Paradise Garden Part 40

"Didn't I, Mr. Canby?" she persisted, in her gentlest tone.

"Jerry is out of my hands, Miss Van Wyck," I managed coolly.

"And in mine?"

"Yes, in yours," after a pause.

She laughed softly.

"What do you suppose I'm going to do with him?"

The glamour of youth in a garden, her rare humor and the cloudless day--I had managed well so far, but she pressed me hard. Jerry was no chattel to be bandied carelessly. I felt my body stiffening.

"Jerry is very sweet, Mr. Canby," she went on with that softness of voice that I had grown to understand. "He does anything, everything that I ask him to. It really is a great responsibility. Human judgment is so fallible, especially a woman's. Suppose I asked him to become a nihilist or President, or even both."

D--- the vixen. She was making game of me. But I struggled to hold my temper, taking her literally.

"Nihilism? Political or moral, Miss Van Wyck? To one of your means, the first would be inconvenient; to one of your affections, the other dangerous."

She flashed a narrow glance at me. "_Touchee._ I like the thrust from cover, but I can parry. Suppose that I said that I would relinquish Jerry."

"I'm not sure that you can," I replied coolly.

Our glances met again. She knew that I read her.

"Nothing is impossible to intelligence. I could send him away tomorrow, today--"

"But he would come back."

"You frighten me," she said, shuddering prettily.

"That is precisely what I wish to do," I went on stolidly.

"Threats!"

I shrugged. "You underestimate him, that's all."

"Perhaps. You know, Mr. Canby, that you improve vastly on acquaintance. If you were younger--" She paused and looked at me slantwise.

"Ingenuous, handsome, a fighting G.o.d--!"

I could have bitten out my tongue the moment I had spoken the words, and the dark look she shot at me as she flashed around gave a measure of her latent deviltry.

"Jerry told you that!" she said in tones half-suppressed.

"No."

"He did."

"No. But I know. I haven't watched for a month for nothing. I'm not a child, Miss Van Wyck."

"What are you?" she taunted.

"A prophet. Jerry is no woman's plaything. Let him be. You don't know him as I do. I warn you."

She suddenly went into a fit of laughter, meant to ruffle my dignity.

"Off with my head! If you knew how much you remind me of the _Queen_ in 'Alice in Wonderland'!"

"I'm sorry you won't take me seriously."

"I can't," she laughed again. "You're too absurd to be tragic."

"Perhaps we had better be going toward the house," I remarked.

She moved slowly along, her back eloquent of disdain. But she paused for a moment to let me join her.

"You see? I've tried. You won't be friendly."

"My advice is friendly--"

"I never follow advice. We're enemies. It is written."

I shrugged. Impolite I may have been, but there was no use mincing matters. My preposterous emba.s.sy had failed. As we neared the house she left me on the lawn and turned to where Jerry and the others were moving toward the tennis courts.

"You'll find Miss Gore upon the veranda," she smiled over her shoulder with careless gayety. She was extraordinary. But I'm sure that never before had I hated the girl as at that moment. Thoughtfully I made my way to the veranda and Miss Gore.

"Well," she said cheerfully as I sank into a chair, "you are friends again?"

"No."

"It's really too bad. I think you take life too seriously, Mr. Canby."

"Perhaps." I remained silent. She worked at her embroidery frame for a moment as though to attune herself to my mood and then:

"Briar Hills can't hope for a visit which hasn't an ulterior purpose.

What is it?"

As usual she wasted no words and smiled benignly, a comfortable motherly smile at once quizzical and forgiving.

"I _did_ want to see you," I put in awkwardly. "It has been a long time--"

"I'll spare you the necessity for explanations. You're here to tell me that Jerry is drinking and to find out why. Isn't that so?"

I could only stare at her in wonder at her intuitions, and made some remark which she chose to disregard.

"As I predicted, the disease is pa.s.sing," she said quietly, "but it's leaving Marcia first. Three weeks ago Jerry was a G.o.d to Marcia. Last week she showed signs of disenchantment. This week she is plainly bored."