She looked so plaintively lovely as she proffered the request, so trustfully sure of his sympathy and understanding, that Trenor felt himself wishing that his wife could see how other women treated him–not battered wire-pullers like Mrs. Fisher, but a girl that most men would have given their boots to get such a look from.
“Out of spirits? Why on earth should you ever be out of spirits? Is your last box of Doucet dresses a failure, or did Judy rook you out of everything at bridge last night?”
Lily shook her head with a sigh. “I have had to give up Doucet; and bridge too–I can’t afford it. In fact I can’t afford any of the things my friends do, and I am afraid Judy often thinks me a bore because I don’t play cards any longer, and because I am not as smartly dressed as the other women. But you will think me a bore too if I talk to you about my worries, and I only mention them because I want you to do me a favour–the very greatest of favours.”
Her eyes sought his once more, and she smiled inwardly at the tinge of apprehension that she read in them.
“Why, of course–if it’s anything I can manage–-” He broke off, and she guessed that his enjoyment was disturbed by the remembrance of Mrs. Fisher’s methods.
“The greatest of favours,” she rejoined gently. “The fact is, Judy is angry with me, and I want you to make my peace.”
“Angry with you? Oh, come, nonsense–-” his relief broke through in a laugh. “Why, you know she’s devoted to you.”
“She is the best friend I have, and that is why I mind having to vex her. But I daresay you know what she has wanted me to do. She has set her heart–poor dear–on my marrying–marrying a great deal of money.”
She paused with a slight falter of embarrassment, and Trenor, turning abruptly, fixed on her a look of growing intelligence.
“A great deal of money? Oh, by Jove–you don’t mean Gryce? What–you do? Oh, no, of course I won’t mention it–you can trust me to keep my mouth shut–but Gryce– good Lord, Gryce! Did Judy really think you could bring yourself to marry that portentous little ass? But you couldn’t, eh? And so you gave him the sack, and that’s the reason why he lit out by the first train this morning?” He leaned back, spreading himself farther across the seat, as if dilated by the joyful sense of his own discernment. “How on earth could Judy think you would do such a thing? I could have told her you’d never put up with such a little milksop!”
Lily sighed more deeply. “I sometimes think,” she murmured, “that men understand a woman’s motives better than other women do.”
“Some men–I’m certain of it! I could have told Judy,” he repeated, exulting in the implied superiority over his wife.
“I thought you would understand; that’s why I wanted to speak to you,” Miss Bart rejoined. “I can’t make that kind of marriage; it’s impossible. But neither can I go on living as all the women in my set do. I am almost entirely dependent on my aunt, and though she is very kind to me she makes me no regular allowance, and lately I’ve lost money at cards, and I don’t dare tell her about it. I have paid my card debts, of course, but there is hardly anything left for my other expenses, and if I go on with my present life I shall be in horrible difficulties. I have a tiny income of my own, but I’m afraid it’s badly invested, for it seems to bring in less every year, and I am so ignorant of money matters that I don’t know if my aunt’s agent, who looks after it, is a good adviser.” She paused a moment, and added in a lighter tone: “I didn’t mean to bore you with all this, but I want your help in making Judy understand that I can’t, at present, go on living as one must live among you all. I am going away tomorrow to join my aunt at Richfield, and I shall stay there for the rest of the autumn, and dismiss my maid and learn how to mend my own clothes.”