Before he left her, they had staged their first altercation––it could hardly be called a quarrel, because it was too one-sided. Mirabelle had asked him without the slightest trace of shyness, to telephone the glad tidings to the Herald; and of a sudden, Mr. Mix was afflicted with self-consciousness. Unfortunately, he couldn’t give a valid reason for it; he couldn’t tell her that illogically, but instinctively, he wanted to keep the matter as a locked secret––and especially to keep it locked from Henry Devereux––until the minister had said: Amen. He admitted to himself that this was probably a foolish whim, 203 a needless precaution, but nevertheless it obsessed him, so that he tried to argue Mirabelle away from the Herald. His most cogent argument was that the announcement might weaken their position in the League––the League might be too much interested in watching the romance to pay strict attention to reform.
“Humph!” said Mirabelle. “I’m not ashamed of being congratulated. Are you? But if you’re so finicky about it, I’ll do the telephoning myself.”
Whereupon Mr. Mix went back to his room, and drank two highballs, and communed with himself until long past midnight.
In the morning, with emotions which puzzled him, he turned to the society column of the Herald; and when he saw the flattering paragraph in type,––with the veiled hint that he might be the next candidate for Mayor, on a reform ticket––he sat very still for a moment or two, while his hand shook slightly. No backward step, now! His head was in the noose. He wondered, with a fresh burst of self-effacement, what people would say about it. One thing––they wouldn’t accuse him of the truth. Nobody 204 but Mr. Mix himself knew the whole truth––unless perhaps it were Henry Devereux. Henry had developed a knowing eye. But Henry didn’t count––Henry was beaten already. Still, if Henry should actually come out and accuse Mr. Mix of––why, what could Henry accuse him of? Simply marrying for money? If it didn’t make any difference to Mirabelle, it certainly didn’t to Mr. Mix. And what booted the rest of the world? Why should he concern himself with all the petty spite and gossip of a town which wasn’t even progressive enough to have an art museum or a flying field, to say nothing of a good fight-club? Let ’em gossip.... But just the same, he wished that Mirabelle had been willing to keep the engagement a secret. Mr. Mix was sure to encounter Henry, once in a while, at the Citizens Club, and he didn’t like to visualize Henry’s smile.
He was in the act of tossing away the paper when his attention was snatched back by a half-page advertisement; in which the name of the Orpheum Theatre stood out like a red flag. Mr. Mix glanced at it, superciliously, but a moment later, his whole soul was strung on it.
THE ORPHEUM
Educational Motion Pictures
FREE! FREE! FREE!
Every Sunday afternoon and evening
ESPECIALLY HIGH-CLASS ENTERTAINMENT
of instructive and educational features
With Sacred Music
ABSOLUTELY FREE
to all those who present at the door ticket-stubs from the previous week’s performances (bargain matinees excepted) showing a total expenditure of Three Dollars.
IN OTHER WORDS
Two people coming twice during the week,
in 75 cent seats, come FREE Sunday
Three people coming twice during the week,
in 50 cent seats, come FREE Sunday
A PURELY VOLUNTARY COLLECTION
will be taken up and divided between
The Associated Charities
The Starving Children of Belgium and
The Chinese Famine Fund
This Sunday
206
THE SWORDMAKER’S SON––an absorbing drama
of Biblical days
Next Sunday
BEN-HUR, in seven reels
NO ADMISSION FEE BEING CHARGED, AND
ALL VOLUNTARY CONTRIBUTIONS BEING DEVOTED
TO CHARITY, THIS ENTERTAINMENT
DOES NOT FALL WITHIN ANY CITY ORDINANCE
PROHIBITING SUNDAY PERFORMANCES
THE ORPHEUM
Motion Pictures
Mr. Mix, goggle-eyed, jumped for the telephone, and called the City Hall, but as soon as the Mayor was on the wire, Mr. Mix wrestled down his excitement, and spoke in his embassy voice. “Hello––Rowland? This is Mix. I want to ask you if you’ve seen an ad of the Orpheum Theatre in this morning’s paper?... Well, what do you propose to do about it?”