But now he could only busy himself with deductions: why did they assume that any man who was with Persis Cabot was sure to beWillie Enslee? Could it mean--what else could it mean?
He glanced around to take another look at Willie Enslee. Now that he knew him for what he was, the situation was intolerable. Marry
this dream of beauty to that cartoon, that grotesque who came hardly to her shoulder!
His glance had showed him that the men and women they had passed were looking up and down Persis' back like appraising dry-goods merchants or plagiarizing dressmakers. When he turned his head forward he saw that the women in front were inspecting her with even more brazen curiosity. It astounded Forbes to see such well-dressed people behaving so peasantly. But Persis seemed as oblivious of their study as if they were painted heads on a fresco. Forbes, however, flushed when their eyes turned to him, because he felt that they were saying, "That must be Willie Enslee," and "Why do they call that big thing Little Willie?"
Meanwhile Little Willie himself was handing the attendant at the switchboard a punctured carriage check, with which to flash the
number on the sign outside.
There was a long wait for their own car, while motor after motor slid up and slid away as soon as its number had been bawled and its cargo had detached itself from the waiting huddle.
After the close, warm theater Forbes flinched at the edged night wind coming from the river. With the caution of an athlete he turned up his collar and buttoned his overcoat over his chest. But Persis stood with throat and bosom naked to the wind, and to all those staring eyes, and never thought to gather about her even the flimsy aureole of chiffon that took the place of a[Pg 33] scarf. And equally unafraid and unashamed stood Winifred and Mrs. Neff. (He had collected her name, too, during the conversation that flourished throughout the last act.)
At length the footman, who had howled out other people's numbers, held up a timid finger and murmured, awesomely, "Mr. En-
slee?"
The limousine, whose door he opened, was by no means the handsomest of the line. Enslee was evidently rich enough to afford a
shabby car. The three women bent their heads and entered with difficulty, their tight skirts sliding to their knees as they clambered in.
There was a great ado over the problem of room. Every man offered to walk or take a taxi. Ten Eyck made sure that Forbes should not be omitted. Ignoring his protests, he bundled him into one of the little extra seats and crawled in after him. The huge third man (still anonymous and taciturn) next inserted his bulk--a large cork in a small bottle.
Willie put his head in to ask:
"Where d'you want to go, Persis?"
"Trotting, of course," came from the crowded depths. "But I don't think--"
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"Then take me home and go to the devil."
"We'll trot," sighed Willie. He spoke to the chauffeur dolefully, then appeared at the door to wail helplessly:
"There seems to be no room for me."
"You're only the host," said Winifred. "Hop on behind." "You can sit on my lap," said Ten Eyck.
And as that was the only vacant space, the big man lifted him up and set him there. The footman, reassured by the tip in his hand,
grinned at the spectacle and laughed, as he closed the door: "Is you all in?"
Seven persons were packed where there was hardly space for five; but Forbes noted that they were as in[Pg 34]formal and good-natured as yokels on a hay-ride. All except Willie, and his distress was not because of the crowd.
The car had no more than left the theater when Mrs. Neff was groaning: "A cigarette, somebody, quick--before I faint!"
Winifred by a mighty twisting produced a concaved golden case and snapped it open, only to gasp: "Empty! My God, it's empty!"
Persis saved the day. "I have some. Give us a light, Willie. There's a dear."
As usual, Willie had a counter-idea.
"But, Persis, don't you think you could wait till--" Her only answer was, "Murray, give me a light."
Ten Eyck called out, "Right-o, milydy, if Bob will hold our little hostlet half a mo." And he deposited Willie in the arms of the big man while he fumbled in his waistcoat for a book of matches and passed it back into the dark. "'Ere you are, your lydyship." He was forever talking in some dialect or other.
But Persis gave him her cigarette and pleaded: "It's so conspicuous holding a match to your face on Broadway. Light mine for me,
Murray."
"It's highly unsanitary," said Ten Eyck; "but if you don't mind I don't. I fancy these cigarettes of yours would choke any self-respect-
ing microbe to death."
Ten Eyck kindled her cigarette as delicately as he could and handed it to her. The same service he performed for the other eager women, and the three were soon puffing the close compartment so full of smoke that the men felt no need of burning tobacco of their own.
When a particularly bright glare swept into the car from the street the women made a pretense of hiding their cigarettes; but it was an ostrich-like concealment, and Forbes could see other women in other cabs similarly engaged. During his absence smoking had evidently become almost as commonplace among the women as among the men.[Pg 35]
Forbes, cramped of leg and choked of lung, was wondering at his presence here. It was a far cry from Manila. He had never dreamed when he showed an ordinary human interest in the melancholy Ten Eyck, fallen ill there on a jaunt around the world, that his courtesy in the wilderness would be repaid with usury in the metropolis. Nor had he learned from Ten Eyck's unobtrusive manner that
he was a familiar figure in the halls of the mighty. Forbes had cast an idle crust on the waters, and lo, it returned as a frosted birthday cake!
He had come to town at noon a lonely stranger, and before midnight he was literally in the lap of beauty and chumming with wealth and aristocracy in their most intimate mood.
15
The sidewalks outside were packed with theater crowds till they spilled over at the curbs, and the streets were filled with all sorts of vehicles till they threatened the sidewalks. Guiding a car there was like shooting a rapids full of logs in a lumber-drive, but Enslee's man was an expert charioteer.
Suddenly they whirled off Broadway, and, describing a short curve, came to a stop. A footman opened the door, but nobody moved.
Ten Eyck said: "The problem now is how do we get out. I'm so mixed up with somebody, I don't know my own legs." Like a wise
man of Gotham, he jabbed his thumb into the mixture, and asked, "Are those mine?"
"No, they are not!" said Winifred.
Willie was lowered ashore first. Bob What's-his-name bulged through next, then Ten Eyck, then Forbes. Ten Eyck dropped into the
gutter the three lighted cigarettes that had been hastily pressed into his hand, and turned to help
