"Doesn't he suspect your style in your letters? I would know a letter from you, no matter what the circumstances."
"Oh, I don't write like myself. I write like an author. I found out what he thought she looked like, and I write tall, pale, sensitive-mouthed kind of letters, with a hint of sadness."
"You imp!" he laughed.
"Improves my style. You ought to be glad. Let's hear about the plans for the book."
They settled down to discussing advertising plans, which kept them busy until late afternoon. When the last detail was settled, Bambi rose with a sigh.
"Whew! That was a long siege. Like Corp in 'Sentimental Tommy,' it makes me sweat to think."
"I should not have kept it up so long. I forget you are not used to this drill," he apologized.
"I think I'll live. Remember the first time I came to see you?"
"Perfectly."
"Wasn't I scared?"
"Were you?"
"You were so kind and fatherly."
"Fatherly?" he said.
"What lots of things have happened to me since then," she mused.
"And to me," said Richard, under his breath.
"Heigho! Life is a bubble."
"You'll feel better after a cup of tea. Where shall we go?"
"Let's walk up to the Plaza."
"Done," said he, closing his desk.
It was a cold, crisp day, which stimulated the blood like a cocktail. Bambi breathed deep as she tried to fall in step with her companion.
"I can't keep step with you. I'm too little and my skirt's too tight."
"I'll keep step with you, my lady."
"Mercy, don't try. Jarvis says I hop along like a grasshopper."
"I resent that. Your free, swaying walk is one of your charms. You always make me think of a wind-blown flower."
She looked up at him, radiantly.
"Richard, you say the charmingest things!"
"Francesca, you do inspire them."
"I'm a vain little peacock, and Jarvis never notices how I look."
"Too bad to mate a peacock and an owl."
A brilliant sunset bathed the avenue in a red, gold light. The steady procession of motors, taxis, and hansom cabs made its slow way uptown. The shop windows blazed in their most seductive moments. The sidewalks were crowded with smart men; fashionable women swathed in magnificent furs; slim, little pink-cheeked girls. All of them made their way up the broad highroad toward home or tea, as the case might be.
"Oh, you blessed flesh-pots, how I adore you!"
"Referring to the men or the women?"
"Naughty Richard! I mean all the luxury and sensuousness which New York represents."
"You hungry little beggar, how you do eat up your sensations!"
"They give me indigestion sometimes."
The foyer of the Plaza was like a reception. The tea-room was a-clatter and a-clack with tongues.
"Like the clatter of sleek little squirrels," said Bambi, as she followed the head-waiter to their table.
Her comments on people about them, the nicknames she donated to them, convulsed Strong. He would never again see that pompous head-waiter except as "Papa Pouter!"
"Would you get tired of it if you were here all the time?"
"I suppose so. It is all so alike. The women all look alike, and the men, and the waiters. If you dropped through the ceiling, you could hardly tell whether you were in the Ritz, the Plaza, the Manhattan, or the Knickerbocker. You would know it was New York--that's all."
"What train do you take to-night, or shall you stay over?"
"I shall go on the 11:50, if you'll play with me until then."
He smiled at her affectation.
"Suppose we try another kind of crowd to-night, and dine at the Lafayette."
"Delighted! I've never been there."
"It's jolly. You'll like it, I think."
"Where is it?"
"Way downtown--University Place. What shall we do between now and dinner-time?"
"Let's walk down."
"Oh, that's a long walk."
"But I love to walk, unless it is too much for you."
"Sheer impudence!"
The walk was one never to be forgotten by Strong. To have Bambi all to himself, to look forward to hours of such bliss, to have her swinging along beside him, laughing and chattering, now and again laying her hand on his arm in confident friendliness--it was intoxicating.
By sheer force of will he kept his hand on the throttle of his emotions. One look, one false move, would ruin it all. He knew, without any doubts that she did not love him. He even told himself she loved Jocelyn. He knew that he must make himself a valuable friend and not an undesired lover, but his want of her was great, and his fury at Jarvis's indifference white hot. She caught his set look.
"Richard!"
He turned his eyes on her.
"You're tired of me. I won't talk any more."
He drew her hand through his arm, and held her there.
"Don't say that sort of thing, please; it isn't fair."
"Take it back."
The Lafayette filled her with excitement. They had a table on a raised balcony overlooking the main dining-room. Richard pointed out celebrities, bowed to many friends, talked charming personalities. A feast of Lucullus was served them. Music and wine and excitement bewitched Bambi. She sparkled and laughed. She capped his every sally with a quick retort. She was totally different from the girl-boy who had walked downtown beside him.
"What are you thinking about me?" she challenged him, her head tipped back provokingly.
"Daughter of Joy!"
"I have spent a very pleasant fortnight with you, Richard!"
"Has it seemed that long?"
"Since I left Sunnyside this morning? Quite."
"How many personalities have you been since then?"
"Oh, not nearly all my mes."
"Protean artist?"
"Headliner," she nodded.
They drank to the success of the play. Later, as he stood beside her in the car, a few minutes before she was to leave, she put her hand in his.
"I've had the loveliest time," she said. "You are the most accomplished playmate I ever had."
"It has been a happy day."
"Come to Sunnyside soon."
The train began to move out and he hurried to get off. She waved to him from the window. She was tired, so she went to bed at once, with never a dream of the emptiness her small presence left in New York for the "Playmate."
XXIV
"What luck did you have with the climax, yesterday?" she asked Jarvis, next day, as she came into the workroom.
"None at all. I worked all day, and tore it up last night."
"Oh, why did you do that?"
"It was hopeless. If you wanted to teach me how vital you are to this work, you did it."
"Such a thing never entered my mind."
"Shall we begin at it now?"
"Of course. I'm keen to get at it."
She plunged into the situation and swept all obstacles before her. The entire reaction from yesterday's pleasure and change went into her work. Lunch-time came as a shock, the morning had fled so fast. Jarvis sighed as he piled up the pages.
"You work like an electric dynamo," he remarked.
"I always work better after a happy vacation. Why don't you run off for a day, to get your breath, as it were?"
"Where would I run to?"
"You might go look up the author-lady you're so interested in," she remarked, wickedly.
He made no answer to that.
The noon mail brought Bambi's latest letter from Jarvis. All mail was brought immediately to her, so she had a chance to extract the telltale letters. Jarvis wrote:
"DEAR LADY: Your letters are fast becoming a necessity to me. I look for them as eagerly as a boy. I find myself more and more absorbed in the 'Francesca' of your fancy, whom I feel sure is the essence of you. Is it not so?
"I am bitterly unhappy these days--lonely, as I have never been before. The emotional side of life has always been a closed book to me, one I disdained to read. So once my heart begins to call attention to itself, I suppose the more poignant will be my experience.
"I have lately come back from a long exile spent in a hideous place. I brought with me the first hunger for love I had ever known. But I found no answering need in the heart I turned to. I have been thrown back on myself, to eat my heart out, because I know now that it is my own fault. If I had tried sooner to make myself a lover, I would not have to resign that place to another man.
"Why do I pour these personal sorrows upon you, my Lady of Sympathy? I am heartsick for comfort.
"Yours, "J."
Bambi laid her cheek against the poor, hurt letter, and cried.
"My poor, bungling Jarvis, how I must have hurt you!"
She read it again, and all at once light flooded in.
"Why, it's Richard, of course! He thinks I am in love with Richard! The dear old goose! He sees so little and sees that crooked."
She went in search of him, determined to tell the whole foolish story, to explain the imaginary obstacles that divided them. But he was not to be found, so the impulse died, and she determined to play the farce out to its end, and now, that she knew the core of the whole situation, she could make it count for their final readjustment.
She wrote him at once:
"MY DEAR JARVIS: At last I feel that there is truth between us. I have suspected that you were not happy in your love life. But I wanted not to pry into locked chambers. Now we can be glad of the bond that lies between us, for I, too, go heart hungry through the days.
"I have not spoken to you of my home, or my husband, but now that you have become such a part of my thought life, I feel no disloyalty in the truth.