CHAPTER XXX
With an armful of projects under way, Hobart had little time for Thurley during the winter. He met her with a sort of “You’ve got beyond me but I don’t think I’ll bother to chase after” attitude, praising her when she did well or keeping his silence when she did some showy, foolish thing, food for press agents. He was noncommittal as to Dan Birge’s visits—as Miss Clergy had been, since the latter looked upon them as a particularly choice part of her revenge, for here was a man debarred from marrying the woman he loved, yet following her hopelessly whenever she permitted, Pied Piper fashion.
When Lissa had hinted of unsavory things to him, Hobart dismissed the matter with a careless speech and a shrug of the shoulders. This he had learned to do long ago, whenever Lissa came prattling of some imaginary scandal which pleased her tarnished mind. There had been the time she tried to convince Hobart that Collin really did not paint his own pictures, but hypnotized Polly into doing it and thus kept her starving in a garret, hopelessly in love with Collin and Collin playing a modern Svengali. Lissa had endeavored for many days to make Ernestine believe that Caleb was the storm center of a liaison with a Broadway actress, thus ferreting out Ernestine’s state of mind concerning Caleb and promptly running to Caleb to tell him, ever so confidentially, that Ernestine was in danger of drinking herself to death, poor woman,—too bad she loved that wretched gypsy violinist who had played with her in concert work—could nothing be done about it? The world had soon learned not to value Lissa’s information, paying no heed to her hints of Sam Sparling’s dreadful actions or that Bliss Hobart did not go to his hermitage in the Maine woods—why, there was the silliest little movie actress at San Diego—living in a perfect castle, too—
So Hobart, well versed in tactics, when Lissa approached him on the subject of Dan and Thurley, managed to switch the conversation on to the information that Mark had danced so poorly his position as premier was threatened and Lissa had better adopt the diet of a Belgian refugee if she still wished to look her best in tailored things! Lissa, ousted for the time being, would depart to vent her wrath on the shoulders of her maid or Mark, who was, in truth, dancing poorly because he was bored and he felt dancing was not a man’s life-work when other things kept whispering themselves to him—and, hang it all, why did a clean cut, wonder girl like Thurley let Lissa pull her around by the nose anyway?
In a spirit of half earnest, half flippant revenge for Hobart’s neglect, Thurley sang poorly at a salon concert at which Hobart was the host. She so resorted to Lissa’s mannerisms that Caleb took notes on his cuff for future use.
Thurley knew the concert was a failure since she was to be the one to make it a success. She refused to meet Hobart’s disappointed gaze, pretending to be engrossed in listening to a Russian agitator telling of his escape over the frontier.
The next morning, when Thurley was debating whether or not it would be convenient to have Dan visit her so soon again, if this summer was to be spent in shocking the natives or, as Caleb had urged, selecting a site for a permanent country home and seeing it well on its way to completion by fall, she lifted the telephone receiver to answer its ring and heard Bliss Hobart’s voice—his teacher voice—saying,
“Come over at ten, Thurley, you’ve a lot to answer for.”
“Suppose I won’t come?” she retorted, delighted at the prospect.