The Conflict [83]
a child that realizes it has done something very foolish. ``Oh, I'm so horribly impulsive!'' she cried. ``It's always getting me into trouble. You don't know how I try Victor Dorn's patience--though he never makes the least sign.'' She laughed up at Jane. ``I wish you'd give me a whipping. I'd feel lots better.''
``It'd take some of my dust off you,'' said Jane. ``Let me take you to the house in the auto--you'll never see it going at that speed again, I promise. Come to the house and I'll dust you off--and we'll go for a walk in the woods.''
Selma felt that she owed it to Jane to accept. As they were climbing the hill in the auto, Selma said:
``My, how comfortable this is! No wonder the people that have autos stop exercising and get fat and sick and die. I couldn't trust myself with one.''
``It's a daily fight,'' confessed Jane. ``If I were married and didn't have to think about my looks and my figure I'm afraid I'd give up.''
``Victor says the only time one ought ever to ride in a carriage is to his own funeral.''
``He's down on show and luxury of every kind-- isn't he?'' said Jane.
``No, indeed,'' replied Selma. ``Victor isn't `down on' anything. He thinks show and luxury are silly. He could be rich if he wished, for he has wonderful talent for managing things and for making money. He has refused some of the most wonderful offers--wonderful in that way. But he thinks money-making a waste of time. He has all he wants, and he says he'd as soon think of eating a second dinner when he'd just had one as of exchanging time that could be LIVED for a lot of foolish dollars.''
``And he meant it, too,'' said Jane. ``In some men that would sound like pretense. But not in him. What a mind he has--and what a character!''
Selma was abruptly overcast and ominously silent. She wished she had not been turned so far by her impulse of penitence--wished she had held to the calm and deliberate part of her resolve about Jane--the part that involved keeping aloof from her. However, Jane, the tactful--hastened to shift the conversation to generalities of the softest kinds--talked about her college life--about the inane and useless education they had given her--drew Selma out to talk about her own education--in the tenement--in the public school, at night school, in factory and shop. Not until they had been walking in the woods nearly two hours and Selma was about to go home, did Victor, about whom both were thinking all the time, come into the conversation again. It was Jane who could no longer keep away from the subject--the one subject that wholly interested her nowadays. Said she:
``Victor Dorn is REALLY almost well, you think?''
After a significant pause Selma said in a tone that was certainly not encouraging, ``Obviously.''
``I was altogether wrong about Doctor Charlton,'' said Jane. ``I'm convinced now that he's the only really intelligent doctor in town. I'm trying to persuade father to change to him.''
``Well, good-by,'' said Selma. She was eager to get away, for she suddenly felt that Jane was determined to talk about Victor before letting her go.
``You altered toward me when I made that confession--the night of the riot,'' said Jane abruptly. ``Are you in love with him, too?''
``No,'' said Selma.
``I don't see how you could help being,'' cried Jane.
``That's because you don't know what it is to be busy,'' retorted Selma. ``Love--what you call love-- is one of the pastimes with your sort of people. It's a lazy, easy way of occupying the thoughts.''
``You don't know me as well as you think you do,'' said Jane. Her expression fascinated Selma--and made her more afraid than ever.
Impulsively Selma took Jane by the arm. ``Keep away from us,'' she said. ``You will do no good. You can only cause unhappiness--perhaps most of all to yourself.''
``Don't I know that!'' exclaimed Jane. ``I'm fighting it as hard as I can. But how little control one has over oneself when one has always been indulged and self-indulgent.''
``The man for you is David
``It'd take some of my dust off you,'' said Jane. ``Let me take you to the house in the auto--you'll never see it going at that speed again, I promise. Come to the house and I'll dust you off--and we'll go for a walk in the woods.''
Selma felt that she owed it to Jane to accept. As they were climbing the hill in the auto, Selma said:
``My, how comfortable this is! No wonder the people that have autos stop exercising and get fat and sick and die. I couldn't trust myself with one.''
``It's a daily fight,'' confessed Jane. ``If I were married and didn't have to think about my looks and my figure I'm afraid I'd give up.''
``Victor says the only time one ought ever to ride in a carriage is to his own funeral.''
``He's down on show and luxury of every kind-- isn't he?'' said Jane.
``No, indeed,'' replied Selma. ``Victor isn't `down on' anything. He thinks show and luxury are silly. He could be rich if he wished, for he has wonderful talent for managing things and for making money. He has refused some of the most wonderful offers--wonderful in that way. But he thinks money-making a waste of time. He has all he wants, and he says he'd as soon think of eating a second dinner when he'd just had one as of exchanging time that could be LIVED for a lot of foolish dollars.''
``And he meant it, too,'' said Jane. ``In some men that would sound like pretense. But not in him. What a mind he has--and what a character!''
Selma was abruptly overcast and ominously silent. She wished she had not been turned so far by her impulse of penitence--wished she had held to the calm and deliberate part of her resolve about Jane--the part that involved keeping aloof from her. However, Jane, the tactful--hastened to shift the conversation to generalities of the softest kinds--talked about her college life--about the inane and useless education they had given her--drew Selma out to talk about her own education--in the tenement--in the public school, at night school, in factory and shop. Not until they had been walking in the woods nearly two hours and Selma was about to go home, did Victor, about whom both were thinking all the time, come into the conversation again. It was Jane who could no longer keep away from the subject--the one subject that wholly interested her nowadays. Said she:
``Victor Dorn is REALLY almost well, you think?''
After a significant pause Selma said in a tone that was certainly not encouraging, ``Obviously.''
``I was altogether wrong about Doctor Charlton,'' said Jane. ``I'm convinced now that he's the only really intelligent doctor in town. I'm trying to persuade father to change to him.''
``Well, good-by,'' said Selma. She was eager to get away, for she suddenly felt that Jane was determined to talk about Victor before letting her go.
``You altered toward me when I made that confession--the night of the riot,'' said Jane abruptly. ``Are you in love with him, too?''
``No,'' said Selma.
``I don't see how you could help being,'' cried Jane.
``That's because you don't know what it is to be busy,'' retorted Selma. ``Love--what you call love-- is one of the pastimes with your sort of people. It's a lazy, easy way of occupying the thoughts.''
``You don't know me as well as you think you do,'' said Jane. Her expression fascinated Selma--and made her more afraid than ever.
Impulsively Selma took Jane by the arm. ``Keep away from us,'' she said. ``You will do no good. You can only cause unhappiness--perhaps most of all to yourself.''
``Don't I know that!'' exclaimed Jane. ``I'm fighting it as hard as I can. But how little control one has over oneself when one has always been indulged and self-indulgent.''
``The man for you is David