第70章

"Not my wisdom teeth," he urged."I feel now that Ihave come to that time of life when it is expedient to have wisdom.""I have never known that feeling," she confessed, "and I live in the 'hard, harsh' city.""Oh, that is because you have never known what it meant not to have wisdom," he retorted."Tell me about everybody," he went on."Your husband, he is well, of course, and distressfully rich.I heard of him in New York.And Page, our little, solemn Minerva of Dresden china?""Oh, yes, Page is well, but you will hardly recognise her; such a young lady nowadays.""And Mr.Court, 'Landry'? I remember he always impressed me as though he had just had his hair cut;and the Cresslers, and Mrs.Wessels, and----""All well.Mrs.Cressler will be delighted to hear you are back.Yes, everybody is well.""And, last of all, Mrs.Jadwin? But I needn't ask; Ican see how well and happy you are."

"And Mr.Corthell," she queried, "is also well and happy?""Mr.Corthell," he responded, "is very well, and--tolerably--happy, thank you.One has lost a few illusions, but has managed to keep enough to grow old on.One's latter days are provided for.""I shouldn't imagine," she told him, "that one lost illusions in Tuscan gardens.""Quite right," he hastened to reply, smiling cheerfully."One lost no illusions in Tuscany.One went there to cherish the few that yet remained.But,"he added, without change of manner, "one begins to believe that even a lost illusion can be very beautiful sometimes--even in Chicago.""I want you to dine with us," said Laura."You've hardly met my husband, and I think you will like some of our pictures.I will have all your old friends there, the Cresslers and Aunt Wess, and all.When can you come?""Oh, didn't you get my note?" he asked."I wrote you yesterday, asking if I might call to-night.You see, Iam only in Chicago for a couple of days.I must go on to St.Louis to-morrow, and shall not be back for a week.""Note? No, I've had no note from you.Oh, I know what happened.Curtis left in a hurry this morning, and he swooped all the mail into his pocket the last moment.

I knew some of my letters were with his.There's where your note went.But, never mind, it makes no difference now that we've met.Yes, by all means, come to-night--to dinner.We're not a bit formal.Curtis won't have it.We dine at six; and I'll try to get the others.Oh, but Page won't be there, I forgot.She and Landry Court are going to have dinner with Aunt Wess', and they are all going to a lecture afterwards."The artist expressed his appreciation and accepted her invitation.

"Do you know where we live?" she demanded."You know we've moved since.""Yes, I know," he told her."I made up my mind to take a long walk here in the Park this morning, and I passed your house on my way out.You see, I had to look up your address in the directory before writing.Your house awed me, I confess, and the style is surprisingly good.""But tell me," asked Laura, "you never speak of yourself, what have you been doing since you went away?""Nothing.Merely idling, and painting a little, and studying some thirteenth century glass in Avignon and Sienna.""And shall you go back?"

"Yes, I think so, in about a month.So soon as I have straightened out some little businesses of mine--which puts me in mind," he said, glancing at his watch, "that I have an appointment at eleven, and should be about it."He said good-by and left her, and Laura cantered homeward in high spirits.She was very glad that Corthell had come back.She had always liked him.He not only talked well himself, but seemed to have the faculty of making her do the same.She remembered that in the old days, before she had met Jadwin, her mind and conversation, for undiscoverable reasons, had never been nimbler, quicker, nor more effective than when in the company of the artist.

Arrived at home, Laura (as soon as she had looked up the definition of "pergola" in the dictionary) lost no time in telephoning to Mrs.Cressler.

"What," this latter cried when she told her the news, "that Sheldon Corthell back again! Well, dear me, if he wasn't the last person in my mind.I do remember the lovely windows he used to paint, and how refined and elegant he always was--and the loveliest hands and voice.""He's to dine with us to-night, and I want you and Mr.

Cressler to come."

"Oh, Laura, child, I just simply can't.Charlie's got a man from Milwaukee coming here to-night, and I've got to feed him.Isn't it too provoking? I've got to sit and listen to those two, clattering commissions and percentages and all, when I might be hearing Sheldon Corthell talk art and poetry and stained glass.Ideclare, I never have any luck."

At quarter to six that evening Laura sat in the library, before the fireplace, in her black velvet dinner gown, cutting the pages of a new novel, the ivory cutter as it turned and glanced in her hand, appearing to be a mere prolongation of her slender fingers.But she was not interested in the book, and from time to time glanced nervously at the clock upon the mantel-shelf over her head.Jadwin was not home yet, and she was distressed at the thought of keeping dinner waiting.He usually came back from down town at five o'clock, and even earlier.To-day she had expected that quite possibly the business implied in the Liverpool cable of the morning might detain him, but surely he should be home by now; and as the minutes passed she listened more and more anxiously for the sound of hoofs on the driveway at the side of the house.

At five minutes of the hour, when Corthell was announced, there was still no sign of her husband.But as she was crossing the hall on her way to the drawing-room, one of the servants informed her that Mr.Jadwin had just telephoned that he would be home in half an hour.

"Is he on the telephone now?" she asked, quickly.

"Where did he telephone from?"

But it appeared that Jadwin had "hung up" without mentioning his whereabouts.