Through stained glass

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  LEIGHTON'S first feeling on entering Folly's bedroom was one of despair.All his knowledge of the highways and byways of the feminine mind wasonly enough to make him recognize, as he glanced about the room, that hewas about to encounter more! than a personality, that he was face toface with a force.

  The most illuminating thing that can be said about Folly's bedroom isthat Leighton saw the bedroom--the whole of it--before he consciouslysaw Folly. The first impression that the room gave was one of freshair--the weighted air of a garden in bloom, however, rather than that ofsome wind-swept plain. The next, was one of an even and almost stolidtone, neither feminine nor masculine, in the furnishings. They weremasterfully impersonal.

  To Leighton, who had had the run of every grade of greasy, professionaldressing-room, chaotic and slovenly beyond description, and of boudoirs,professional and otherwise, each in its appropriate measure a mirror ofthe character of its occupant, the detachment of this big room came as ashock. There were only eight pieces of furniture, of which four werechairs, yet there was no sense of emptiness. The proportions of theremaining objects would have dwarfed a far larger space.

  Along the whole length of one wall stood an enormous press in mahogany,with sliding-doors. Two of the doors were slightly open, for Folly knewthat clothes, like people and flowers, need a lot of air. Leightoncaught a glimpse of filmy nothings hanging on racks; of other nothings,mostly white, stacked on deep shelves; of a cluster of hats clinginglike orchids to invisible bumps; and last and least, of tiny slippersall in a row.

  At right angles to the press, but well away from it, stood adressing-table surmounted by a wide, low swivel-mirror. The table wascovered with tapestry under glass. The dull gleam of the tapestry seemedto tone down and control the glittering array of toilet articles inmonogrammed gold. Facing the press, stood a large trinity cheval-glass,with swinging wings. In the center of the room was the bed. Behind thebed and on each side of it were two high windows. They carried nohangings, but were fitted with three shades, differing in weight andcolor, and with adjustable porcelain Venetian blinds which could be madeto exclude light without excluding air.

  Folly's bed was a mighty structure. Like the rest of the furniture, itwas of mahogany. It was a four-poster, but posts would be a misleadingterm applied to the four fluted pillars that carried the high canopy.The canopy itself was trimmed with no tassels or hangings except for asingle band of thick tapestry brought just low enough to leave thecasual observer in doubt as to whether there really was a canopy at all.

  Having taken in all the surroundings at a glance, Leighton's eyesfinally fell upon Folly. She lay in a puzzling, soft glow of light.Resting high on the pillows, she reached scarcely half-way down thelength of the great bed. For a second they looked at each othersolemnly. Then Leighton's glance passed from her face to the two braidsof hair, down the braids to her bare arms demurely still at her sides,down her carefully wrapped figure, down, down to her pink toes. Follywas watching that glance. As it reached her toes, she gave them a quickwriggle. Leighton jumped as if some one had shot at him, and solemnitymade a bolt through the open windows, hotly pursued by a ripple and arumble of laughter.

  When Leighton had finished laughing, he sat down in a chair and sighed.He was trying to figure out just what horse-power it would have taken todrag him away from Folly at Lewis's age. Where was he going to find thepower? For the first time in many years he trembled before a situation.He began to talk casually, trying to lead up to the object of his call.Two things, however, distracted him. One was the puzzling glow of lightthat bathed Folly and the bed, the other was Folly herself.

  Folly was very polite indeed as far as occasional friendly interjectionswent, but as to genuine attention she was distinctly at fault. She didnot look at Leighton while he talked, but held her gaze dreamily on whatwould have been the sky above her had not three floors of apartments, aroof, and several other things intervened.

  Finally Leighton exclaimed in exasperation:

  "_What_ are you staring at?"

  Folly started as though she had just wakened, and turned her eyes onhim.

  "You're too far away," she said. "If you really want to talk to me, comeover here." She patted the bed at her side.

  Leighton crossed over, and sat on the edge of the bed. Something madehim look up. His jaw dropped. There was a canopy to Folly's bed. Itconsisted of one solid sweep of French mirror so limpid that reflectionbecame reality. It was fringed with tiny veiled lights.

  Once more Folly's gay ripple of laughter rang out, but it wasunaccompanied this time. Leighton's fighting blood was up. He stared ather stolidly.

  "Look here," he said, "I _do_ want to talk to you. Put out those cursedlittle lights!"

  "Oh, dear!" gasped Folly as she switched off the lights, "you're such afunny man! You make me laugh. Please don't do it any more."

  "I won't try any harder than I have so far," said Leighton, grimly."This is what I came to say to you. My boy wants to marry you. I don'twant him to. I might as well confess that during the last ten minutesI've given up any ideas I had of buying you off. I'm not worth amillion."

  "You poor dear," said Folly, "don't worry any longer. I don't want tomarry Lew. Ask me something else."

  "I will," said Leighton. "It's just this. Chuck Lew over. Get rid ofhim. It will hurt him, I know. I can understand that better now than Idid before. But I'd rather hurt him a bit that way than see him on therack."

  "Thanks," said Folly; "but, you see, I can't get rid of him. You can'tget rid of something you haven't got." She smiled. "Don't you see? I'llhave to get him before I can oblige you."

  "Don't bother," said Leighton. "A clever woman like you often gets ridof something she hasn't got. Look here, you don't want to marry Lew,and, what's more, you don't love him. You couldn't marry him if youwanted to. You know it isn't in you to marry any man. But I tell you,Folly, if it really was in you truly to marry Lew, I'd give in and blessyou. I wouldn't have yesterday, but I would to-day; because, my dear,you are simply made up of charms. The only thing missing is a soul."

  "You talk better than Lew--not so silly," remarked Folly. "But what'sthe use of all this palaver about marrying? I've told you I don't wantto marry him."

  "Well, what do you want, then?"

  "I want Lew," said Folly, smiling. She sat up, and drew her knees intothe circle of her arms. "He's an awfully nice boy. So like you, Mariesays. I just want him to have. _You_ know."

  "Yes," said Leighton, dryly. "Well, you can't have him."

  "Can't have him?" repeated Folly, straightening. "Why not?"

  "Because I don't want you to."

  "But why?"

  "Well," said Leighton, "I don't believe in that sort of thing."

  "Oh, oh!" cried Folly, "now you're trying to make me laugh again! By theway, _are_ you Mr. Grapes Leighton?"

  "I am," said Leighton, flushing.

  Folly called the maid.

  "Marie," she said, "bring me my scrap-book--the oldest one."

  Leighton moved back to the chair and sat down with a resigned air. Mariebrought in a huge scrap-book, and placed it on a bracket tea-tray thatswung in over the bed. Folly opened the book and turned the leavesslowly. "Here we are," she said at last, and read, mimicking eachspeaker to a turn:

  "'Counsel:' 'Please, Mrs. Bing, just answer yes or no; did you or didyou not meet Mr. Leighton in the corridor at three o'clock in themorning?

  "'Mrs. Bing:' 'Well, sir, yes; sir, that is, please your Honor [turningto the judge], I _did_ meet Mr. Leighton in the collidoor, but 'e waseating of a bunch of grapes that innercent you'd ha' knowed at once as'_ee_ 'adn't been up to no mischief.' [Laughter.]

  "Order! Order!" boomed Folly, as she slammed the book.

  Leighton shrugged his shoulders.

  "That's neither here nor there. You'll find before you get through withlife what people with brains have known for several centuries. The sonthat's worth anything at all is never like his father. Sons grow."
r />   "I don't care anything about that," said Folly, calmly. "I'm going tohave Lew because--well, just because I want him."

  "And I say you 're not."

  "So?" said Folly, her eyes narrowing. Then she smiled and added,"There's only one way you can stop me"

  "How's that?" said Leighton.

  "By making me want somebody else more."

  Leighton looked at her keenly for a moment.

  "I shall never do that," he said.

  "Somehow," said Folly, still smiling, "you've made a fair start. Itisn't you exactly. It's that you are just Lew--the whole of Lew and alot of things added."

  "You are blind," said Leighton; "you don't know the difference betweenaddition and subtraction. Anyway, even if I could do it, I wouldn't. Iwant to fight fair--fair with Lew, fair with you, if you're fair withme, and fair with myself. But I want to fight, not play. Will you lunchat our place to-morrow?"

  "Let's see. To-morrow," said Folly, tapping her lips to hide a tinyyawn. "Well, we can't fight unless we get together, can we? Yes, I'llcome."