第305章

And she walked slowly across the room to the fire.She shivered, adjusted one of the shoulder straps of her low-cut pale green dress.She read the cablegram a third time, laid it gently, thoughtfully, upon the mantel."Brent died at half past two this afternoon." Died.Yes, there was no mistaking the meaning of those words.She knew that the message was true.But she did not feel it.She was seeing Brent as he had been when they said good-by.And it would take something more than a mere message to make her feel that the Brent so vividly alive, so redolent of life, of activity, of energy, of plans and projects, the Brent of health and strength, had ceased to be."Brent died at half past two this afternoon."Except in the great crises we all act with a certain theatricalism, do the thing books and plays and the example of others have taught us to do.But in the great crises we do as we feel.Susan knew that Brent was dead.If he had meant less to her, she would have shrieked or fainted or burst into wild sobs.But not when he was her whole future.She _knew_he was dead, but she did not _believe_ it.So she stood staring at the flames, and wondering why, when she knew such a frightful thing, she should remain calm.When she had heard that he was injured, she had felt, now she did not feel at all.Her body, her brain, went serenely on in their routine.

The part of her that was her very self--had it died, and not Brent?

She turned her back to the fire, gazed toward the opposite wall.In a mirror there she saw the reflection of Palmer, at table in the adjoining room.A servant was holding a dish at his left and he was helping himself.She observed his every motion, observed his fattened body, his round and large face, the forming roll of fat at the back of his neck.All at once she grew cold--cold as she had not been since the night she and Etta Brashear walked the streets of Cincinnati.The ache of this cold, like the cold of death, was an agony.She shook from head to foot.She turned toward the mantel again, looked at the cablegram.But she did not take it in her hands.She could see--in the air, before her eyes--in clear, sharp lettering--"Brent died at half past two this afternoon.Garvey."The sensation of cold faded into a sensation of approaching numbness.She went into the hall--to her own rooms.In the dressing-room her maid, Clemence, was putting away the afternoon things she had taken off.She stood at the dressing table, unclasping the string of pearls.She said to Clemence tranquilly:

"Please pack in the small trunk with the broad stripes three of my plainest street dresses--some underclothes--the things for a journey--only necessaries.Some very warm things, please, Clemence, I've suffered from cold, and I can't bear the idea of it.And please telephone to the--to the Cecil for a room and bath.When you have finished I shall pay you what I owe and a month's wages extra.I cannot afford to keep you any longer.""But, madame"--Clemence fluttered in agitation--"Madame promised to take me to America.""Telephone for the rooms for Miss Susan Lenox," said Susan.

She was rapidly taking off her dress."If I took you to America I should have to let you go as soon as we landed.""But, madame--" Clemence advanced to assist her.

"Please pack the trunk," said Susan."I am leaving here at once.""I prefer to go to America, even if madame----""Very well.I'll take you.But you understand?""Perfectly, madame----"

A sound of hurrying footsteps and Palmer was at the threshold.

His eyes were wild, his face distorted.His hair, usually carefully arranged over the rapidly growing bald spot above his brow, was disarranged in a manner that would have been ludicrous but for the terrible expression of his face."Go!"he said harshly to the maid; and he stood fretting the knob until she hastened out and gave him the chance to close the door.Susan, calm and apparently unconscious of his presence, went on with her rapid change of costume.He lit a cigarette with fingers trembling, dropped heavily into a chair near the door.She, seated on the floor, was putting on boots.

When she had finished one and was beginning on the other he said stolidly:

"You think I did it"--not a question but an assertion.

"I know it," replied she.She was so seated that he was seeing her in profile.

"Yes--I did," he went on.He settled himself more deeply in the chair, crossed his leg."And I am glad that I did."She kept on at lacing the boot.There was nothing in her expression to indicate emotion, or even that she heard.