pgw.piccadillyjim-第25章

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in　his　private　heart　to　consider　it　injudicious　of　her　not　to　have　been　born　a　boy；　and　he　always　took　in　New　York　for　a　day　or　two　on　his　way　from　one　wild　and　lonely　spot　to　another；　if　he　could　manage　it。
　The　large　drawing…room　overlooking　the　Hudson　was　filled　almost　to　capacity　with　that　strange　mixture　of　humanity　which　Mrs。　Pett　chiefly　affected。　She　prided　herself　on　the　Bohemian　element　in　her　parties；　and　had　bee　during　the　past　two　years　a　human　drag…net；　scooping　Genius　from　its　hiding…place　and　bringing　it　into　the　open。　At　different　spots　in　the　room　stood　the　six　resident　geniuses　to　whose　presence　in　the　home　Mr。　Pett　had　such　strong　objections；　and　in　addition　to　these　she　had　collected　so　many　more　of　a　like　breed　from　the　environs　of　Washington　Square　that　the　air　was　clamorous　with　the　hoarse　cries　of　futurist　painters；　esoteric　Buddhists；　vers　libre　poets；　interior　decorators；　and　stage　reformers；　sifted　in　among　the　more　conventional　members　of　society　who　had　e　to　listen　to　them。　Men　with　new　religions　drank　tea　with　women　with　new　hats。　Apostles　of　Free　Love　expounded　their　doctrines　to　persons　who　had　been　practising　them　for　years　without　realising　it。　All　over　the　room　throats　were　being　strained　and　minds　broadened。
　Mr。　Chester；　standing　near　the　door　with　Ann；　eyed　the　assemblage　with　the　genial　contempt　of　a　large　dog　for　a　voluble　pack　of　small　ones。　He　was　a　massive；　weather…beaten　man；　who　looked　very　like　Ann　in　some　ways　and　would　have　looked　more　like　her　but　for　the　misfortune　of　having　had　some　of　his　face　clawed　away　by　an　irritable　jaguar　with　whom　he　had　had　a　difference　some　years　back　in　the　jungles　of　Peru。
　〃Do　you　like　this　sort　of　thing？〃　he　asked。
　〃I　don't　mind　it；〃　said　Ann。
　〃Well；　I　shall　be　very　sorry　to　leave　you；　Ann；　but　I'm　glad　I'm　pulling　out　of　here　this　evening。　Who　are　all　these　people？〃
　Ann　surveyed　the　gathering。
　〃That's　Ernest　Wisden；　the　playwright；　over　there；　talking　to　Lora　Delane　Porter；　the　feminist　writer。　That's　Clara　What's…her…name；　the　sculptor；　with　the　bobbed　hair。　Next　to　her〃
　Mr。　Chester　cut　short　the　catalogue　with　a　stifled　yawn。
　〃Where's　old　Pete？　Doesn't　he　e　to　these　jamborees？〃
　Ann　laughed。
　〃Poor　uncle　Peter！　If　he　gets　back　from　the　office　before　these　people　leave；　he　will　sneak　up　to　his　room　and　stay　there　till　it's　safe　to　e　out。　The　last　time　I　made　him　e　to　one　of　these　parties　he　was　pounced　on　by　a　woman　who　talked　to　him　for　an　hour　about　the　morality　of　Finance　and　seemed　to　think　that　millionaires　were　the　scum　of　the　earth。〃
　〃He　never　would　stand　up　for　himself。〃　Mr。　Chester's　gaze　hovered　about　the　room；　and　paused。　〃Who's　that　fellow？　I　believe　I've　seen　him　before　somewhere。〃
　A　constant　eddying　swirl　was　animating　the　multitude。　Whenever　the　mass　tended　to　congeal；　something　always　seemed　to　stir　it　up　again。　This　was　due　to　the　restless　activity　of　Mrs。　Pett；　who　held　it　to　be　the　duty　of　a　good　hostess　to　keep　her　guests　moving。　From　the　moment　when　the　room　began　to　fill　till　the　moment　when　it　began　to　empty　she　did　not　cease　to　plough　her　way　to　and　fro；　in　a　manner　equally　reminiscent　of　a　hawk　swooping　on　chickens　and　an　earnest　collegian　bucking　the　line。　Her　guests　were　as　a　result　perpetually　forming　new　ententes　and　binations；　finding　themselves　bumped　about　like　those　little　moving　figures　which　one　sees　in　shop…windows　on　Broadway；　which　revolve　on　a　metal　disc　until；　urged　by　impact　with　another　little　figure；　they　scatter　to　regroup　themselves　elsewhere。　It　was　a　fascinating　feature　of　Mrs。　Pett's　at…homes　and　one　which　assisted　that　mental　broadening　process　already　alluded　to　that　one　never　knew；　when　listening　to　a　discussion　on　the　sincerity　of　Oscar　Wilde；　whether　it　would　not　suddenly　change　in　the　middle　of　a　sentence　to　an　argument　on　the　inner　meaning　of　the　Russian　Ballet。
　Plunging　now　into　a　group　dominated　for　the　moment　by　an　angular　woman　who　was　saying　loud　and　penetrating　things　about　the　suffrage；　Mrs。　Pett　had　seized　and　removed　a　tall；　blonde　young　man　with　a　mild；　vacuous　face。　For　the　past　few　minutes　this　young　man　had　been　sitting　bolt　upright　on　a　chair　with　his　hands　on　his　knees；　so　exactly　in　the　manner　of　an　end…man　at　a　minstrel　show　that　one　would　hardly　have　been　surprised　had　he　burst　into　song　or　asked　a　conundrum。
　Ann　followed　her　father's　gaze。
　〃Do　you　mean　the　man　talking　to　aunt　Nesta？　There；　they've　gone　over　to　speak　to　Willie　Partridge。　Do　you　mean　that　one？〃
　〃Yes。　Who　is　he？〃
　〃Well；　I　like　that！〃　said　Ann。　〃Considering　that　you　introduced　him　to　us！　That's　Lord　Wisbeach；　who　came　to　uncle　Peter　with　a　letter　of　introduction　from　you。　You　met　him　in　Canada。〃
　〃I　remember　now。　I　ran　across　him　in　British　Columbia。　We　camped　together　one　night。　I'd　never　seen　him　before　and　I　didn't　see　him　again。　He　said　he　wanted　a　letter　to　old　Pete　for　some　reason；　so　I　scribbled　him　one　in　pencil　on　the　back　of　an　envelope。　I've　never　met　any　one　who　played　a　better　game　of　draw　poker。　He　cleaned　me　out。　There's　a　lot　in　that　fellow；　in　spite　of　his　looking　like　a　musical　edy　dude。　He's　clever。〃
　Ann　looked　at　him　meditatively。
　〃It's　odd　that　you　should　be　discovering　hidden　virtues　in　Lord　Wisbeach；　father。　I've　been　trying　to　make　up　my　mind　about　him。　He　wants　me　to　marry　him。〃
　〃He　does！　I　suppose　a　good　many　of　these　young　fellows　here　want　the　same　thing；　don't　they；　Ann？〃　Mr。　Chester　looked　at　his　daughter　with　interest。　Her　growing…up　and　being　a　beauty　had　always　been　a　perplexity　to　him。　He　could　never　rid　himself　of　the　impression　of　her　as　a　long…legged　child　in　short　skirts。　〃I　suppose　you're　refusing　them　all　the　time？〃
　〃Every　day　from　ten　to　four；　with　an　hour　off　for　lunch。　I　keep　regular　office　hours。　Admission　on　presentation　of　visiting　card。〃
　〃And　how　do　you　feel　about　this　Lord　Wisbeach？〃
　〃I　don't　know；〃　said　Ann　frankly。　〃He's　very　nice。　Andwhat　is　more　importanthe's　different。　Most　of　the　men　I　know　are　all　turned　out　of　the　same　mould。　Lord　Wisbeachand　one　other　manare　the　only　two　I've　met　who　might　not　be　the　brothers　of　all　the　rest。〃
　〃Who's　the　other？〃
　〃A　man　I　hardly　know。　I　met　him　on　board　ship〃
　Mr。　Chester　looked　at　his　watch。
　〃It's　up　to　you；　Ann；〃　he　said。　〃There's　one　fort　in　being　your　fatherI　don't　mean　that　exactly；　I　mean　that　it　is　a　fort　to　me　AS　your　fatherto　know　that　I　need　feel　no　paternal　anxiety　about　you。　I　don't　have　to　give　you　advice。　You've　not　only　got　three　times　the　sense　that　I　have；　but　you're　not　the　sort　of　girl　who　would　take　advice。　You've　always　known　just　what　you　wanted　ever　since　you　were　a　kid。　。　。　。　Well；　if　you're　going　to　take　me　down　to　the　boat；　we'd　better　be　starting。　Where's　the　car？〃
　〃Waiting　outside。　Aren't　you　going　to　say　good…bye　to　aunt　Nesta？〃
　〃Good　God；　no！〃　exclaimed　Mr。　Chester　in　honest　concern。　〃What！　Plunge　into　that　pack　of　coyotes　and　fight　my　way　through　to　her！　I'd　be　torn　to　pieces　by　wild　poets。　Besides；　it　seems　silly　to　make　a　fuss　saying　good…bye　when　I'm　only　going　to　be　away　a　short　time。　I　shan't　go　any　further　than　Colombia　this　trip。〃
　〃You'll　be　able　to　run　back　for　week…ends；〃　said　Ann。
　She　paused　at　the　door　to　cast　a　fleeting　glance　over　her　shoulder　at　the　fair…haired　Lord　Wisbeach；　who　was　now　in　animated　conversation　with　her　aunt　and　Willie　Partridge；　then　she　followed　her　father　down　the　stairs。　She　was　a　little　thoughtful　as　she　took　her　place　at　the　wheel　of　her　automobile。　It　was　not　often　that　her　independent　nature　craved　outside　support；　but　she　was　half　conscious　of　wishing　at　the　present　juncture　that　she　possessed　a　somewhat　less　casual　father。　She　would　have　liked　to　ask　him　to　help　her　decide　a　problem　which　had　been　vexing　her　for　nearly　three　weeks　now；　ever　since　Lord　Wisbeach　had　asked　her　to　marry　him　and　she　had　promised　to　give　him　his　answer　on　her　return　from　England。　She　had　been　back　in　New　York　several　days　now；　but　she　had　not　been　able　to　make　up　her　mind。　This　annoyed　her；　for　she　was　a　girl　who　liked　swift　decisiveness　of　thought　and　action　both　in　others　and　in　herself。　She　was　fond　of　Mr。　Chester　in　much　the　same　unemotional；　detached　way　that　he　was　fond　of　her；　but