Love in a Cloud: A Comedy in Filigree

"Sit down, please," she said. "It is kind of you to come in. I hardly had a chance to say a word to you this afternoon."

Jack did not return her greeting, nor did he accept her invitation to be seated. He stooped above the low chair into which she sank as she spoke.

"What is this amazing story that you are engaged to Count Shimbowski?" he demanded abruptly.

She looked up to him with a smile which was more conventional than ever.

"What right have you to ask me a question like that?" she returned.

He waved his hand as if to put aside formalities.

"But is it true?" he insisted.

"What is it to you, Jack, if it were?"

She grew visibly paler, and her fingers knit themselves together. He, on the contrary, flushed and became more commanding in his manner.

"Do you suppose," he answered, "that I should be willing to see a friend of mine throw herself away on that old roué? He is old enough to be your father."

"But you know," said she, assuming an air of raillery which did not seem to be entirely genuine, "that the proverb says it's better to be an old man's darling than a young man's slave."

Jack flung himself into a chair with an impatient exclamation, and immediately got up again to walk the floor.

"I wouldn't have believed it of you, Alice. How can you joke about a thing like that!"

"Why, Jack; you've told me a hundred times that the only way to get through life comfortably is to take everything in jest."

"Oh, confound what I've told you! That's good enough philosophy for me, but it's beneath you to talk so."

"What is sauce for the goose – "

"Keep still," he interrupted. "If you can't be serious – "

"You are so fond of being serious," she murmured, interrupting in her turn.

"But I am serious now. Haven't we always been good friends enough for me to speak to you in earnest without your treating me as if I was either impertinent or a fool?"

He stopped his restless walk to stand before her again. She was silent a moment with her glance fixed on the rug. Then she raised her eyes to his, and her manner became suddenly grave.

"Yes, Jack," she said, "we have always been friends; but has any man, simply because he is a friend, a right to ask a girl a question like that?"

"You mean – "

"I mean no more than I say. There are other men with whom I've been friends all my life. Is there any one of them that you'd think had a right to come here to-night and question me about my engagement?"

"I'd break his head if he did!" Jack retorted savagely.

"Then why shouldn't he – whoever he might be – break yours?"

He flung himself into his chair again, his sunny face clouded, and his brows drawn down. He met her glance with a look which seemed to be trying to fathom the purpose of her mood.

"Why, hang it," he said; "with me it's different. You know I've always been more than a common friend."

"You have been a good friend," she answered with resolute self-composure; "but only a friend after all."

"Then you mean that I cannot be more than a friend?"

She dropped her eyes, a faint flush stealing up into her pale cheeks.

"You do not wish to be; and therefore you have no right – "

He sprang up impulsively and seized both her hands in his.

"Good God, Alice," he exclaimed, "you drive me wild! You know that if I were not so cursedly poor – "

She released herself gently, and with perfect calmness.

"I know," she responded, "that you have weighed me in the balance against the trouble of earning a living, and you haven't found me worth the price. In the face of a fact like that what is the use of words?"

He thrust his empty hands into his pockets, and glowered down on her.

"You know I love you, Alice. You know I've been in love with you ever since I began to walk; and you – you – "

She rose and faced him proudly.

"Well, say it!" she cried. "Say that I was foolish enough to love you! That I knew no better than to believe in you, and that I half broke my heart when you forced me to see that you weren't what I thought. Say it, if you like. You can't make me more ashamed of it than I am already!"

"Ashamed – Alice?"

"Yes, ashamed! It humiliates me that I should set my heart on a man that cared so little for me that he set me below his polo-ponies, his bachelor ease, his miserable little self-indulgences! Oh, Jack," she went on, her manner suddenly changing to one of appeal, and the tears starting into her eyes, "why can't you be a man?"

She put her hand on his arm, and he covered it affectionately with one of his while she hurried on.

"Do break away from the life you are living, and do something worthy of you. You are good to everybody else; there's nothing you won't do for others; do this for yourself. Do it for me. You are throwing yourself away, and I have to hear them talk of your debts, and your racing and gambling, and how reckless you are! It almost kills me!"

The full sunniness of his smile came back as he looked down into her earnest face, caressing her hand.

"Dear little woman," he said; "are you sure you have got entirely over being fond of me?"

"I couldn't get over being fond of you. You know it. That's what makes it hurt so."

He raised her hand tenderly, and kissed it. Then he dropped it abruptly, and turned away.

"You must get over it," he said, so brusquely that she started almost as if from a blow.

She sank back into her seat, and pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, while he walked back to his chair and sat down with an air of bravado.

"It's no use, Alice," he said, "I'm not worth a thought, and it isn't in me to – Well, the fact is that I know myself too well. I know that if I promised you to-night that to-morrow I'd begin better fashions, I'm not man enough to live up to it. I couldn't involve you in – Oh, don't, don't!"