the conflict-第39部分

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‘‘A　chance；　perhaps；''　replied　he。　　‘‘But　we'll　not　bother　about　that。　　All　we've　got　to　do　is　to　keep　on　strengthening　ourselves。''

‘‘Yes；　that's　it！''　she　cried。　　‘‘One　added　herefive　thereten　yonder。　　Every　new　stone　fitted　solidly　against　the　ones　already　in　place。''

‘‘We　must　never　forget　that　we　aren't　merely　building　a　new　party；''　said　Dorn。　　‘‘We're　building　a　new　civilizationone　to　fit　the　new　conditions　of　life。　　Let　the　Davy　Hulls　patch　and　tinker　away　at　trying　to　keep　the　old　structure　from　falling　in。　　We　know　it's　bound　to　fall　and　that　it　isn't　fit　for　decent　civilized　human　beings　to　live　in。　　And　we're　getting　the　new　house　ready。　　Soto　us；　election　day　is　no　more　important　than　any　of　the　three　hundred　and　sixty…five。''


It　was　into　the　presence　of　a　Victor　Dorn　restored　in　mind　as　well　as　in　body　that　Jane　Hastings　was　shown　by　his　sister；　Mrs。　Sherrill；　one　afternoon　a　week　or　so　later。

All　that　time　Jane　had　been　searching　for　an　excuse　for　going　to　see　him。　　She　had　haunted　the　roads　and　the　woods　where　he　and　Selma　habitually　walked。　　She　had　seen　neither　of　them。　　When　the　pretext　for　a　call　finally　came　to　her；　as　usual；　the　most　obvious　thing　in　the　world。　　He　must　be　suspecting　her　of　having　betrayed　his　confidence　and　brought　about　the　vacating　of　those　injunctions　and　the　quashing　of　the　indictments。　　She　must　go　to　him　and　clear　herself　of　suspicion。

She　felt　that　the　question　of　how　she　should　dress　for　this　crucial　interview；　this　attempt　to　establish　some　sort　of　friendly　relations　with　him；　was　of　the　very　highest　importance。　　Should　she　wear　something　plain；　something　that　would　make　her　look　as　nearly　as　might　be　like　one　of　his　own　class？　　HIS　class！

No　no；　indeed。　　The　class　in　which　he　was　accidentally　born　and　bred；　but　to　which　he　did　not　belong。　　Or；　should　she　go　dressed　frankly　as　of　her　own　class　wearing　the　sort　of　things　that　made　her　look　her　finest　and　most　superior　and　most　beautiful？　　Having　nothing　else　to　do；　she　spent　several　hours　in　trying　various　toilets。　　She　was　not　long　in　deciding　against　disguising　herself　as　a　working　woman。　　That　garb　might　win　his　mental　and　moral　approval；　but　not　by　mental　and　moral　ways　did　women　and　men　prevail　with　each　other。　　In　plain　garbso　Jane　decided；　as　she　inspected　herselfshe　was　no　match　for　Selma　Gordon；　she　looked　awkward；　out　of　her　element。　　So　much　being　settled；　there　remained　to　choose　among　her　various　toilets。　　She　decided　for　an　embroidered　white　summer　dress；　extremely　simple；　but　in　the　way　that　costs　beyond　the　power　of　any　but　the　very　rich　to　afford。　　When　she　was　ready　to　set　forth；　she　had　never　looked　so　well　in　her　life。　　Her　toilet　SEEMED　a　mere　detail。　　In　fact；　it　was　some　such　subtlety　as　those　arrangements　of　lines　and　colors　in　great　pictures；　whereby　the　glance　of　the　beholder　is　unconsciously　compelled　toward　the　central　figure；　just　as　water　in　a　funnel　must　go　toward　the　aperture　at　the　bottom。　　Jane　felt；　not　without　reason；　that　she　had　executed　a　stroke　of　genius。　　She　was　wearing　nothing　that　could　awaken　Victor　Dorn's　prejudices　about　fine　clothes；　for　he　must　have　those　prejudices。　　Yet　she　was　dressed　in　conformity　with　all　that　centuries；　ages　of　experience；　have　taught　the　dressmaking　art　on　the　subject　of　feminine　allure。　　And；　when　a　woman　feels　that　she　is　so　dressed；　her　natural　allure　becomes　greatly　enhanced。

She　drove　down　to　a　point　in　Monroe　Avenue　not　far　from　the　house　where　Victor　and　his　family　lived。　　The　day　was　hot；　boss…ridden　Remsen　City　had　dusty　and　ragged　streets　and　sidewalks。　　It；　therefore；　would　not　do　to　endanger　the　freshness　of　the　toilet。　　But　she　would　arrive　as　if　she　had　come　all　the　way　on　foot。　　Arrival　in　a　motor　at　so　humble　a　house　would　look　like　ostentation；　also；　if　she　were　seen　going　through　that　street　afoot；　people　would　think　she　was　merely　strolling　a　little　out　of　her　way　to　view　the　ruins　of　the　buildings　set　on　fire　by　the　mob。　　She　did　pause　to　look　at　these　ruins；　the　air　of　the　neighborhood　still　had　a　taint　of　burnt　wood　and　paper。　　Presently；　when　she　was　sure　the　street　was　clear　of　people　of　the　sort　who　might　talkshe　hastily　entered　the　tiny　front　yard　of　Victor's　house；　and　was　pleased　to　find　herself　immediately　screened　from　the　street　by　the　luxuriant　bushes　and　creepers。

There　was　nothing　in　the　least　pretentious　about　the　appearance　of　the　little　house。　　It　was　simply　a　well　built　cottagebut　of　brick；　instead　of　the　usual　wood；　and　the　slate　roof　descended　at　attractive　angles。　　The　door　she　was　facing　was　superior　to　the　usual　flimsy…looking　door。　　Indeed；　she　at　once　became　conscious　of　a　highly　attractive　and　most　unexpected　air　of　substantiality　and　good　taste。　　The　people　who　lived　here　seemed　to　be　permanent　peoplelong　resident；　　and　looking　forward　to　long　residence。　　She　had　never　seen　such　beautiful　or　such　tastefully　grouped　sun　flowers；　and　the　dahlias　and　marigolds　were　far　above　the　familiar　commonplace　kitchen　garden　flowers。

The　door　opened；　and　a　handsome；　extremely　intelligent　looking　woman；　obviously　Victor's　sister；　was　looking　pleasantly　at　her。　　Said　she：　　‘‘I'm　sorry　to　have　kept　you　waiting。　　But　I　was　busy　in　the　kitchen。　　This　is　Miss　Hastings；　isn't　it？''

‘‘Yes；''　said　Jane；　smiling　friendlily。

‘‘I've　heard　my　brother　and　Selma　talk　of　you。''　　（Jane　wondered　WHAT　they　had　said。）　　‘‘You　wish　to　see　Victor？''

‘‘If　I'd　not　be　interrupting；''　said　Jane。

‘‘Come　right　in。　　He's　used　to　being　interrupted。　　They　don't　give　him　five　minutes　to　himself　all　day　longespecially　now　that　the　campaign's　on。　　He　always　does　his　serious　work　very　early　in　the　morning。''

They　went　through　a　hall；　pleasantly　odorous　of　baking　in　which　good　flour　and　good　butter　and　good　eggs　were　being　manufactured　into　something　probably　appetizing；　certainly　wholesome。　　Jane　caught　a　glimpse　through　open　doors　on　either　side　of　a　neat　and　reposeful　little　library…sitting　room；　a　plain　delightfully　simple　little　bedroom；　a　kitchen　where　everything　shone。　　She　arrived　at　the　rear　door　somehow　depressed；　bereft　of　the　feeling　of　upper…class　superiority　which　had；　perhaps　unconsciously；　possessed　her　as　she　came　toward　the　house。　　At　the　far　end　of　an　arbor　on　which　the　grape　vines　were　so　trellised　that　their　broad　leaves　cast　a　perfect　shade；　sat　Victor　writing　at　a　table　under　a　tree。　　He　was　in　his　shirt　sleeves；　and　his　shirt　was　open　at　the　throat。　　His　skin　was　smooth　and　healthily　white　below　the　collar　line。　　The　forearms　exposed　by　his　rolled　up　sleeves　were　strong　but　slender；　and　the　faint　fair　hair　upon　them　suggested　a　man；　but　not　an　animal。

Never　had　she　seen　his　face　and　head　so　fine。　　He　was　writing　rapidly；　his　body　easily　erect；　his　head　and　neck　in　a　poise　of　grace　and　strength。　　Jane　grew　pale　and　trembledso　much　so　that　she　was　afraid　the　keen；　friendly　eyes　of　Alice　Sherrill　were　seeing。　　Said　Mrs。　Sherrill；　raising　her　voice：

‘‘Victorhere's　Miss　Hastings　come　to　see　you。''　　Then　to　Jane：　　‘‘Excuse　me；　please。　　I　don't　dare　leave　that　kitchen　long。''

She　departed。　　Jane　waited　while　Victor；　his　pencil　reluctantly　slackening　and　his　glance　lingeringly　rising　from　the　paper；　came　back　to　sense　of　his　surroundings。　　He　stared　at　her　blankly；　then　colored　a　little。　　He　rosestiff；　for　him　formal。　　Said　he：

‘‘How　d'you　do；　Miss　Hastings？''

She　came　down　the　arbor；　recovering　her　assurance　as　she　again　became　conscious　of　herself；　so　charmingly　dressed　and　no　doubt　beautiful　in　his　eyes。　　‘‘I　know　you're　not　glad　to　see　me；''　said　she。　　‘‘But　I'm　only　stopping　a　very　little　minute。''

His　eyes　had　softenedsoftened　under　the　influence　of　the　emotion　no　man　can　ever　fail　to　feel　at　least　in　some　degree　at　sight　of　a　lovely　woman。　　‘‘Won't　you　sit？''　said　he；　with　a　glance　at　the　wooden　chair　near　the　other　side　of　the　table。

She　seated　herself；　resting　one　gloved　hand　on　the　prettily　carved　end　of　her　white…sunshade。　　She　was　wearing　a　big　hat　of　rough　black　straw；　with　a　few　very　gorgeous　white　plumes。　　‘‘What　a　delightful　place　to　work；''　exclaimed　she；　looking　round；　admiring　the　flowers；　the　slow　ripening　grapes；　the　delicious　shade。　　‘‘And　youhow　WELL　you　look！''

‘‘I've　forgotten　I　was　ever　anything　but　well；''　said　he。

‘‘You're　impatient　for　me　to　go；''　she　cried　laughing。　　‘‘It's　very　rude　to　show　it　so　plainly。''

‘‘No；''　replied　he。　　‘‘I　am　not　impatient　for　you　to　go。　　But　I　ought　to　be；　for　I'm　very　busy。''

‘‘Well；　I　shall　be　gone　in　a　moment。　　I　came　only　to　tell　you　that　you　are　suspecting　me　wrongly。''

‘‘Suspecting　you？of　what？''

‘‘Of　having　broken　my　word。　　I　know　you　must　think　I　got　father　to　set　Davy　Hull　on　to　upsetting　your　plans。''

‘‘The　idea　never　entered　my　head；''　said　he。　　‘‘You　had　promisedand　I　know　you　are　honest。''

Jane　colored　violently　and　lowered　her　eyes。　　‘‘I'm　notnot　up　to　what　you　say；''　she　protested。　　‘‘But　at　least　I　didn't　break　my　promise。　　Davy　thought　of　that　himself。''

‘‘I　have　been　assuming　so。''

‘‘And　you　didn't　suspect　me？''

‘‘Not　for　an　instant；''　Victor　assured　her。　　‘‘Davy　simply　made　the　move　that　was　obviously　best　for　him。''

‘‘And　now　he　will　be　elected；''　said　Jane　regretfully。

‘‘It　lo