The Streets of Ascalon Part 72

"Why should that concern me?" she asked calmly.

"Concern you, child! How can it help concerning you? Do you see what she's done?--do you count all the birds she's knocked over with one stone. Mary Ledwith returns from Reno and Mrs. Sprowl fixes and secures her social status by visiting her at once. And it's a perfectly plain notice to Langly, too, and--forgive me, dear!--to you!"

Strelsa scarlet and astonished, sat up rigid, her beautiful head thrown back.

"If she means it that way, it is slanderous," she said. "The entire story is a base slander! Did _you_ believe it, Molly?"

"Believe it? Of course I believe it----"

"Why should you? Because a lot of vile newspapers have hinted at such a thing? I tell you it is an infamous story without one atom of truth in it----"

"How do you know?" asked Molly bluntly.

"Because Langly says so."

"Oh. Did you ask him?"

"No. He spoke of it himself."

"He denied it?"

"Absolutely on his word of honour."

"Then why didn't he sue a few newspapers?"

"He spoke of that, too. He said that his attorneys had advised him not to bring any actions because the papers had been too clever to lay themselves open to suits for libel."

"Oh," said Molly softly.

Strelsa, flushed, breathing rapidly and irregularly, sat there in bed watching her; but Molly avoided her brilliant, level gaze.

"There's no use in talking to you," she said, "but why on earth you don't marry Sir Charles----"

"Molly! Please don't----"

"--Or Rix----"

"Molly! Molly! _Can't_ you let me alone! Can't we be together for ten minutes unless you urge me to marry somebody? Why do you want me to marry anybody!--Why----"

"But you're going to marry Langly, you say!"

"Yes, I am! I am! But can't you let me forget it for a moment or two?

I--I'm not very well----"

"I can't help it," said Molly, grimly. "I'm sorry, darling, but the moment your engagement to Langly is announced there'll be a horrid smash and some people are going to be spattered----"

"It _isn't_ announced!" said the girl hotly. "Only you and Rix know about it except Langly and myself!"

Molly Wycherly rose from her chair, went over and seated herself on the foot of the bed:

"Tell me something, will you, Strelsa?"

"What?"

"Why does Langly desire to keep your engagement to him a secret?"

"He wishes it for the present."

"Why?"

"For that very reason!" said Strelsa, fiercely--"because of the injustice the papers have done him in this miserable Ledwith matter. He chooses to wait until it is forgotten--in order to shield me, I suppose, from any libellous comment----"

"You talk like a little idiot!" said Molly between her teeth. "Strelsa, I could shake you--if it would wake you up! Do you suppose for a moment that this Ledwith matter will be forgotten? Do you suppose if there were nothing in it but libel that he'd be afraid? You listen to me; that man is not apt to be afraid of anything, but he evidently _is_ afraid, now!

Of what, then?"

"Of my being annoyed by newspaper comment."

"And you think it's merely that?"

"Isn't it enough?"

Molly laughed:

"We're a hardened lot--some of us. But our most deadly fear is that the papers may _not_ notice us. No matter what they say if they'll only say something!--that's our necessity and our unadmitted prayer. Because we've neither brains nor culture nor any distinguishing virtue or ability--and we're nothing--absolutely nothing unless the papers create us! Don't tell me that any one among us is afraid of publicity!--not in the particular circle where you and I and Langly and his aunt pursue our eccentric orbits!

"Plenty of wealthy and fashionable people dread publicity and shrink from it; plenty of them would gladly remain unchronicled and unsung. But it is not so among the fixed stars and planets and meteors and satellites of our particularly flamboyant constellation. I _know_. I also know that you don't really belong in it. But you'll either become accustomed to it or it will kill you if you don't drop--or soar, as you please--into some other section of eternal s.p.a.ce."

She sat swinging her foot, flushed, animated, her eyes and colour brilliant--a slim, exquisitely groomed woman with all the superficial smoothness of a girl save for the wisdom in her eyes and in her smile, alas!

And the other's eyes reflected in their clear gray depths no such wisdom, only the haunting knowledge of sorrow and, vaguely, the inexplicable horror of man as he really is--or at least as she had only known him.

Still swinging her pretty foot, a deliberate smile edging her lips, Molly said:

"If you'll let me, I'll stand by you, darling."

Strelsa stared at her without comprehension, then dropped her head back on the pillows.

"If you'll let me stay with you a little while longer--that is all I ask," she said almost drowsily.

Molly sprang up, came around and kissed her, lightly: "Of course. That was what I was going to ask of you."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'If you'll let me, I'll stand by you, darling.'"]

Strelsa closed her eyes. "I'll stay," she murmured.

Molly laid her own cool face down beside Strelsa's hot cheek, kneeling beside the bed.

"Dear," she whispered, "let us wait and see what happens. There's just one thing that has distorted your view--a dreadful experience with one man--two years of h.e.l.l's own horror with one of its wretched inhabitants. I don't believe the impression is going to last a lifetime.

I don't believe it is indelible. I believe somehow, some time you will learn that a man's love does not mean horror and degradation; that it is no abuse of friendship which offers love also, to return it with friendship only.