The Crimson Tide: A Novel

He had led her as far as the avenue, now echoing with the clang of fire engines and the police patrol. And out of the darkness, from everywhere, swarmed the crowd that only a great city can conjure instantly and from nowhere.

Blood ran down her face from a cut over her temple. A tiny triangular bit of glass still glittered in the wound; and he removed it and gave her his handkerchief.

“Was Ilse there, too?” he asked.

“No. Nobody went to-night except myself… Why were you there, Jim?”

“Why in God’s name did you go there all alone among those Reds!”

She shook her head wearily:

“I had to… What a horrible thing to happen!.. I am so tired, Jim. Could you get me home?”

He found a taxi nearer Broadway and directed the driver to stop at a drug-store. Here he insisted that the tiny cut on Palla’s temple be properly attended to. But it proved a simple matter; there was no glass in it, and the bleeding ceased before they reached her house.

At the door he took leave of her, deeming it no time to subject her to any further shock that night; but she retained her hold on his arm.

“I want you to come in, Jim.”

“You said you were tired; and you’ve had a terrible shock–”

“That is why I need you,” she said in a low voice. Then, looking up at him with a pale smile: “I want you–just once more.”

They went in together. Her maid, hearing the opening door, appeared and took her away; and Jim turned into the living-room. A lighted lamp on the piano illuminated his own framed photograph–that was the first thing he noticed–the portrait of himself in uniform, flanked on either side by little vases full of blue forget-me-nots.

He started to lift one to his face, but reaction had set in and his hands were shaking. And he turned away and stood staring into the empty fireplace, passionately possessed once more by the eternal witchery of this young girl, and under the spell again of the enchanted place wherein she dwelt.

The very air breathed her magic; every familiar object seemed to be stealthily conspiring in the subdued light to reaccomplish his subjection.

Her maid appeared to say that Miss Dumont would be ready in a few minutes. She came, presently, in a clinging chamber-gown–a pale golden affair with misty touches of lace.

He arranged cushions for her: she lighted a cigarette for him; and he sank down beside her in the old place.

Both were still a little shaken. He said that he believed the explosion had come from the outside, and that the principal damage had been done next door, in Mr. Puma’s office.

She nodded assent, listlessly, evidently preoccupied with something else.

After a few moments she looked up at him.

“This is the second day of February,” she said. “Within the last month Jack Estridge died, and Vanya died… To-day another man died–a man I have known from childhood… His name was Pawling. And his death has ruined me.”

“When–when did you learn that?” he asked, astounded.

“This morning. My housekeeper in Shadow Hill telephoned me that Mr. Pawling had killed himself, that the bank was closed, and that probably there was nothing left for those who had funds deposited there.”

“You knew that this morning?” he asked, amazed.

“Yes.”

“And you–you still had courage to go to your Red Cross, to your canteen and Hostess House–to that horrible Red Flag Club–and face those beasts and make the–the perfectly magnificent speech you made!–”

“Did–did you hear it!” she faltered.

“Every word.”

For a few moments she sat motionless and very white in her knowledge that this man had heard her confess her own conversion.

Her brain whirled: she was striving to think steadily trying to find the right way to reassure him–to forestall any impulsive chivalry born of imaginary obligation.

“Jim,” she said in a colorless voice, “there are so many worse things than losing money. I think Mr. Pawling’s suicide shocked me much more than the knowledge that I should be obliged to earn my own living like millions of other women.

“Of course it scared me for a few minutes. I couldn’t help that. But after I got over the first unpleasant–feeling, I concluded to go about my business in life until it came time for me to adjust myself to the scheme of things.”

She smiled without effort: “Besides, it’s not really so bad. I have a house in Shadow Hill to which I can retreat when I sell this one; and with a tiny income from the sale of this house, and with what I can earn, I ought to be able to support myself very nicely.”

“So you–expect to sell?”

“Yes, I must. Even if I sell my house and land in Connecticut I cannot afford this house any longer.”

“I see.”

She smiled, keeping her head and her courage high without apparent effort:

“It’s another job for you,” she said lightly. “Will you be kind enough to put this house on your list?”

“If you wish.”

“Thank you, Jim, I do indeed. And the sooner you can sell it for me the better.”

He said: “And the sooner you marry me the better, Palla.”

At that she flushed crimson and made a quick gesture as though to check him; but he went on: “I heard what you said to those filthy swine to-night. It was the pluckiest, most splendid thing I ever heard and saw. And I have seen battles. Some. But I never before saw a woman take her life in her hands and go all alone into a cage of the same dangerous, rabid beasts that had slain a friend of hers within the week, and find courage to face them and tell them they were beasts!–and more than that!–find courage to confess her own mistakes–humble herself–acknowledge what she had abjured–bear witness to the God whom once she believed abandoned her!”

She strove to open her lips in protest–lifted her disconcerted eyes to his–shrank away a little as his hand fell over hers.

“I’ve never faltered,” he said. “It damned near killed me… But I’d have gone on loving you, Palla, all my life. There never could have been anybody except you. There was never anybody before you. Usually there has been in a man’s life. There never was in mine. There never will be.”

His firm hand closed on hers.

“I’m such an ordinary, every day sort of fellow,” he said wistfully, “that, after I began to realise how wonderful you are, I’ve been terribly afraid I wasn’t up to you.

“Even if I have cursed out your theories and creeds, it almost seemed impertinent for me to do it, because you really have so many talents and accomplishments, so much knowledge, so infinite a capacity for things of the mind, which are rather out of my mental sphere. And I’ve wondered sometimes, even if you ever consented to marry me, whether such a girl as you are could jog along with a business man who likes the arts but doesn’t understand them very well and who likes some of his fellow men but not all of them and whose instinct is to punch law-breakers in the nose and not weep over them and lead them to the nearest bar and say, ‘Go to it, erring brother!’”

“Jim!”

For all the while he had been drawing her nearer as he was speaking. And she was in his arms now, laughing a little, crying a little, her flushed face hidden on his shoulder.

He drew a deep breath and, holding her imprisoned, looked down at her.