Robert Kimberly

"She was a Whitney," muttered Kimberly, leaning back and lifting his chest as he often didwhen talking. "Arthur De Castro has a strainof that blood. He has all her refinement. TheKimberlys are brutes.

"MacBirney," he went on abruptly, "complainedto McCrea yesterday-among other thingsthat he wants to quarrel about-that I had brokenup his home. I have not; I think you know that."

"A man came to me the other day" – the doctorlaid aside his book-"to say he was going to standon his 'rights' and sue for alienation a man who hadrun off with his wife. He asked me what I thoughtof it. 'I suppose you want my honest opinion,'I replied. 'Yet I am afraid it won't comfort youmuch. What "rights" have you established inyour marriage that anybody is bound to respect?' Helooked at me astonished. 'The rights of ahusband,' he answered. 'Doesn't the law, doesn'tsociety give them to me?' 'A man that asks equityfrom society,' said I, 'ought to come into court withclean hands.' I should like to know whosehands are cleaner than mine,' he replied, 'Imarried, made a home for my wife and supported her.'"

Kimberly leaning further back let his chin sinkon his breast, but his eyes shining under his blackbrows showed that he followed the story.

"'But where are the fruits of your marriage?' Iasked," continued the doctor, narrating. "'Don'tstare at me-where are the children? How haveyou lived with your wife? As nature and law andsociety intended you should-or as a mereparamour? Children would have protected yourwife as a woman; the care of children would havefilled her life and turned her mind from thedistraction of listening to another man. Why didn'tyou make a wife and mother of the woman youmarried instead of a creature? In that case youmight have pleaded "rights." But you thoughtyou could beat the game; and the game has beatenyou. You thought you could take the indulgenceof marriage without its responsibilities. Eitheryou debased your wife to your level or allowedher to debase you to hers. Don't talk about"rights," you haven't any.'"

Hamilton ceased.

"What did the fellow say?" asked Kimberly.

"What could he say?" demanded Hamilton.

They sat a moment in silence.

Kimberly broke it. "It is a humiliating fact,Hamilton-I often think of it," he saidmoodily-"that the only way in which we can determineour own moral standing is by measuring thestandards of our vicious classes. I mean by ourvicious classes the social driftwood who figure inthe divorce courts and the scandal of the day andshould be placed in a social penitentiary.

"What is really alarming to-day is that ourstandards of what constitutes vice have fallen solow. We speak of husbands; has there ever beena period in the history of our race when husbandshave fallen so low? There was a time when theman that spoke the English tongue would defendhis home with his life-"

"In those days they had homes to defend."

" – when it meant death to the man thatcrossed the threshold of his honor-"

"They had honor, too."

"But consider the baseness the Americanhusband has reached. When he suspects his wife'sinfidelity, instead of hiding his possible disgrace,he employs detectives to make public thehumiliating proofs of it. He advertises himself inthe bill he files in the courts. He calls on allmen to witness his abasement. He proclaims hisshame from the housetops and wears his stripesas a robe of honor. And instead of killing theinterloper he brands the woman that bears hisname, perhaps the mother of his children, as apublic creature-isn't it curiously infamous? Andthis is what our humane, enlightened, andprogressive social views have brought us to-we havefallen too low to shoot!

"However," concluded Kimberly, shakinghimself free from the subject, "my own situationpresents quite other difficulties. And, by the way,Francis is still ailing. He asked the superioryesterday for a substitute and went home ill.You have seen Uncle John?"

"A moment, before dinner."

"Is he failing, Hamilton?"

"Mentally, no; physically, he loses ground lately."

"We die hard," said Kimberly, reflecting, "wecan't help it. The old gentleman certainlybrightened up after he heard of my coming marriage.Not that I told him-Dolly did so. It pleased himmarvellously. I couldn't understand exactly why, but Dolly suggested it was one of the naturalinstincts of Uncle John coming out. His eyessparkle when the subject is mentioned,"continued Kimberly dryly. "I really think it is thecovetous instinct in him that is gratified. He hasalways disliked MacBirney and always itched tosee him 'trimmed.' This seems to satisfy, heroically, Uncle John's idea of 'trimming' him. Heis as elated as if he were doing the 'trimming'himself."

Kimberly explained to Hamilton why he hadsent for him and asked him for a letter ofintroduction to the archbishop, whom he desired tomeet.

"You are on one or two executive boards withhim, I think," suggested Kimberly. "Do youknow him well enough to oblige me?"

"I know him very well," returned Hamilton."And you, too, ought to know him."

The surgeon wrote the note at once.

"MOST REVEREND AND DEAR ARCHBISHOP:

CHAPTER XXXVII

Kimberly was lunching next day at thecity office when MacBirney's name came inwith a request for an interview. He was admittedwithout delay and while a valet removed the traysand the table, Kimberly greeted his visitor and, indicating a chair, asked him to sit down. He sawat a glance the suppressed feeling in MacBirney'smanner; the latter, in fact, carried himself as aman fully resolved to carry out a course yetfearful of the results.

"I have come to give notice of my withdrawalfrom the June pool in common," began MacBirneywithout preface.

"I am not the one to give notice to," returnedKimberly civilly, "inasmuch as I am not in theJune pool and not in touch with its operations."

"Well, I've sold-I am selling," MacBirneycorrected himself hastily, "my allotment, nomatter who is at interest."

"McCrea and my brother are the organizers-"

"I understand," interjected MacBirney, "thatyou made a good deal of talk about my action inthe December pool a year ago-I give you nochance to say I haven't served ample notice this time."

"On the contrary, I quieted a great deal oftalk about your action a year ago. It was sogrossly unfair to your associates that I ascribedyour unloading of your stock without notifyingthem to rank ignorance, and was disposed tooverlook it on that ground."

MacBirney smiled with some sarcasm. "Thoughyou were careful enough to say publicly that youwould never be caught in another pool with me."

"I never have been, have I? And I did not'say publicly'; I said so to McCrea, who had mypermission to tell you. It cost me six hundredthousand dollars at that time to support themarket against you for three days. And while I liketo see my associates make money, I object to theirmaking it out of me."

"You didn't say so to poison my wife against me?"

"I have never, MacBirney, spoken of that or ofany other of your business affairs to your wife.I never have spoken even your name to your wife,in praise or in blame, until you left her-excepttwice to ask her if she loved you. Even that shetreated as an insult."

"You must have made some progress since then."

Kimberly's head began to move slowly fromside to side. "I am told," added MacBirney,in a thin, hard voice, "you are getting ready tomarry her."

"Quite true, I am."

MacBirney's rage forced him to his feet. "Iam beginning to understand now, Kimberly," heframed the words slowly and carefully, "the wayyou have plotted against me from the start. I waswarned before I ever saw you that you had norespect for the law of God or man where a womanwas concerned. I was warned that no womanwas safe near you."

Kimberly eyed his enraged associate calmly."You are travelling far in a few words, MacBirney.I hope you understand, once for all, that certainlimits cover a situation even such as this. I don'tlike your last phrase. It might be made to applyunpleasantly to a woman now very dear to me. Iam used to angry men, and what you say about me-"

"What I say about-"

"What you say about me is allowable, nomatter what I think of it. But understand this, ifyou say one word about her-here or elsewhere, now or hereafter-I will stop you, if I have tochoke you with my own hands."

"You can't scare me, Kimberly."

"I don't want to; I don't want to choke you; but if you wish to see me try it, pass that limitjust once. Now go on, MacBirney."

"I could have nothing to say against Alice."

Kimberly nodded heartily in approval.

"But I have something to say about a man whopretended to be my friend-"

"I never pretended to be your friend."