Then they left Peachtree for Chicago and spent a few weeks there, Matthew doing business while Fliss soaked her pagan soul in the luxury of hotels. Fliss loved hotels, their over-deep porcelain baths and the little breakfast tables with shiny silvered dishes and wasteful expanses of white linen, always immaculate. She liked having nothing to do with the machinery of her comfort, to have a telephone at her bedside which could whisk servitors out of space to do her bidding. And she liked the great hotel lounges and parlors, with their heavy commercialized luxury of velvet and gilt, their desks with low lights at which one might sit and write letters while engaging the attention of any good-looking men who might be passing. Padded corridors, handsome men and luxurious women, dining-rooms pompous with elaborate service, the ceaseless flow of people who might be coming from anything and going anywhere—it all completely captured that roving spirit of excitement which was Fliss’s imagination. She watched with ecstasy, copying here, adapting there, learning every minute.
The nervousness of buying which always accompanies a small, overworked purse, had disappeared. Fliss had money and she bought with glory, with a certain amount of dignity and restraint too. She passed, as cheap and tawdry, things which she had formerly coveted, but she penetrated the French millinery shops, the dressmaking establishments with a new air, head held high, demanding service like a barbaric princess. It seemed to her that all she had needed to give her complete content was a husband and money. She had no discontents now. She sparkled and glowed and enjoyed from morning until night.
The glow was at its best when they returned to Carrington, hurried by the long-pending declaration of war with Germany. From the apartment hotel, where Matthew had rented a friend’s suite temporarily, Fliss dashed up to see her mother. She knew exactly how she meant to deal with her mother. Mrs. Horton must not obtrude or be tedious, and if she were not she would share in Fliss’s good fortune. She entered the dreary little flat, infinitely more dreary after the glories of the wedding trip. Her mother came to meet her, kissing her affectionately and admiringly.
“I would have come to the train if you hadn’t especially said you didn’t want me to, Flissy.”
“We got in too late. It was nearly midnight and we were too tired to talk.”
Her mother surveyed her with an unconfident look as if not sure of the propriety of her own interest.
“Is everything going nicely, dearie?” she ventured.
“Of course. I had the time of my life. Such fun!” Her glance swept the tawdry walls and furnishings. “I never knew there were such lovely things in the world as I’ve seen.”
“And how is Matthew?”
“Matthew is a darling. He gives me everything, mother. Of course, he’s got it to give, but he’s such a dear about it. Oh, you just watch me make this town sit up and take notice. Mrs. Matthew Allenby! This fur alone cost Matthew a cool eight hundred. And you should see the things he bought me in Chicago.”