“All right,” Fanny assented, meekly. She kissed Helen; then she kissed her uncle. She approached Guy Fullerton on tiptoe and held her hand high in the air. “Good-night, sir,” she said, softly.
A half-hour later the house was in darkness, save for a light in the library, where Douglas Briggs sat writing. After an evening of excitement he never could rest, and he found that some quiet work soothed his nerves. He was one of those men who seemed to thrive with very little rest; he had often worked all night, not even lying down, without showing in his face the next day a trace of the vigil.
Helen had gone to her room, but not to sleep. She changed her ball dress for a loose gown, and letting her hair fall over her shoulders, she sat for a long time thinking. Should she tell Douglas? A disclosure might lead to serious consequences. It would not only break the business relations between Douglas and West, but it would also involve her husband in a bitter personal quarrel. For the present she resolved to keep her secret. As for the charge West had made against Douglas, that was merely another of the calumnies circulated about him since he had begun to be successful in Washington. Why was it that one man could not prosper without exciting the hatred and the envy of so many other men? Douglas, she felt sure, had never done anything to injure anyone. His success had been won by his own abilities and industry. He had worked harder than any other man in Washington. She knew that herself, and she had often heard it remarked by others. She recalled all the unselfish work he had done in Congress, the bills he had toiled for with no purpose beyond that of doing good. Everything he undertook seemed to succeed. Helen had never thought much about the way in which he had made his money. It had come to him along with his successes. She knew that he had lately had good fortune in some land speculations near Washington; but that was perfectly legitimate, and it was merely another evidence of his shrewdness. There were plenty of Congressmen in Washington who remained poor simply because they had not her husband’s business resources and enterprise. When finally she went to bed, however, she had a vague sense of discomfort that could not be attributed to the agitation caused by her interview with Franklin West. She did not like even the thought of questioning her husband about his ways of making money. She had never doubted him before. Why should she doubt him now?
The next day Helen rose at noon with a splitting headache. She rang the bell, and when the maid appeared, bearing breakfast on a tray, Fanny came, too. Fanny’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright.
“What do you suppose I’ve been doing? I’ve been taking breakfast down at the hotel with dad. Then I made him go out with me and buy me a lot of things. So I’ve had a profitable morning. Half a dozen lace handkerchiefs, a silk scarf and a beautiful tailor-made coat. It’s going to be a dream. I went to the place you like so much—Broadhurst’s. I wish you could have heard what they said about my figure. And when I got back everybody was asleep except Uncle Doug. I shouldn’t wonder if he sat up all night, though he declared he didn’t. Here, I’ll fix that tray, Mary. You go down. Let me pour the tea, Auntie. There are two black lines around your eyes. They make you look so interesting! I guess you’re kind of tired.”
“Yes, I am,” Helen acknowledged.
“All right, drink this and you’ll feel better. Why don’t you stay in bed?”
“I mustn’t. I promised that I’d take Mrs. Burrell for a drive this afternoon. I told one of the girls.”
“More missionary work, I suppose. Auntie, if you don’t stop driving round with old frumps like that, I won’t recognize you on the street. Well, I guess I’ll go for a bicycle ride with Guy. He’s been promising to take me out to Chevy Chase for a long time. Don’t you think it would be proper?”
“Can’t you get someone to go with you?” Helen asked, sipping her tea and wondering why she could not shake off, even for a moment, the thought of Franklin West’s remarks the night before.