CHAPTER X
MRS. MASTERSON TAKES TEA
It was the day after Christmas that Adriance was sent over to New Yorkwith his motor-truck, for the first time since he had become thatmassive vehicle's pilot. His destination was in Brooklyn, so that he hadthe entire city to cross, and lights were commencing to twinkle here andthere through the gray of the short winter afternoon when he turnedhomeward.
The experience had not been without a novel interest. Holiday trafficcrowded the streets; traffic officers, tired and chilled by a bitingeast wind, were not patient. Adriance chose Fifth Avenue for his routeup-town with the naturalness of long custom, without reflecting upon thegreater freedom of travel he would have found on one of the dingystreets usually followed by such vehicles as his. However, thedifficulties exhilarated him. Andy of the truck could not but wonder howthe policeman who roughly ordered him away from the entrance of thePark might have phrased that request if he had known that the intruderwas Tony Adriance, "paper, you know!" Perhaps, because of this wonder,his cheerful grin drew a sour smile from the officer.
"Don't you know you've not got a limousine there? You from the woods?"came the not ill-natured sarcasm.
"Worse than that: from Jersey," Adriance shot back. "All right; I'msorry."
"Plain streets for yours; round the circle," was the direction, whichalso implied a release.
"Thanks," Adriance called acknowledgment, as he obeyed.
The bulky figure beside the chauffeur stirred.
"You got a nerve," commented the man, his slow, heavy voice tinged withadmiration. "I seen guys pulled fer less, Andy."
Adriance laughed. He and his big assistant were very good friends, afterweeks of sharing the truck's seat. The chauffeur appeared a stripling bycomparison with the man lounging beside him, huge arms folded acrossthick chest. "Mike," as he was known to his fellow-workers, was aRussian peasant. His upbringing in a Hoboken slum had fixed hispatriotism and language, but had left his physique that of hisinheritance. His reddish-yellow head was set on a massive neck whosebase his open shirt showed to be covered with a red growth of hairextending down over his chest. His large features and mild, slow-movingeyes, his heavy, placid manner of speech were absurdly alien to thecolloquial language that he spoke. Adriance knew his helper had been anemployee of the factory for ten years, but he did not know that Mike wasalways assigned to a new chauffeur until the stranger proved himselftrustworthy. Mike was dull, but he was stolidly honest. Valuable boxesor packages were not reported "lost" from trucks under his care.Adriance had no idea of the truth that "Russian Mike" actually haddetermined the permanence of his position in his father's great mill.
"If I cannot go through the Park, I'll go back to the avenue," Adriancedeclared, when the turning had been negotiated. "I want gayety, Michael;boulevard gayety! Four o'clock on Fifth Avenue--shall a poor workingmanbe deprived of the sight? It is true that we are too far uptown, butthe principle is the same. You agree with me?"
"It ain't nothin' to me," averred the magnificent guardian, shifting toa new position with an indolent movement that swelled the muscles underhis flannel shirt until the fabric strained. His glance at his companionwas mildly indulgent.
"Of course not. But it will be, next time; that is, if you do not die ofpneumonia after taking this drive with your coat wide open. Appreciationwill grow on you. What do you think of that girl in gray, in thelimousine? Pretty? I used to go to school with her, Michael; dancingschool."
The Slavic brown eyes became humorous.
"Fact," Adriance met the incredulity. "And now she doesn't recognize me;and neither of us cares."
The uplifted hand of another traffic officer halted the long lines ofvehicles. Three deep from the curb on either side, so that the streetwas solidly filled, automobiles, carriages, green and yellow busses andornate delivery-cars stopped in a close, orderly mass. Adriance's truckwas next to the sidewalk, in obedience to the rule for slow-movingvehicles. As his laughing voice answered Mike, his tone raised to carryacross the roar of sound about them, a woman who had emerged from one ofthe shops stopped abruptly. Her glance quested along the rows, to restupon Adriance with eager attention. A moment later, the man started atthe sound of his own name, spoken beside him.
"How do you do, Tony. And aren't you--rather out of place?"
Momentarily dumb, he looked down into the large, cool eyes of LucilleMasterson. She did not smile, but faced his regard with a composure thatmade his embarrassment a fault. Against the white fur of her stole wasfastened a knot of pink-and-white sweet peas; beside them her faceshowed as softly tinted, and artificially posed, as the flowers. Besidethe wheel of the huge truck, she appeared smaller and more fragile thanAdriance remembered her. Without the slightest cause he felt himself aculprit surprised by her. He had all the sensations of a deserterconfronted with the heartlessly abandoned.
"Aren't you going to speak to me?" she queried, when he remainedvoiceless. "I have missed you, Tony."
He hastily aroused himself.
"Of course! I mean--you are very kind. I--we have been out of town."
Feeling the utter idiocy into which he was stumbling, he checkedhimself. The current of traffic was flowing on once more, leaving hismachine stranded against the curb; made fast, as it were, by thewhite-gloved hand Mrs. Masterson had laid upon the wheel.
Without heeding his incoherence, she looked at a tiny watch on herwrist, half-hidden by her wide, furred sleeve. With her movement a driftof fragrance was set afloat on the thick, city air.
"I want you to take me to tea," she announced, with her accustomedimperativeness. "I have things to say to you. Let your man take your carhome."
In spite of his exasperation, Adriance laughed. He was aware of thestaring admiration which held the big man beside him intent upon thebeautiful woman; he had heard the greedy intake of breath with which theother absorbed the perfume shaken from her daintiness, and could guessthe effect of _Essence Enivrante_ upon untutored nostrils. But for allthat, he could not imagine Russian Mike obeying the order proposed.
"You see, he isn't my man," he excused himself from compliance. "Thankyou very much, but it is not possible."
"Then let him wait for you. Really, Tony, I think you owe me a littlecourtesy."
Adriance flushed before the rebuke. He never had seen Lucille Mastersonsince that rough farewell of their final quarrel. He had left her, tomarry another woman inside of the next thirty-six hours. He always hadbeen at his weakest with Mrs. Masterson; he slipped now into his oldmistake of temporizing.
"I am not dressed for a tea-room," he deprecated. "Otherwise, I shouldbe delighted."
Her eyes glinted. Grasping the slight concession, she leaned towardAdriance's assistant with her brilliant, arrogant smile.
"You will watch the car for Mr. Adriance, just a few moments, will younot?" she appealed. "I have something of importance to say to him. Ishould be much obliged."
The white-gloved hand slipped forward and left a bank note in the hairyfist. Dazed, Mike vaguely jerked his cap in salute, still staring at thewoman. Neither money nor beauty might have lured him to an actual breachof duty, but this was the last trip of the day and the truck was empty.It could not matter if the return were delayed half an hour; a belatedferryboat might lose so much time. Moreover, he was not only willing,but anxious, to do Andy a favor, and the bill in his clutch assured aglorious Saturday night.
"Sure," he mumbled, with a grin of shyness like a colossal child's.
"Come, Tony," directed Mrs. Masterson.
Because he saw nothing else to do, Tony reluctantly swung himself downto the pavement beside her.
"I can only stay for a word," he essayed revolt. "It is hardly worthwhile to go anywhere. We should have to go find some place where theseclothes would pass and where no one knew us."
"On the contrary! We must go where you are so well-known that your dressdoes not matter," she contradicted him. "The Elizabeth Tea-room is justhere, and we used to go there often."
He
could think of no objection to the proposal. Presently he foundhimself following his captor into the pretty, yellow-and-white tea-room.
As the Elizabeth affected an English atmosphere and had not adopted the_the dansant_, the place was not overfull. The quaintly-gowned waitressgreeted them with a murmur of recognition and led the way to a tablewithout a glance at the chauffeur's attire. Mrs. Masterson orderedsomething; an order which Adriance seconded without having heard it. Hewas recovering his poise, and marvelling at himself for coming here noless than at Lucille for bringing him. What could they have to say toeach other, now? The scented warmth of the room brought to hisrealization the cold in which he had left Mike to wait, and he wasnipped by remorse.
It was a consequence of his education among people who never consideredthat narrowness of convention which they designated as middle-class,that Adriance had no sense of disloyalty either to Elsie or FredMasterson in being here. On the contrary, the knowledge of his marriagewould have enabled him to welcome frankly either of the two had theychanced to enter and find him. It was as if his assured positionchaperoned the situation. But, truly masculine, since he no longer lovedLucille Masterson he detested being with her. He resented the acutediscomfort he felt in her presence.
She was drawing off her gloves with a slowness that irritated him as anaffectation; he thought the artificial perfection of her hands hideousas a waxwork. They were not really a good shape, nor small, but merelyblanched very white and manicured to a glistening illusion. And he sawwith disgust that she wore a ring he once had given her because she madeit plain to him that the costly gift was expected. He knew she had liedto her husband as to the giver; "Tony" had been startled andhalf-awakened from his hazy content by that discovery at the time. Nowhe looked at the bulky pearl set around with diamonds and recalled themodest garnets he had given Elsie.
"I am sorry, but I haven't long to stay," he said. "You spoke ofsomething important to discuss."
"Did I?"
"Certainly!"
She studied him with open curiosity.
"You want to go back to that wagon with the gorilla of a man?"
"Yes."
"Are you still very much married, Tony?" she questioned maliciously.
His eyes blazed, then chilled. Her lack of finesse had led her to afinal mistake.
"You forget that my wife is an unfashionable woman. I am still happilymarried," he retorted.
"How--romantic!"
"Very."
"Still, two months, or is it three? Even Fred and I lasted that long.You will not mind my saying that you are a bit fickle, Tony. What willyou do when you grow bored? Or do you believe that you never will? Elsiemust have resources that I never suspected. Does she tell you the storyof--Monsieur Raoul, was it?"
"She has others more pleasant. With Mrs. Adriance boredom is notpossible," he controlled his anger to state. But he felt himself clumsyand inadequate.
The quaint little waitress was beside him, and proceeded to her duty ofservice with exasperating slowness and precision. She was a pretty girl,in a butter-cup-yellow frock and ruffled white cap and apron. Adriancebecame conscious of his work-darkened hands, of a collar that showed aday's accumulated dust, and other signs that differentiated him from theusual idle and dainty patrons of this place.
"You _are_ a bit seedy," corroborated Mrs. Masterson, watching him withfurtive acuteness. She permitted herself an ironic smile. "Do you notthink it time you went home, and changed?"
He divined an innuendo, a _double entendre_ in the speech that he didnot comprehend, yet which enraged him. He wondered if she had broughthim here for the purpose of forcing this contrast between his presentlife and his past, and so tainting him with discontent or even regretof his marriage. If so, she had failed. He merely visited hishumiliation on her, and found her beauty spoiled by her spitefulness.
"I shall be home in an hour," he said. "And of course I am anxious to bethere, so you will forgive my reminding you of whatever we have todiscuss."
"Oh, of course." She paused until their attendant fluttered away througha swinging door. "You are quite cured of me, aren't you, Tony? Don'ttrouble about denying politely, please. But it is lucky no one reallyknew about us--I suppose you have not told?"
"Mrs. Masterson!"
She hushed the protest, laughing across the spray of sweet-peas she hadlifted against her smooth red lips.
"Very well, very well! But promise you never will. Promise, Tony."
"It is not necessary," he replied stiffly. "But if you think it so, Igive you my word."
"Never to tell that I thought of marrying you, whatever may happen?"
"Yes."
She dropped the sweet-peas and sat in silence for a space, her gazedwelling on him. Neither of the two made any pretense of pouring the teacooling in the diminutive pots between them, or of tasting the miniaturesandwiches and cakes. Months later, Adriance was to learn something ofLucille Masterson's thoughts during that interval. He himself thought ofRussian Mike waiting in the motor-truck, and that he would be so latehome that Elsie might be worried. He had wanted to stop at a shop to buya toy bull-dog collar for his Christmas puppy, but now that must bepostponed. He was amazed and infinitely angry at himself for yielding soeasily to Lucille's whim to bring him here.
Unconsciously he looked toward her with open impatience in his glance.She responded at once, with a shrug.
"Go, by all means. Pray go, Tony. Am I keeping you? I am not the kind ofwoman who mourns, you know. Just remember that our episode is not onlyclosed, but locked, when we meet again. Good-bye."
"And the important communication that I was to hear?"
"I have forgotten what I wanted to say. Good-bye, Tony."
Puzzled and angry, he rose, leaving on the table twice the amount of thecheck, at which he had not looked. Mrs. Masterson nodded anacknowledgment of his grim salute. Her eyes had a look of triumph, andas the girl in yellow ushered him out, Adriance saw the other turn withappetite to the sandwiches and tea.
The east wind had grown stronger and its current was thick with whirlingparticles of snow. Darkness had come with the storm, turning dusk intonight. Adriance shivered and buttoned his cheap fur coat as he hurriedacross the wet, shining pavement. Mike aroused himself with a grunt whenthe chauffeur swung up into the seat beside him.
"Swell dame, Andy!" he commented, staring with heavy curiosity at theman pushing throttle and spark. "I guess maybe you're a swell, too, likea movie show I seen once?"
Adriance stepped down again, to go forward and crank the motor. He beganto glimpse the possible complications if Mike recounted this adventureamong his mates. He wondered, also, if Lucille had noticed the name onthe truck. Altogether, he was in a vicious enough mood to lie, and hedid so.
"No," he asserted flatly, when he had regained his seat. "Don't be anidiot, Mike. I--used to be employed by that lady."
"Drive her automobile?"
"Yes."
The explanation was accepted as satisfactory. An intimate acquaintancewith the etiquette of intercourse between mistress and chauffeur was notone of the examiner's accomplishments. But the incident appealed to Mikeas romantic, and for him romance flowed from one source only.
"She looks like one of them actresses from the movies," he averred,folding his huge arms comfortably across his breast. "I guess she is,maybe? I seen queens like her, there."
"It is a good way to see them, if they are like her," observed Adrianceruefully. He laughed in spite of vexation. "Better stick to the moviegirls, Michael; it's safer! Now stop talking to me; if this brute of atruck swerves an inch in this slush, some pretty car is going to feel asif an elephant had stepped on it."
But the ill luck of that day was over. They made a fast trip up-town andjust caught a ferry-boat on the point of leaving.
After all, they were not to be noticeably late. And since there would beno need of explanation, it occurred to Adriance that he might notrecount to Elsie the tale of his discomfiture. He was keenly ashamed ofthe poor role
Lucille Masterson had made him play. She had whistled himto heel, and he had come with the meekness of the well-trained. She hadamused herself with him as long as she chose, then dismissed him,humiliated and helpless. He did not want Elsie to picture her husband inthat situation, nor to find him still unable to say no to Mrs.Masterson.
By the time he had walked up the long hill through a beating snow-storm,he was thoroughly chilled and self-disgusted, desirous only of shelterand peace. Both met him, when he pushed open the door of his house andstepped into the warm, bright room. When the door closed behind him, hedefinitely shut outside the image of Lucille Masterson.
With a little rush Elsie came to meet him, lifting her warm and rosyface for his kiss. The puppy scrambled across the floor, utteringstaccato yelps of salute.
"I've named our house," the girl announced gleefully. "You know, we havenamed everything else. Don't you like Alaric Cottage?"
"I like the inside of it to-night, all right. But why Alaric?"
"Because it is so early-Gothic, of course. You must appreciate our frontporch, Anthony. Oh, you _are_ wet and cold! Hurry and change yourthings--I have them all laid out--and I will feed you, sir."
So the matter passed for that time, and was forgotten.