“And after all the trouble I went to!” raged Jeannette to herself, hugging her side of the bed, rebellion strong within her, “cooking all day long, planning everything out, going over to Columbus Avenue twice, getting flowers for the table, working myself dizzy and ruining my organdie, just so he could make a good impression on them and perhaps help himself a little at the office!”
A tear trickled down her nose, and she wiped it off with a finger-tip. She would never give in to him,—never! She would make him beg and beg and beg for her forgiveness! It would be a long, long time.... With head aching and trying to choke down a sniffle that threatened to betray her, she fell asleep.
There was an eager reconciliation the next night; promises, vows, assurances, harsh self-accusations, and Martin carried her off after dinner to two dollar seats at the Broadway, where Jeannette whispered penitently, hugging his arm in the dark of the theatre, that if the Gibbses did ask them to visit them some Sunday, she would go and be her nicest to both.
§ 9
The occasion when Sandy MacGregor had the young Devlins to dine with him in style on the roof garden of the new Astor Hotel was another affair that turned out unfortunately. The lady whom Sandy asked to be fourth in the party,—a Mrs. Fontella,—was not the type with whom Jeannette had been accustomed to associate. She was boldly handsome with great round black eyes, masses of auburn hair, a cavernous red mouth, and a large, prominent bust. She was noisy and coarse, and when she laughed she showed a great deal of gum and rows of glittering gold-filled teeth. Jeannette froze into her most rigid and uncommunicative self. Just before dessert was served, Martin and Sandy excused themselves from the table and disappeared, leaving her sitting for almost half-an-hour alone with her noisy and conspicuous companion. It was evident when the men returned they had been downstairs to the bar where they had had drinks and had been shaking dice. Jeannette was thoroughly incensed, and although Sandy had seats for the theatre, she complained she was ill and insisted upon going home.
There was another quarrel between her husband and herself that night, but before they went to sleep he won her forgiveness, abused himself for treating her shabbily, told her again and again he was sorry, and promised never to be guilty of neglecting her again.
He could be irresistibly winning when he wanted to be.
CHAPTER IV
§ 1
On the Fourth of July the Gibbses asked Martin and Jeannette to spend the holiday and Sunday with them at Cohasset Beach. Jeannette contemplated the visit in the gayest of spirits. She spent fully two hours carefully packing her own and Martin’s suitcases. She had some very smart clothes for such an outing which she had had no opportunity of wearing since the happy honeymoon days at Atlantic City. The idea of appearing in these again at such a well-known summer resort as Cohasset Beach delighted her. She was anxious to be cordial to Mrs. Gibbs for Martin’s sake, and meant to dispel any unpleasant impression of herself that either Mr. Gibbs or his wife might have been harboring. To exert herself particularly in her host’s direction, “draw him out of his shell”—as Martin expressed it,—and make him like her, was part of her resolution.