The Hungry Heart: A Novel

by David Graham Phillips

"What a confession the proverb is," said he, "—that people have to be married once, before they're fit to be married."

"Well," said she, "at least we've had our experience, and can be glad we got it young enough for it to be useful. But I must get to work." And she nodded and went briskly up the snow-drifted lawns. Not until afternoon, while she was overseeing the sawing up of the tree, did his unfinished offer come back to her. Had he left it unfinished because she had not encouraged him to go on or because he had repented of the impulse? Probably the latter, she decided; at any rate, even if he had urged, she could not have accepted. "He'd be sure to misunderstand. Men and women always do misunderstand each other—" She smiled at herself—"that is, they don't. They learn by experience that there's always the motive behind, in everything that crosses the sex line. He'd not realize this was an exception." There she mocked herself again. "At least, I think it'd be an exception. I'm not quite sure I'd not be doing it out of cowardice—to get him where I could recover him if I lost my nerve and had to. Our dependence makes us so poor spirited that, though we know we don't want a certain man, we like to have him where we could use him, 'in case.'"

Several stormy days, with no communication between house and laboratory. On the first bright afternoon, she and Winchie were entering the grounds after a walk to Wenona and back, through the still, dry air, charged with sunbeams, air like a still, dry champagne, strong and subtle. They came upon Dick clearing the snow from the direct path between laboratory and gates. His trousers were tucked into high boots and he was in flannel shirt sleeves. As they—or, rather, as Winchie—paused, he leaned on his shovel and laughed—at the fun that is merrier than any joke—the fun of being healthily alive from center to farthest tip. The sunshine was brilliant on the unsullied surface of the snow, on the ice-encased branches, and on those three health-flushed faces. "Just been to the doctor's, I suppose?" said he to the boy who was as ruddy as a rooster's comb, as smooth and hard as marble.

"No," declared Winchie, taking him seriously, "I never had a doctor in my life."

This was a good enough excuse. Dick and Courtney became hilarious over Winchie's earnestness. As Winchie had begun to play with the snow his father's labor had piled high on either side of the reappearing path, Courtney did not resist Dick's overtures toward conversation—about the skating, the air, the healthfulness of a hard winter, the ravages of the storm throughout the neighborhood. "I see," said he, "the old maple's gone. You did clear it up in a hurry. There's not a sign of its ever having been in existence—or the summerhouse either."

At that the color poured into her cheeks—the deeper, fierier red of acute embarrassment. When he realized what he had said—which he instantly did—he did not color but became pale. "I'm glad it was destroyed," he said, "glad not a trace of it remains—anywhere. If I believed in omens I'd look on the whole incident as a good omen—the landmark of the Vaughan home that seemed so strong and wasn't—the summerhouse that was a constant reminder—both gone—and the place where they were is clear—is ready for the new and better things."

She was listening with her head low. "Thank you," she said, in a choked voice. "Sometimes I think there isn't another man in the world who'd have helped me as you have."

"Don't you believe it," cried he, cheerfully. "Human nature's a lot better than it pretends. Thank God, very few of us are despicable enough to live up to our creeds and our conventions.... Winchie, you didn't know you came very near losing your father yesterday. He almost blew himself up."

Winchie's eyes grew big. "I'd like to have seen," said he, excitedly. "Jimmie says, when you do go, it'll be straight up through the roof and high as the moon."

"It all came of my working without an assistant," Dick explained to Courtney. "I've got one coming from Baltimore, as I think I told you the other day. But he can't get away just yet. I wish you'd consider my offer."