The Restless Sex

Grismer leaned forward, clasping his hands on his knees and fixing his eyes on space.

"The money that I inherited was considerable," he said in his soft, agreeable voice. "But after I had begun to amuse myself with it, the papers in the suit were sent to me by that dead woman's attorneys. So," he said pleasantly, "I learned for the first time that the money belonged to Stephanie's estate. And, of course, I transferred it to her attorneys at once… She never told you anything of this?"

"No."

"No," said Grismer thoughtfully, "she couldn't have told you without laying bare my father's disgrace. But that is how I suddenly found myself on my uppers," he continued lightly. "Stephanie came to me in an agony of protest. She is a splendid girl, Cleland. She rather violently refused to touch a penny of the money. You should have heard what she said to her aunt's attorneys – who now represented her. Really, Cleland, there was the devil to pay… But that was easy. I paid him. Naturally, I couldn't retain a penny… So it lies there yet, accumulating interest, payable at any time to Stephanie's order… But she'll never use it… Nor shall I, Cleland… God knows who'll get it – some charity, I hope… After I step out, I think Stephanie will give it to some charity for the use of little children who have missed their childhood – children like herself, Cleland."

After a silence he idly struck a match, watched it burn out, dropped the cinder to the floor:

"There was no question of you at that time," said Grismer, lifting his eyes to Cleland's drawn face. "And I was very desperately in love… There seemed to be hope that Stephanie might care for me… Then came that reckless escapade at Albany, where she was recognized by some old friends of your father and by schoolmates of her own…

"Cleland, I would gladly have shot myself then, had that been any solution. But there seemed to be only the one solution… She has told you, I believe?"

"Yes."

"Well, that was what was done… I think she cried all the way back. The Albany Post Road seemed like a road through hell to me. I knew then that Stephanie cared nothing for me in that way; that my place in her life served other purposes.

"I don't know what she thought I expected of her – what duty she believed she owed me. I know now that the very thought of wifehood was abhorrent to her… But she was game, Cleland! … What line of reasoning she followed I don't know. Whether my love for her touched her, or some generous impulse of renunciation – some childish idea of bringing to me again the inheritance which I had forced on her, I don't know.

"But she was game. She came here that night with her suitcase. She was as white as death, could scarcely speak… I never even touched her hand, Cleland… She slept there – behind that curtain on the iron bed. I sat here all night long.

"In the morning we talked it over. And with every generous plucky word she uttered I realized that it was hopeless. And do you know – God knows how – but somehow I kept thinking of you, Cleland. And it was like clairvoyance, almost, for I could not drive away the idea that she cared for you, unknowingly, and that when you came back some day she'd find it out."

He rose from the couch and began to pace the studio slowly, his hands in his pockets.

"Cleland," he said, "she meant to play the game. The bed she had made for herself she was ready to lie on… But I looked into those grey eyes of hers and I knew that it was pity that moved her, square dealing that nerved her, and that already she was suffering agonies to know what you would think of what she had done – done with a man you never liked – the son of a man whom your father held in contempt because – because he considered him – dishonest!"

He halted a pace from where Cleland was sitting:

"I told her to go back to her studio and think it over. She went out… I did not think of her coming back here… I was standing in front of that cracked mirror over there… To get a sure line on my temple… That's what shattered the glass – when she struck my arm up…

"Well, a man goes to pieces sometimes… She made me promise to wait two years – said she would try to care for me enough in that time to live with me… The child was frightened sick. The terror of my ever doing such a – a fool thing remains latent in her brain. I know it. I know it's there. I know, Cleland, that she is in love with you. And that she dare not ask me for her freedom for fear that I shall do some such silly thing."

He began to laugh, quite naturally, without any bitterness at all:

"I tried to make you understand. I told you that I would do anything for you. But you didn't comprehend… Yet, I meant it. I mean it now. She belongs to you, Cleland. I want you to take her. I wish her to understand that I give her the freedom she's entitled to. That she need not be afraid to take it – need not fear that I might make an ass of myself."

He laughed again, quite gaily:

"No, indeed, I mean to live. I tell you, Cleland, there is no excitement on earth like beating Fate at her own game. There's only one thing – "

After a pause, Cleland looked up into the man's wistful, golden eyes.

"What is it, Grismer?"

"If I could win – your friendship – "

"Good God!" whispered Cleland, rising and offering a hand that shook, " – Do you think I'm worth it, Oswald?"

Their hands met, clasped; a strange light flashed in Grismer's golden eyes.

"Do you mean it, Cleland?"

"With all my heart, old chap… I don't know what to say to you – except that you're white all through – straighter than I am, Grismer – clean to the soul of you!"

Grismer drew a long, deep breath.

"Thanks," he said. "That's about all I want of life… Tell Stephanie what you said to me – if you don't mind… I don't care what others think … if you and she think me straight."

"Oswald, I tell you you're straighter than I am – stronger. Your thoughts never wavered; you stood steady to punishment, not whimpering. I've had a curb-bit on myself, and I don't know now how long it might have taken me to get it between my teeth and smash things."

Grismer smiled:

"It would have taken two to smash the Cleland traditions. It couldn't have been done – between you and Stephanie… Are you going back to Runner's Rest to-night?"

"Yes – if you say so," he replied in a low voice.

"I do say so. Call her on the telephone as soon as you leave here. Then take the first train."

"And you? Will you come?"

"Not to-night."

"Will you let us know when you can come, Oswald?"

Grismer picked up a shabby dressing gown from the back of a decrepit chair, and put it on over his undershirt and trousers.

"Sure," he said pleasantly. "I've one or two matters to keep me here. I'll fix them up to-night… And please make it very plain to Stephanie that I'm taking this affair beautifully and that the last thing I'd do would be to indulge in any foolishness to shock her… I'm really most interested in living. Tell her so. She will believe it. For I have never lied to her, Cleland."

They walked together to the area gate.

"Stephanie should see her attorneys," said Grismer. "The easiest way, I think, would be for her to leave the state and for me to go abroad. Her attorneys will advise her. But," he added carelessly, "there's time to talk over that with her. The main thing is to know that she will be free. And she will be… Good night, Cleland!" … He laughed boyishly. "I've never been as happy in my whole life!"

CHAPTER XXXIV

With the clang of the closing gate, Grismer's handsome face altered terribly, and he turned deathly white for a moment. Two policemen lounged by in the glare of the arc-light; one of them glanced down into the areaway and saw a pallid face behind the iron bars – turned sharply to look again.

"Gee," he said to his mate, "d'yeh get that guy's map?"

"Coke," said the other carelessly. "Looks like a feller I seen in Sing Sing waitin' for the priest – what's his name, now – " The voices receded. But Grismer had heard.

Perhaps his brain registered the scene sketched by the policeman – a bloodless face behind the death-cell grating – the distant steps of the procession already sounding in the corridor.

He opened the gate and went out to the sidewalk where a young girl, unskillfully painted, stood looking about her preliminary to opening the night's campaign.

"Hello," she said tentatively.

"Ah," he said pleasantly, "a goddess of the stars!"