CHAPTER XIVTHE PHILANDERER
“Soit’s off with the old love?”
“My dear Kathryn, it was never on,” Barnard looked squarely at the pretty nurse facing him, a faint trace of distress visible in his polished manner. “When I called to see my aunt, Mrs. Lawrence, I always showed you the civility and attention which I accord to any woman; that you chose to attach a deeper meaning——” he shrugged his shoulders. “I very deeply regret the—misunderstanding.”
Kathryn Allen’s gaze shifted from his face to the desk, and she saw the ornaments dimly through blinding tears.
“You repudiate——?” she asked huskily.
“Everything you claim—yes.”
“Then your presents, your photograph....”
“Meant nothing,” with smiling effrontery, “exceptpour passer le temps.”
In the stillness the click, click of a typewriter in the adjoining office was distinctly audible. Barnard, with an impatient frown at the wall dock, turned back to the silent woman. He abhorred a scene, and Representative J. Calhoun-Cooper had an engagementwith him shortly; it would never do for him to find Kathryn Allen in that office. The pause lengthened, then the woman rose shakily to her feet, and meeting Barnard’s look of solicitude, a bitter laugh broke from her.
“You have shown me a new side,” she said, controlling herself with difficulty. “You are not usually neglectful of your own interests, Chichester; hadn’t you better cultivate your memory?” and before he could answer, she slipped from the room and was gone.
Reaching the sidewalk Kathryn walked aimlessly up F Street until her wandering attention was caught by a tall clock in front of a jeweler’s shop, whose hands registered three o’clock, and she paused instantly.
“Mercy,” she muttered. “I’ve forgotten Joe!” and turning about she made her way to Harvey’s restaurant. Joe Calhoun-Cooper, lurking in the doorway, watched her approach with eagerness.
“At last!” he exclaimed. “I thought you had forgotten to come.”
“Not a bit of it,” following him to the ladies’ dining-room. “Mrs. Wallace was not so well, and I was detained. Nurses can’t be choosers, you know.”
“Why don’t you give up this drudgery?” asked Joe heatedly. “Marry me, my darling——” sinking his voice.
“Marry you?” repeated Kathryn drearily, then her face brightened into a quick warm smile. “Well, why not?”
“Do you mean it?” Joe was on his feet, his eyes alight.
“Sit down, you foolish boy,” and Joe, a trifle abashed by the waiter’s stare, sank down into his seat.
“What will you have, Kathryn?” he inquired, taking up the menu card.
“Some hot roasted oysters and plenty of pepperine sauce; no, no wine,” as he turned to the wine list. “You know I don’t approve of that, Joe.”
“Just a cocktail,” he pleaded. “It’s bitter cold outside.” But Kathryn shook her head.
“Don’t tempt me, Joe;” she settled back in her seat and looked about the restaurant. At that hour the room was empty and she heaved a sigh of relief; she was not anxious to encounter any friend who might chance to come in. She shivered slightly, half overcome by a tormenting memory. “I will take some coffee,” she added hastily.
Joe finished giving his order, and then turned his attention fully on his companion. She looked extremely pretty and young in her conventional tailored-suit and stylish hat under which her red hair curled tantalizingly. Her good looks and engaging manner had captivated Joe when she attended him at Garfield Hospital the year before, he having preceded his family to Washington, and developed typhoid fever soon after his arrival.
“Why did you telephone that you had to see me, Joe?” asked Kathryn, breaking the silence.
“It’s nearly a week since our last walk together,”he answered moodily. “I began to think you were avoiding me.”
“Nonsense; I told you I’ve been extra busy....”
“But a nurse always has her regular hours off,” he broke in.
“During which I’ve been making up lost sleep,” she retorted. “Joe, dear, don’t quarrel with me——” her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t bear it.”
“My dearest,” he patted the slender hand resting on the table with tender fingers. “I’ll eat dirt, sooner than make you unhappy.”
“Try the oysters, instead,” she advised, with a half hysterical laugh, as the waiter placed the tempting dishes before them. The presence of the waiter, who stood behind Joe’s chair shucking the roasted oysters in rapid succession, prevented further private conversation, to Joe’s great annoyance. He wanted Kathryn to himself, and her half-bantering, half-tender manner but added fuel to the flame of his passion.
“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested, rising and pushing back his chair. While playing with her hot coffee and oysters, of which she was usually inordinately fond, Kathryn had done some rapid thinking, and having decided on her course of action, she was quite willing to leave, and in a few minutes more they were strolling up Pennsylvania Avenue.
“What time do you have to return?” inquired Joe, stopping before the Raleigh.
“Not until six o’clock.”
“Good!” Joe beckoned to one of the hackmenstanding in front of the hotel, and as the brougham drew up before them, he wrenched open the door and before Kathryn had quite decided, she was half pushed into the vehicle. “Go to the Mall,” shouted Joe, springing in after her.
“Well, upon my word!” she ejaculated, considerably startled. “Joe—Joe—what’s come over you?”
Joe did not answer the question directly, but the passion in his eyes brought a hot wave of color to her cheeks; the carriage was rapidly traversing an unfrequented street, and he was not to be denied. His arms crept around her, and despite her vehement protests, he rained kisses upon her lips until the fire consuming him communicated itself to her, and she gave back kiss for kiss with an ardor which matched his own.
“Joe, you must behave!” she stammered, withdrawing as far from him as the narrow confines of the carriage permitted. “Suppose we are seen? What would your family say?”
“They will have to know some time,” he protested. “Beside, we are not likely to meet any of our friends in this part of the town.”
“I am not so sure of that,” she glanced uneasily out of the window. “We must be getting back, Joe; tell the driver to go up side streets until he reaches Seventeenth and S Streets.”
“Will you marry me?” demanded Joe, ignoring her request. “Will you, my darling?”
“I’ll give you my answer——”
“Yes?” eagerly, as she paused.
“When we reach Seventeenth and S Streets,” and her alluring smile set his pulses racing. Opening the door he gave his directions to the driver, then settled back beside her.
“Why do you want to tantalize me?” he asked reproachfully.
“It’s good for you,” shrugging her shoulders. “You are spoiled at home. By the way, do you propose telling your family of our engagement—providing I accept you?” archly.
“In my own good time,” sulkily. “If they know too soon....”
“They’ll send you away from my baleful influence.” A mocking smile lighted her eyes and lips. Joe winced, the remark was too near the truth to be pleasant.
“It’s no thanks to your friend, Mrs. Hemmingway, that father doesn’t know now,” he grumbled.
“What do you mean?” in startled surprise.
“I found a letter from her in father’s mail last Monday,” he pulled out a much soiled envelope. “Your letters used to come under cover of her address, so I recognized her writing, and guessing something devilish was up, hooked it before father came home.”
“I see,” said Kathryn slowly. “And what did my amiable landlady say in her letter to your father?”
“I don’t know,” handing her the unopened envelope. “I waited to give it to you to read; I would have told you of it sooner, but you would not see me.”
“Could not see you,” she corrected gently; then without further words opened and read the letter. A sharp intake of her breath attracted Joe’s attention, and he turned from the window in time to see her tearing the letter into infinitesimal pieces, her face white with fury.
“The cat!” she exclaimed. “The vile, treacherous cat! And after I’ve been so good to her. Thank heaven you caught the letter, Joe; it was clever of you, my dearest.”
“Luck was with me,” admitted Joe frankly, pleased, however, at the implied compliment. “I never trusted Mrs. Hemmingway; you remember I warned you against her.”
“Yes, yes, so you did. Oh, Joe, the things she said about you in this letter!” opening the carriage door and tossing out the scraps of paper. “They make my blood boil.”
“My blessed darling,” as she snuggled up against his shoulder, “if I only had enough money, I’d carry you off tonight.”
“Remember I haven’t yet given you my answer,” teasingly.
“I’d marry you without it,” sturdily. “Lord! if I only had the luck of some people—Chichester Barnard, for instance.”
Kathryn’s body stiffened and every drop of blood deserted her face. “What about Chichester Barnard?” she asked in barely more than a whisper.
“Didn’t you read in this morning’s paper that Mrs. Lawrence’s will had been offered for probate,and that she bequeathed him a hundred thousand dollars?”
“I had no chance to look at the papers,” she answered dully. Immersed in his own prospective happiness he failed to observe the anguish which dimmed her eyes. Suddenly she roused herself. “So Mr. Barnard is a wealthy man; well, merit usually wins in the end.” The covert sneer was lost on her companion.
“Barnard’s a good chap,” he said tolerantly. “He deserves his luck.”
“I presume now he will marry Marjorie Langdon.”
“Marry Marjorie Langdon?” Joe’s hearty burst of laughter covered the quiver in Kathryn’s voice. “Lord bless you, he’s trying for higher game.”
“Who do you mean?” the question shot from her.
“Janet Fordyce; and do you know,” lowering his voice confidentially, “Christmas Eve I got rather fuddled and was such a fool as to warn Barnard not to marry into that family.”
“Were you thanked for your pains?” and the sneer in her downcast eyes was not pleasant.
“Hardly; in fact, Barnard threatened to wring my neck if I ever alluded to the Fordyce peculiarities in public.”
“Tell me some other time,” she coaxed. “I think, however, that Mr. Barnard is to be congratulated if he marries any woman but Marjorie Langdon.”
“I rather like Marjorie.”
“Do you?” she laughed mirthlessly. “Well, I hateher.” There was no mistaking her envenomed tone, and Joe’s sleepy eyes opened to twice their usual size.
“Why?” in profound astonishment.
“Because of the humiliation I have suffered at her hands; she never lost an opportunity ‘to put me in my place’ when we were both at the Lawrences’, she as secretary and I as nurse.”
“You surprise me; but come to think of it, Pauline holds about the same view of Miss Langdon that you do; thinks she’s too supercilious for a paid companion.”
“Is that so? Then your sister and I agree already.”
“A happy omen for the future,” exclaimed Joe, then his face darkened. “If Marjorie Langdon has been nasty to you, my darling, I’ll cut her acquaintance.”
The look she gave him was ample reward. “Ah, Joe,” she said, a trifle sadly, “I fear your loyalty will be taxed to the breaking point if you marry a poor, nameless nobody like me.”
“Never!” he vowed with lover-like ardor. “And, dearest, within a few years, by the terms of my grandfather’s will, I shall inherit eight thousand a year.”
“What!” Her surprise was genuine; Joe had never before spoken of his prospective inheritance.
“I didn’t know about it myself until Christmas,” went on Joe. “We can be married tomorrow if you say so; I’ll get mother to advance me somemoney, and father will come across when he once meets you.”
“And your sister?”
“Oh, Pauline can go hang. Who cares for her opinion?” contemptuously.
“I do, for one,” calmly meeting his perplexed stare. “I most earnestly desire her friendship.”
“You don’t know Pauline,” dryly, remembering his treatment at his sister’s hands. “I don’t think she will add to our joy of living.”
“Perhaps not, but she may be useful to me,” quietly. “Oh, Joe, you don’t know what it means to a bride to sever her husband from his family. Please God, you’ll never have that to reproach me with.”
“I was only thinking of you, dearest,” put in Joe, much touched. “Between you and me, Pauline is an awful tartar.” At that moment their carriage turned the corner into S Street and drew up at the curb.
“Your answer, dearest?” Joe’s assurance had departed, and the hand he laid on Kathryn shook. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” he had to bend down to catch the whispered word.
“Soon?” he urged, his voice triumphant with joy.
“Yes,” and the kindly darkness hid the kiss with which they sealed their betrothal.