the conflict-第23章
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‘‘Why not drop in here when you're down town？'' suggested Victor。
She wondered why she did not hang up the receiver and forget him。
But she did not。 She murmured； ‘‘In due time I'll punish you for this； sir；'' and said to him： ‘‘There are reasons why it's impossible for me to go there just now。 And you know I can't meet you in a saloon or on a street corner。''
‘‘I'm not so sure of that；'' laughed he。 ‘‘Let me see。 I'm very busy。 But I could come for half an hour this afternoon。''
She had planned an evening session； being well aware of the favorable qualities of air and light after the matter…of…fact sun has withdrawn his last rays。 But she promptly decided to accept what offered。 ‘‘At three？''
‘‘At four；'' replied he。
‘‘You haven't forgotten those books？''
‘‘Books？ Oh； yesyes； I remember。 I'll bring them。''
‘‘Thank you so much；'' said she sweetly。 ‘‘Good…by。''
And at four she was waiting for him on the front veranda in a house dress that waswell； it was not quite the proper costume for such an occasion； but no one else was to see； and he didn't know about that sort of thingand the gown gave her charms their best possible exposure except evening dress； which was out of the question。 She had not long to wait。 One of the clocks within hearing had struck and another was just beginning to strike when she saw him coming toward the house。 She furtively watched him； admiring his walk without quite knowing why。 You may perhaps know the walk that was Victor'sa steady forward advance of the whole body held firmly； almost rigidly the walk of a man leading another to the scaffold； or of a man being led there in conscious innocence； or of a man ready to go wherever his purposes may orderready to go without any heroics or fuss of any kind； but simply in the course of the day's business。 When a man walks like that； he is worth observing and it is well to think twice before obstructing his way。
That steady； inevitable advance gave Jane Hastings an absurd feeling of nervousness。 She had an impulse to fly； as from some oncoming danger。 Yet what was coming； in fact？ A clever young man of the working class； dressed in garments of the kind his class dressed in on Sunday； and plebeianly carrying a bundle under his arm。
‘‘Our clock says you are three seconds late；'' cried she； laughing and extending her hand in a friendly； equal way that would have immensely flattered almost any man of her own class。 ‘‘But another protests that you are one second early。''
‘‘I'm one of those fools who waste their time and their nerves by being punctual；'' said he。
He laid the books on the wicker sofa。 But instead of sitting Jane said： ‘‘We might be interrupted here。 Come to the west veranda。''
There she had him in a leafy solitudehe facing her as she posed in fascinating grace in a big chair。 He looked at hernot the look of a man at a woman； but the look of a busy person at one who is about to show cause for having asked for a portion of his valuable time。 She laughedand laughter was her best gesture。 ‘‘I can never talk to you if you pose like that；'' said she。 ‘‘Honestly now； is your time so pricelessly precious？''
He echoed her laugh and settled himself more at his ease。 ‘‘What did you want of me？'' he asked。
‘‘I intend to try to get better hours and better wages for the street car men；'' said she。 ‘‘To do it； I must know just what is rightwhat I can hope to get。 General talk is foolish。 If I go at father I must have definite proposals to make； with reasons for them。 I don't want him to evade。 I would have gotten my information elsewhere； but I could think of no one but you who might not mislead me。''
She had confidently expected that this carefully thought out scheme would do the trick。 He would admire her； would be interested； would be drawn into a position where she could enlist him as a constant adviser。 He moved toward the edge of his chair as if about to rise。 He said； pleasantly enough but without a spark of enthusiasm：
‘‘That's very nice of you； Miss Hastings。 But I can't advise youbeyond saying that if I were you； I shouldn't meddle。''
Shethat is； her vanitywas cut to the quick。 ‘‘Oh！'' said she with irony； ‘‘I fancied you wished the laboring men to have a better sort of life。''
‘‘Yes；'' said he。 ‘‘But I'm not in favor of running hysterically about with a foolish little atomizer in the great stable。 You are talking charity。 I am working for justice。 It will not really benefit the working man for the company； at the urging of a sweet and lovely young Lady Bountiful； to deign graciously to grant a little less slavery to them。 In fact； a well fed； well cared for slave is worse off than one who's badly treated worse off because farther from his freedom。 The only things that do our class any good； Miss Hastings； are the things they COMPELcompel by their increased intelligence and increased unity and power。 They get what they deserve。 They won't deserve more until they compel more。 Gifts won't helpnot even gifts from'' His intensely blue eyes danced‘‘from such charming white hands so beautifully manicured。''
She rose with an angry toss of the head。 ‘‘I didn't ask you here to annoy me with impertinences about my finger nails。''
He rose； at his ease； good…humored； ready to go。 ‘‘Then you should have worn gloves；'' said he carelessly； ‘‘for I've been able to think only of your finger nailsand to wonder WHAT can be done with hands like that。 Thank you for a pleasant talk。'' He bowed and smiled。 ‘‘Good…by。 OhMiss Gordon sent you her love。''
‘‘What IS the matter； Mr。 Dorn？'' cried the girl desperately。 ‘‘I want your friendshipyour respect。 CAN'T I get it？ Am I utterly hopeless in your eyes？''
A curious kind of color rose in his cheeks。 His eyes regarded her with a mysterious steadiness。 ‘‘You want neither my respect nor my friendship；'' said he。 ‘‘You want to amuse yourself。'' He pointed at her hands。 ‘‘Those nails betray you。'' He shrugged his shoulders； laughed； said as if to a child： ‘‘You are a nice girl； Jane Hastings。 It's a pity you weren't brought up to be of some use。 But you weren'tand it's too late。''
Her eyes flashed； her bosom heaved。 ‘‘WHY do I take these things from you？ WHY do I invite them？''
‘‘Because you inherit your father's magnificent persistenceand you've set your heart on the whim of making a fool of meand you hate to give up。''
‘‘You wrong meindeed you do；'' cried she。 ‘‘I want to learnI want to be of use in the world。 I want to have some kind of a real life。''
‘‘Really？'' mocked he good…humoredly。
‘‘Really；'' said she with all her power of sweet earnestness。
‘‘Thencut your nails and go to work。 And when you have become a genuine laborer； you'll begin to try to improve not the condition of others； but your own。 The way to help workers is to abolish the idlers who hang like a millstone about their necks。 You can help only by abolishing the one idler under your control。''
She stood nearer him； very near him。 She threw out her lovely arms in a gesture of humility。 ‘‘I will do whatever you say；'' she said。
They looked each into the other's eyes。 The color fled from her face； the blood poured into hiswave upon wave； until he was like a man who has been set on fire by the furious heat of long years of equatorial sun。 He muttered； wheeled about and strode away in resolute and relentless flight。 She dropped down where he had been sitting and hid her face in her perfumed hands。
‘‘I care for him；'' she moaned； ‘‘and he saw and he despises me！ How COULD Ihow COULD I！''
Nevertheless； within a quarter of an hour she was in her dressing room； standing at the table； eyes carefully avoiding her mirrored eyesas she cut her finger nails。
IV
Jane was mistaken in her guess at the cause of Victor Dorn's agitation and abrupt flight。 If he had any sense whatever of the secret she had betrayed to him and to herself at the same instant it was wholly unconscious。 He had become panic…stricken and had fled because he； faced with her exuberance and tempting wealth of physical charm； had become suddenly conscious of her and of himself in a way as new to him as if he had been fresh from a
