Carter lifted a shoulder. "Isn't ANYTHING the matter as far as Iknow, only somehow the best people have dropped her. She USED to be received everywhere.""Come to think, I HAVEN'T seen her out much this season," said Eckert. "But I heard she had bolted from 'Society' with the big S, and was going East--going to study medicine, I believe.""I've always noticed," said Carter, with a smile, "that so soon as a girl is declassee, she develops a purpose in life and gets earnest, and all that sort of thing.
"Oh, well, come," growled George Hands, "Travis Bessemer is not declassee.""I didn't say she was," answered Carter; "but she has made herself talked about a good deal lately. Going around with Rivers, as she does, isn't the most discreet thing in the world. Of course, it's all right, but it all makes talk, and I came across them by a grove of trees out on the links the other day--""Yes," observed Sargeant, leaning on the back of Carter's armchair; "yes; and I noticed, too, that she cut you dead. You fellows should have been there," he went on, in perfect good humor, turning to the others. "You missed a good little scene.
Rivers and Miss Bessemer had been taking a tramp over the Reservation--and, by the way, it's a great place to walk, so my sister tells me; she and Dick Forsythe take a constitutional out there every Saturday morning--well, as I was saying, Rivers and Miss Bessemer came upon our party rather unexpectedly. We were all togged out in our golfing bags, and I presume we looked more like tailor's models, posing for the gallery, than people who were taking an outing; but Rivers and Miss Bessemer had been regularly exercising; looked as though they had done their fifteen miles since morning. They had their old clothes on, and they were dusty and muddy.
"You would have thought that a young girl such as Miss Bessemer is--for she's very young--would have been a little embarrassed at running up against such a spick and span lot as we were. Not a bit of it; didn't lose her poise for a moment. She bowed to my sister and to me, as though from the top of a drag, by Jove! and as though she were fresh from Redfern and Virot. You know a girl that can manage herself that way is a thoroughbred. She even remembered to cut little Johnnie Carter here, because Johnnie forced himself upon her one night at a dance when he was drunk;didn't she, Johnnie? Johnnie came up to her there, out on the links, fresh as a daisy, and put out his hand, with, 'Why, how do you do, Miss Bessemer?' and 'wherever did you come from?' and 'Ihaven't seen you in so long'; and she says, 'No, not since our last dance, I believe, Mr. Carter,' and looked at his hand as though it was something funny.
"Little Johnnie mumbled and flushed and stammered and backed off;and it was well that he did, because Rivers had begun to get red around the wattles. I say the little girl is a thoroughbred, and my sister wants to give her a dinner as soon as she comes out.
But Johnnie says she's declassee, so may be my sister had better think it over.""I didn't say she was declassee," exclaimed Carter. "I only said she would do well to be more careful."Sargeant shifted his cigar to the other corner of his mouth, one eye shut to avoid the smoke.
"One might say as much of lots of people," he answered.
"I don't like your tone!" Carter flared out.
"Oh, go to the devil, Johnnie! Shall we all have a drink?"On the Friday evening of that week, Condy set himself to his work at his accustomed hour. But he had had a hard day on the "Times,"Supplement, and his brain, like an overdriven horse, refused to work. In half an hour he had not written a paragraph.
"I thought it would be better, in the end, to loaf for one evening," he explained to Blix, some twenty minutes later, as they settled themselves in the little dining-room. "I can go at it better to-morrow. See how you like this last chapter."Blix was enthusiastic over "In Defiance of Authority." Condy had told her the outline of the story, and had read to her each chapter as he finished it.
"It's the best thing you have ever done, Condy, and you know it.
I suppose it has faults, but I don't care anything about them.
It's the story itself that's so interesting. After that first chapter of the boom restaurant and the exiles' club, nobody would want to lay the book down. You're doing the best work of your life so far, and you stick to it.""It's grinding out copy for the Supplement at the same time that takes all the starch out of me. You've no idea what it means to write all day, and then sit down and write all evening.""I WISH you could get off the 'Times,'" said Blix. "You're just giving the best part of your life to hack work, and NOW it's interfering with your novel. I know you could do better work on your novel if you didn't have to work on the 'Times,' couldn't you?""Oh, if you come to that, of course I could," he answered. "But they won't give me a vacation. I was sounding the editor on it day before yesterday. No; I'll have to manage somehow to swing the two together.""Well, let's not talk shop now. Condy. You need a rest. Do you want to play poker?"They played for upward of an hour that evening, and Condy, as usual, lost. His ill-luck was positively astonishing. During the last two months he had played poker with Blix on an average of three or four evenings in the week. and at the close of every game it was Blix who had all the chips.
Blix had come to know the game quite as well, if not better, than he. She could almost invariably tell when Condy held a good hand, but on her part could assume an air of indifference absolutely inscrutable.
"Cards?" said Condy, picking up the deck after the deal.
"I'll stand pat, Condy."
"The deuce you say," he answered, with a stare. "I'll take three.""I'll pass it up to you," continued Blix gravely.
"Well--well, I'll bet you five chips."
"Raise you twenty."
Condy studied his hand, laid down the cards, picked them up again, scratched his head, and moved uneasily in his place. Then he threw down two high pairs.
