You may imagine Betty’s surprise, which soon turned into anger, for it seemed that one of the actors in her little play was growing recalcitrant. She was decidedly not the mistress of the situation, since Charles had done this most unexpected thing. It was really horrid of him to react in such a manner. She boiled over considerably.
On the other hand, Conrad rose immensely in her estimation, because he reacted precisely as she had intended. As if he had received written instructions, he announced his arrival as usual by telephone, had tea with her the following afternoon, and said that “he had thought the situation over with extreme care, and had come to the conclusion that, in spite of his more advanced age, he was perfectly capable of supplying Betty with that life of gayety, music, and dancing which she so loved: in proof of which he desired her to accompany him to Greenwich Village that very night.” Betty was so flattered at the success of her anticipations that she acquiesced somewhat too enthusiastically, although she had intended to go with him from the very beginning. By way of making her acceptance a trifle more lady-like, she urged him to pick some cabaret obscure enough so that they would not be seen.
Now, in case the reader should accuse me of relying too much upon Fate in the relation of this tale, I had better acquaint him before hand with certain facts: namely, that Conrad, having made his decision, found himself at a loss to know of an obscure and poorly frequented establishment in Greenwich Village, which should at the same time be fairly respectable; that he had an artist friend named Peter, to whom he went for advice; and that Peter, who owned an establishment himself which seemed to suit Conrad’s needs, was an intimate friend of Charles Saunders.
Charles, whatever may be said of his good qualities as a lover, was not the kind to deny himself pleasure on account of a perverse mistress. In fact, her very perversity aroused in him such a craving to forget her, such a desire to avoid what he considered a sickly and unmanly pining, that he was driven to indulge in those passions, which, without the proper settings, the world considers un-Christian. Charles would merely have called them unbeautiful. But it is a well-known fact that the loss of a very delicate and tender beauty, which we have coveted, leads us to madness, in a vain attempt to beautify anything which happens to be at hand. Thus it happened that Charles had been drunk twice since leaving Betty’s house (for that young lady had been too proud to relent), and had spent his evenings at his friend Peter’s establishment, called the Green Wagon, in company with Peter himself and a couple of not-too-respectable girls.
It is not surprising, therefore, that Charles had no sooner seated himself and ordered cocktails, than his gaze fell upon what appeared to him the most beautiful back in the room. He gazed at it steadily, doubting his own senses, which, however, insisted that the color of the lady’s hair was a strange mixture of brown and gold. He glanced at her partner, who was none other than the dignified Conrad, and who was leaning far over the edge of the table, tea-cup in hand, and talking with her earnestly. Charles thought that he could even perceive the reflection of her beautiful eyes in Conrad’s loathsome ones. Charles shuddered, and muttered to himself, and drank his liquor violently, ordering more.
Meanwhile, Betty and Conrad were enjoying themselves hugely. He had been very liberal, and she had taken rather more than she would ordinarily have considered prudent. Perhaps it was the fact that she was safe in the care of this old and reliable friend. Perhaps, too, she wished to compensate for the good time which she had denied herself with Charles.
“You know, my dear,” said Conrad, gazing at her intensely, “I have never enjoyed any experience in my life quite so much as this one. I must thank you for delivering me out of what was proving to be a monotonous routine. I could be happy forever, this way, with you.” Whereupon he took her hand, which she had placed carelessly on the table, and which she allowed him to hold. Indeed, she even gave his an affectionate squeeze, not realizing perhaps that even old family friends can be fools. We would, however, blush to set down on paper the thoughts which were now in Conrad’s mind. We fear he had attempted to transfer the cruel tactics of business into the affairs of love. For he saw plainly that there was only one way of winning Betty for his wife, and that he could never do so while she was in her more rational environment at home. And although Conrad was not an unscrupulous man, his present plan could be considered little less than diabolical.
“You have been such a good girl to come out with me to-night,” he said—“to give me this little pleasure which I have lacked all my life.”
Betty met his eyes. She could not see or hear things very distinctly. Yet she was conscious that he had said something kind. She really liked him a great deal. She squeezed his hand again, and asked him to light a cigarette for her.
“Dear Christy,” she said, “you have always been such a good friend to me.”