2
Felix had felt in the attitude of this girl artist a challenge to Rose-Ann which he was somehow anxious for her to meet. She might not like this place—but it would not be because she was a bourgeois doll, afraid to bathe standing up in an iron sink. Rose-Ann would see in this place what he saw in it, even if she did want something different....
“I’ve been to one place already,” said Rose-Ann, rising from the steps and coming down to meet him. “It’s—just like all the others.”
“Well,” said Felix, his voice unconsciously defiant, “I’ve found you a place that’s different!”
“Have you really? Where is it?”
“Just over here. Right on the edge of the Park.”
“I’d like that!”
“Would you like to bathe in ice-cold water, standing up in a cast iron sink?”
“Oo! I can feel the water now, oozing out of a sponge at the back of my neck! What makes you think I’m afraid of cold water? You remember my snow-baths at Woods Point? The primitive life has no terrors for me—so far as that’s concerned. So there’s no bathroom?”
“No.”
“M-m. Well, I’ll see.”
“Here it is, then.”
“Oh, this? An unpromising exterior....”
“Here,” said Felix, indicating the girl, who came to the door, “is the lady who’s just leaving. And this,” he said to the girl, “is my wife.”
She stood aside and waved them in with a flourish of her cigarette. “Well, here it is, without one plea. See for yourself!”
“Oh!” cried Rose-Ann. “What a lovely big room!”
“It is big,” said Felix.
“It’s splendid! A real room....” She drew a deep breath. “I could live in a place like this, Felix.”
The girl regarded her with respectful interest, and then turned to Felix. “Did you tell her about the sink?”
“Yes,” said Rose-Ann. “I know about the sink. But I think I’ll inspect the sanitary details right now, before I get any more enthusiastic.”
The two girls went back of the screen, talking excitedly. “Does the screen stay here?” Rose-Ann was asking. “Good! We’ll sleep back here—or make it a kitchen, and sleep out in front, I don’t know which....”
Felix lighted a cigarette, and laughed softly to himself at his own folly. So this was what Rose-Ann had wanted! This was the reality of that supposedly grandiose dream of hers, which had frightened him so much to think of making come true for her! This—twelve dollars a month—an iron sink—a Franklin stove!
So the destinies that presided over his fantastic fortunes had made good again.
How simple life was, after all!