§ 11
White Sulphur Springs was beautiful, the weather perfection; Jeannette enjoyed every hour of her stay. She had wanted to get off by herself for some time, to think calmly over what she must do about Martin Devlin. He had given her one of his hungry kisses when he said good-bye, and she felt at the moment he was dearer to her than life itself. He was urging her with voice, eyes and lips to be his wife. A realization had come to her that she could temporize with the situation no longer; she must either agree to marry him, or in some way bring the intimacy to an end.
Corey played golf mornings and afternoons. Jeannette watched his mail, and answered most of it herself, only consulting him when necessary. She would give him brief memorandums of what his mail contained, and show him the carbons of the letters she had dispatched, signed with his name, “per J. S.” He did not have to give more than an hour a day to his affairs.
The doctor had warned him about his diet, and had directed him to take a hydrochloric acid prescription three times a day. Jeannette watched his food as well as his mail; she studied the menus in the dining-room and ordered his meals in advance, so that he would be sure to eat the proper food; she made him take his medicine, and persuaded him to try some electric baths that were operated in connection with the hotel. She kept a chart of his weight, and when they met at the breakfast table she would inquire about his night. She saw with satisfaction that he was improving steadily; his face, neck and hands were turning a healthy bronze color, his appetite was excellent, his sleep undisturbed.
At first a problem presented itself in Mrs. Sturgis. The little woman was intensely excited at being so closely associated with Mr. Corey. His presence agitated her; she felt it was her duty to entertain him, to evince an interest in his comings and goings, to maintain a pleasant and polite ripple of conversation at the table or whenever they were together. She believed it was expected of her to show an interest equal to her daughter’s in the state of his health, and that she must always inquire how he felt and how he had passed the night. Jeannette knew Mr. Corey hated this kind of fussy solicitude; it annoyed and irritated him. The girl suffered acutely whenever her mother commenced to ply him with her prim inquiries, or when she pretended to be interested in his golf game about which she knew, and her daughter and Mr. Corey knew she knew, not one thing. Jeannette suspected there were moments when Mr. Corey could have strangled her with delight.
There came a distressing hour eventually to mother and daughter. Jeannette had to tell her that Mr. Corey did not like her concern as to his welfare, that he had come down to White Sulphur Springs to rest, and that he must be spared all possible conversation. Mrs. Sturgis wept. She declared she had never been so “insulted” in her life, that she was going to pack her trunk and go home at once.
It was in the midst of this scene that a bell-boy of the hotel brought Jeannette a telegram addressed to Mr. Corey. She tore it open. It was from his wife.
“Dear Chandler, am lonesome without you. Wish to join you for rest of your stay. Wire me if I may come. Can leave at once. Love.
Rachael.”
Jeannette shut her teeth slowly as she read the words. It was most unfortunate. Mrs. Corey would upset her husband, would interfere with his daily routine, clash with him at once over his golf, object to the time he gave to it, find fault with Jeannette’s presence, angrily resent her supervision of his health and meals, so that little of the hoped-for good would result from these weeks of rest and recreation. And Mr. Corey would amiably agree to letting her join him!