the conflict-第6章

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The　‘‘kind　of''　was　advanced　hesitatingly；　with　an　apologetic　side　glance　at　the　big　crayon　portrait。　　But　Jane　was　entirely　convinced。　　She　was　average　human；　therefore；　she　believed　what　she　wished　to　believe。

‘‘You　were　quite　right；　father；''　said　she。　　‘‘I　knew　you　couldn't　do　a　bad　thingwouldn't　deliberately　strike　at　weak；　helpless　people。　　And　now；　it　can　be　straightened　out　and　the　Dorns　will　be　all　the　better　for　not　having　been　tempted　in　the　days　when　it　might　have　ruined　them。''

She　had　walked　round　where　her　father　could　see　her；　as　she　delivered　herself　of　this　speech　so　redolent　of　the　fumes　of　collegiate　smugness。　　He　proceeded　to　examine　herwith　an　expression　of　growing　dissatisfaction。　　Said　he　fretfully：

‘‘You　don't　calculate　to　go　out；　looking　like　that？''

‘‘Out　to　the　swellest　blow…out　of　the　year；　popsy；''　said　she。

The　big　heavy　looking　head　wobbled　about　uneasily。　　‘‘You　look　too　much　like　your　old　pappy's　daughter；''　said　he。

‘‘I　can　afford　to；''　replied　she。

The　head　shook　positively。　　‘‘You　ma　wouldn't　'a　liked　it。　　She　was　mighty　partic'lar　how　she　dressed。''

Jane　laughed　gayly。　　‘‘Why；　when　did　you　become　a　critic　of　women's　dress？''　cried　she。

‘‘I　always　used　to　buy　yer　ma　dresses　and　hats　when　I　went　to　the　city；''　said　he。　　‘‘And　she　looked　as　good　as　the　bestnot　for　these　days；　but　for　them　times。''　　He　looked　critically　at　the　portrait。　　‘‘I　bought　them　clothes　and　awful　dear　they　seemed　to　me。''　　His　glance　returned　to　his　daughter。　　‘‘Go　get　yourself　up　proper；''　said　he；　between　request　and　command。　　‘‘SHE　wouldn't　'a　liked　it。''

Jane　gazed　at　the　common　old　crayon；　suddenly　flung　her　arms　round　the　old　man's　neck。　　‘‘Yes　father；''　she　murmured。　　‘‘To　please　HER。''

She　fled；　the　old　man　wiped　his　eyes；　blew　his　nose　and　resumed　the　careful　smoking　of　the　cheap；　smelly　cigar。　　He　said　he　preferred　that　brand　of　his　days　of　poverty；　and　it　was　probably　true；　as　he　would　refuse　better　cigars　offered　him　by　fastidious　men　who　hoped　to　save　themselves　from　the　horrors　of　his。　　He　waited　restlessly；　though　it　was　long　past　his　bedtime；　he　yawned　and　pretended　to　listen　while　Davy　Hull；　who　had　called　for　Jane　in　the　Hull　brougham；　tried　to　make　a　favorable　impression　upon　him。　　At　last　Jane　reappeared　and　certainly　Letitia　Hastings　would　have　been　more　than　satisfied。

‘‘Sorry　to　keep　you　waiting；''　said　she　to　Hull；　who　was　speechless　and　tremulous　before　her　voluptuous　radiance。　　‘‘But　father　didn't　like　the　way　I　was　rigged　out。　　Maybe　I'll　have　to　change　again。''

‘‘Take　her　along；　Davy；''　said　Hastings；　his　big　head　wagging　with　delight。　　‘‘She's　a　cautionSHE　is！''

Hull　could　not　control　himself　to　speak。　　As　they　sat　in　the　carriage；　she　finishing　the　pulling　on　of　her　gloves；　he　stared　out　into　the　heavy　rain　that　was　deluging　the　earth　and　bending　low　the　boughs。　　Said　she；　half　way　down　the　hill：

‘‘Wellcan't　you　talk　about　anything　but　Victor　Dorn？''

‘‘I　saw　him　this　afternoon；''　said　Hull；　glad　that　the　tension　of　the　silence　was　broken。

‘‘Then　you've　got　something　to　talk　about。''

‘‘The　big　street　car　strike　is　on。''

‘‘So　father　said　at　dinner。　　I　suppose　Victor　Dorn　caused　it。''

‘‘Nohe's　opposed　to　it。　　He's　queer。　　I　don't　exactly　understand　his　ideas。　　He　says　strikes　are　ridiculous　that　it's　like　trying　to　cure　smallpox　by　healing　up　one　single　sore。''

Jane　gave　a　shiver　of　lady…like　disgust。　　‘‘How　nasty；''　said　she。

‘‘I'm　telling　you　what　he　said。　　But　he　says　that　the　only　way　human　beings　learn　how　to　do　things　right　is　by　doing　them　wrongso　while　he's　opposed　to　strikes　he's　also　in　favor　of　them。''

‘‘Even　_I_　understand　that；''　said　Jane。　　‘‘I　don't　think　it's　difficult。''

‘‘Doesn't　it　strike　you　asas　inconsistent？''

‘‘Ohbother　consistency！''　scoffed　the　girl。　　‘‘That's　another　middle　class　virtue　that　sensible　people　loathe　as　a　vice。''

Anyhow；　he's　helping　the　strikers　all　he　canand　fighting　US。　　You　know；　your　father　and　my　father's　estate　are　the　two　biggest　owners　of　the　street　railways。''

‘‘I　must　get　his　paper；''　said　Jane。　　‘‘I'll　have　a　lot　of　fun　reading　the　truth　about　us。''

But　David　wasn't　listening。　　He　was　deep　in　thought。　　After　a　while　he　said：　　‘‘It's　amazingand　splendid　and　terrible；　what　power　he's　getting　in　our　town。　　Victor　Dorn；　I　mean。''

‘‘Always　Victor　Dorn；''　mocked　Jane。

‘‘When　he　startedtwelve　years　ago　as　a　boy　of　twenty；　just　out　of　college　and　working　as　a　carpenter　when　he　started；　he　was　alone　and　poor；　and　without　friends　or　anything。　　He　built　up　little　by　little；　winning　one　man　at　a　timethe　fellow　working　next　him　on　his　right；　then　the　chap　working　on　his　leftin　the　shopand　so　on；　one　man　after　another。　　And　whenever　he　got　a　man　he　held　himmade　him　as　devoted　asas　fanatical　as　he　is　himself。　　Now　he's　got　a　band　of　nearly　a　thousand。　　There　are　ten　thousand　voters　in　this　town。　　So；　he's　got　only　one　in　ten。　　But　what　a　thousand！''

Jane　was　gazing　out　into　the　rain；　her　eyes　bright；　her　lips　parted。

‘‘Are　you　listening？''　asked　Hull。　　‘‘Or；　am　I　boring　you？''

‘‘Go　on；''　said　she。

‘‘They're　a　thousand　missionariesapostlesyes；　apostle　is　the　name　for　them。　　They　live　and　breathe　and　think　and　talk　only　the　ideas　Victor　Dorn　believes　and　fights　for。　　And　whenever　he　wants　anything　done　anything　for　the　causewhy；　there　are　a　thousand　men　ready　to　do　it。''

‘‘Why？''　said　Jane。

‘‘Victor　Dorn；''　said　Hull。　　‘‘Do　you　wonder　that　he　interests　me？　　For　instance；　to…night：　you　see　how　it's　raining。　　Well；　Victor　Dorn　had　them　print　to…day　fifty　thousand　leaflets　about　this　strikewhat　it　means　to　his　cause。　　And　he　has　asked　five　hundred　of　his　men　to　stand　on　the　corners　and　patrol　the　streets　and　distribute　those　dodgers。　　I'll　bet　not　a　man　will　be　missing。''

‘‘But　why？''　repeated　Jane。　　‘‘What　for？''

‘‘He　wants　to　conquer　this　town。　　He　says　the　world　has　to　be　conqueredand　that　the　way　to　begin　is　to　beginand　that　he　has　begun。''

‘‘Conquer　it　for　what？''

‘‘For　himself；　I　guess；''　said　Hull。　　‘‘Of　course；　he　professes　that　it's　for　the　public　good。　　They　all　do。　　But　what's　the　truth？''

‘‘If　I　saw　him　I　could　tell　you；''　said　Jane　in　the　full　pride　of　her　belief　in　her　woman's　power　of　divination　in　character。

‘‘However；　he　can't　succeed；''　observed　Hull。

‘‘Oh；　yes；　he　can；''　replied　Jane。　　‘‘And　will。　　Even　if　every　idea　he　had　were　foolish　and　wrong。　　And　it　isn'tis　it？''

David　laughed　peculiarly。　　‘‘He's　infernally　uncomfortably　right　in　most　of　the　things　he　charges　and　proposes。　　I　don't　like　to　think　about　it。''　　He　shut　his　teeth　together。　　‘‘I　WON'T　think　about　it；''　he　muttered。

‘‘Noyou'd　better　stick　to　your　own　road；　Davy；''　said　Jane　with　irritating　mockery。　　‘‘You　were　born　to　be　thoroughly　conventional　and　respectable。　　As　a　reformer　you're　ideal。　　As　aan　imitator　of　Victor　Dorn；　you'd　be　a　joke。''

‘‘There's　one　of　his　men　now；''　exclaimed　Hull；　leaning　forward　excitedly。

Jane　looked。　　A　working　man；　a　commonplace　enough　object；　was　standing　under　the　corner　street　lamp；　the　water　running　off　his　hat；　his　shoulders；　his　coat　tail。　　His　package　of　dodgers　was　carefully　shielded　by　an　oilcloth　from　the　wet　which　had　full　swing　at　the　man。　　To　every　passer…by　he　presented　a　dodger；　accompanying　the　polite　gesture　with　some　phrase　which　seemed　to　move　the　man　or　woman　to　take　what　was　offered　and　to　put　it　away　instead　of　dropping　it。

Jane　sank　back　in　the　carriage；　disappointed。　　‘‘Is　that　all？''　said　she　disdainfully。

‘‘ALL？''　cried　Hull。　　‘‘Use　your　imagination；　Jen。　　But　I　forgotyou're　a　woman。　　They　see　only　surfaces。''

‘‘And　are　snared　into　marrying　by　complexions　and　pretty　features　and　dresses　and　silly　flirting　tricks；''　retorted　the　girl　sarcastically。

Hull　laughed。　　‘‘I　spoke　too　quick　that　time；''　said　he。　　‘‘I　suppose　you　expected　to　see　something　out　of　a　fifteenth　century　Italian　old　master！　　Wellit　was　there；　all　right。''

Jane　shrugged　her　shoulders。　　‘‘And　your　Victor　Dorn；''　said　she；　‘‘no　doubt　he's　seated　in　some　dry；　comfortable　place　enjoying　the　thought　of　his　men　making　fools　of　themselves　for　him。''

They　were　drawing　up　to　the　curb　before　the　Opera　House　where　were　the　assembly　rooms。　　‘‘There　he　is　now；''　cried　Hull。

Jane；　startled；　leaned　eagerly　forward。　　In　the　rain　beyond　the　edge　of　the　awning　stood　a　dripping　figure　not　unlike　that　other　which　had　so　disappointed　her。　　Underneath　the　brim　of　the　hat　she　could　see　a　smooth…　shaven　youngish　facealmost　boyish。　　But　the　rain　streaming　from　the　brim　made　satisfactory　scrutiny　impossible。

Jane　again　sank　back。　　‘‘How　many　carriages　before　us？''　she　said。

‘‘You're　disappointed　in　him；　too；　I　suppose；''　said　Hull。　　‘‘I　knew　you　would　be。''

‘‘I　thought　he　was　tall；''　said　Jane。

‘‘Only　middling；''　replied　Hull；　curiously　delighted。

‘‘I　thought　he　was　serious；''　said　Jane。

‘‘On　the　contrary；　he's　always　laughing。　　He's　the　best　natured　man　I　know。''

As　they　descended　and　started　along　the　carpet　under　the　middle　of　the　awning；　Jane　halted。　　She　glanced　toward　the　dripping　figure　whom　the　police　would　not　permit　under　the　shelter。　　Said　she：　　‘‘I　want　one　of　those　papers。''

Davy　moved　toward　the　drenched　distributor　of　strike　literature。　　‘‘Give　me　one；　Dorn；''　he　said　in　his　most　elegant　manner。

‘‘Sure；　Davy；''　said　Dorn　in　a　tone　that　was　a　subtle　commentary　on　Hull's　aristocratic　tone　and　manner。　　As　he　spoke　he　glanced　at　Jane；　she　was　looking　at　him。　　Both　smiledat　Davy's　expense。

Davy　and　Jane　passed　on　in；　Jane　folding　the　dodger　to　tuck　it　away　for　future　reading。　　She　said　to　him：　　‘‘But　you　didn't　tell　me　about　his　eyes。''

‘‘What's　the　matter　with　them？''

‘‘Everything；''　replied　sheand　said　no　more。



II


The　dance　was　even　more　tiresome　than　Jane　had　anticipated。　　There　had　been　little　pleasure　in　outshining　the　easily　outshone　belles　of　Remsen　City。　　She　had　felt　humiliated　by　having　to　divide　the　honors　with　a　brilliantly　beautiful　and　scandalously　audacious　Chicago　girl；　a　Yvonne　Herefordwhose　style；　in　looks；　in　dress　and　in　wit；　was　more　comfortable　to　the　standard　of　the　best　young　men　of　Remsen　Citya　standard　which　Miss　Hastings；　cultivated　by　foreign　travel　and　social　adventure；　regarded　as　distinctly　poor；　not　to　say　low。　　Miss　Hereford's　audacities　were　especially　offensive　to　Jane。　　Jane　was　audacious　herself；　but　she　flattered　herself　that　she　had　a　delicate　sense　of　that　baffling　distinction　between　the　audacity　that　is　the　hall　mark　of　the　lady　and　the　audacity　that　proclaims　the　not…lady。　　For　example；　in　such　apparently　trifling　matters　as　the　way　of　smoking　a　cigarette；　the　way　of　crossing　the　legs　or　putting　the　elbows　on　the　table　or　using　slang；　Jane　found　a　difference；　abysmal　though　narrow；　between　herself　and　Yvonne　Hereford。　　‘‘But　then；　her　very　name　gives　her　away；''　reflected　Jane。　　‘‘There'd　surely　be　a　frightfully　cheap　streak　in　a　mother　who　in　this　country　would　name　her　daughter　Yvonneor　in　a　girl　who　would　name　herself　that。''

However；　Jane　Hastings　was　not　deeply　annoyed　either　by　the　shortcomings　of　Remsen　City　young　men　or　by　the　rivalry　of　Miss　Hereford。　　Her　dissatisfaction　was　personalthe　feeling　of　futility；　of　cheapness；　in　havi