Landry disappeared behind the curtains and in a moment Fred heard the wheeze of an atomizer. He put the amber elephant on the piano beside him and seemed to get a great deal of amusement out of the beast.
IX
When Archie and Ottenburg dined with Thea on Saturday evening, they were served downstairs in the hotel dining-room, but they were to have their coffee in her own apartment. As they were going up in the elevator after dinner, Fred turned suddenly to Thea. “And why, please, did you break Landry’s amber elephant?”
She looked guilty and began to laugh. “Hasn’t he got over that yet? I didn’t really mean to break it. I was perhaps careless. His things are so over-petted that I was tempted to be careless with a lot of them.”
“How can you be so heartless, when they’re all he has in the world?”
“He has me. I’m a great deal of diversion for him; all he needs. There,” she said as she opened the door into her own hall, “I shouldn’t have said that before the elevator boy.”
“Even an elevator boy couldn’t make a scandal about Oliver. He’s such a catnip man.”
Dr. Archie laughed, but Thea, who seemed suddenly to have thought of something annoying, repeated blankly, “Catnip man?”
“Yes, he lives on catnip, and rum tea. But he’s not the only one. You are like an eccentric old woman I know in Boston, who goes about in the spring feeding catnip to street cats. You dispense it to a lot of fellows. Your pull seems to be more with men than with women, you know; with seasoned men, about my age, or older. Even on Friday afternoon I kept running into them, old boys I hadn’t seen for years, thin at the part and thick at the girth, until I stood still in the draft and held my hair on. They’re always there; I hear them talking about you in the smoking room. Probably we don’t get to the point of apprehending anything good until we’re about forty. Then, in the light of what is going, and of what, God help us! is coming, we arrive at understanding.”
“I don’t see why people go to the opera, anyway,—serious people.” She spoke discontentedly. “I suppose they get something, or think they do. Here’s the coffee. There, please,” she directed the waiter. Going to the table she began to pour the coffee, standing. She wore a white dress trimmed with crystals which had rattled a good deal during dinner, as all her movements had been impatient and nervous, and she had twisted the dark velvet rose at her girdle until it looked rumpled and weary. She poured the coffee as if it were a ceremony in which she did not believe. “Can you make anything of Fred’s nonsense, Dr. Archie?” she asked, as he came to take his cup.