“But the neighbours!” Lavinia cried irritably.
“There are none. We can go up and down in the same lift with them for months without knowing what they look like. New York is too self-absorbed to care about any one’s happiness or misery.”
“But your father!” the woman snapped. Her triumph was short-lived.
“Papa could live in the same house with Eileen for a year without knowing whether she was Miss Trench or Mrs. Winthrop—Lary’s cousin or mine. He has forgotten all but the outstanding facts of my life. As for the Ramsays, they would take the situation as I do—if it should become necessary to tell them.”
Vine shook her head. She had no words with which to express her disapproval of a city that could be thus cold-bloodedly immoral. What sort of people were the Ramsays, that one could tell them of a girl’s fall from virtue without shocking them? What sort of woman was Mrs. Ascott, that she could carry out such a wickedly dishonest piece of business? Still, we must praise the bridge that carries us over.
III
Lary stopped by on his way to the office after luncheon to assure himself that it was not all an iridescent dream. On him, too, Lavinia’s stolid acceptance of Judith’s solution had a dampening effect. The rose had been stripped of its blossoms and stood stark and thorny before him. A few minutes of random talk, in which each sought to sound the other’s depths, and then the man said, as if it were an inconsequential afterthought:
“Would Wednesday evening do for the ceremony? Not that it makes any difference. I feel as if we had been married from the beginning of time. I told the baby about it, and she pleaded for Wednesday. Some lucky omen, I believe. She said there was no use taking chances. I wish I had her philosophy of life.”
“I wish I had her,” Judith cried, foolish tears rushing to her eyes.
“Why, you have all of us—from my father down. I never saw a conquest more complete.” The man’s eyes were moist and shining. “But, dear, the baby said another thing. She wants you to let Eileen serve as maid of honour. Another omen—that she heard when Oliver’s sister came from Brookline to attend Sylvia. It presages a happy marriage for the girl.”