Several days of these failures, and with her funds reduced to a fifty-centime piece and a two-sous copper she made a frontal attack.When they went forth for the day's shopping she left her gold bag behind.After an hour or so she said:
``I've got to go to the Galleries Lafayette for some little things.I shan't ask you to sacrifice yourself.Iknow you hate those stuffy, smelly big shops.''
``Very well,'' said he.``I'll use the time in a call on my bankers.''
As they were about to separate, she taking the motor and he walking, she made a face of charming dismay and said: ``How provoking! I've left my bag at the hotel.''
Instead of the expected prompt offer of money he said, ``It'll only take you a minute or so to drive there.''
``But it's out of the way,'' she replied.``I'll need only a hundred francs or so.''
Said he: ``I've an account at the Bon Marche.Go there and have the things charged.It's much the best big shop in Paris.''
``Very well,'' was all she could trust herself to say.
She concealed her anger beneath a careless smile and drove away.How dense he was! Could anything be more exasperating--or more disagreeable? What SHOULD she do? The situation was intolerable; yet how could it be ended, except by a humiliating direct request for money? She wondered how young wives habitually dealt with this problem, when they happened to marry husbands so negligent, not to say underbred, as to cause them the awkwardness and the shame.There followed several days during which the money idea was an obsession, nagging and grinning at her every in-stant.The sight of money gave her a peculiar itching sensation.When the little general paid for anything --always drawing out a great sheaf of bank notes in doing it--she flushed hot and cold, her glance fell guiltily and sought the money furtively.At last her desperation gave birth to an inspiration.
About her and the general, or, rather, about the general, revolved the usual rich man's small army of satellites of various degrees--secretaries, butlers, footmen, valets, other servants male and female, some of them supposed to be devoted entirely to her service, but all in fact looking ever to the little general.The members of this company, regardless of differences of rank and pay, were banded together in a sort of democratic fellowship, talking freely with one another, on terms of perfect equality.She herself had, curiously, gotten on excellent terms with this motley fraternity and found no small relief from the strain of the general's formal dignity in talking with them with a ******* and ease she had never before felt in the society of underlings.
The most conspicuous and most agreeable figure in this company was Harding, the general's factotum.Why not lay the case before Harding? He was notably sensible, and sympathetic--and discreet.
The following day she did so.Said she, blushing furiously: ``Mr.Harding, I find myself in a very embarrassing position.I wonder if you can help me?''
Harding, a young man and of one of the best blond types, said: ``No doubt I can--and I'll be glad to.''
``The fact is''-- Her voice was trembling with nervousness.She opened the gold bag, took out the little silver pieces and the big copper piece, extended her pink palm with them upon it--``there's all I've got left of the money I brought with me.''
Harding gazed at the exhibit tranquilly.He was chiefly remarkable for his perfect self-possession.Said he: ``Do you wish me to cash a check for you?''
The stupidity of men! Tears of vexation gathered in her eyes.When she could speak she faltered:
``No.''
He was looking at her now--a grave, kind glance.
She somehow felt encouraged and heartened.She went on: ``I was hoping--that--that the gen--that my husband had said something to you and that you perhaps had not thought to say anything to me.''
Their glances met, his movingly sympathetic and understanding, hers piteously forlorn--the look of a lovely girl, stranded and friendless in a far strange land.Presently he said gently:
``Yes, he told me to say something to you--if you should speak to me about this matter.'' His tone caused in her heart a horrible stillness of suspense.He went on: ``He said--I give you his exact words:
`If my wife should ask you for money, tell her my ideas on the subject.' ''
A pause.She started up, crimson, her glance darting nervously this way and that to avoid his.``Never mind.Really, it's of no importance.Thank you--I'll get on very well--I'm sorry to have troubled you--''
``Pardon me, Mrs.Siddall,'' he interposed, ``but Ithink you'd best let me finish.''
She started to protest, she tried to move toward the door.Her strength failed her, she sat down, waited, nervously clasping and unclasping the costly, jewel-embroidered bag.
``He has explained to me, many times,'' continued Harding, ``that he believes women do not understand the value of money and ought not to be trusted with it.
He proposes to provide everything for you, every comfort and luxury--I am using his own language, Mrs.
Siddall--and he has open accounts at the principal shops in every city where you will go--New York, Washington, Chicago, Denver, Paris, London, Rome.
He says you are at liberty to get practically anything you please at these shops, and he will pay the bills.
He thus entirely spares you the necessity of ever spending any money.Should you see anything you wish at some shop where he has no account, you can have it sent collect, and I or my assistant, Mr.Drawl, will settle for it.All he asks is that you use discretion in this *******.He says it would be extremely painful to him to have to withdraw it.''
Harding had pronounced this long speech in a dry monotonous voice, like one reading mechanically from a dull book.As Mildred listened, her thoughts began to whirl about the central idea until she fell into a kind of stupor.When he finished she was staring vacantly at the bag in her lap--the bag she was holding open wide.
