The Price She Paid [83]
as something or other.''
She was watching him with a wistful, puzzled expression. ``Could I ever do all that?''
``Anyone could, by working away at it every day. If you gain only one inch a day, in a year you'll have gained three hundred and sixty-five inches. And if you gain an inch a day for a while and hold it, you soon begin to gain a foot a day. But there's no need to worry about that.'' He was gazing at her now with an expression of animation that showed how feverishly alive he was behind that mask of calmness. ``The day's work--that's the story of success. Do the day's work persistently, thoroughly, intelligently. Never mind about to-morrow. Thinking of it means dreaming or despairing--both futilities. Just the day's work.''
``I begin to understand,'' she said thoughtfully. ``You are right. I've done nothing. Oh, I've been a fool--more foolish even than I thought.''
A long silence, then she said, somewhat embarrassed and in a low voice, though there was no danger of those in front of them hearing:
``I want you to know that there has been nothing wrong--between Stanley and me.''
``Do you wish me to put that to your credit or to your discredit?'' inquired he.
``What do you mean?''
``Why, you've just told me that you haven't given Stanley anything at all for his money--that you've cheated him outright. The thing itself is discreditable, but your tone suggests that you think I'll admire you for it.''
``Do you mean to say that you'd think more highly of me if I were--what most women would be in the same circumstances?''
``I mean to say that I think the whole business is discreditable to both of you--to his intelligence, to your character.''
``You are frank,'' said she, trying to hide her anger.
``I am frank,'' replied he, undisturbed. He looked at her. ``Why should I not be?''
``You know that I need you, that I don't dare resent,'' said she. ``So isn't it--a little cowardly?''
``Why do you need me? Not for money, for you know you'll not get that.''
``I don't want it,'' cried she, agitated. ``I never thought of it.''
``Yes, you've probably thought of it,'' replied he coolly. ``But you will not get it.''
``Well, that's settled--I'll not get it.''
``Then why do you need me? Of what use can I be to you? Only one use in the world. To tell you the truth--the exact truth. Is not that so?''
``Yes,'' she said. ``That is what I want from you --what I can't get from anyone else. No one else knows the truth--not even Mrs. Brindley, though she's intelligent. I take back what I said about your being cowardly. Oh, you do stab my vanity so! You mustn't mind my crying out. I can't help it--at least, not till I get used to you.''
``Cry out,'' said he. ``It does no harm.''
``How wonderfully you understand me!'' exclaimed she. ``That's why I let you say to me anything you please.''
He was smiling peculiarly--a smile that somehow made her feel uncomfortable. She nerved herself for some still deeper stab into her vanity. He said, his gaze upon her and ironical:
``I'm sorry I can't return the compliment.''
``What compliment?'' asked she.
``Can't say that you understand me. Why do you think I am doing this?''
She colored. ``Oh, no indeed, Mr. Keith,'' she protested, ``I don't think you are in love with me--or anything of that sort. Indeed, I do not. I know you better than that.''
``Really?'' said he, amused. ``Then you are not human.''
``How can you think me so vain?'' she protested.
``Because you are so,'' replied he. ``You are as vain--no more so, but just as much so--as the average pretty and attractive woman brought up as you have been. You are not obsessed by the notion that your physical charms are all-powerful, and in that fact there is hope for you. But you attach entirely too much importance to them. You will find them a hindrance for a long time before they begin to be a help to you in your career. And they will always be a temptation to you to take the easy, stupid way of making a living--the only way open
She was watching him with a wistful, puzzled expression. ``Could I ever do all that?''
``Anyone could, by working away at it every day. If you gain only one inch a day, in a year you'll have gained three hundred and sixty-five inches. And if you gain an inch a day for a while and hold it, you soon begin to gain a foot a day. But there's no need to worry about that.'' He was gazing at her now with an expression of animation that showed how feverishly alive he was behind that mask of calmness. ``The day's work--that's the story of success. Do the day's work persistently, thoroughly, intelligently. Never mind about to-morrow. Thinking of it means dreaming or despairing--both futilities. Just the day's work.''
``I begin to understand,'' she said thoughtfully. ``You are right. I've done nothing. Oh, I've been a fool--more foolish even than I thought.''
A long silence, then she said, somewhat embarrassed and in a low voice, though there was no danger of those in front of them hearing:
``I want you to know that there has been nothing wrong--between Stanley and me.''
``Do you wish me to put that to your credit or to your discredit?'' inquired he.
``What do you mean?''
``Why, you've just told me that you haven't given Stanley anything at all for his money--that you've cheated him outright. The thing itself is discreditable, but your tone suggests that you think I'll admire you for it.''
``Do you mean to say that you'd think more highly of me if I were--what most women would be in the same circumstances?''
``I mean to say that I think the whole business is discreditable to both of you--to his intelligence, to your character.''
``You are frank,'' said she, trying to hide her anger.
``I am frank,'' replied he, undisturbed. He looked at her. ``Why should I not be?''
``You know that I need you, that I don't dare resent,'' said she. ``So isn't it--a little cowardly?''
``Why do you need me? Not for money, for you know you'll not get that.''
``I don't want it,'' cried she, agitated. ``I never thought of it.''
``Yes, you've probably thought of it,'' replied he coolly. ``But you will not get it.''
``Well, that's settled--I'll not get it.''
``Then why do you need me? Of what use can I be to you? Only one use in the world. To tell you the truth--the exact truth. Is not that so?''
``Yes,'' she said. ``That is what I want from you --what I can't get from anyone else. No one else knows the truth--not even Mrs. Brindley, though she's intelligent. I take back what I said about your being cowardly. Oh, you do stab my vanity so! You mustn't mind my crying out. I can't help it--at least, not till I get used to you.''
``Cry out,'' said he. ``It does no harm.''
``How wonderfully you understand me!'' exclaimed she. ``That's why I let you say to me anything you please.''
He was smiling peculiarly--a smile that somehow made her feel uncomfortable. She nerved herself for some still deeper stab into her vanity. He said, his gaze upon her and ironical:
``I'm sorry I can't return the compliment.''
``What compliment?'' asked she.
``Can't say that you understand me. Why do you think I am doing this?''
She colored. ``Oh, no indeed, Mr. Keith,'' she protested, ``I don't think you are in love with me--or anything of that sort. Indeed, I do not. I know you better than that.''
``Really?'' said he, amused. ``Then you are not human.''
``How can you think me so vain?'' she protested.
``Because you are so,'' replied he. ``You are as vain--no more so, but just as much so--as the average pretty and attractive woman brought up as you have been. You are not obsessed by the notion that your physical charms are all-powerful, and in that fact there is hope for you. But you attach entirely too much importance to them. You will find them a hindrance for a long time before they begin to be a help to you in your career. And they will always be a temptation to you to take the easy, stupid way of making a living--the only way open