WILL made friends easily. Perhaps it were better to use the word "acquaintances." At any rate it was not long until he received more invitations than he could accept. He was called on to give his services for charitable purposes, but I noticed these hostesses never received him in their homes. It must be said that Will rarely accepted an invitation which did not include me, though I often realized I was invited as a necessary evil. After supper the guests invariably played poker, and I knew nothing about cards. The late hours sapped my strength, and my boy always wakened early in the morning. Sometimes the suppers were held at a well-known restaurant, like Rector's or Martin's. I had not the proper clothes for such occasions; it was imperative that Will dressed well, and I did not want it said that his wife was shabby. The other women wore wonderful gowns and much jewellery.
After a winter's round of these parties, I was able to distinguish one particular set from another. There is a smart set, a fast set and a loose set which, though none of them can be said to be strictly "in society," form a kind of brass-band appendage or fringe to it and differ one from the other only in their gradations—or degradations—of moral laxness. It is the loose set to which the actor is drawn, or inclines. One finds in this particular stratum the artist, the journalist, the divorcée and semi-detached woman whose name is legion. The lady who maintains a handsome apartment and entertains lavishly is probably a "kept" woman with an ambiguous past. Occasionally one finds a multiple divorcée with money, playing at patroness to some impecunious song-writer or handsome actor with more brawn than brain. But the "kept" lady predominates. She is ubiquitous. She dresses à la mode, she is an habituée of the smart restaurants, an inveterate first-nighter. Her "particular friend" may be a married man of the "my wife-don't-understand-me" brand, or he may be one of the "get-rich-quick floaters" who joyride across the financial horizon into oblivion. It is to this set the stall-fed woman of the leisure class turns to whet her jaded appetite. And a hostess' Sunday AT HOME is highly suggestive of the "obit" of a Town Topics. Individually and collectively they are rotten. Mistaking the sex-heat aroused and stimulated by cocktails and other alcoholic beverages for real love and passion, they wallow in the erotic mire to their heart's content. Nobody criticizes; nobody cares; the faster the pace the greater the joy.
It was upon this subject that my husband and I encountered our first real rift. He had commented rather flippantly on the moral tone of a recent supper party. We fell to discussing the players' status in society. I had observed that with one or two notable exceptions the actor is not received by "our best people." To be sure there are a few cities outside of New York where quite respectable families, bored by the drab routine of conventional society, entertain the actor as a kind of sauce piquante to their monotonous lives. But this is the exception and not the rule. Wholly misinterpreting my motive, Will defended his profession with a blind prejudice. After that he did not ask me to accompany him to the various functions. It became quite a common thing for him to telephone me from the Club that he would not be home until late that night. I was sorry that I had expressed myself so plainly to Will; if only I could make him understand that I wanted him to be true to the best that was in him.... It hurt me to hear him speak lightly of the women with whom he associated, and still continue to go among them.
Miss Burton was now a frequent visitor at our home. She adored the boy and never failed to bring him a present when she came. She took upon herself to lecture me for not going out with Will, declaring I was spoiling him, and that I would make him selfish. I thought over what she said, and resolved that I would go with Will when next he asked me. Also I began to formulate a little circle of my own. There was a sculptor to whom I was particularly attracted. He was a Western product, and was preparing to go abroad to study. I had always had a fondness for sculpture, and during my enforced retirement I amused myself at moulding with clay. A baby's hand I had made attracted his attention one day he had called on Will. He advised me to continue my efforts. Miss Burton sent me a wonderful outfit and I took up my work of sculpturing in earnest. My sculptor friend brought other friends with him, and it became a regular thing for me to receive my friends on Sunday afternoon. I saw that Will enjoyed my little parties, though they were simple and I made no pretensions.
One day—it was at Christmas time—Miss Burton sent me a beautiful gown; with the package came a characteristic note: she begged me to accept the gown and not to feel hurt, that she was dead broke and could not afford to make me a "decent" Christmas present. The gown, she said, had been spoiled by the dressmaker, who had made it much too tight, and it would make her happy if I would accept it with her love....
It was so pretty—all creamy white and fluffy, and there were little pink flowers scattered over the net. I put it on ... and, as I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt quite pleased with the reflection. White was always becoming to me.... I did not tell Will about my present, but the next time he casually mentioned an invitation to dinner I accepted with an alacrity which surprised him.
When Sunday came, I dressed with the excitement of a conspirator, and when Will called me to help him with his tie I walked into his room with an air of unconcern worthy of a star. Will was delighted with my appearance.
When we entered the house of our hostess I no longer felt the desire to hide myself; instead, I felt quite mistress of myself. It's wonderful what a difference clothes will make in one's feelings. Miss Burton told me once that, whenever she was down on her luck and felt depressed, she forthwith went on a sartorial debauch. She bought everything in sight. Her new clothes re-established her self-respect, and somehow, some way, a good engagement came along and helped her to pay for her prodigality.
We were a little late in arriving, and when I came down from the bedroom, where I had left my wrap, the second round of cocktails was being passed. Will was standing at the foot of the stairs talking with his hostess. A large nude figure carrying softly shaded lights decorated the newel-post, and screened me from view of the woman who was talking to Will.
"You handsome dog!" I heard her say. "What have you been doing to Alice? She's gone clean off her head—threatens to leave her husband, and is drinking like a fish!"