It was at moments like these that he told her amazing things about their few common acquaintances. There was not much to say about Paulette. “I think,” said Roger judicially, “that temperamentally she is a romantic adventurer. Something in her is constantly seeking a change but she will never be satisfied. She’s a good sport, she takes as she gives, asking nothing permanent and promising nothing permanent.” Angela thought it rather sad. But Roger dismissed the theme with the rather airy comment that there were women as there were men “like that.” She wondered if he might not be a trifle callous.
More than once they had spoken of Martha Burden; Angela confessed herself tremendously intrigued by the latter, by that tense, brooding personality. She learned that Martha, made of the stuff which dies for causes, was constantly being torn between theory and practice.
“She’s full,” said Roger, “of the most highfalutin, advanced ideas. Oh I’ve known old Martha all my life, we were brought up together, it’s through her really that I began to know the people in this part of town. She’s always been a sort of sister. More than once I’ve had to yank her by the shoulders out of difficulties which she herself created. I made her marry Starr.”
“Made her marry him—didn’t she want him?”
“Yes, she wanted him all right, but she doesn’t believe in marriage. She’s got the courage of her convictions, that girl. Why actually she lived with Starr two years while I was away doing Europe. When I came back and found out what had happened I told Starr I’d beat him into pulp if he didn’t turn around and make good.”
“But why the violence? Didn’t he want to?”
“Yes, only,” he remembered suddenly his own hopes, “not every man is capable of appreciating a woman who breaks through the conventions for him. Some men mistake it for cheapness but others see it for what it is and love more deeply and gratefully.” Softly, lingeringly he touched the soft hair shadowing her averted cheek. “I’m one of those others, Angèle.”
She wanted to say: “But why shouldn’t we marry? Why not make me safe as well as Martha?” But again her pride intervened. Instead she remarked that Martha did not seem always happy.
“No, well that’s because she’s got this fool idea of hers that now that they are bound the spontaneity is lacking. She wants to give without being obliged to give; to take because she chooses and not because she’s supposed to. Oh she’s as true as steel and the best fighter in a cause, but I’ve no doubt but that she leads old Starr a life with her temperament.”
Angela thought that there were probably two sides to this possibility. A little breathlessly she asked Roger if he knew Anthony Cross.
“Cross, Cross! A sallow, rather thin fellow? I think I saw him once or twice at Paulette’s. No, I don’t really know him. A sullen, brooding sort of chap I should say. Frightfully self-absorbed and all that.”
For some reason a little resentment sprang up in her. Anthony might brood, but his life had been lived on dark, troublesome lines that invited brooding; he had never known the broad, golden highway of Roger’s existence. And anyway she did not believe, if Martha Burden had been Anthony’s lifelong friend, almost his sister, that he would have told his sweetheart or his wife either of those difficult passages in her life. Well, she would have to teach Roger many things. Aloud she spoke of Carlotta Parks.
“She’s an interesting type. Tell me about her.”
But Roger said rather shortly that there was nothing to tell. “Just a good-hearted, high-spirited kid, that’s all, who lets the whole world know her feelings.”
According to Paulette there was more than this to be told about Miss Parks. “I don’t know her myself, not being a member of that crowd. But I’ve always heard that she and Roger were childhood sweethearts, only they’ve just not pulled it off. Carlotta’s family is as old as his. Her people have always been statesmen, her father’s in the Senate. I don’t think they have much money now. But the main thing is she pleases old man Fielding. Nothing would give him more pleasure than to see Carlotta Roger’s wife. I may be mistaken, but I think nothing would give Carlotta more pleasure either.”
“Doesn’t he care for her?” Queer how her heart tightened, listening for the answer.
“Yes, but she likes him too much and shows it. So he thinks he doesn’t want her. Roger will never want any woman who comes at his first call. Don’t you hate that sort of man? They are really the easiest to catch; all you’ve got to do provided they’re attracted at all, is to give one inviting glance and then keep steadily retreating. And they’ll come—like Bo Peep’s sheep. But I don’t want a man like that; he’d cramp my style. His impudence, expecting a woman to repress or evoke her emotions just as he wants them! Hasn’t a woman as much right to feel as a man and to feel first? Never mind, some woman is going to ‘get’ Roger yet. He doesn’t think it possible because he has wealth and position. He’ll be glad to come running to Carlotta then. I don’t care very much for her—she’s a little too loud
