"Lady-killer!" he snorted. "Why, Miss Mason, I don't mind telling youthat I've sure been scairt of women all my life. You're the first oneI've not been afraid of. That's the strange thing about it. I justplumb worship you, and yet I'm not afraid of you. Mebbe it's becauseyou're different from the women I know. You've never chased me.Lady-killer! Why, I've been running away from ladies ever since I canremember, and I guess all that saved me was that I was strong in thewind and that I never fell down and broke a leg or anything.
"I didn't ever want to get married until after I met you, and until along time after I met you. I cottoned to you from the start; but Inever thought it would get as bad as marriage. Why, I can't get tosleep nights, thinking of you and wanting you."
He came to a stop and waited. She had taken the lace and muslin fromthe basket, possibly to settle her nerves and wits, and was sewing uponit. As she was not looking at him, he devoured her with his eyes. Henoted the firm, efficient hands--hands that could control a horse likeBob, that could run a typewriter almost as fast as a man could talk,that could sew on dainty garments, and that, doubtlessly, could play onthe piano over there in the corner. Another ultra-feminine detail henoticed--her slippers. They were small and bronze. He had neverimagined she had such a small foot. Street shoes and riding boots wereall that he had ever seen on her feet, and they had given noadvertisement of this. The bronze slippers fascinated him, and to themhis eyes repeatedly turned.
A knock came at the door, which she answered. Daylight could not helphearing the conversation. She was wanted at the telephone.
"Tell him to call up again in ten minutes," he heard her say, and themasculine pronoun caused in him a flashing twinge of jealousy. Well,he decided, whoever it was, Burning Daylight would give him a run forhis money. The marvel to him was that a girl like Dede hadn't beenmarried long since.
She came back, smiling to him, and resumed her sewing. His eyeswandered from the efficient hands to the bronze slippers and backagain, and he swore to himself that there were mighty few stenographerslike her in existence. That was because she must have come of prettygood stock, and had a pretty good raising. Nothing else could explainthese rooms of hers and the clothes she wore and the way she wore them.
"Those ten minutes are flying," he suggested.
"I can't marry you," she said.
"You don't love me?"
She shook her head.
"Do you like me--the littlest bit?"
This time she nodded, at the same time allowing the smile of amusementto play on her lips. But it was amusement without contempt. Thehumorous side of a situation rarely appealed in vain to her.
"Well, that's something to go on," he announced. "You've got to make astart to get started. I just liked you at first, and look what it'sgrown into. You recollect, you said you didn't like my way of life.Well, I've changed it a heap. I ain't gambling like I used to. I'vegone into what you called the legitimate, making two minutes grow whereone grew before, three hundred thousand folks where only a hundredthousand grew before. And this time next year there'll be two millioneucalyptus growing on the hills. Say do you like me more than thelittlest bit?"
She raised her eyes from her work and looked at him as she answered:
"I like you a great deal, but--"
He waited a moment for her to complete the sentence, failing which, hewent on himself.
"I haven't an exaggerated opinion of myself, so I know I ain't braggingwhen I say I'll make a pretty good husband. You'd find I was no handat nagging and fault-finding. I can guess what it must be for a womanlike you to be independent. Well, you'd be independent as my wife. Nostrings on you. You could follow your own sweet will, and nothingwould be too good for you. I'd give you everything your heartdesired--"
"Except yourself," she interrupted suddenly, almost sharply.
Daylight's astonishment was momentary.
"I don't know about that. I'd be straight and square, and live true.I don't hanker after divided affections."
"I don't mean that," she said. "Instead of giving yourself to yourwife, you would give yourself to the three hundred thousand people ofOakland, to your street railways and ferry-routes, to the two milliontrees on the hills to everything business--and--and to all that thatmeans."
"I'd see that I didn't," he declared stoutly. "I'd be yours tocommand."
"You think so, but it would turn out differently." She suddenly becamenervous. "We must stop this talk. It is too much like attempting todrive a bargain. 'How much will you give?' 'I'll give so much.' 'Iwant more,' and all that. I like you, but not enough to marry you, andI'll never like you enough to marry you."
"How do you know that?" he demanded.
"Because I like you less and less."
Daylight sat dumfounded. The hurt showed itself plainly in his face.
"Oh, you don't understand," she cried wildly, beginning to loseself-control--"It's not that way I mean. I do like you; the more I'veknown you the more I've liked you. And at the same time the more I'veknown you the less would I care to marry you."
This enigmatic utterance completed Daylight's perplexity.
"Don't you see?" she hurried on. "I could have far easier married theElam Harnish fresh from Klondike, when I first laid eyes on him longago, than marry you sitting before me now."
He shook his head slowly. "That's one too many for me. The more youknow and like a man the less you want to marry him. Familiarity breedscontempt--I guess that's
what you mean."
"No, no," she cried, but before she could continue, a knock came on thedoor.
"The ten minutes is up," Daylight said.
His eyes, quick with observation like an Indian's, darted about theroom while she was out. The impression of warmth and comfort andbeauty predominated, though he was unable to analyze it; while thesimplicity delighted him--expensive simplicity, he decided, and most ofit leftovers from the time her father went broke and died. He hadnever before appreciated a plain hardwood floor with a couple ofwolfskins; it sure beat all the carpets in creation. He staredsolemnly at a bookcase containing a couple of hundred books. There wasmystery. He could not understand what people found so much to writeabout.
Writing things and reading things were not the same as doing things,and himself primarily a man of action, doing things was alonecomprehensible.
His gaze passed on from the Crouched Venus to a little tea-table withall its fragile and exquisite accessories, and to a shining copperkettle and copper chafing-dish. Chafing dishes were not unknown tohim, and he wondered if she concocted suppers on this one for some ofthose University young men he had heard whispers about. One or twowater-colors on the wall made him conjecture that she had painted themherself. There were photographs of horses and of old masters, and thetrailing purple of a Burial of Christ held him for a time. But everhis gaze returned to that Crouched Venus on the piano. To his homely,frontier-trained mind, it seemed curious that a nice young woman shouldhave such a bold, if not sinful, object on display in her own room.But he reconciled himself to it by an act of faith. Since it was Dede,it must be eminently all right. Evidently such things went along withculture. Larry Hegan had similar casts and photographs in hisbook-cluttered quarters. But then, Larry Hegan was different. Therewas that hint of unhealth about him that Daylight invariably sensed inhis presence, while Dede, on the contrary, seemed always so robustlywholesome, radiating an atmosphere compounded of the sun and wind anddust of the open road. And yet, if such a clean, healthy woman as shewent in for naked women crouching on her piano, it must be all right.Dede made it all right. She could come pretty close to making anythingall right. Besides, he didn't understand culture anyway.
She reentered the room, and as she crossed it to her chair, he admiredthe way she walked, while the bronze slippers were maddening.
"I'd like to ask you several questions," he began immediately "Are youthinking of marrying somebody?"
She laughed merrily and shook her head.
"Do you like anybody else more than you like me?--that man at the'phone just now, for instance?"
"There isn't anybody else. I don't know anybody I like well enough tomarry. For that matter, I don't think I am a marrying woman. Officework seems to spoil one for that."
Daylight ran his eyes over her, from her face to the tip of a bronzeslipper, in a way that made the color mantle in her cheeks. At thesame time he shook his head sceptically.
"It strikes me that you're the most marryingest woman that ever made aman sit up and take notice. And now another question. You see, I'vejust got to locate the lay of the land. Is there anybody you like asmuch as you like me?"
But Dede had herself well in hand.
"That's unfair," she said. "And if you stop and consider, you willfind that you are doing the very thing you disclaimed--namely, nagging.I refuse to answer any more of your questions. Let us talk about otherthings. How is Bob?"
Half an hour later, whirling along through the rain on Telegraph Avenuetoward Oakland, Daylight smoked one of his brown-paper cigarettes andreviewed what had taken place. It was not at all bad, was his summingup, though there was much about it that was baffling. There was thatliking him the more she knew him and at the same time wanting to marryhim less. That was a puzzler.
But the fact that she had refused him carried with it a certainelation. In refusing him she had refused his thirty million dollars.That was going some for a ninety dollar-a-month stenographer who hadknown better times. She wasn't after money, that was patent. Everywoman he had encountered had seemed willing to swallow him down for thesake of his money. Why, he had doubled his fortune, made fifteenmillions, since the day she first came to work for him, and behold, anywillingness to marry him she might have possessed had diminished as hismoney had increased.
"Gosh!" he muttered. "If I clean up a hundred million on this landdeal she won't even be on speaking terms with me."
But he could not smile the thing away. It remained to baffle him, thatenigmatic statement of hers that she could more easily have married theElam Harnish fresh from the Klondike than the present Elam Harnish.Well, he concluded, the thing to do was for him to become more likethat old-time Daylight who had come down out of the North to try hisluck at the bigger game. But that was impossible. He could not setback the flight of time. Wishing wouldn't do it, and there was no otherway. He might as well wish himself a boy again.
Another satisfaction he cuddled to himself from their interview. He hadheard of stenographers before, who refused their employers, and whoinvariably quit their positions immediately afterward. But Dede hadnot even hinted at such a thing. No matter how baffling she was, therewas no nonsensical silliness about her. She was level headed. But,also, he had been level-headed and was partly responsible for this. Hehadn't taken advantage of her in the office. True, he had twiceoverstepped the bounds, but he had not followed it up and made apractice of it. She knew she could trust him. But in spite of allthis he was confident that most young women would have been sillyenough to resign a position with a man they had turned down. Andbesides, after he had put it to her in the right light, she had notbeen silly over his sending her brother to Germany.
"Gee!" he concluded, as the car drew up before his hotel. "If I'd onlyknown it as I do now, I'd have popped the question the first day shecame to work. According to her say-so, that would have been the propermoment. She likes me more and more, and the more she likes me the lessshe'd care to marry me! Now what do you think of that? She sure mustbe fooling."
