Trudy was panting. Perspiration stood on the white forehead as she managed to finish: “I said you always loved her husband and now he loves you––and I am sorry. But I was mad at them all; you can’t 281 understand because you’re not my sort.... But you can be happy now. Marry him and make him happy.”
She dozed into a contented sleep. A little later it was all over.
CHAPTER XX
Gay’s course of action was exactly what his wife had prophesied. He displayed all the proper symptoms of mourning and grief as far as his clothing and stationery went. After a brief period of retirement from the world, during which he chattered with fear when he wrapped Trudy’s gay little possessions in bundles and gave them away, he emerged in the satisfactory role of a young widower on the loose who feels that “Perhaps it was all for the best; an idyl of youth, y’know; someone quite out of my sphere,” and was welcomed by the old set enthusiastically.
Beatrice particularly saw to it that he was petted and properly cared for regarding invitations and dainties to eat and drink. In this new rôle, with a well-established business and no shrewd red-haired wife to point out his meannesses and try to make him go fifty-fifty with the profits, Gay felt at peace with all the world.
He did not even miss Trudy’s work after a little. The only thing that bothered him was an occasional memory of the white, thin face and those limp, red curls, the hacking cough and the way her big eyes had stared at him that last night. He hated anything connected with suffering of any kind, let alone death itself.
Before long Gay found himself back at the club and running a neat shop on a prominent corner with 283 deaf mutes from charity institutions ensconced in the back rooms to do the work. Memories of Trudy and of their life together became as remote as the menu of a dinner eaten twelve months past.
He had her ring set over for himself, Mary never having mentioned the matter. In fact, he avoided Mary as he avoided Steve, for it was Mary who had spent the last moments with Trudy, and whatever was said remained a most uncomfortable mystery, to Gay’s way of thinking. She had remained at the apartment to help Gay through his sorrow, looking at him with brief scorn as he stammered inane thanks, scantily concealing his impatience to sample a basket of wine just sent in.