“Well, isn’t that splendid!”
Presently she was alone with Mr. Corey again. He asked about her, about Martin, about her married life. She was frank with her answers.
“I shall never thank you enough,” she said, “for persuading me to accept Mr. Devlin. I never would have married if you hadn’t made me, and I never would have known what I missed. I guess I’d’ve been here for the rest of my days.”
She was eager for his news, too.
Yes, he and Mrs. Corey were quite reconciled. She was very sorry she had maligned Jeannette. He was going to England in ten days and was taking her with him. Babs was about the same; she would never be any better; they had an excellent trained nurse for her and she was to spend the rest of the summer at a camp in the Adirondacks. Willis had written a most interesting letter from Johannesburg; he and Ericsson were trekking north through Matabeleland and Bulawayo; Mr. Corey did not expect to hear from him again for three months. Affairs at the office were about as usual; they expected to publish a big novel in the fall by Hobart Haüser; Garritt Farrington Trent had left his former publishers and come over to them; advertising was bad; there was some talk of a printers’ strike; The Ladies’ Fortune had been selling excellently on the stands; the pattern business was booming.
There were one or two matters he wanted to ask her about: What was the arrangement with Hardy as to the dramatic rights of Harnessed? No record could be found of the agreement. And did she recall from what concern they had bought that last stock of special kraft wrapper? And the folder containing all the correspondence with the Electrical Manufacturing Company had disappeared. What could have become of it? She answered as best she could. When she got up to go, he accompanied her to the door of his office.
“I can’t begin to tell you how we all miss you here,” he said gravely, “and how much I do especially. It’s been hard sledding without you. I’ve thought a hundred times,—oh, a thousand times!—of how much you did for me to make the work easier and how much you lifted from my shoulders. I got used to it, I’m afraid, and took a good deal for granted.... But I’m glad you’re married; that’s where you belong: making a home for yourself and leading your own life.”
There was moisture in Jeannette’s eyes as she turned away. She loved Chandler Corey, she said to herself; he was a wonderful man; she knew she was the only person in the world who truly appreciated him; and she knew he loved her, too. It was this glimpse of his affection for her that moved her. Theirs had been a rare comradeship, a fine communion, a beautiful relationship. It was ended; it was past and done; they could no longer be together or even find an excuse to see one another without having their actions misinterpreted. It had been the business, the common interest, that had wrought the tie between them, and now that there was no longer any office, the intimacy and companionship was at an end, the bond sundered,—soon they would have but a casual interest in one another!—and she had been closer to him than anyone else in the world, like a daughter, and he a father to her. It was sad; a matter to be mourned; each going a different way, only memories of a splendid coöperation and friendship remaining to remind them of happy years together.
§ 7
Jeannette stopped at Miss Holland’s desk and made her promise to take lunch with her at the noon hour when they could have a good talk.