about the engagement. It was a heavy blow. Gloria had been sorry for him but she had decided not to show it. And Anthony forgot Bloeckman entirely.
Three Digressions
Just before the engagement was announced Anthony had gone up to Tarrytown to see his grandfather, who greeted the news with profound cynicism.
“Oh, you’re going to get married, are you?”
He said this with such a dubious mildness and shook his head up and down so many times that Anthony was depressed. While he was unaware of his grandfather’s intentions he presumed that a large part of the money would come to him. “Are you going to work?”
“Why,” said Anthony, somewhat disconcerted. “I am working. You know…”
“Ah, I mean real work,” said Adam Patch dispassionately.
“I’m not quite sure yet what I’ll do. I’m not exactly a beggar,” he asserted.
The old man almost apologetically asked:
“How much do you save a year?”
“Nothing.”
“And you’ve decided that by some miracle two of you can get along on it.”
“Gloria has some money of her own. Enough to buy clothes.”
“How much?”
“About a hundred a month.”
“That’s altogether about seventy-five hundred a year.” Then he added softly: “Not bad.”
“I suppose it is. I can manage very well. You are convinced that I’m worthless. I came up here simply to tell you that I’m getting married in June. Good-bye, sir.” With this he turned away and headed for the door.
“Wait!” called Adam Patch, “I want to talk to you.”
“Well, sir?”
“Sit down.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to see Gloria tonight.”
“What’s her name?”
“Gloria Gilbert.”
“New York girl? Someone you know?”
“She’s from the Middle West.”
“What does her father do?”
“He is in a celluloid corporation or trust or something. They’re from Kansas City.”
“You going to be married out there?”
“Why, no, sir. We thought we’d be married in New York – rather quietly.”
“What about wedding here?”
Anthony hesitated. He was touched.
“That’s very kind of you, grandpa, but wouldn’t it be a lot of trouble?”
“Everything’s a lot of trouble.”
“Well, I’ll speak to Gloria about it. Personally I’d like to, but of course it’s up to the Gilberts, you see.”
His grandfather drew a long sigh, half closed his eyes, and sank back in his chair.
“In a hurry?”
“Not especially.”
“I began thinking,” said Adam Patch, “and it seemed to me that you ought to be steadier, more industrious…Well, good-bye,” added his grandfather suddenly, “you’ll miss your train.”
Richard Caramel, who was one of the ushers, caused Anthony and Gloria much distress in the last few weeks. “The Demon Lover” had been published in April. The book hesitated and then suddenly “went.” The author, indeed, spent his days in a state of pleasant madness. The book was in his conversation three-fourths of the time.
So to Dick’s great annoyance Gloria publicly boasted that she had never read “The Demon Lover,” and didn’t intend to until every one stopped talking about it. As a matter of fact, she had no time to read now, for the presents were pouring in.
The most munificent gift was simultaneously the most disappointing. It was a concession of Adam Patch’s – a check for five thousand dollars.
Mrs. Gilbert arranged and rearranged their hypothetical house, distributing the gifts among the different rooms.
Five days! A platform was erected on the lawn at Tarrytown. Four days! A special train was chartered to convey the guests to and from New York. Three days!
Anthony
In the gray light Anthony found that it was only five o’clock. He regretted nervously that he had awakened so early.
In his bathroom he contemplated himself in the mirror and saw that he was unusually white. On his dressing table were spread a number of articles – their tickets to California, the book of traveller’s checks, his watch, the key to his apartment, which he must not forget to give to Maury, and, most important of all, the ring. It was of platinum set around with small emeralds; Gloria had insisted on this; she had always wanted an emerald wedding ring, she said.
It was the third present he had given her; first had come the engagement ring, and then a little gold cigarette-case. He would be giving her many things now – clothes and jewels and friends and excitement. It seemed absurd that from now on he would pay for all her meals. The question worried him.
Anthony laughed nervously.
“By God!” he muttered to himself, “I’m almost married!”
Mistress Of The Situation
The breathless idyll of their engagement gave way to the intense romance of the more passionate relationship. The breathless idyll left them, fled on to other lovers; they looked around one day and it was gone, how they scarcely knew.
The idyll passed. Came a day when Gloria found that other men no longer bored her; came a day when Anthony discovered that he could sit again late into the evening, talking with Dick.
It was a time of discovery. Anthony found that he was living with a girl of tremendous nervous tension and of the most high-handed selfishness. Gloria knew within a month that her husband was a coward toward any one of a million phantasms created by his imagination. She was unable to understand it.
It was after midnight. Gloria was dozing off, when suddenly she saw her husband raise himself on his elbow and stare at the window.
“What is it, dearest?” she murmured.
“Nothing,” he turned toward her, “nothing, my darling wife.”
“Don’t say ‘wife.’ I’m your mistress. Wife’s such an ugly word. Your ‘permanent mistress’ is so much more tangible and desirable. Come into my arms,” she added in a rush of tenderness; “I can sleep so well, so well with you in my arms. I’ll protect my Anthony. Oh, nobody’s ever going to harm my Anthony!”
