The Fashionable Adventures of Joshua Craig: A Novel

  CHAPTER XXII

  GETTING ACQUAINTED

  Her opportunity definitely to begin her campaign to lift him up out ofpolitics finally came. She had been doing something in that directionalmost every day. She must be careful not to alarm his vanity of beingabsolute master of his own destiny. The idea of leaving politics andpractising law in New York, must seem to originate and to grow in hisown brain; she would seem to be merely assenting. Also, it was adelicate matter because the basic reason for the change was money; andit was her cue as a lady, refined and sensitive and wholly free fromsordidness, so to act that he would think her loftily indifferent tomoney. She had learned from dealing with her grandmother that the way toget the most money was by seeming ignorant of money values, a coverbehind which she could shame Madam Bowker into giving a great deal morethan she would have given on direct and specific demand. For instance,she could get more from the old lady than could her mother, whoexplained just what she wanted the money for and acted as if the givingwere a great favor. No, she must never get with him on a footing wherehe could discuss money matters frankly with her; she must simply makehim realize how attractive luxury was, how necessary it was to her, howconfidently she looked to him to provide it, how blindly, in herignorance of money and all sordid matters, she trusted to him tomaintain her as a wife such as she must be maintained. She knew she didnot understand him thoroughly--"we've been so differently brought up."But she felt that the kind of life that pleased her and dazzled him mustbe the kind he really wished to lead--and would see he wished to lead,once he extricated himself, with her adroit assistance, from the kind oflife to which his vociferous pretenses had committed him.

  Whether her subtleties in furtherance of creating a sane state of mindin him had penetrated to him, she could not tell. In the earliest stepof their acquaintance she had studied him as a matrimonial possibility,after the habit of young women with each unattached man they add totheir list of acquaintances. And she had then discovered that wheneverhe was seriously revolving any matter he never spoke of it; he would bevoluble about everything and anything else under the sun, would seem tobe unbosoming himself of his bottommost secret of thought and action,but would not let escape so much as the smallest hint of what was reallyengaging his whole mind. It was this discovery that had set her todisregarding his seeming of colossal, of fatuous egotism, and hadstarted her toward an estimate of him wholly different from the currentestimate. Now, was he thinking of their future, or was it some othermatter that occupied his real mind while he talked on and on, usually ofhimself? She could not tell; she hoped it was, but she dared not try tofind out.

  They were at their mail, which one of the guides had just brought. Heinterrupted his reading to burst out: "How they do tempt a man! Now,there's"--and he struck the open letter in his hand with a flourishing,egotistic gesture--"an offer from the General Steel Company. They wantme as their chief counsel at fifty thousand a year and the privilege ofdoing other work that doesn't conflict."

  Fifty thousand a year! Margaret discreetly veiled her glistening eyes.

  "It's the fourth offer of the same sort," he went on, "since we've beenup here--since it was given out that I'd be Attorney-General as soon asold Stillwater retires. The people pay me seventy-five hundred a year.They take all my time. They make it impossible for me to do anythingoutside. They watch and suspect and grumble. And I could be making mytwo hundred thousand a year or more."

  He was rattling on complacently, patting himself on the back, and, inhis effort to pose as a marvel of patriotic self-sacrifice, carefullyavoiding any suggestion that mere money seemed to him a very poor thingbeside the honor of high office, the direction of great affairs, theflattering columns of newspaper praise and censure, the generalagitation of eighty millions over him. "Sometimes I'm almost tempted todrop politics," he went on, "and go in for the spoils. What do youthink?"

  She was taken completely off guard. She hadn't the faintest notion thatthis was his way of getting at her real mind. But she was too feminineto walk straight into the trap. "I don't know," said she, withwell-simulated indifference, as if her mind were more than half on herown letter. "I haven't given the matter any thought." Carelessly: "Wherewould we live if you accepted this offer?"

  "New York, of course. You prefer Washington, don't you?"

  "No, I believe I'd like New York better. I've a great many friendsthere. While there isn't such a variety of people, the really nice NewYorkers are the most attractive people in America. And one can live sowell in New York."

  "I'd sink into a forgotten obscurity," pursued the crafty Joshua. "I'dbe nothing but a corporation lawyer, a well-paid fetch-and-carry for therich thieves that huddle together there."

  "Oh, you'd be famous wherever you are, I'm sure," replied she withjudicious enthusiasm. "Besides, you'd have fame with the real people."

  His head reared significantly. But, to draw her on, he said: "That'strue. That's true," as if reflecting favorably.

  "Yes, I think I'd like New York," continued she, all unsuspicious. "Idon't care much for politics. I hate to think of a man of your abilitiesat the mercy of the mob. In New York you could make a really greatcareer."

  "Get rich--be right in the social swim--and you too," suggested he.

  "It certainly is very satisfactory to feel one is of the best people.And I'm sure you'd not care to have me mix up with all sorts, aspoliticians' wives have to do."

  He laughed at her--the loud, coarse Josh Craig outburst. "You're starkmad on the subject of class distinctions, aren't you?" said he. "You'lllearn some day to look on that sort of thing as you would on an attemptto shovel highways and set up sign-posts in the open sea. Your kind ofpeople are like the children that build forts out of sand at theseashore. Along comes a wave and washes it all away.... You'd be willingfor me to abandon my career and become a rich nonentity in New York?"

  His tone was distinctly offensive. "I don't look at it in that way,"said she coldly. "Really, I care nothing about it." And she resumed thereading of her letter.

  "Do you expect me to believe," demanded he, excited and angry--"do youexpect me to believe you've not given the subject of our future athought?"

  She continued reading. Such a question in such a tone called for therebuke of an ignoring silence. Also, deep down in her nature, down wherethe rock foundations of courage should have been but were not, there hadbegun an ominous trembling.

  "You know what my salary is?"

  "You just mentioned it."

  "You know it's to be only five hundred dollars a year more afterJanuary?"

  "I knew the Cabinet people got eight thousand." She was gazing dreamilyout toward the purple horizon, seemed as far as its mountains fromworldliness.

  "Hadn't you thought out how we were to live on that sum? You are awareI've practically nothing but my salary."

  "I suppose I ought to think of those things--ought to have thought ofthem," replied she with a vague, faint smile. "But really--well, we'vebeen brought up rather carelessly--I suppose some people would call itbadly--and--"

  "You take me for a fool, don't you?" he interrupted roughly.

  She elevated her eyebrows.

  "I wish I had a quarter for every row between your people and yourgrandmother on the subject of money. I wish I had a dollar for every rowyou and she have had about it."

  He again vented his boisterous laugh; her nerves had not been so raspedsince her wedding day. "Come, Margaret," he went on, "I know you've beenbrought up differently from me. I know I seem vulgar to you in manyways. But because I show you I appreciate those differences, don'timagine I'm an utter ass. And I certainly should be if I didn't knowthat your people are human beings."

  She looked guilty as well as angry now. She felt she had gone just theone short step too far in her aristocratic assumptions.

  He went on in the tone of one who confidently expects that there will beno more nonsense: "When you married me you had some sort of idea howwe'd live."

  "I assumed you had thought out th
ose things or you'd not have marriedme," cried she hotly. In spite of her warnings to herself she couldn'tkeep cool. His manner, his words were so inflammatory that she could nothold herself from jumping into the mud to do battle with him. Sheabandoned her one advantage--high ground; she descended to his level."You knew the sort of woman I was," she pursued. "You undertook theresponsibility. I assume you are man enough to fulfill it."

  He felt quite at home with her now. "And you?" rasped he. "Whatresponsibility did YOU undertake?"

  She caught her breath, flamed scarlet.

  "Now let us hear what wife means in the dictionary of a lady. Come,let's hear it!"

  She was silent.

  "I'm not criticising," he went on; "I'm simply inquiring. What do youthink it means to be a wife?"

  Still she could think of no answer.

  "It must mean something," urged he. "Tell me. I've got to learn sometime, haven't I?"

  "I think," said she, with a tranquil haughtiness which she hoped wouldcarry off the weakness of the only reply she could get together on suchshort notice, "among our sort of people the wife is expected to attendto the social part of the life."

  He waited for more--waited with an expression that suggested thirst. Butno more came. "Is that all?" he inquired, and waited again--in vain."Yes?... Well, tell me, where in thunder does the husband come in? Heputs up the cash for the wife to spend in dressing and amusingherself--is that all?"

  "It is generally assumed," said she, since she had to say something orlet the case go against her by default, "that the social side of lifecan be very useful in furthering a man."

  He vented a scornful sound that was like a hoot. "In furthering alick-spittle--yes. But not a MAN!"

  "Our ideas on some subjects are hopelessly apart."

  She suddenly realized that this whole conversation had been deliberatelyplanned by him; that he had, indeed, been debating within himself theirfuture life, and that he had decided that the time was ripe for a franktalk with her. It angered her that she had not realized this sooner,that she had been drawn from her position, had been forced to discusswith him on his own terms and at his own time and in his own manner. Shefelt all the fiery indignation of the schemer who has been outwitted.

  "Your tone," said she, all ice, "makes it impossible for a well-bredperson to discuss with you. Let us talk of something else, or of nothingat all."

  "No. Let's thresh it out now that we've begun. And do try to keep yourtemper. There's no reason for anger. We've got to go back tocivilization. We've got to live after we get there. We want to livecomfortably, as satisfactorily for both as our income permits. Now, whatshall we do? How shall we invest our eight thousand a year--and whateveryour grandmother allows you? I don't need much. I'll turn the salaryover to you. You're entirely welcome to all there is above my board andclothes."

  This sounded generous and, so, irritated Margaret the more. "You knowvery well we can't live like decent people on twelve or fifteen thousanda year in Washington."

  "You knew that before you married me. What did you have in mind?"

  Silence.

  "Why do you find it difficult to be frank with me?"

  His courteous, appealing tone and manner made it impossible to indulgein the lie direct or the lie evasive. She continued silent, raginginwardly against him for being so ungenerous, so ungentlemanly as to puther in such a pitiful posture, one vastly different from that she hadprearranged for herself when "the proper time" came.

  "You had something in mind," he persisted. "What is it?"

  "Grandmother wishes us to live with her," she said with intent to flank.

  "Would you like that?" he inquired; and her very heart seemed to standstill in horror at his tone. It was a tone that suggested that the ideawas attractive!

  She debated. He must be "bluffing"--he surely must. She rallied hercourage and pushed on: "It's probably the best we can do in thecircumstances. We'd have almost nothing left after we'd paid our rent ifwe set up for ourselves. Even if I were content to pinch and look afrump and never go out, you'd not tolerate it."

  "Nothing could be more galling," said he, after reflecting, "than whatpeople would say if we lived off your grandmother. No, going there isunthinkable. I like her, and we'd get on well together--"

  Margaret laughed. "Like two cats drowning in a bag."

  "Not at all," protested he sincerely. "Your grandmother and I understandeach other--better than you and I--at least, better than you understandme. However, I'll not permit our being dependents of hers."

  Margaret had a queer look. Was not her taking enough money from the oldlady to pay all her personal expenses--was not that dependence?

  "We'll return to that later," continued he, and she had an uncomfortablesense that he was answering her thought. "To go back to your idea inmarrying me. You expected me to leave politics."

  "Why do you think that?" exclaimed she.

  "You told me."

  "_I_!"

  "You, yourself. Have you not said you could not live on what I get as apublic man, and that if I were a gentleman I'd not expect you to?"

  Margaret stared foolishly at this unescapable inference from her ownstatements and admissions during his cross-examination. She began tofeel helpless in his hands--and began to respect him whom she could notfool.

  "I know," he went on, "you're too intelligent not to have appreciatedthat either we must live on my salary or I must leave public life."

  He laughed--a quiet, amused laugh, different from any she had ever heardfrom him. Evidently, Joshua Craig in intimacy was still another personfrom the several Joshua Craigs she already knew. "And," said he, inexplanation of his laughter, "I thought you married me because I hadpolitical prospects. I fancied you had real ambition.... I might haveknown! According to the people of your set, to be in that set is to haveachieved the summit of earthly ambition--to dress, to roll about incarriages, to go from one fussy house to another, from one showyentertainment to another, to eat stupid dinners, and caper or matchpicture cards afterward, to grin and chatter, to do nothing useful oreven interesting--" He laughed again, one of his old-time, boisterousoutbursts. But it seemed to her to fit in, to be the laughter ofmountain and forest and infinity of space at her and her silly friends."And you picture ME taking permanent part in that show, or toiling tofind you the money to do it with. ME!... Merely because I've been, for amoment, somewhat bedazzled by its cheap glitter."

  Margaret felt that he had torn off the mask and had revealed his trueself. But greater than her interest in this new personality was heranger at having been deceived--self-deceived. "You asked me how I'd liketo live," cried she, color high and eyes filled with tears of rage. "Ianswered your question, and you grow insulting."

  "I'm doing the best I know how," said he.

  After a moment she got herself under control. "Then," asked she, "whathave you to propose?"

  "I can't tell you just now," replied he, and his manner was mostdisquieting. "To-morrow--or next day."

  "Don't you think I'm right about it being humiliating for us to go backto Washington and live poorly?"

  "Undoubtedly. I've felt that from the beginning."

  "Then you agree with me?"

  "Not altogether," said he. And there was a quiet sternness in his smile,in his gentle tone, that increased her alarms. "I've been hoping,rather," continued he, "that you'd take an interest in my career."

  "I do," cried she.

  "Not in MY career," replied he, those powerful, hewn features of his sadand bitter. "In your own--in a career in which I'd become ascontemptible as the rest of the men you know--a poor thing like GrantArkwright. Worse, for I'd do very badly what he has learned to do well."

  "To be a well-bred, well-mannered gentleman is no small achievement,"said she with a sweetness that was designed to turn to gall after itreached him.

  He surveyed her tranquilly. She remembered that look; it was the same hehad had the morning he met her at the Waldorf elevator and took her awayand married her. She knew
that the crisis had come and that he wasready. And she? Never had she felt less capable, less resolute.

  "I've been doing a good deal of thinking--thinking about us--these lastfew days--since I inflicted that scratch on you," said he. "Among otherthings, I've concluded you know as little about what constitutes a realgentleman as I do; also, that you have no idea what it is in you thatmakes you a lady--so far as you are one."

  She glanced at him in fright, and that expression of hers betrayed thefundamental weakness in her--the weakness that underlies all characterbased upon the achievements of others, not upon one's own. Margaret wasthree generations away from self-reliance. Craig's speech sounded like adeliberate insult, deliberate attempt to precipitate a quarrel, anestrangement. There had been nothing in her training to prepare her forsuch a rude, courage-testing event as that.

  "Do you remember--it was the day we married--the talk we had about myrelatives?"

  She colored, was painfully embarrassed, strove in vain to conceal it."About your relatives?" she said inquiringly.

  He made an impatient gesture. "I know you remember. Well, if I had beena gentleman, or had known what gentleman meant, I'd never have said--or,rather, looked what I did then. If you had known what a gentleman is, ifyou had been a lady, you'd have been unable to go on with a man who hadshown himself such a blackguard."

  "You are unjust to us both," she eagerly interrupted. "Joshua--you--"

  "Don't try to excuse me--or yourself," said he peremptorily. "Now, youthought what I showed that day--my being ashamed of honester,straighter--more American--people than you or I will ever be--youthought that was the real me. Thank God, it wasn't. But"--he pointed afascinating forefinger at her--"it was the me I'd be if you had yourway."

  She could not meet his eyes.

  "I see you understand," said he earnestly. "That's a good sign."

  "Yes, I do understand," said she. Her voice was low and her head wasstill hanging. "I'm glad you've said this. I--I respect you for it."

  "Don't fret about me," said he curtly. "Fret about your own melancholycase. What do your impulses of decent feeling amount to, anyway? An inchbelow the surface you're all for the other sort of thing--the cheap andnasty. If you could choose this minute you'd take the poorest of thosedrawing-room marionettes before the finest real man, if he didn't knowhow to wear his clothes or had trouble with his grammar."

  She felt that there was more than a grain of truth in this; at any rate,denial would be useless, as his tone was the tone of settled conviction.

  "We've made a false start," proceeded he. He rose, lighted a cigarette."We're going to start all over again. I'll tell you what I'm going to doabout it in a day or two."

  And he strolled away to the landing. She saw him presently enter acanoe; under his powerful, easy stroke it shot away, to disappear behindthe headland. She felt horribly lonely and oppressed--as if she wouldnever see him again. "He's quite capable of leaving me here to find myway back to Washington alone--quite capable!" And her lip curled.

  But the scorn was all upon the surface. Beneath there was fear andrespect--the fear and respect which those demoralized by unearned luxuryand by the purposeless life always feel when faced by strength andself-reliance in the crises where externals avail no more than its paintand its bunting a warship in battle. She knew she had been treating himas no self-respecting man who knew the world would permit any woman totreat him. She knew her self-respect should have kept her from treatinghim thus, even if he, in his ignorance of her world and awe of it, wouldpermit. But more than from shame at vain self-abasement her chagrin camefrom the sense of having played her game so confidently, so carelessly,so stupidly that he had seen it. She winced as she recalled how shrewdlyand swiftly he had got to the very bottom of her, especially of herselfishness in planning to use him with no thought for his good. Yet somany women thus used their husbands; why not she? "I suppose I began toosoon.... No, not too soon, but too frigidly." The word seemed to her toilluminate the whole situation. "That's it!" she cried. "How stupid ofme!"