“Fanny, get up!” Nan reached down and shook her friend’s shoulders. “What on earth is the matter with you? Have you gone crazy?”
“I think so.” Fanny buried her head in Nan’s skirts, clasping her arms about the other’s waist. “Raving crazy. I met Mr. Black on the street just now. He was rushing along with his wagon hitched to a star, by the look of him. He didn’t even see me till he all but ran into me. Of course I had put myself in his way. Then he snatched off his hat, asked pardon and how I was, all in the same breath—as if I had been one of his very oldest old ladies—and got away like a catapult. He was going in the direction of the station, I admit, but that wouldn’t reasonably have prevented his exchanging a few friendly words with me. Oh, I can stand anything—anything—but having a man not even see me!”
“So I should judge, my dear, from past experience,” Nan commented, grimly. She had put her arms rather reluctantly about Fanny, however; it was impossible not to see that something, at least, of this hysteria was caused by real feeling, if amazingly undisguised. She was quite accustomed to Fanny’s self-revelations, and entirely used to taking them without seriousness. But in the present instance her sympathies were supplemented by her understanding of how it might be quite possible for a girl to lose her head over Robert Black without his being in the least responsible by personal word or deed. She now endeavoured to apply a remedy to the situation.
“Fanny,” she said, “Mr. Black isn’t thinking about anything just now but war, and how to get across. He has lost those fine young nephews, whom he expected to have come here when the war was over, and his mind is full of them. He hasn’t a corner of his attention to give to women—any woman——”
“I’ve met him twice in the last week coming out of Jane Ray’s. Of course Cary was with him one of the times, and Doctor Burns the other—but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t been confabbing with Jane. He’s wise as a serpent, but I’m not at all sure he’s harmless as a dove—he’s much too clever to be seen paying attentions to any of us. He’s always with some man—you can’t get at him. And when he comes here he has Tom hanging round him every minute. Of course I know Tommy wants to keep him away from me—but he appears to want to be kept away, so I can’t so much as get a chance. If I could—— But—I will!”
Fanny sat back on her heels, wiping away a real tear with the corner of her towel.
“Of course you will, if you set out to do it. But—be careful, my dear. Robert Black can’t be taken by storm.”
“That’s the one way he can be taken. I might plot and plan forever to make an impression on him in the ordinary ways—he’s steel proof, I think, against those. The only way to get his attention is the way this war has got it—by shot and shell. If I can just somehow be badly wounded and fall down in his path, he’ll—stoop and pick me up. And if he once finds me in his arms——”
“Oh, Fanny, Fanny! For heaven’s sake don’t try to play a game with him!” Nan spoke sternly. She removed herself by a pace or two from her friend, and stood aloof, her dark brows drawing together. “I know you’re a born actress and can assume any part you like. That may be well enough in ordinary times—though I doubt it—but not in times like these. Don’t go to war to play the old game of hitting hearts. You’re not going to war—I know that—but don’t pretend you want to. It isn’t fair. This thing is one of life or death, and that’s what’s taking men like Doctor Burns and Mr. Black into it. They’ll have no use for anybody who doesn’t offer himself, body and soul. That’s what Jane Ray is doing—but not you, you know. You just want—to marry a man.”
“Oh, but you’re hard!” Fanny got to her feet, moved over to the window and stood looking out, the picture of unhappiness. “Jane Ray, indeed! How does it happen you believe in her so fast? Why isn’t she playing a game, too?—Of course she is. But because her hair is smooth and dark, and her manner so sweetly poised, you take her at her own valuation. She’s clever as Satan, and she’ll put it over, I suppose. But why, just because I’m of a different type, I must be forever accused of acting——”