Sylvia's Marriage Part 8

27. The following Sunday there appeared a "magazine story" of an interview with the infinitely beautiful young wife of the infinitely rich Mr. Douglas van Tuiver, in which the views of the wife on the subject of child-labour were liberally interlarded with descriptions of her reception-room and her morning-gown. But mere picturesqueness by that time had been pretty well discounted in our minds. So long as the article did not say anything about the ownership of child-labour tenements!

I did not see Sylvia for several weeks after that. I took it for granted that she would want some time to get herself together and make up her mind about the future. I did not feel anxious; the seed had sprouted, and I felt sure it would continue to grow.

Then one day she called me up, asking if I could come to see her. I suggested that afternoon, and she said she was having tea with some people at the Palace Hotel, and could I come there just after tea-time?

I remember the place and the hour, because of the curious adventure into which I got myself. One hears the saying, when unexpected encounters take place, "How small the world is!" But I thought the world was growing really too small when I went into a hotel tea-room to wait for Sylvia, and found myself face to face with Claire Lepage!

The place appointed had been the "orange-room"; I stood in the door-way, sweeping the place with my eyes, and I saw Mrs. van Tuiver at the same moment that she saw me. She was sitting at a table with several other people and she nodded, and I took a seat to wait. From my position I could watch her, in animated conversation; and she could send me a smile now and then. So I was decidedly startled when I heard a voice, "Why, how do you do?" and looked up and saw Claire holding out her hand to me.

"Well, for heaven's sake!" I exclaimed.

"You don't come to see me any more," she said.

"Why, no--no, I've been busy of late." So much I managed to e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e, in spite of my confusion.

"You seem surprised to see me," she remarked--observant as usual, and sensitive to other people's att.i.tude to her.

"Why, naturally," I said. And then, recollecting that it was not in the least natural--since she spent a good deal of her time in such places--I added, "I was looking for someone else."

"May I do in the meantime?" she inquired, taking a seat beside me. "What are you so busy about?"

"My child-labour work," I answered. Then, in an instant, I was sorry for the words, thinking she must have read about Sylvia's activities. I did not want her to know that I had met Sylvia, for it would mean a flood of questions, which I did not want to answer--nor yet to refuse to answer.

But my fear was needless. "I've been out of town," she said.

"Whereabouts?" I asked, making conversation.

"A little trip to Bermuda."

My mind was busy with the problem of getting rid of her. It would be intolerable to have Sylvia come up to us; it was intolerable to know that they were in sight of each other.

Even as the thought came to me, however, I saw Claire start. "Look!" she exclaimed.

"What is it?"

"That woman there--in the green velvet! The fourth table."

"I see her."

"Do you know who she is?"

"Who?" (I remembered Lady Dee's maxim about lying!)

"Sylvia Castleman!" whispered Claire. (She always referred to her thus--seeming to say, "I'm as much van Tuiver as she is!")

"Are you sure?" I asked--in order to say something.

"I've seen her a score of times. I seem to be always running into her.

That's Freddie Atkins she's talking to."

"Indeed!" said I.

"I know most of the men I see her with. But I have to walk by as if I'd never seen them. A queer world we live in, isn't it?"

I could a.s.sent cordially to that proposition. "Listen," I broke in, quickly. "Have you got anything to do? If not, come down to the Royalty and have tea with me."

"Why not have it here?"

"I've been waiting for someone from there, and I have to leave a message. Then I'll be free."

She rose, to my vast relief, and we walked out. I could feel Sylvia's eyes following me; but I dared not try to send her a message--I would have to make up some explanation afterwards. "Who was your well-dressed friend?" I could imagine her asking; but my mind was more concerned with the vision of what would happen if, in full sight of her companion, Mr.

Freddie Atkins, she were to rise and walk over to Claire and myself!

28. Seated in the palm-room of the other hotel, I sipped a cup of tea which I felt I had earned, while Claire had a little gla.s.s of the fancy-coloured liquids which the ladies in these places affect. The room was an aviary, with tropical plants and splashing fountains--and birds of many gorgeous hues; I gazed from one to another of the splendid creatures, wondering how many of them were paying for their plumage in the same way as my present companion. It would have taken a more practiced eye than mine to say which, for if I had been asked, I would have taken Claire for a diplomat's wife. She had not less than a thousand dollars' worth of raiment upon her, and its style made clear to all the world the fact that it had not been saved over from a previous season of prosperity. She was a fine creature, who could carry any amount of sail; with her bold, black eyes she looked thoroughly competent, and it was hard to believe in the fundamental softness of her character.

I sat, looking about me, annoyed at having missed Sylvia, and only half listening to Claire. But suddenly she brought me to attention. "Well,"

she said, "I've met him."

"Met whom?"

"Douglas."

I stared at her. "Douglas van Tuiver?"

She nodded; and I suppressed a cry.

"I told you he'd come back," she added, with a laugh.

"You mean he came to see you?"

I could not hide my concern. But there was no need to, for it flattered Claire's vanity. "No--not yet, but he will. I met him at Jack Taylor's--at a supper-party."

"Did he know you were to be there?"

"No. But he didn't leave when he saw me."

There was a pause. I could not trust myself to say anything. But Claire had no intention of leaving me curious. "I don't think he's happy with her," she remarked.

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh, several things. I know him, you know. He wouldn't say he was."

"Perhaps he didn't want to discuss it with you."

"Oh, no--not that. He isn't reserved with me."

"I should think it was dangerous to discuss one's wife under such circ.u.mstances," I laughed.

Claire laughed also. "You should have heard what Jack had to say about his wife! She's down at Palm Beach."