The Desired Woman(Fiscle Part-3 Of 2) by Will N. Harben (e book reader pdf TXT) 📕

Me. Dick,  Don't Tell Me That You Are Actually Jealous. It Would Be Too

Delicious For Anything."

"I Can't Ask You Not To Go With The Fellow," Mostyn Answered,

"Considering The Well-Known Habits Of Your Limited Set To Lay Down New

Laws Of Conduct,  But You Nor No Other Woman Can Form The Slightest

Idea Of What It Costs A Man's Pride To Have People Say That His Wife

Is Constantly Seen With A Man Who Always Has Been In Love With Her."

An Almost Imperceptible Gleam Of Delight Flashed Into Irene's Eyes,

And A Tinge Of Real Color Struggled Beneath The Powder On Her Face.

"You Don't Mean,  Dick,  That He Really,  Really Loves Me?" She Said,

Lingeringly.

"I Think He Does," Mostyn Answered,  Bluntly. "He Never Got Over Your

Refusal To Marry Him. He Shows It On Every Occasion. Everybody Knows

It,  And That's What Makes It So Hard To--To Put Up With. I Think I

Really Have A Right To Ask The Mother Of My Child To--"

"Don't Begin That,  Dick!" Irene Commanded,  Sharply. "I Have My Rights,

And You Shall Respect Them. It Is Cowardly Of You To Always Mention

The Boy In That Way. I Am Not Crazy About Children,  And I Won't

Pretend To Be. You Know I Did Not Want A Child In The First Place. I

Am Not That Sort. I Want To Have A Good Time. I Like Admiration. I

Like Amusements. You Men Get The Keenest Sort Of Pleasure Out Of

Gambling In Stocks And Futures. All Day Long You Are In A Whirl Of

Excitement. But You Expect Us Women To Stay At Home And Be As Humdrum

As Hens In A Chicken-House. You Are To Have Your Fun And Come Home And

Have Us Wives Pet You And Pamper You Up For Another Day Of Delight.

Dick,  That May Go All Right With Farmers' Wives Who Haven't Shoes To

Wear Out To Meeting,  But It Won't Do For Women With Money Of _Their

Own_ To Spend."

"I Knew _That_ Would Come," He Flashed At Her. "It Always Does Crop Up

Sooner Or Later."

"You Are Out Of Temper To-Night,  Dick," She Retorted. "And It Is

Simply Because I Am Going With Andy Buckton. You Needn't Deny It."

"I Don't Like The Gossip That Is Going Around." Mostyn Frowned And Bit

His Mustache As He Said This. "The People Of Atlanta,  As A Whole,  Are

Moral,  Conservative Citizens,  And The Doings Of Your Small Set Are

Abhorrent To Them."

"_My_ Set!" Irene Forced A Harsh,  Mirthless Laugh. "And For Goodness'

Sake,  What Do They Think Of _Your_ Set? You Force Me To Say This,

Dick. There Is Not A Person In This City Who Has Not Heard Of You And

That Unspeakable Winship Woman."

Mostyn Flinched Beneath The Gaze She Bent On Him. "That Is A Thing Of

The Past,  Irene,  And You Know It," He Stammered,  Trying To Keep His

Temper.

"I Can Consider It A Thing Of The Past," She Returned,  Coldly,  "If I

Will Take Your Word For It,  Just As You May Or May Not Take My Word

For My Conduct With Andy Buckton. Oh,  I Suppose It Is Nothing For A

Wife To See The Knowing Smiles That Pass Around When The Gaudy

Creature Shows Up At The Theater Or Ball-Game Accompanied By Gamblers

And Bar-Keepers. The Brazen Thing Stares Straight At Me Whenever I Am

Near Her."

Mostyn Was Now White With Restrained Fury. He Stood Up. "I Will Not Go

Over All That Again," He Said. "The Mistake I Made Was In Ever Owning

Up To The Thing."

"You _Had_ To Own Up To It," Irene Answered,  Bluntly. "I Knew It When

We Were Married,  And I Would Not Mention It Now If You Were Not

Constantly Nagging Me About My Actions. Dick,  You Will Have To Let Me

Alone. I Won't Take Advice From You."

He Met Her Frank Eyes With A Shrinking Stare. "I Shall Let You Alone

In The Future," He Faltered. "I See I Have To. You Are Merciless. For

The Sake Of The Boy We Must Live In Harmony. God Knows We Must!"

"All Right," She Laughed,  Coldly,  "That Is Another Agreement. Harmony

Is The Word. Now,  Go Away. Kitty Is Not Coming. She May Be Going With

Some One Else."

Mostyn Went To His Room Across The Hall. He Bathed His Bloodless Face

And Hands And Automatically Brushed His Hair Before The Glass,  Eying

His Features Critically. "Can That Actually Be Me?" He Whispered To

The Grim Reflection. "I Look Like A Man Of Sixty. I'm As Old And

Decrepit As--Jeff Henderson. Why Did I Think Of Him? Why Am I

Constantly Thinking Of That Old Man,  Unless It Is Because He Has

Predicted My Ruin So Confidently? He Seems As Sure Of It As He Is Of

The Air He Breathes. If Evil Thought Bearing On A Man Can Hurt Him,  As

The Mental Scientists Believe,  Henderson's Will Eventually Get Me

Down. He Would Give His Life To Permanently Injure Me. So Would Marie.

She Can't Forgive Me For Ignoring Her. She Can't Understand Any More

Than I Do _Why_ I Ignore Her."

There Was A Rap On The Door. It Was A Servant To Ask If He Wanted His

Supper.

"Not Now," He Answered. "Keep It For Me. I'll Be In Later."

He Went Down To The Lawn,  Lighted A Cigar,  And Began To Smoke,

Striding Nervously Back And Forth. A Smart Pair Of Horses Hitched To A

Trap Whirled Into The Carriage-Drive And Stopped In The Porte-Cochere.

In The Rays From The Overhead Lamp Mostyn Saw Buckton Alight And

Ascend The Steps To The Veranda. A Half-Smoked Cigar Cast Into The

Shrubbery Emitted A Tiny Shower Of Sparks. Mostyn Saw The Young Man

Peering In At The Window Of The Lighted Drawing-Room. He Noted The

Spick-And-Span Appearance,  The Jaunty,  Satisfied Air Of Expectancy,

And His Blood Began To Boil With Rage.

"My God!" He Groaned. "She May Be Falling In Love With Him--If She Has

Not _Always_ Loved Him,  And He Now Knows It. She May Have Told Him So.

And When They Are Alone Together,  As They Will Be In A Few Minutes On

The Road,  What More Natural Than That He Should Caress Her? I Would

Have Done It With Any Man's Wife If I Had Felt An Inclination. I Am

The Joke Of The Town And Must Bear It. I Must Stand By And Let My

Wife And Another Man--"

Buckton Was At The Door Speaking To The Maid Who Had Answered His

Ring.

"No; Tell Her,  Please,  That I'll Wait Out Here On The Lawn." Mostyn

Remarked The Note Of Curbed Elation In The Voice,  And Saw Buckton Turn

Down The Steps.

A Match Flared In The Handsome Face As Another Cigar Was Lighted.

Fearing That He Might Have Been Seen From The Drive,  Mostyn Was

Compelled To Step Forward And Greet The Man With The Conventional

Unconcern He Had Been Able To Summon To His Aid On Former Occasions.

"Hello," He Heard Himself Saying,  Automatically,  As He Strode Across

The Grass To The Other Smoker. "Fine Evening For Your Shindig."

"Tiptop," Buckton Said,  With A Sort Of Restraint Mostyn Inwardly

Resented. "Couldn't Have Turned Out Better. Sorry You've Cut Out The

Giddy Whirl,  Old Man. As I Passed Your Bank This Morning I Thought Of

Asking You,  But You Have Refused So Many Times That--"

"Oh No." Mostyn Heartily Despised The Role He Was Playing. "I Am No

Longer Good At That Sort Of Thing."

"Had Your Day,  I See," Buckton Laughed,  Significantly. "You Certainly

Kept The Pace,  If All Tales Are True. The Sort Of Thing We Do These

Days Must Be Tame By Comparison."

"Oh,  I Don't Know," Mostyn Returned,  With Enforced Carelessness. "Men

Are The Same The World Over. I Have Not Yet Had A Chance To

Congratulate You On Your Recent Good Fortune."

"Thanks,  Old Man." Buckton Puffed His Smoke Into The Still Moonlight.

"It Certainly Was A Lift To Me. I Was Never Cut Out For Business,  And

I Was At The End Of My Row. I Confess I Am Not Complaining Now. I Am

Just At The Age To Know How To Spend Money."

The Talk Languished. Both Men Seemed Suddenly Burthened By Obtrusive

Self-Consciousness. Buckton Twisted His Mustache Nervously And Flicked

At The Ashless Tip Of His Cigar,  Glancing Toward The House. "Oh,  I

Quite Forgot To Deliver Miss Kitty's Message To Irene--To Mrs. Mostyn,

I Should Say. She Was To Drive Out With Us,  But At The Last Minute Dr.

Regan Found That He Could Get Off And Asked Her To Go In His Car."

"Arranged Between Them," Mostyn Thought,  Darkly. "I Know The Trick.

Regan Doesn't Care A Rap For Kitty. It Is Part Of The Game,  And I Am

The Tool."

"I Understand You Have A New Car Yourself," Mostyn Said,  Aloud.

"Yes,  And Experts Tell Me That It Is The Best In Town. I'll Run Around

And Take You Out Some Day. But I Really Care More For Horses. It May

Be Due To My Virginia Blood. I Wouldn't Swap This Pair For All The

Cars In Town. For A Trip Like This To-Night Horses Come Handy. There

Are Some Rough Places Between Here And My Home."

"It Does Away With The Chauffeur," Mostyn Said,  Inwardly,  As His

Tongue Lay Dead In His Mouth. He Glanced Toward The Open Doorway.

"Irene May Be Ready," He Remarked,  Moving Toward The House.

"Yes,  I See Her Coming Down The Stairs," Answered Buckton,  Dropping

His Cigar,  A Look Of Boyish Eagerness Capturing His Face.