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  CHAPTER VII

  Carlotta Harrison pleaded a headache, and was excused from theoperating-room and from prayers.

  "I'm sorry about the vacation," Miss Gregg said kindly, "but in a day ortwo I can let you off. Go out now and get a little air."

  The girl managed to dissemble the triumph in her eyes.

  "Thank you," she said languidly, and turned away. Then: "About thevacation, I am not in a hurry. If Miss Simpson needs a few days tostraighten things out, I can stay on with Dr. Wilson."

  Young women on the eve of a vacation were not usually so reasonable.Miss Gregg was grateful.

  "She will probably need a week. Thank you. I wish more of the girlswere as thoughtful, with the house full and operations all day and everyday."

  Outside the door of the anaesthetizing-room Miss Harrison's languorvanished. She sped along corridors and up the stairs, not waiting forthe deliberate elevator. Inside of her room, she closed and bolted thedoor, and, standing before her mirror, gazed long at her dark eyes andbright hair. Then she proceeded briskly with her dressing.

  Carlotta Harrison was not a child. Though she was only three years olderthan Sidney, her experience of life was as of three to Sidney's one.The product of a curious marriage,--when Tommy Harrison of Harrison'sMinstrels, touring Spain with his troupe, had met the pretty daughter ofa Spanish shopkeeper and eloped with her,--she had certain qualities ofboth, a Yankee shrewdness and capacity that made her a capable nurse,complicated by occasional outcroppings of southern Europe, furiousbursts of temper, slow and smouldering vindictiveness. A passionatecreature, in reality, smothered under hereditary Massachusetts caution.

  She was well aware of the risks of the evening's adventure. The onlydread she had was of the discovery of her escapade by the hospitalauthorities. Lines were sharply drawn. Nurses were forbidden more thanthe exchange of professional conversation with the staff. In thatworld of her choosing, of hard work and little play, of service andself-denial and vigorous rules of conduct, discovery meant dismissal.

  She put on a soft black dress, open at the throat, and with a wide whitecollar and cuffs of some sheer material. Her yellow hair was drawn highunder her low black hat. From her Spanish mother she had learned toplease the man, not herself. She guessed that Dr. Max would wish her tobe inconspicuous, and she dressed accordingly. Then, being a cautiousperson, she disarranged her bed slightly and thumped a hollow intoher pillow. The nurses' rooms were subject to inspection, and she hadpleaded a headache.

  She was exactly on time. Dr. Max, driving up to the corner five minuteslate, found her there, quite matter-of-fact but exceedingly handsome,and acknowledged the evening's adventure much to his taste.

  "A little air first, and then supper--how's that?"

  "Air first, please. I'm very tired."

  He turned the car toward the suburbs, and then, bending toward her,smiled into her eyes.

  "Well, this is life!"

  "I'm cool for the first time to-day."

  After that they spoke very little. Even Wilson's superb nerves hadfelt the strain of the afternoon, and under the girl's dark eyes werepurplish shadows. She leaned back, weary but luxuriously content.

  "Not uneasy, are you?"

  "Not particularly. I'm too comfortable. But I hope we're not seen."

  "Even if we are, why not? You are going with me to a case. I've drivenMiss Simpson about a lot."

  It was almost eight when he turned the car into the drive of the WhiteSprings Hotel. The six-to-eight supper was almost over. One or two motorparties were preparing for the moonlight drive back to the city. Allaround was virgin country, sweet with early summer odors of new-cutgrass, of blossoming trees and warm earth. On the grass terrace over thevalley, where ran Sidney's unlucky river, was a magnolia full of creamyblossoms among waxed leaves. Its silhouette against the sky was quaintlyheart-shaped.

  Under her mask of languor, Carlotta's heart was beating wildly. What anadventure! What a night! Let him lose his head a little; she could keephers. If she were skillful and played things right, who could tell? Tomarry him, to leave behind the drudgery of the hospital, to feel safe asshe had not felt for years, that was a stroke to play for!

  The magnolia was just beside her. She reached up and, breaking off oneof the heavy-scented flowers, placed it in the bosom of her black dress.

  Sidney and K. Le Moyne were dining together. The novelty of theexperience had made her eyes shine like stars. She saw only the magnoliatree shaped like a heart, the terrace edged with low shrubbery, andbeyond the faint gleam that was the river. For her the dish-washingclatter of the kitchen was stilled, the noises from the bar were lost inthe ripple of the river; the scent of the grass killed the odor of stalebeer that wafted out through the open windows. The unshaded glare of thelights behind her in the house was eclipsed by the crescent edge of therising moon. Dinner was over. Sidney was experiencing the rare treat ofafter-dinner coffee.

  Le Moyne, grave and contained, sat across from her. To give so muchpleasure, and so easily! How young she was, and radiant! No wonder theboy was mad about her. She fairly held out her arms to life.

  Ah, that was too bad! Another table was being brought; they were not tobe alone. But, what roused him in violent resentment only appealed toSidney's curiosity. "Two places!" she commented. "Lovers, of course. Orperhaps honeymooners."

  K. tried to fall into her mood.

  "A box of candy against a good cigar, they are a stolid married couple."

  "How shall we know?"

  "That's easy. If they loll back and watch the kitchen door, I win. Ifthey lean forward, elbows on the table, and talk, you get the candy."

  Sidney, who had been leaning forward, talking eagerly over the table,suddenly straightened and flushed.

  Carlotta Harrison came out alone. Although the tapping of her heels wasdulled by the grass, although she had exchanged her cap for the blackhat, Sidney knew her at once. A sort of thrill ran over her. It was thepretty nurse from Dr. Wilson's office. Was it possible--but ofcourse not! The book of rules stated explicitly that such things wereforbidden.

  "Don't turn around," she said swiftly. "It is the Miss Harrison I toldyou about. She is looking at us."

  Carlotta's eyes were blinded for a moment by the glare of the houselights. She dropped into her chair, with a flash of resentment at theproximity of the other table. She languidly surveyed its two occupants.Then she sat up, her eyes on Le Moyne's grave profile turned toward thevalley.

  Lucky for her that Wilson had stopped in the bar, that Sidney'sinstinctive good manners forbade her staring, that only the edge of thesummer moon shone through the trees. She went white and clutched theedge of the table, with her eyes closed. That gave her quick brain achance. It was madness, June madness. She was always seeing him even inher dreams. This man was older, much older. She looked again.

  She had not been mistaken. Here, and after all these months! K. LeMoyne, quite unconscious of her presence, looked down into the valley.

  Wilson appeared on the wooden porch above the terrace, and stood, hiseyes searching the half light for her. If he came down to her, the manat the next table might turn, would see her--

  She rose and went swiftly back toward the hotel. All the gayety wasgone out of the evening for her, but she forced a lightness she did notfeel:--

  "It is so dark and depressing out there--it makes me sad."

  "Surely you do not want to dine in the house?"

  "Do you mind?"

  "Just as you wish. This is your evening."

  But he was not pleased. The prospect of the glaring lights and soiledlinen of the dining-room jarred on his aesthetic sense. He wanted asetting for himself, for the girl. Environment was vital to him. Butwhen, in the full light of the moon, he saw the purplish shadows underher eyes, he forgot his resentment. She had had a hard day. She wastired. His easy sympathies were roused. He leaned over and ran his andcaressingly along her bare forearm.

  "Your wish is my law--to-night," he said softly.

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p; After all, the evening was a disappointment to him. The spontaneity hadgone out of it, for some reason. The girl who had thrilled to his glancethose two mornings in his office, whose somber eyes had met his fire forfire, across the operating-room, was not playing up. She sat back in herchair, eating little, starting at every step. Her eyes, which by everyrule of the game should have been gazing into his, were fixed on theoilcloth-covered passage outside the door.

  "I think, after all, you are frightened!"

  "Terribly."

  "A little danger adds to the zest of things. You know what Nietzschesays about that."

  "I am not fond of Nietzsche." Then, with an effort: "What does he say?"

  "Two things are wanted by the true man--danger and play. Therefore heseeketh woman as the most dangerous of toys."

  "Women are dangerous only when you think of them as toys. When a manfinds that a woman can reason,--do anything but feel,--he regards heras a menace. But the reasoning woman is really less dangerous than theother sort."

  This was more like the real thing. To talk careful abstractions likethis, with beneath each abstraction its concealed personal application,to talk of woman and look in her eyes, to discuss new philosophies withtheir freedoms, to discard old creeds and old moralities--that washis game. Wilson became content, interested again. The girl wasnimble-minded. She challenged his philosophy and gave him a chance todefend it. With the conviction, as their meal went on, that Le Moyne andhis companion must surely have gone, she gained ease.

  It was only by wild driving that she got back to the hospital by teno'clock.

  Wilson left her at the corner, well content with himself. He had had therest he needed in congenial company. The girl stimulated his interest.She was mental, but not too mental. And he approved of his own attitude.He had been discreet. Even if she talked, there was nothing to tell. Buthe felt confident that she would not talk.

  As he drove up the Street, he glanced across at the Page house. Sidneywas there on the doorstep, talking to a tall man who stood below andlooked up at her. Wilson settled his tie, in the darkness. Sidney was amighty pretty girl. The June night was in his blood. He was sorry he hadnot kissed Carlotta good-night. He rather thought, now he looked back,she had expected it.

  As he got out of his car at the curb, a young man who had been standingin the shadow of the tree-box moved quickly away.

  Wilson smiled after him in the darkness.

  "That you, Joe?" he called.

  But the boy went on.