Wilfred was obliged to show his hand. “Do you think that Mildred would come?” he suggested offhand.
“Now that’s a good idea!” said Bella. “The poor little thing must be having a dull time living at home. A wife who is no wife! I might keep her here with me a couple of days Christmas. I’ll write to-night.”
Wilfred started to brush his coat, whistling softly. He was aware that he must be looking exceedingly self-conscious. Fortunately Bella was not perspicacious; her mind was busy with plans.
“I’ll get a gallon of Marsala wine from the Eyetalian in Thompson street. You and me can go halves on it. I’ll get the girls to bring sandwiches. Charley works for a commission merchant; he can bring apples . . .”
Wilfred, Stanny and Jasper, having dined at Ceccina’s, made their way across Washington Square. Stanny and Jasper were calm and anticipatory; Wilfred was tormented by an anxiety that he did not confide in his friends. Up to that morning Mildred had left Bella in doubt as to her coming. Wilfred had staked everything on her. Suppose she did not come? Cinders; ashes; dust!
They went into Wilfred’s room to leave their hats and brush their hair. From Bella’s room in the rear extension, came the sounds of a discreet little company. When they entered Wilfred could scarcely bear to raise his eyes to look. Ten people crowded the room to suffocation. Yes! and there she was, sitting in the farthest corner, her lashes sweeping her flower petal cheeks. A great wave of relief and laughter surged in Wilfred’s breast. What a joke that she should look so virginal! You darling! if you knew what I know about you! he thought. He could not meet her eyes.
It was a squeeze in Bella’s room which was crowded before anybody entered it; and at first an awful constraint settled upon them. No one said anything except the nervous Bella, whose occasional squalls of talk seemed to be lost in a vacuum. The girls just sat, looking aggravatingly refined; and the young men stood holding up the walls with their backs. Wilfred began to sweat gently; he felt responsible. Neither Jasper nor Stanny was disposed to help him out. Jasper squinted down his nose; and Stanny looked obstinately mournful. Wilfred blamed the two men from up-stairs. They didn’t belong. Charley was a lean and sprawling youth; Dave a dark and solid one. Boors, thought Wilfred.
Finally in desperation, Wilfred said: “Let’s go into my room. It’s bigger.”
The girls decorously shook out their skirts and prepared to follow.