“Walter and I were at her house the other night——”
“Surely, Della, you aren’t going out yet; you’re in mourning!”
“I can’t absolutely stop seeing every one, can I?” said Della petulantly. “Of course you have to remember that I was cheated out of a lot of things; and I was a bride and all and just beginning to be entertained for.”
“Doesn’t father——”
“He never says a word. No, I think he’s glad to see Walter and me having a little fun. I just told Walter that I felt that his first duty was to me.” She stopped and bridled. “Of course, it’s your own business, Cecily, but I think you’re making a mistake.”
The lift of irony was in Cecily’s voice. “I am?”
“Well, a man likes a good time and I should think Dick would get awfully tired sitting around so much. Fliss says that when she first knew him——”
“I can’t see any point to this kind of talk,” said Cecily, rising. “Did you say that lunch was ready?”
She looked a little dowdy—felt a little dowdy beside the blond completeness of Della. A disgust of all fashionable dress for mourning had made her rather deliberately choose clothes that were not only not in fashion, but which were somewhat clumsy. And she had cried a great deal and her eyes were heavy and sad. Beautiful as she was, she excited no envy in Della, except in so far as she possessed those jewels. Della knew what to envy.
Cecily’s house was becoming a refuge for her. She felt it that afternoon as she went back to it. The two eldest children were out in the garden with their nurse, where the lilacs were beginning to bloom and the early green of spring was so exciting and alluring. It cheered even Cecily’s rather dark mood. Spring and healthy children and a home with Dick; what was it she lacked—why was it that she and Dick lacked anything? It ought to be right—it ought to be perfect; and it wasn’t right and it wasn’t perfect. Was Dick cheap, or she deficient in charm? Was the clamor of light living and noise eternally to make their home discordant? She would make it right. With her and the children, with a gayety that was not tawdry; yes, for Dick she would lighten her period of mourning. She looked back on her one talk with her mother about herself and Dick and felt that her mother would want her to make a concession to him. He had been so wonderfully kind during those first weeks. It was only lately that he had seemed restless again and surely it must be possible to swing back again to the beauty of those first years together.