The Price She Paid [55]
as my wife. I shall assume that your--your flight was an impulse that you regret.''
``I shan't go back,'' said Mildred. ``Nothing you could offer would change me.''
``I cannot make any immediate concession on the-- the matter that caused you to go,'' pursued he, as if she had not spoken, ``but if I see that you have reliability and good sense, I'll agree to give you an allowance later.''
Mildred eyed him curiously. ``Why are you making these offers, these concessions?'' she said. ``You think everyone in the world is a fool except yourself. You're greatly deceived. I know that you don't mean what you've been saying. I know that if you got me in your power again, you would do something frightful. I've seen through that mask you wear. I know the kind of man you are.''
``If you know that,'' said the general in his even slow way, monotonous, almost lifeless, ``you know you'd better come with me than stand out against me.''
She did not let him see how this struck terror into her. She said: ``No matter what you might do to me, when I'm away from you, it would be less than you'd do with me under your roof. At any rate, it'd seem less.''
The general reflected, decided to change to another point: ``You made a bargain with me. You've broken it. I never let anyone break a bargain with me without making them regret it. I'm giving you a chance to keep your bargain.''
She was tempted to discuss, but she could not find the words, or the strength. Besides, how futile to discuss with such a man. She sank back in her chair wearily. ``I shall never go back,'' she said.
He looked at her, his face devoid of expression, but she had a sense of malignance unutterable eying her from behind a screen. He said: ``I see you've misunderstood my generosity. You think I'm weak where you are concerned because I've come to you instead of doing as I said and making you come to me.'' He rose. ``Well, my offer to you is closed. And once more I say, you will come to me and ask to be taken back. I may or may not take you back. It depends on how I'll feel at that time.''
Slowly, with his ludicrously pompous strut, he marched to the drawing-room door. She had not felt like smiling, but if there had been any such inclination it would have fled before the countenance that turned upon her at the threshold. It was the lean, little face with the funny toupee and needle-like mustache and imperial, but behind it lay a personality like the dull, cold, yellow eyes of the devil-fish ambushed in the hazy mass of dun-colored formlessness of collapsed body and tentacles. He said:
``You'd best be careful how you conduct yourself. You'll be under constant observation. And any friends you make--they'd do well to avoid you.''
He was gone. She sat without the power of motion, without the power of thought. After a time--perhaps long, perhaps short, she did not know--Mrs. Belloc came in and entered upon a voluble apology for the maid's having shown ``the little gentleman'' into the drawing-room when another was already there. ``That maid's as green as spring corn,'' said she. ``Such a thing never happened in my house before. And it'll never happen again. I do hope it didn't cause trouble.''
``It was my husband,'' said Mildred. ``I had to see him some time.''
``He's certainly a very elegant little gentleman,'' said Mrs. Belloc. ``I rather like small men, myself.''
Mildred gazed at her vaguely and said, ``Tell me-- a rich man, a very rich man--if he hates anyone, can he make trouble?''
``Money can do anything in this town,'' replied Mrs. Belloc. ``But usually rich men are timid and stingy. If they weren't, they'd make us all cringe. As it is, I've heard some awful stories of how men and women who've got some powerful person down on them have been hounded.''
Mildred turned deathly sick. ``I think I'll go to my room,'' she said, rising uncertainly and forcing herself toward the door.
Mrs. Belloc's curiosity could not restrain itself. ``You're leaving?'' she asked. ``You're going back to your husband?''
``I shan't go back,'' said Mildred. ``Nothing you could offer would change me.''
``I cannot make any immediate concession on the-- the matter that caused you to go,'' pursued he, as if she had not spoken, ``but if I see that you have reliability and good sense, I'll agree to give you an allowance later.''
Mildred eyed him curiously. ``Why are you making these offers, these concessions?'' she said. ``You think everyone in the world is a fool except yourself. You're greatly deceived. I know that you don't mean what you've been saying. I know that if you got me in your power again, you would do something frightful. I've seen through that mask you wear. I know the kind of man you are.''
``If you know that,'' said the general in his even slow way, monotonous, almost lifeless, ``you know you'd better come with me than stand out against me.''
She did not let him see how this struck terror into her. She said: ``No matter what you might do to me, when I'm away from you, it would be less than you'd do with me under your roof. At any rate, it'd seem less.''
The general reflected, decided to change to another point: ``You made a bargain with me. You've broken it. I never let anyone break a bargain with me without making them regret it. I'm giving you a chance to keep your bargain.''
She was tempted to discuss, but she could not find the words, or the strength. Besides, how futile to discuss with such a man. She sank back in her chair wearily. ``I shall never go back,'' she said.
He looked at her, his face devoid of expression, but she had a sense of malignance unutterable eying her from behind a screen. He said: ``I see you've misunderstood my generosity. You think I'm weak where you are concerned because I've come to you instead of doing as I said and making you come to me.'' He rose. ``Well, my offer to you is closed. And once more I say, you will come to me and ask to be taken back. I may or may not take you back. It depends on how I'll feel at that time.''
Slowly, with his ludicrously pompous strut, he marched to the drawing-room door. She had not felt like smiling, but if there had been any such inclination it would have fled before the countenance that turned upon her at the threshold. It was the lean, little face with the funny toupee and needle-like mustache and imperial, but behind it lay a personality like the dull, cold, yellow eyes of the devil-fish ambushed in the hazy mass of dun-colored formlessness of collapsed body and tentacles. He said:
``You'd best be careful how you conduct yourself. You'll be under constant observation. And any friends you make--they'd do well to avoid you.''
He was gone. She sat without the power of motion, without the power of thought. After a time--perhaps long, perhaps short, she did not know--Mrs. Belloc came in and entered upon a voluble apology for the maid's having shown ``the little gentleman'' into the drawing-room when another was already there. ``That maid's as green as spring corn,'' said she. ``Such a thing never happened in my house before. And it'll never happen again. I do hope it didn't cause trouble.''
``It was my husband,'' said Mildred. ``I had to see him some time.''
``He's certainly a very elegant little gentleman,'' said Mrs. Belloc. ``I rather like small men, myself.''
Mildred gazed at her vaguely and said, ``Tell me-- a rich man, a very rich man--if he hates anyone, can he make trouble?''
``Money can do anything in this town,'' replied Mrs. Belloc. ``But usually rich men are timid and stingy. If they weren't, they'd make us all cringe. As it is, I've heard some awful stories of how men and women who've got some powerful person down on them have been hounded.''
Mildred turned deathly sick. ``I think I'll go to my room,'' she said, rising uncertainly and forcing herself toward the door.
Mrs. Belloc's curiosity could not restrain itself. ``You're leaving?'' she asked. ``You're going back to your husband?''