The Price She Paid [26]
arms for men like Bill Siddall. They want to see what they're getting.''
Mildred flushed scarlet and her lips trembled as though she were about to cry. In fact, her emotion was altogether shame--a shame so poignant that even Presbury was abashed, and mumbled something apologetic. Nevertheless she wore a low-neck dress on Thursday evening, one as daring as the extremely daring fashions of that year permitted an unmarried woman to wear. It seemed to her that Siddall was still more costly and elegant-looking than before, though this may have been due to the fact that he always created an impression that in the retrospect of memory seemed exaggerated. It seemed impossible that anyone could be so clean, so polished and scoured, so groomed and tailored, so bedecked, so high-heeled and loftily coiffed. His mean little countenance with its grotesquely waxed mustache and imperial wore an expression of gracious benignity that assured his guests they need anticipate no disagreeable news.
``I owe you an apology for keeping you in suspense so long,'' said he. ``I'm a very busy man, with interests in all parts of the world. I keep house-- some of 'em bigger than this--open and going in sis different places. I always like to be at home wherever my business takes me.''
Mrs. Presbury rolled her eyes. ``Isn't that WONDERFUL!'' she exclaimed. ``What an interesting life you must lead!''
``Oh, so--so,'' replied the general. ``But I get awful lonesome. I'm naturally a domestic man. I don't care for friends. They're expensive and dangerous. A man in my position is like a king. He can't have friends. So, if he hasn't got a family, he hasn't got noth--anything.''
``Nothing like home life,'' said Presbury.
``Yes, indeed,'' cried Mrs. Presbury.
The little general smiled upon Mildred, sitting pale and silent, with eyes downcast. ``Well, I don't intend to be alone much longer, if I can help it,'' said he. ``And I may say that I can make a woman happy if she's the right sort--if she has sense enough to appreciate a good husband.'' This last he said sternly, with more than a hint of his past matrimonial misfortunes in his frown and in his voice. ``The trouble with a great many women is that they're fools--flighty, ungrateful fools. If I married a woman like that, I'd make short work of her.''
``And she'd deserve it, General,'' said Mildred's mother earnestly. ``But you'll have no trouble if you select a lady--a girl who's been well brought up and has respect for herself.''
``That's my opinion, ma'am,'' said the general. ``I'm convinced that while a man can become a gentleman, a woman's got to be born a lady or she never is one.''
``Very true, General,'' cried Mrs. Presbury. ``I never thought of it before, but it's the truest thing I ever heard.''
Presbury grinned at his plate. He stole a glance at Mildred. Their eyes met. She flushed faintly.
``I've had a great deal of experience of women,'' pur- sued the general. ``In my boyhood days I was a ladies' man. And of course since I've had money they've swarmed round me like bees in a clover-patch.''
``Oh, General, you're far too modest,'' cried Mrs. Presbury. ``A man like you wouldn't need to be afraid, if he hadn't a cent.''
``But not the kind of women I want,'' replied he, firmly if complacently. ``A lady needs money to keep up her position. She has to have it. On the other hand, a man of wealth and station needs a lady to assist him in the proper kind of life for men of his sort. So they need each other. They've got to have each other. That's the practical, sensible way to look at it.''
``Exactly,'' said Presbury.
``And I've made up my mind to marry, and marry right away. But we'll come back to this later on. Presbury, you're neglecting that wine.''
``I'm drinking it slowly to enjoy it better,'' said Presbury.
The dinner was the same unending and expensive function that had wearied them and upset their digestions on Thanksgiving Day. There was too much of everything, and it was all just wrong. The general was not quite
Mildred flushed scarlet and her lips trembled as though she were about to cry. In fact, her emotion was altogether shame--a shame so poignant that even Presbury was abashed, and mumbled something apologetic. Nevertheless she wore a low-neck dress on Thursday evening, one as daring as the extremely daring fashions of that year permitted an unmarried woman to wear. It seemed to her that Siddall was still more costly and elegant-looking than before, though this may have been due to the fact that he always created an impression that in the retrospect of memory seemed exaggerated. It seemed impossible that anyone could be so clean, so polished and scoured, so groomed and tailored, so bedecked, so high-heeled and loftily coiffed. His mean little countenance with its grotesquely waxed mustache and imperial wore an expression of gracious benignity that assured his guests they need anticipate no disagreeable news.
``I owe you an apology for keeping you in suspense so long,'' said he. ``I'm a very busy man, with interests in all parts of the world. I keep house-- some of 'em bigger than this--open and going in sis different places. I always like to be at home wherever my business takes me.''
Mrs. Presbury rolled her eyes. ``Isn't that WONDERFUL!'' she exclaimed. ``What an interesting life you must lead!''
``Oh, so--so,'' replied the general. ``But I get awful lonesome. I'm naturally a domestic man. I don't care for friends. They're expensive and dangerous. A man in my position is like a king. He can't have friends. So, if he hasn't got a family, he hasn't got noth--anything.''
``Nothing like home life,'' said Presbury.
``Yes, indeed,'' cried Mrs. Presbury.
The little general smiled upon Mildred, sitting pale and silent, with eyes downcast. ``Well, I don't intend to be alone much longer, if I can help it,'' said he. ``And I may say that I can make a woman happy if she's the right sort--if she has sense enough to appreciate a good husband.'' This last he said sternly, with more than a hint of his past matrimonial misfortunes in his frown and in his voice. ``The trouble with a great many women is that they're fools--flighty, ungrateful fools. If I married a woman like that, I'd make short work of her.''
``And she'd deserve it, General,'' said Mildred's mother earnestly. ``But you'll have no trouble if you select a lady--a girl who's been well brought up and has respect for herself.''
``That's my opinion, ma'am,'' said the general. ``I'm convinced that while a man can become a gentleman, a woman's got to be born a lady or she never is one.''
``Very true, General,'' cried Mrs. Presbury. ``I never thought of it before, but it's the truest thing I ever heard.''
Presbury grinned at his plate. He stole a glance at Mildred. Their eyes met. She flushed faintly.
``I've had a great deal of experience of women,'' pur- sued the general. ``In my boyhood days I was a ladies' man. And of course since I've had money they've swarmed round me like bees in a clover-patch.''
``Oh, General, you're far too modest,'' cried Mrs. Presbury. ``A man like you wouldn't need to be afraid, if he hadn't a cent.''
``But not the kind of women I want,'' replied he, firmly if complacently. ``A lady needs money to keep up her position. She has to have it. On the other hand, a man of wealth and station needs a lady to assist him in the proper kind of life for men of his sort. So they need each other. They've got to have each other. That's the practical, sensible way to look at it.''
``Exactly,'' said Presbury.
``And I've made up my mind to marry, and marry right away. But we'll come back to this later on. Presbury, you're neglecting that wine.''
``I'm drinking it slowly to enjoy it better,'' said Presbury.
The dinner was the same unending and expensive function that had wearied them and upset their digestions on Thanksgiving Day. There was too much of everything, and it was all just wrong. The general was not quite