Part 20 (1/2)
”So am I,” said Florence, and added, explanatorily, ”you know how ready my father is to make new acquaintances, without stopping to consider.”
That her apprehension was right, in this case, was shown three days later, when Edna, calling and finding her alone, saw a bunch of great red roses in a vase on the table.
”Oh, what beauties!” cried Edna.
”Mr. Bagley sent them,” replied Florence, quickly, with a helpless, perplexed air. ”Father invited him to call.”
”H'm! Why didn't you send them back?”
”I thought of it, but I didn't want to make so much of the matter. And then there'd have been a scene with father. Of course, anybody may send flowers to anybody. I might throw them away, but I haven't the heart to treat flowers badly. _They_ can't help it.”
”Does Mr. Bagley improve on acquaintance?”
”I never met such a combination of crudeness and self-a.s.surance. Father says it's men of that sort that become millionaires. If it is, I can understand why American millionaires are looked down on in other countries.”
”It's not because of their millions, it's because of their manners,”
said Edna. ”But what would you expect of men who consider money-making the greatest thing in the world? I'm awfully sorry if you have to be afflicted with any more visits from Mr. Bagley.”
”I'll see him as rarely as I can. I should hate him for the injuries he did Murray, even if he were possible otherwise.”
When Edna saw Larcher, the next time he called at the flat, she first sent him into a mood of self-blame by telling what had resulted from the introduction of Bagley. Then, when she had sufficiently enjoyed his verbal self-chastis.e.m.e.nt, she suddenly brought him around by saying:
”Well, to tell the truth, I'm not sorry for the way things have turned out. If she has to see much of Bagley, she can't help comparing him with the other man they see much of,--I mean Turl, not you. The more she loathes Bagley, the more she'll look with relief to Turl. His good qualities will stand out by contrast. Her father will want her to tolerate Bagley. The old man probably thinks it isn't too late, after all, to try for a rich son-in-law. Now that Davenport is out of the way, he'll be at his old games again. He's sure to prefer Bagley, because Turl makes no secret about his money being uncertain. And the best thing for Turl is to have Mr. Kenby favor Bagley. Do you see?”
”Yes. But are you sure you're right in taking up Turl's cause so heartily? We know so little of him, really. He's a very new acquaintance, after all.”
”Oh, you suspicious wretch! As if anybody couldn't see he was all right by just looking at him! And I thought you liked him!”
”So I do; and when I'm in his company I can't doubt that he's the best fellow in the world. But sometimes, when he's not present, I remember--”
”Well, what? What do you remember?”
”Oh, nothing,--only that appearances are sometimes deceptive, and that sort of thing.”
In a.s.suming that Bagley's advent on the scene would make Florence more appreciative of Turl's society, Edna was right. Such, indeed, was the immediate effect. Mr. Kenby himself, though his first impression that Turl was a young man of a.s.sured fortune had been removed by the young man's own story, still encouraged his visits on the brilliant theory that Bagley, if he had intentions, would be stimulated by the presence of a rival. As Bagley's visits continued, it fell out that he and Turl eventually met in the drawing-room of the Kenbys, some days after Edna Hill's last recorded talk with Larcher. But, though they met, few words were wasted between them. Bagley, after a searching stare, dismissed the younger man as of no consequence, because lacking the signs of a money-grabber; and the younger man, having shown a moment's curiosity, dropped Bagley as beneath interest for possessing those signs. Bagley tried to outstay Turl; but Turl had the advantage of later arrival and of perfect control of temper. Bagley took his departure, therefore, with the dry voice and set face of one who has difficulty in holding his wrath. Perceiving that something was amiss, Mr. Kenby made a pretext to accompany Bagley a part of his way, with the design of leaving him in a better humor. In magnifying his newly discovered Bagley, Mr. Kenby committed the blunder of taking too little account of Turl; and thus Turl found himself suddenly alone with Florence.
The short afternoon was already losing its light, and the glow of the fire was having its hour of supremacy before it should in turn take second place to gaslight. For a few moments Florence was silent, looking absently out of the window and across the wintry twilight to the rear profile of the Gothic church beyond the back gardens. Turl watched her face, with a softened, wistful, perplexed look on his own. The ticking of the clock on the mantel grew very loud.
Suddenly Turl spoke, in the quietest, gentlest manner.
”You must not be unhappy.”
She turned, with a look of surprise, a look that asked him how he knew her heart.
”I know it from your face, your demeanor all the time, whatever you're doing,” he said.
”If you mean that I seem grave,” she replied, with a faint smile, ”it's only my way. I've always been a serious person.”
”But your gravity wasn't formerly tinged with sorrow; it had no touch of brooding anxiety.”