"You’ve got to act like you were somebody!" she said to herself. "You’ve got to show ’em you won’t stand any of their nonsense. People take you at your own valuation!"
That was a favorite phrase of hers. She had read it often, and it quite fell in with her cheap and pitiful philosophy. It was true enough, too, among the people she knew—people who weren’t capable of judging or analyzing a fellow being. She herself took others at their own valuation, because of an unconscious conviction that she was incapable of making an original appraisement.
So, resolutely looking as if she were somebody, she knocked at Mrs. Russell’s door.
"Come in!" said that suave and charming voice, and she entered.
She had expected to find Mrs. Russell still in bed, lazy and fascinating, and she was more or less surprised at finding her up and dressed, and scribbling away at a little desk. All her charm had vanished. She looked quite her five and fifty years; she was bony, sallow, horribly untidy in a green sweater and a short plaid skirt that showed her knoblike ankles and her great feet. It was rather surprising to see her hair coming down so early in the morning, a coil of it slipping out under her jaunty little hat. It gave her a most unpleasant, haglike look.
"Golf this morning!" she cried cheerfully. "Damn these letters! They’ll have to wait. Now, my dear, I’ll take you to Polly, because I’m in a hurry to be off. Mind what you say, won’t you? She’s so exacting! Make friends with her and stay near her. I’ve absolutely got to be gone all day—I’ve promised so many people at the Country Club, and I’ve got to get in a lot of practice before the big match. It’s a wonderful game, but it makes a perfect slave of you. It’s so fatally easy to lose your form. I take it so seriously. I worry myself ill over it. Come on!"
Angelica came after her slowly. She didn’t know whether she ought to say anything about her talk with the blond young man—whether he expected her to do so. Before she had decided, Mrs. Russell was knocking on a half-open door, and a voice bade them come in.
Angelica had had a preconceived idea that this daughter-in-law would be young and beautiful, a pampered darling. She was somewhat taken aback by the reality. There was a woman lying in bed, reading a newspaper, which she politely put down when they entered—a woman of forty, dark, sallow, with heavy eyes. She was apathetic and weary, but she was not dull; there was a quiet intelligence in her glance; she was indifferent without being uninterested. She was like a very tired but pleased spectator at a play. There was a charm about her lassitude, a lingering handsomeness which she made no effort to retain.
"Good morning!" she said, with a smile.
"Good morning, Polly! Did you have a good night? I don’t believe you did, you poor soul! I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I couldn’t sleep, thinking about you. I would have come in, half a dozen times, only that I was afraid of disturbing you, if you had dropped off. And it worried me so to think that I had to leave you to-day! But it couldn’t be helped. I’ve absolutely got to go to the dentist."