“No,” Lewis answered. He was always a little short when she questioned him about his patients. Cynthia never got used to it nor quite understood it. “Where’d Mrs. Farwell get such a notion?”
“She was waiting for Petra. In the reception office. She said he came in while she was there. She was interested, of course, on account of Neil. Very much interested, as you may imagine!”
“Oh? But yes, I remember. He wanted to see me about a personal matter. It was a damned interruption in office hours.”
“Was it about Neil?” Cynthia was curious almost beyond bounds. And it would be gratifying to have some really interesting news to take to Clare. “Has old Dayton tumbled to the situation? Does he know Neil’s fallen on his feet—in the inner circle at Green Doors?”
“No. At least, I don’t know anything about what he knows or doesn’t know about his son-in-law. Certainly he didn’t mention McCloud to me. He wouldn’t. It’s to be hoped he doesn’t even know McCloud came to me for treatment. It’s Dick Wilder’s fault that anybody knows it. He saw him here one day and then meeting him at Green Doors he remembered. That’s how you know, my dear Cynthia, and the Green Doors crowd. Petra never told. No, Dayton wanted my ideas on something in connection with a new charity he is starting. That, too, was confidential.”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to be prying, darling. But I hope he doesn’t know about Neil and Petra. He might get dog-in-the-mangerish feelings and stop the divorce going through. I’m not often so hateful, but I rather hope that Edyth is going to see what a fool she has been, too late. Why, from her, you’d think Neil was the veriest bounder. Clare says so, anyway. Edyth had filled Clare up with stories. Now Clare doesn’t believe a word of any of it. She never happened to see Neil, or she wouldn’t have believed them before, she says. But how she detests Edyth! Now more than ever—although she has always seen through her more or less. I always liked Edyth myself; though now, of course, I can see what Clare means about her! It’s nice Neil makes money so easily, isn’t it, in these times! He sold Harry a car last week—on the very day when Harry said we simply had to begin economizing. A joke on Harry! We have no more need of a third car than—than you have, Lewis! But after Neil had talked a few minutes, Harry thought life wouldn’t be life without it! He’s a super-salesman,—must be. Clare is wonderful about the whole thing. She says they’re bound to be happy if Petra goes into it open-eyed. Petra must realize, though, Clare says, that Neil is the type always to have affairs. Nobody so stunning-looking, so amusing and good-natured, can help it. But also he is the type—if Petra’ll only be a little understanding—who’ll be reverential to his wife and simply adore his children. All Petra will need to manage him will be a little adroitness. That’s Clare’s only worry about it—that Petra won’t know how to manage him. Why even now—before he’s got Petra safely for his, he flirts with Clare herself—absurdly—under Lowell’s very nose. With me too. But nicely, you know. I’m rather thrilled and I love seeing Harry glower! Petra’s a lucky girl.”
Lewis had decided that he wouldn’t have dessert, after all. Only black coffee. He’d begin drinking it while Cynthia had her ice, if she didn’t mind. He’d have a second cup with her when she came to it. He had some work he had to do to-night later. Lots of coffee was necessary. He had brought some English Ovals along for Cynthia. Yes, truly. Would she have one now—or wait?
“He’s a type who’ll be reverential to his wife and simply adore his children.” Petra the wife, Petra’s the children. Why, now, after weeks of mental self-discipline and grim philosophizing—and nightly prayer—did such a remark have the power to rock Lewis’ very being in agony?
Cynthia was eating what she considered a particularly delectable ice. Too bad Lewis didn’t want his. “But there’s one thing may spoil the whole show,” she went on. Her chatter to-night was tireless! “It looks almost as if Dick himself is getting serious about Petra. Remember your asking me why he didn’t, weeks ago? And I said, how could he? Well, he seems to be like most men—let another male admire a woman and they begin to think there may be something in her. Men act like sheep in their erotic adventures. I don’t know whether Clare has noticed it. But if she has, she probably isn’t bothering. Dick needs some one quite different from Petra—a younger Clare. He is so utterly a product of super-civilization. While Petra and Neil—there’s something untamed, unaccountable, about both of them. With Neil it’s his Celtic blood, I s’pose. I shouldn’t wonder if Petra’s mother was Irish. Those blue eyes! Are you interested in all this chatter? Lewis, I’m boring you!”
“No, Cynthia. I’m not bored. Only it’s all so futile. I didn’t know you and your friend Clare had those two already married. Haven’t either of you remembered that Neil is a Catholic? His marriage to Edyth Dayton was confirmed by a priest. No matter how legal a divorce she gets, so far as McCloud is concerned, he is married to Edyth as long as they both live.”