What Will People Say? - The Original Classic Edition. Hughes Rupert

two elements did not[Pg 20] conjoin till just in time

       above the breast, and just a little too late at the back.

       The fabric clung lovingly to the loins, thighs, and calves, so closely that an inverted V must be cut between the ankles to make walking possible at all. There was a train of a fish-tail sort, a little twitching afterthought. And so this woman-shape came forth from a shapelessness as Aphrodite from the sea-foam.

       Forbes was so startled that he felt all the chagrin of one who is caught staring at a woman just returned from the surf in a wet

       bathing-suit. He shifted his eyes from her. When he looked back she had vanished into the crimson cavern of the box.

       The other women followed her, and the men them. They seated themselves just as the curtain fell.

       And now Forbes felt at liberty to go to his own seat, found an usher to pilot him down the aisle. He bowed and murmured "Beg par-don" and "Thank you" to each of those who shoved back awkwardly and wonderingly to let him in. He felt like explaining to them that he had not just arrived, and that he really was not so foolish or so dilatory as he looked. He put his overcoat in his extra seat and studied his program.

       A voice that should have reminded him of the landaulet, but did not, caught his ear and led his eyes to the box. He was not far from the late arrivals.

       They were attracting a deal of attention from the audience, and paying it none. The loudness of their speech and their laughter would have shocked him in a crowd of farmers. Coming from people of evident wealth and familiarity with town customs, it astounded him.

       He had not yet seen the face of the woman of whom he had seen so much else. She was talking to a man in the interior of the box. Her back was turned to the house.

       It never occurred to Forbes that it might be the same back he had followed up the Avenue. How could he have told?[Pg 21]

       That back was clothed and cloaked, and even that famous left arm was sleeved. These shoulder-sheaths, not blades, were so astoundingly bare that he felt ashamed to look at them. Their proprietress was evidently not ashamed to submit them for public inspection. One might not approve her boldness, but one could hardly fail to approve her shoulders. When she moved or shrugged or laughed

       or turned to speak, their exquisite integument creased and rippled like shaken cream.

       At length the footlights went up, the curtain went up. The three women aligned themselves in profile along the rail as if they were

       seated on unseen horses. The men were mere silhouettes in the background.

       The bulk of the audience was in darkness; but the people in the boxes were illumined with a light reflected from the scenery, and it

       warmed them like a dawn glowing upon peaks of snow.

       And now, at last, Forbes saw the face he had watched for with such impatience. It did not disappoint him. At first she gave him only the profile; but that magic light of stage-craft was upon it, and once she turned her head and cast a slow, vague look along the shadowy valley of the audience. She could not have seen him, but he saw her and found her so beautiful, so bewitchingly beautiful and desirable, that he caught his breath with a stitch of pain, an ache of admiration.

       Just a moment her eyes dreamed across the gloom, and she turned back to watch the stage. It was like a parting after a tryst. Then she broke the spell with a sudden throe of laughter. The little shoplifter and blackmailer on the stage was describing her efforts to learn the ways of society, the technique of pouring tea and pretending to like it. She swore, and the audience roared. Formerly an actor could always get a laugh by saying "damn." Now it must be a woman that swears.

       Jarred back to reasonableness by the shock of laughter, Forbes looked again to the box to see what manner of[Pg 22] women this woman went with. One of them was tiny but quite perfect. She had the face of a debutante under the white hair of a matron. If her age were betrayed by her neck, the dog-collar of pearls concealed the ravage. She sat exceedingly erect and seemed to be cold and haughty till another splurge of slang from the shoplifter provoked her to a laugh that was like a child's.

       The other woman laughed, too, laughed large and wide. She was beautiful, too, a Rubens ideal, drawn in liberal rotundities--cheeks,

       chin, throat, bust, hips. No Cubist could have painted her, for she was like a cluster of soap-bubbles. Her face was a great baby's.

       9

       The men were almost invisible, mere cut-outs in black and white.

       None of them had the jaded look of boredom that Forbes supposed to be the chief characteristic of New York wealth. They were

       as eager and irrepressible as a box-load of children fighting over a bag of peanuts at a circus.

       One of the men leaned forward and whispered something; all the women turned to hear. They forgot the play, though the situation was critical. They chattered and laughed so audibly that the audience grew restive; the people on the stage looked to be distressed.

       Forbes was astonished at such bad manners from such beautiful people. He wondered how the play could go on. He had heard of actors stepping out of the picture to rebuke such disturbers of the peace. He expected such an encounter now.

       Then somebody in the audience hissed. Somebody called distinctly, "Shut up!" The group turned in surprise, and received another hiss in the face. Silence and shame quieted it instanter. The women blushed like grown girls threatened with a spanking. Tremendous blushes ran all down their crimson backs.

       Forbes could see that they wanted to run. A kind of pluck held them. They pretended to toss their heads with contempt, but the mob had cowed them so completely[Pg 23] that Forbes felt sorry for them--especially for her. She was too pretty for a public humiliation.

       When the curtain fell on the second act Forbes saw one of the men in the box rise and leave along the side-aisle. Forbes knew the

       man. His name was Ten Eyck--Murray Ten Eyck.

       Forbes dreaded to repeat that voyage through the strait between knees and seat-backs; but he had seen at last a man he knew. And

       the man he knew knew the woman he wanted to know.[Pg 24] CHAPTER V

       THE women he passed glared hatpins at Forbes and groaned as they rose and hunched back to let him by. They clutched at the wraps he disarranged. He rumpled one elaborate hat stuck in the back of a seat, and one silk tie that had fallen out of the wire rack he kicked under the row ahead. He had an impulse to go after it; but when he realized the postures and scrambles it would involve, it was too horrible an ordeal. He pretended not to have noticed, and pressed onward.

       None was so indignant as the man who had similarly climbed out for a drink the entr'acte before. Forbes knew it was a drink he had gone out for the moment he passed him. Forbes was not going out for a drink, but for important information.

       He apologized meekly, yet continued on his course. By the time he was in the open Ten Eyck had disappeared. He was not in the lobby, nor among the men smoking on the sidewalk or dashing across the street to one of the cafes where coffee could not be obtained. Forbes found his man at last in the smoking-room below-stairs.

       He was puffing a cigarette, and met Forbes' eager glance with such blank indifference that Forbes' words of greeting stopped in his

       throat.

       To explain his presence in the smoking-room Forbes lighted a cigar, though he knew that he could have but a few puffs of it. And it was such a good cigar! There can only be so many good cigars in the world.

       The two men paced back and forth on crisscrossing paths as violently oblivious of each other as the two[Pg 25] traditional English-

       men who were cast away on the same desert island and had never been introduced.

       It was not till Murray Ten Eyck flung down his cigarette and made to leave that Forbes mustered courage enough to speak, in his

       Virginian voice:

       "Pardon me, suh, but aren't you Mr. Mu'y Ten Eyck?" "Yes," said Ten Eyck--simply that, and nothing more.

       Forbes, nonplussed at the abrupt