The Price She Paid [43]
As neither had the kind of mind that expands in abstractions, they were soon talking in the most intimate and personal way about themselves--were confessing things which neither would have breathed to anyone on land. It was the man who set the example of breaking through the barriers of conventional restraint-- perhaps of delicacy, though it must be said that human beings are rarely so fine in their reticences as the theory of refinement would have us believe. Said Stanley, after the preliminaries of partial confidence and halting avowal that could not be omitted, even at sea, by a man of ``gentlemanly instinct'':
``I don't know why I shouldn't own up. I know you'll never tell anybody. Fact is, I and my wife were never in love with each other for a second. We married because we were in the same set and because our incomes together gave us enough to do the thing rather well.'' After a solemn pause. ``I was in love with another woman--one I couldn't marry. But I'll not go into that. As for my wife, I don't think she was in love with anyone. She's as cold as a stone.''
Mildred smiled ironically.
Baird saw and flushed. ``At least, she was to me. I was ready to make a sort of bluff. You see, a man feels guilty in those circumstances and doesn't want to humiliate a woman. But she--'' he laughed unpleasantly--``she wasn't bothering about MY feelings. That's a nice, selfish little way you ladies have.''
``She probably saw through you and hated you for playing the hypocrite to her,'' said Mildred.
``You may be right, I never thought of that,'' confessed he. ``She certainly had a vicious way of hammering the other woman indirectly. Not that she ever admitted being jealous. I guess she knew. Everybody usually knows everything.''
``And there was a great deal of talk about you and me,'' said Mildred placidly.
``I didn't say it was you,'' protested Stanley, reddening.
``No matter,'' said Mildred. ``Don't bother about that. It's all past and gone.''
``Well, at any rate, my marriage was the mistake of my life. I'm determined that she shan't trip me up and trim me for any alimony. And as matters stand, she can't. She left me of her own accord.''
``Then,'' said Mildred thoughtfully, ``if the wife leaves of her own accord, she can't get alimony?''
``Certainly not--not a cent.''
``I supposed so,'' said she. ``I'm not sure I'd take it if I could get it. Still, I suppose I would.'' She laughed. ``What's the use of being a hypocrite with oneself? I know I would. All I could get.''
``Then you had no LEGAL excuse for leaving?''
``No,'' said she. ``I--just bolted. I don't know what's to become of me. I seem not to care, at present, but no doubt I shall as soon as we see land again.''
``You'll go back to him,'' said Stanley.
``No,'' replied she, without emphasis or any accent whatever.
``Sure you will,'' rejoined he. ``It's your living. What else can you do?''
``That's what I must find out. Surely there's something else for a woman besides such a married life as mine. I can't and won't go back to my husband. And I can't and won't go to the house at Hanging Rock. Those two things are settled.''
``You mean that?''
``Absolutely. And I've got--less than three hundred and fifty dollars in the whole world.''
Baird was silent. He was roused from his abstraction by gradual consciousness of an ironical smile on the face of the girl, for she did not look like a married woman. ``You are laughing at me. Why?'' inquired he.
``I was reading your thoughts.''
``You think you've frightened me?''
``Naturally. Isn't a confession such as I made enough to frighten a man? It sounded as though I were getting ready to ask alms.''
``So it did,'' said he. ``But I wasn't thinking of it in that way. You WILL be in a frightful fix pretty soon, won't you?''
``It looks that way. But you need not be uneasy.''
``Oh, I want to help you. I'll do everything I can. I was trying to think of something you could make money at. I was thinking of the stage, but