III
The Freemans and the others who had started with them had taken short cuts and were already at the house. They passed through an entry hall into a big square living-room. It was a fit residence for the owner of the encompassing acres and Bruce felt the presence of Franklin Mills before he saw him. This was the kind of thing Mills would like. The house was in keeping with the fertile land, the prize herds, the high-bred horses with which he amused himself.
Mills welcomed the newcomers with a bluff heartiness, as though consciously or unconsciously he adopted a different tone in the country and wished to appear the unobtrusive but hospitable lord of the manor. Leila joined him as he talked a moment to Constance and Bruce.
“You see you can’t dodge me! Awfully glad you came. Millie’s here somewhere and I think old Bud Henderson will drop in later.”
“There’ll be supper pretty soon,” said Mills. “We’re just waiting for everybody to get here. I think you know everyone. It’s a pleasure to see you here, Mr. Storrs. Please make yourself at home. Constance, see that Mr. Storrs has a cocktail.”
The members of the company gathered about the fire began twitting Constance and Bruce about the length of time it had taken them to drive out. They demanded to know what Connie had talked to him about. He answered them in kind, appealing to Constance to confirm his assertion that they had taken the most expeditious route. They had discussed the political conditions in Poland, he declared.
“Come with me,” said Mrs. Torrence, drawing him away. “I want to talk to you! I’m sorry things happened as they did on your first call. I don’t want you to get the idea that my house is a place where I pull nothing but rough parties! Please think better of me than that!”
“Heavens, woman! Such a thought never entered my head! I’ve been thinking seriously of coming back! I need some more of your spiritual uplift!”
“Good! There’s more of that Bourbon! But I wanted to say that I was sorry Leila came to my house as she did. That is a problem—not a serious problem, but the child needs a little curbing. She has one good friend—Millicent Harden—that tall, lovely girl standing over there. Do you know Millie?”
“Oh, yes; I’ve even played golf with her!”
“My! You really have an eye! Well, you might come to call on me! I’m a trifle old to be a good playmate for you; but you might take me on as a sort of aunt—not too old to be unsympathetic with youth. When nothing better offers, look me up!”
“I’d been thinking seriously of falling in love with you! Nothing is holding me back but my natural diffidence!”
She raised her hand warningly.
“Go no further! I can see that you’ve been well trained. But it isn’t necessary to jolly me. I’m not half the fool I look. My self-respect didn’t want you to get the idea that I’m a wild woman. I was worried that evening about Leila—she has a heart of gold, but I don’t dare take any special interest in her for the absurd reason—what do you think?—I’ve been suspected of having designs on—our host!”
She laughed merrily. Her mirth was of the infectious sort; Bruce laughed with her; one had to, even when the provocation was slight.
“One doesn’t talk of one’s host,” she said with a deep sigh, “but I was talked about enough when I married Mr. Torrence; I’ll never try it again. But why am I taking you into my confidence? Merely that I want you to know my house isn’t a booze shop all the time! I’m going to keep my eye on you. If I see you wandering too close to the rifle pits, I’ll warn you! May I?”
“Of course you may!” said Bruce, conscious of an honest friendliness in this proffer, but not at once finding words to express his appreciation. “Tell me, do I look as though I might be gassed?”
“I don’t know whether you’re susceptible or not. But I like you! I’m going to prove it by doing you a favor. Come with me!”
The supper was a buffet affair and the butler was distributing plates and napkins. At one side of the room Franklin Mills was talking to Millicent. Bruce had glanced at them occasionally, thinking with a twinge how young Mills looked tonight, noting how easily he seemed to be holding the girl’s interest, not as a man much older but as a contemporary. And he had everything to offer—his unassailable social position and the wealth to support it. As he crossed the room beside Mrs. Torrence, accommodating his long stride to her pattering step, he saw a frown write itself fleetingly on Mills’s brow. Millicent—in a soft blue Jersey sport dress, with a felt hat of the same shade adorned with a brilliant pheasant’s wing—kept her eyes upon Mills until he had finished something he was saying.
“What’s it all about?” demanded Mrs. Torrence, laying her hand upon Millicent’s arm. “We knew you two were talking of something confidential and important; that’s why we’re interrupting you.”
“Oh, we’re discussing the horrors of Sunday—and whether it should be abolished!” said Millicent. “And Mr. Mills won’t be serious!”
“Sunday’s always a hard day,” remarked Mrs. Torrence. “I’m always worn out trying to decide whether to go to church or stay at home.”
“And today?” asked Mills.
“I went! The sermon was most disagreeable. Doctor Lindley told us we all know our duty to God and can’t pretend that we don’t!”
“Is that what he preached?” asked Mills with a vague smile. “What do you think of the proposition?”
“The man’s right! But it doesn’t make me any happier to know it,” Mrs. Torrence replied. “Next Sunday I’ll stay in bed.”
She took Mills away for the avowed purpose of asking his private counsel in spiritual matters.
“Isn’t she nice?” said Millicent.
“I’m bound to think so; she arranged this for me!”
“Did she?” asked Millicent with feigned innocence. “She did it neatly!”
“She promised to be my friend and then proved it,” Bruce said, and then added, “I’m not so sure our host quite liked being taken away.”
“How foolish of you! He can always see me!” she replied indifferently. “Don’t scorn your food! It is of an exceeding goodness. Bring me up to date a little about yourself. Any more dark days?”
“No-o-o.”
She laughed at the prolongation of his denial.
“Come now! I’m beginning to think I’m of no use to you!”
“Right now I’m as happy as a little lark!” he declared.
She had begun to suspect that he had known unhappiness. A love affair perhaps. Or it might have been the war that had taken something of the buoyancy of youth out of him. She was happy in the thought that she was able to help him. He was particularly responsive to a kind of humor she herself enjoyed, and they vied with each other in whimsical ridicule of the cubists in art and the symbolists in literature.
... The guests were redistributing themselves and she suggested that he single out Leila for a little attention.
“Don’t have prejudices! There’s nothing in that,” she said.
“I haven’t a prejudice against Miss Mills!”
“Not so formal! I’ll give you permission to call her Leila! She’ll like it!”
“But you haven’t told me I might call you——”
“Millicent let it be!”
“Well, little one, how’s your behavior!” demanded Leila when Bruce found her.
“Bad!” Bruce replied in her own key.
“My example, I suppose. I’ve heard that I’m a bad influence in the community. Let’s sit. You and I have got to have an understanding some day; why not now?”
“All right, but don’t get too deep—Leila!”
“That’s good! I didn’t suppose you knew my name. Millie’s put you up to that.”
“She did. I hope you like it.”
“Intensely! Are you falling in love with Millie?”
“That’s a secret. If I said I was, what would you say?”
“Atta boy! But—I don’t think she is in love with you.”
“Your penetration does you credit! I had thought of her as perishing for the hour when I would again dawn upon her sight!”
“You’re going good! Really, though, she admits that she likes you ever so much.”
“Is that the reason why you think she doesn’t love me?”
“Of course! I’m in love myself. I’m simply wild about Freddy Thomas! But I’d die before I’d admit the awful fact to my dearest friend! That’s love!”
“How about your Freddy? Is he aware of your infatuation?”
“That’s the wonderful part. You see, it’s a secret. No one knows it but just Freddy and me!”
“Oh, I see! You pretend to hate Freddy but really you love him?”
“You’re a thinker! What would you say if I told you I had a cute little flask upstairs and asked you to meet me in the pantry and have a little nip just to celebrate this event? I had only one cocktail; my dearest Dada saw to that!”
“I’d meet you in the pantry and confiscate the flask!”
She regarded him fixedly for a moment, and her tone and manner changed abruptly.
“You know about life, people, things; I know you do! It’s in your eyes, and I’d know it if Millie hadn’t said so. Do you really think it is disgraceful for me to get—well, soused—as you’ve seen me several times? Dada and my aunts lecture me to death—and I hate it—but, well—what do you think?”
Her gravity demanded kindness. He felt infinitely older; she seemed very like a child tonight—an impulsive, friendly child.
“I think I’d cut it out. There’s no good in it—for you or anyone else.”
“I’ll consider that,” she replied slowly; then suddenly restless, she suggested that they go into the long enclosed veranda that connected the house with the conservatories.
As they walked back and forth—Leila in frivolous humor now—Bruce caught a glimpse of her father and Millicent just inside the conservatory door. They were talking earnestly. Evidently they had paused to conclude some matter they had been discussing before returning to the house. Millicent held three roses in her hand and lifted them occasionally to her face.