XXXII
A barrier formed by his own imagination kept McGinity and Pat apart for some time following the solution and wind-up of the Martian mystery; the barrier of riches, which so often prevents the "poor but honest" young man from popping the question to a girl he considers far beyond his reach by reason of her social rank and money. He felt, as I learned afterwards, that the honorable thing to do, as far as Pat was concerned, was to fade out of the picture.
It was an open secret in the family by this time that he and Pat were desperately in love. After all they had gone through together, things were bound to end like this. As soon as we learned that McGinity was suffering from a severe attack of conscientious scruples, we held several family councils; whispering together, we decided that nothing would suit us better than to have the young reporter as our nephew.
Jane was coldly enthusiastic, at first. But one could not blame her. Family pride is a mighty powerful instinct. All her life she had been a stout-hearted defender of the social impregnability of the Royces, regarding her world, or their world, as divided into Royces on the one hand, and the near relatives and close friends of the Royces on the other.
McGinity of course had no social credentials, but his father had been a college chum of Pat's father, and undoubtedly he had saved Pat's life when the late Mr. Zzyx, alias Peter, went on his rampage of death and destruction. "We owe him something," I argued; and so did Henry, who couldn't say enough now in praise of the reporter.
Besides, he came from a family of great antiquity. When I finally proved to Jane, through "Barker's Peerage," that one of his ancient, Scottish forebears had played a leading part in the crusade of taking Robert Bruce's heart to Jerusalem, the ice suddenly broke, and she began to express herself as charmed in having found him so charming.
And so we decided to take the high hand, so far as we dared; and we were about to summon Pat to a family conference, and tell her that she would hear something now that would surprise her, and so forth ... when, luckily for us, Pat took matters in her own hand. As she described her feelings to me afterwards, she realized that unless a miracle intervened the being who meant more to her than all the world would be lost; and the knowledge seemed suddenly to clarify her mind, and her course of duty to save an endangered love became quite clear.
I wish I had space in which to tell, in full, the story of Pat's curing McGinity's attack of conscientious scruples against marrying a rich girl, and how she finally challenged him on common ground, for it was very romantic business; this alone would fill a large volume.
With fine courage, Pat set about to do a little newspaper writing on her own, with a definite purpose in view. A close study of McGinity's clever articles, and his remarkable technique of condensation and brevity, so necessary in newspaper reporting, provided exactly the sort of inspiration that she needed. She had the background of a splendid education, she was an inveterate reader of action stories, and was also very observing. Reading the early specimens of her work, neatly but laboriously typed, I was amazed to find that she showed real talent in dramatizing the commonplace things in life.
Her first serious article was founded on several visits she had made at the wretched homes of the very poor, calling on expectant mothers, in company with a nurse from the Rivington Street Settlement, on the governing board of which Henry had become an important factor. Under the pseudonym of Nora Nolan, and using the house address of a girl friend, she submitted the sketch to the City Editor of the New York Daily Recorder.