The Business of Life

"You have not understood!" he said.

"Yes, I have, Mr. Desboro. But we can be friends?"

"Could you be mine, after what I have written?"

"I thought I couldn't, at first. But that day was a – long one. And when a girl is much alone she becomes very honest with herself. And it all was entirely new to me. I didn't know what I ought to have done about it – only what I wished to do."

"And – what is that, Jacqueline?"

"Make things as they were – before – "

"Before I wrote?"

"Yes."

"All up to that time you wish might be again as it was? All?"

No answer.

"All?" he repeated.

"Don't ask me. I don't know – I don't know what I think any more."

"How deeply do you suppose I feel about it?"

"I did not know you felt anything very deeply."

There was a long pause, then her voice again:

"You know – you need not be afraid. I did not know enough to be until you wrote. But I understand, now."

He said: "It will be all right, then. It will be quite all right, Jacqueline. I'll come up on the noon train."

His car met him at the station. The snow had melted and the wet macadam road glittered under a declining winter sun, as the car rolled smoothly away through the still valleys of Westchester.

Mrs. Quant, in best bib and tucker and lilac ribbons, welcomed him, and almost wept at his pallor; but he shrugged impatiently and sprang up the low steps. Here the necessity for self-control stopped him short on his way to the armoury. He turned to Mrs. Quant with an effort:

"Is everything all right?"

"No, Mr. James. Phibby broke a cup and saucer Saturday, and there is new kittens in the laundry – which makes nine cats – "

"Oh, all right! Miss Nevers is here?"

"Yes, sir – in the liberry – which ain't been dusted right by that Phibby minx – "

"Tell Phoebe to dust it!" he said sternly. "Do you suppose Miss Nevers cares to handle dirty books!" His restless glance fell on the clock: "Tell Farris I'm here and that Miss Nevers and I will lunch as soon as it's served. And say to Miss Nevers that I'll be down in a few minutes." He turned and mounted the stairs to his room, and found it full of white, clove-scented carnations.

Mrs. Quant came panting after him:

"Miss Nevers, she cut them in the greenhouse, and told me to put 'em in your room, sayin' as how clove pinks is sanitary. Would you – would you try a few m-m-magic drops, Mr. James, sir? Miss Nevers takes 'em regular."

"Oh, Lord!" he exclaimed, laughing in sheer exuberance of spirits. "I'll swallow anything you like, only hurry!"

She dosed him with great content, he, both hands in soap-suds, turning his head to receive the potion. And at last, ablutions finished, he ran down the stairs, checked himself, and managed to stroll leisurely through the hall and into the library.

She was writing; looked up, suddenly pale under her golden crown of hair; and the red lips quivered, but her eyes were steady.

She bent her head again, both hands abandoned to him, sitting in silence while his lips rested against her fingers.

"Is all well with you, Jacqueline?"

"Yes. And with you?"

"All is well with me. I missed you – if you know what that really means."

"Did you?"

"Yes. Won't you even look at me?"

"In a moment. Do you see all these piles of manuscript? All that is your new catalogue – and mine," she added, with a faint smile; but her head remained averted.

"You wonderful girl!" he said softly. "You wonderful girl!"

"Thank you. It was a labor of – pleasure." Colour stole to the tips of her ears. "I have worked – worked – every minute since – "

"Yes."

"Really, I have – every minute. But somehow, it didn't seem to tire me. To-day – now – I begin to feel a little tired." She rested her cheek on one hand, still looking away from him.

"I took a peep into the porcelain and jade rooms," she said, "just a glance over what lies before me. Mrs. Quant very kindly gave me the keys. Did you mind?"

"Do I mind anything that it pleases you to do? What did you find in the jade room?"

She smiled: "Jadeite, of course; and lapis and crystals – the usual."

"Any good ones?"

"Some are miracles. I don't really know, yet; I gave just one swift glance and fled – because you see I haven't finished in the armoury, and I ought not to permit myself the pleasures of curiosity."

"The pleasures of curiosity and of anticipation are the only real ones. Sages have said it."

She shook her head.

"Isn't it true?" he insisted.

She looked up at him at last, frank-eyed but flushed:

"Which is the real pleasure," she asked, "seeing each other, or anticipating the – the resumption of the entente cordial?"