Jennie Gerhardt, стр. 53

"Why shouldn't I?" she exclaimed, angered at the brazen confession.

"You're my brother, aren't you? Why should you have any place that I couldn't come. Well, I like that—and from you to me."

"Listen, Louise," went on Lester, drawing himself up further on one elbow. "You know as much about life as I do. There is no need of our getting into an argument. I didn't know you were coming, or I would have

made other arrangements."

"Other arrangements, indeed," she sneered. "I should think as much. The idea!"

She was greatly irritated to think that she had fallen into this trap; it was really disgraceful of Lester.

"I wouldn't be so haughty about it," he declared, his colour rising. "I'm not apologising to you for my conduct. I'm saying I would have made

other arrangements, which is a very different thing from begging your

pardon. If you don't want to be civil, you needn't."

"Why, Lester Kane!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flaming. "I thought better of you, honestly I did. I should think you would be ashamed of yourself

living here in open—" she paused without using the word—"and our friends scattered all over the city. It's terrible! I thought you had more sense of decency and consideration."

"Decency nothing," he flared. "I tell you I'm not apologising to you. If you don't like this you know what you can do."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "This from my own brother! And for the sake of that creature! Whose child is that?" she demanded, savagely and yet

curiously.

"Never mind, it's not mine. If it were it wouldn't make any difference. I wish you wouldn't busy yourself about my affairs."

Jennie, who had been moving about the dining-room beyond the sitting-

room, heard the cutting references to herself. She winced with pain.

"Don't flatter yourself. I won't any more," retorted Louise. "I should think, though, that you, of all men, would be above anything like this—

and that with a woman so obviously beneath you. Why, I thought she was

—" she was again going to add "your housekeeper," but she was interrupted by Lester, who was angry to the point of brutality.

"Never mind what you thought she was," he growled. "She's better than some who do the so-called superior thinking. I know what you think. It's

neither here nor there, I tell you. I'm doing this, and I don't care what you think. I have to take the blame. Don't bother about me."

"Well, I won't, I assure you," she flung back. "It's quite plain that your family means nothing to you. But if you had any sense of decency, Lester

Kane, you would never let your sister be trapped into coming into a place like this. I'm disgusted, that's all, and so will the others be when they hear of it."

She turned on her heel and walked scornfully out, a withering look being

reserved for Jennie, who had unfortunately stepped near the door of the

dining-room. Vesta had disappeared. Jennie came in a little while later

and closed the door. She knew of nothing to say. Lester, his thick hair

pushed back from his vigorous face, leaned back moodily on his pillow.

"What a devilish trick of fortune," he thought. Now she would go home and tell it to the family. His father would know, and his mother. Robert, Imogene, Amy—all would hear. He would have no explanation to make

—she had seen. He stared at the wall meditatively.

Meanwhile Jennie, moving about her duties, also found food for

reflection. So this was her real position in another woman's eyes. Now

she could see what the world thought. This family was as aloof from her

as if it lived on another planet. To his sisters and brothers, his father and mother, she was a bad woman, a creature far beneath him socially, far

beneath him mentally and morally, a creature of the streets. And she had

hoped somehow to rehabilitate herself in the eyes of the world. It cut her as nothing before had ever done. The thought tore a great, gaping wound

in her sensibilities. She was really low and vile in her—Louise's—eyes,

in the world's eyes, basically so in Lester's eyes. How could it be

otherwise? She went about numb and still, but the ache of defeat and

disgrace was under it all. Oh, if she could only see some way to make

herself right with the world, to live honourably, to be decent. How could that possibly be brought about? It ought to be—she knew that. But how?

CHAPTER XXXIII

Outraged in her family pride, Louise lost no time in returning to

Cincinnati, where she told the story of her discovery, embellished with

many details. According to her, she was met at the door by a "silly-

looking, white-faced woman," who did not even offer to invite her in when she announced her name, but stood there "looking just as guilty as a person possibly could." Lester also had acted shamefully, having

outbrazened the matter to her face. When she had demanded to know

whose the child was he had refused to tell her. "It isn't mine," was all he would say.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Kane, who was the first to hear the story. "My son, my Lester! How could he have done it!"

"And such a creature!" exclaimed Louise emphatically, as though the words needed to be reiterated to give them any shadow of reality.

"I went there solely because I thought I could help him," continued Louise. "I thought when they said he was indisposed that he might be seriously ill. How should I have known?"

"Poor Lester!" exclaimed her mother. "To think he would come to anything like that!"

Mrs. Kane turned the difficult problem over in her mind and, having no

previous experiences whereby to measure it, telephoned for old

Archibald, who came out from the factory and sat through the discussion

with a solemn countenance. So Lester was living openly with a woman of

whom they had never heard. He would probably be as defiant and

indifferent as his nature was strong. The standpoint of parental authority was impossible. Lester was a centralised authority in himself, and if any overtures for a change of conduct were to be made, they would have to be

very diplomatically executed.

Archibald Kane returned to the manufactory sore and disgusted, but

determined that something ought to be done. He held a consultation with

Robert, who confessed that he had heard disturbing rumours from time to

time, but had not wanted to say anything. Mrs. Kane suggested that

Robert might go to Chicago, and have a talk with Lester.

"He ought to see that this thing, if continued, is going to do him

irreparable damage," said Mr. Kane. "He cannot hope to carry it off successfully. Nobody can. He ought to marry her or he ought to quit. I

want you to tell him that for me."

"All well and good," said Robert, "but who's going to convince him? I'm sure I don't want the job."

"I hope to," said old Archibald, "eventually; but you'd better go up and try, anyhow. It can't do any harm. He might come to his senses."

"I don't believe it," replied Robert. "He's a strong man. You see how much good talk does down here. Still, I'll go if it will relieve your feelings any.

Mother wants it."

"Yes, yes," said his father distractedly, "better go."

Accordingly Robert went. Without allowing himself to anticipate any