  “You’re cold-blooded as a fish, Roberts, colder. You’re—There is no adequate simile.” The man addressed said nothing. “You degrade every consideration in life, emotional and other, to a dollar-and-cents basis. Sentiment, ambition, common judgment of right and wrong, all gravitate to the same level. You have a single standard of measurement that you apply to all alike, which alike condemns or justifies. Summer and Winter, morning, noon, and night—it’s the same. Your little yardstick is always in evidence, measuring, measuring—You, confound you, drive me to distraction with your eternal ‘does it pay.’” Still the other man said nothing. “I know,” apologetically, “I’m rubbing it in pretty hard, Darley, but I can’t help it. You This time the other smiled, a smile of tolerant amusement. “And why shouldn’t I? Being merely the fish you suggest, it seems to me that that’s the one time in a human being’s life when, more than another, deliberation is in order. The wider the creek the longer the wise man will linger on the margin to estimate the temperature of the current in event of failure to reach the opposite bank. Inadvertently, Armstrong, you pass me a compliment. Merely as an observer, marriage looks to me like the longest leap a sane man will ever attempt.” “I expected you’d say that,” shortly,—“predicted it.” “You give me credit for being consistent, then, at least.” “Yes, you’re consistent all right.” “Thanks. That’s the first kind word I’ve heard in a long time.” “Don’t thank me,” he excepted. “I’m not at all sure I meant the admission to be complimentary; in fact I hardly think I did. I was hoping for once I’d find you napping, without your measuring stick. In other words—find you—human.” “And now you’re convinced the case is hopeless?” “Convinced, yes, if I thought you were serious.” Roberts laughed, a big-chested, tolerant laugh. “Seems to me you ought to realize by this time that I am serious, Armstrong. You’ve known me long enough. Do you still fancy I’ve been posing these last five years you’ve known me?” “No; you never pose, Darley. This is a compliment, I think; moreover, it’s the reason most of all why I like you.” He laughed in turn, unconsciously removing the sting from the observation following. “I can’t see any other possible excuse for our being friends. We’re as different as night is from day.” The criticism was not new, and Roberts said nothing. “I wonder now and then, at times like this,” The smile vanished from Darley Roberts’ eyes, leaving them shrewd and gray. “I wonder,” he repeated. “It’ll come some time, the break. It’s inevitable. We’re fundamentally too different to avoid a clash.” “You think so?” “I know so. It’s written.” “And when we do?” “We’ll hate each other—as much as we like each other now. That, too, is written.” Again Roberts laughed. A listener would have read self-confidence therein. “If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be wiser for us to separate in advance and avoid the horrors of civil war? I’ll move out and leave you in peaceful possession of our cave if you wish.” “No; I don’t want you to. I need you. That’s another compliment. You hold me down to earth. You’re a helpful influence, Darley, providing one knows you and takes you with allowance.” The comment was whimsical, but beneath was a deeper, more tacit admission which both men “I think again, sometimes,” drifted on Armstrong, “that if the powers which are could only put us both in a pot as I put things together down in the laboratory, and melt us good and shake us up, so, until we were all mixed into one, it would make a better product than either of us as we are now.” “Perhaps,” equivocally. “But that’s the curse of it. The thing can’t be done. The Lord put us here, you you, and me me, and we’ve got to stick it out to the end.” “And become enemies in the course of events.” “Yes,” quickly, “but let’s not think about it. It’ll come soon enough; and meantime—” The sentence halted while with unconscious skill Armstrong rolled a cigarette—“and meantime,” he repeated as he scratched a match and waited for the sulphur to burn free, “I want to use you.” Again the sentence halted while he blew a cloud of smoke: “I had another offer to-day.” Following the other’s example, Roberts lit a cigar, big and black, and sat puffing in judicial expectancy. “It’s what you’d call a darned good offer,” explained Armstrong: “position as chemist to “Yes.” “Graham himself came to see me. As a matter of fact he’s the whole company. He labored with me for two hours. I had to manufacture an engagement out of whole cloth to get away.” “And you decided—” “I didn’t decide. I took the matter under advisement.” “Which means that you did decide after all.” Armstrong grimaced in a mannerism all his own, an action that ended in an all-expressive shrug. “I suppose so,” he admitted reluctantly. “I hardly see where I can be of service then,” commented the other. “If you were ten years younger and a minor and I your guardian—” “You might point out with your yardstick how many kinds of an idiot I am and stir me up.” His companion smiled; as suddenly the look passed. “I’d do so cheerfully if it would do any good. As it is—” The sentence ended in comprehensive silence. “What, by the way, did Graham offer?” “Five thousand dollars a year, and if I made “You’re getting now from the University—” “Twelve hundred.” “With ultimate possibilities,—I emphasize possibilities—” “I’ll be dean of the department some day if I stick.” “With a salary of two thousand a year.” Armstrong nodded. “And that’s the end, the top round of the ladder if you were to remain until you were fifty and were displaced eventually without a pension.” “Yes; that’s the biggest plum on the university tree. It can’t grow anything larger.” In his place Darley Roberts dropped back as though he had nothing to say. Involuntarily, with a nervous impatience distinctive of him, his fingers tapped twice on the edge of the chair; then, aroused to attention, the hand lay still. “Well?” commented Armstrong at length. Roberts merely looked at him, not humorously nor with intent to tantalize, but with unconscious analysis written large upon his face. “Well?” repeated Armstrong, “I’m waiting. The floor is yours.” “I was merely wondering,” slowly, “how it would seem to be a person like you. I can’t understand.” “No, you can’t, Darley. As I said a moment ago, we’re different as day is from night.” “I was wondering another thing, too, Armstrong. Do you want to know what it was?” “Yes; I know in advance I’ll not have to blush at a compliment.” “I don’t know about that. I’m not the judge. I merely anticipated in fancy the time when you will wake up. You will some day. It’s inevitable. To borrow your phrase, ‘it’s written.’” “You think so?” The accompanying smile was appreciative. “I know so. It’s life we’re living, not fiction.” “And when I do—pardon me—come out of it?” The questioner was still smiling. “That’s what I was speculating on.” Again the impatient fingers tapped on the chair, and again halted at their own alarm. “You’ll either be a genius and blossom in a day, or be a dead failure and go to the devil by the shortest route.” “You think there’s no possible middle trail?” “Not for you. You’re not built that way.” The prediction was spoken with finality—too “I won’t attempt to answer that, Darley, or to defend myself. To come back to the point, you think I’m a fool not to accept Graham’s offer?” As before, his companion shrugged unconsciously. That was all. “Does it occur to you that I might possibly have a reason—one that, while it wouldn’t show up well under your tape line, to me seems adequate?” “I’m not immune to reason.” “You’d like to have me put it in words?” “Yes, if you wish.” “Well, then, first of all, I’ve spent ten years working up to where I am now. I’ve been through the mill from laboratory handy-man to assistant demonstrator, from that to demonstrator, up again to quiz-master, to substitute-lecturer, until now I’m at the head of my department. That looks small to you, I know; but to me it means a lot. Two hundred men, bright fellows too, fill up the amphitheatre every day and listen to me for an hour. They respect me, have confidence in my ability—and I try to merit it. That means I must study and keep up with the procession in my line. It’s an incentive that a man “In other words,” commented Roberts, “you’d be down to bed rock with the two hundred admirers removed from the bed.” “I suppose so—looking at it that way.” “All right. Go on.” “The second reason is that my employment as full professor gives me an established position—call it social position if you wish—here in the University that I couldn’t possibly get in any other way. They realize what it means to hold the place, and give me credit for it. We’re all human and it’s pleasant to be appreciated. If I went to work in a factory I’d be an alien—outside the circle—and I’d stay there.” “There are eighty million people in the United States,” commented Roberts, drily. “By stretching, your circle would probably take in two thousand of that number.” “I know it’s limited; but there’s an old saying that it’s better to be a big toad in a small puddle than a small toad in a large pond.” “I recall there’s an adage to that effect.” “Lastly, there’s another reason, the biggest of all. As it is now the State employs me to deliver a certain number of lectures a semester. I do this; and the rest of the time is mine. In it I can do what I please. If I accepted a position in a private enterprise it would be different. I should sell my time outright—and be compelled to deliver it all. I shouldn’t have an hour I could call my own except at night, and the chances are I shouldn’t have enough energy left for anything else when night came. You know what I’m trying to do—that I’m trying to work up a name as a writer. I’d have to give up that ambition entirely. I simply can’t or won’t do that yet.” “You’ve been keeping up this—fight you mention for ten years now, you told me once. Is anything definite in sight?” “No; not exactly definite; but Rome wasn’t built in a day. I’m willing to wait.” “And meantime you’re getting older steadily.” “I repeat I’m willing to wait—and trust a little.” Tap, tap went the impatient fingers again. “Something’s bound to drop in time if one is only patient.” Roberts looked up quickly, the gray eyes keen, the tapping fingers stilled. “Something has dropped, my friend, and you don’t recognize it.” “The tape line again. The eternal tape line! It’s pure waste of energy, Darley, to attempt to make you understand. As I said before, you’re fundamentally incapable.” “Perhaps,” evenly. “But for your sake I’ve listened and tried. At least give me credit for that.” Of a sudden he glanced up keenly. “By the way, you’re not going out this evening?” “No, Elice is out of town.” Armstrong caught himself. “I suppose that is what you meant.” For a moment before he answered Roberts busied himself with a stray flake of ash on his sleeve. “Yes, in a way,” he said. “I was going to suggest that you tell her what you told me before you said ‘no’ to Graham.” “It’s unnecessary.” The tone was a trifle stiff. “She at least understands me.” The other man made no comment. “You’re not going out either this evening, Darley?” returned Armstrong. “No; I’m scheduled for bed early to-night. It was already late of a rainy May evening, the room was getting dim, and silently Armstrong turned on the electric light. Following, in equal silence, his companion watching him the while understandingly, he lit a pipe. Stephen Armstrong seldom descended to a pipe, and when he did so the meaning of the action to one who knew him well was lucid. It meant confidence. Back in his seat he puffed hard for a half minute; then blew at the smoke above his head. “Was that mere chance that made you suggest—Elice in connection with that offer of Graham’s,” he asked, at last; “or did you mean more than the question seemed to imply, Darley?” Again for an appreciable space there was silence. “I seldom do things by chance, Armstrong. To use your own simile, I’m too much of a fish. I don’t want to seem to interfere with your personal affairs, however. I beg your pardon if you wish.” “But I don’t wish you to do so,” shortly. “You know that. Besides there’s nothing to conceal so far as I’m concerned. Just what did you mean to suggest?” Again the other hesitated, with a reluctance that was not simulated. Darley Roberts simulated nothing. “If you really wish to know,” he complied at last, “I think you ought to tell, her—without coloring the matter by your own point of view in the least. She should be as much interested as you yourself.” “She is. Take that for granted.” Roberts waited. “I know, though, so certainly what she would say that it seems a bit superfluous.” Still Roberts waited. “As I said before, she understands me and I understand her. Some things don’t require language to express. They come by intuition.” And still Roberts waited. “If it were you, now, and there were any possibility of a yardstick it would be different; but as it is—” “Miss Gleason then, Mrs. Armstrong to be, doesn’t care in the least to see you come on financially, is completely satisfied with things as they are?” It was Armstrong’s turn to be silent. “You’ve been engaged now three years. You’re thirty years old and Miss Gleason is—” “Twenty-five in August.” “She is wholly contented to let the engagement run on indefinitely, knowing that your income is barely enough for one to live on and not at all adequate for two?” The other stiffened involuntarily; but he said nothing. “I beg your pardon the second time, Armstrong, if you wish; but remember, please, I’m doing this by request.” “I know, Darley. I’m not an absolute cad, and I’m glad you are frank. Doubtless from your point of view I’m a visionary ass. But I don’t see where any one suffers on that account except myself.” “Don’t see where any one suffers save yourself! Don’t see—! You can’t be serious, man!” Armstrong had ceased smoking. The pipe lay idle in his fingers. “No. Come out into the clearing and put it in plain English. Just what do you mean?” “Since you insist, I mean just this, Armstrong—and if you’ll think a moment you’ll realize for yourself it’s true: you can’t drift on forever the way you’re doing now. If you weren’t engaged it would be different; but you are engaged. Such being the case it implies a responsibility “You think that I—” “I don’t think at all, I know. We can theorize and moon and drift about in the clouds all we please; but when eventually our pipe goes out and we come down to earth this thing of marriage is practical. It’s give and take, with a whole lot to give. I haven’t been practising law and dealing with marital difficulties, to say nothing of divorces, without getting a few inside facts. Marriages are made in Heaven, perhaps, but married life is lived right here on earth; and the butcher and the rest play leading parts. I recognize I’m leading the procession a bit now, Armstrong; but as I said before, you can’t dangle much longer if you’re an honorable man; and then what I’ve said is right in line. If you’ll take a word of advice that’s intended right, even if it seems patronizing, you’ll wake up right now and begin to steer straight for the flag-pole. If you keep on floundering aimlessly and waiting for an act of Providence you’ll come to grief as surely as to-morrow is coming, old man.” “And by steering straight you mean to save money. To get my eye on a dollar, leave “I mean get power; and dollars are the tangible evidence and manifestation of power. They are the only medium that passes current in any country any day in the year.” Armstrong smiled, a smile that was not pleasant to see. “You’d have me give up my literary aspirations then, let them die a-borning as it were—” “I didn’t say that. So far as I can see you can keep on just the same. There are twenty-four hours in every day. But make that phase secondary. I don’t discount writers in the least or their work; but with the world as it is the main chance doesn’t lie that way—and it’s the main chance we’re all after. Fish or no fish, I tell you some time you’ll find this out for yourself. To get the most out of life a man must be in the position to pass current wherever he may be. In the millennium the standard may be different—I for one sincerely hope it will be; but in the twentieth century dollars are the key that unlocks everything. Without them you’re as helpless as a South Sea islander in a metropolitan street. You’re at the mercy of every human being that wants to give you a kick; and the majority Armstrong was still smiling, the same being a smile not pleasant to see. “Now that I’ve got you going,” he commented, “I’ve a curiosity to have you keep on. You’re certainly stirring with a vengeance to-night, Darley.” “And accomplishing nothing. Strange as it may seem to you, I’m serious.” “I don’t doubt it, old man.” Of a sudden the smile had passed. “I can’t adjust my point of view to yours at all. If I thought dollars were the end of existence I’d quit the game now. If the world has come to this—” “The world hasn’t come to it and never will. You simply can’t or won’t see the point. I repeat, that of themselves they’re nothing, but they’re the means to everything. Get your competency first, your balance-wheel, your independence, your established base of supplies; then plan your campaign. The world is big, infinitely big, to the human being who can command. It’s a little mud ball to the other who has to dance whenever some one else whistles.” “And how about happiness, the thing we’re all after?” “It isn’t happiness, but it’s the means to it. There can be no happiness without independence.” “Even marital happiness?” “That most of all. I tell you the lack of a sufficient income is the rock on which most married people go to pieces. It isn’t the only one, but it’s the most frequent. I’ve seen and I know.” “You’d drive our old friend Cupid out of business, Darley. You don’t give him an inch of ground to stand on.” “On the contrary, I keep him in business indefinitely—” “Moreover, the examples of the rich, scattered broadcast through the daily papers, hardly bear you out.” “They are the exception that proves the rule. Nine hundred and ninety-nine poor couples come to grief, and the world never hears of it. In the thousandth case a rich man and woman make fools of themselves and the world reads the scandal next morning. The principle is unaltered. The exceptions, the irresponsibles whether rich or poor, are something to which no rule applies.” “All right.” Armstrong sat up, preventingly. “I don’t want to argue with you. You’re a Roberts was listening again in silence, with his normal attitude of passive observance. “I’m feeling pretty spry, though, to-night,” went on the other, “and able to get out of the way, so I’m going to get in close as possible and watch you. I’ve tried to do so before, but somehow I’m always side-tracked just at the psychological moment.” The quizzical voice became serious, the flippant manner vanished. “Honestly, Darley, I can’t understand you any more than you can me. You said a bit ago you wondered where I would end. I have the same wonder about you. Just what are you aiming at, old man, anyway? In all the years I’ve known you you’ve never come right out and said in so many words.” “You mean what do I intend to do that will make me famous or infamous, that will at least make me talked about?” Armstrong laughed shortly. The shot was well aimed. “I suppose that is approximately what I had in mind,” he admitted. “To answer your question then, directly, I don’t intend to do anything. Nothing is further from my plans than to get a position where I’ll be talked about.” “Just what do you want, then?” “I want the substance, not the husk. I want to be the party that pulls the wires and not the figures that dance on the front of the stage. I want things done when I say they shall be done. I want the piper to play when I pass the word. I’m perfectly willing that others should have the honor and the glory and the limelight; but after the play is over I want to be the boy to whom the report is made and who gives directions for the next performance. Is that definite enough?” “Yes, definite enough; but are you going to get there? You asked me the same question, you recall, a bit ago.” “Yes, if I live.” “And if you don’t live?” Again the shrug. “I shall have tried. I can tell Saint Peter that.” “I didn’t refer to Saint Peter. I meant you yourself. Where is your own justification except in the attainment of the end?” “Justification!” Roberts leaned suddenly forward, his attitude no longer that of an observer but of a participant, one in the front of the charge. “The game is its own justification, man! Things don’t have to be done with two hundred bright young students watching and listening to be worth while, my friend.” Armstrong shifted uncomfortably, then he tacked. “Just one more question, a repetition again of your own. Have you the attainment of this object you suggest definitely in sight? You’re older than I and have been playing the game some time yourself.” “I think so.” “Do you know so?” “As nearly as a man can know anything that hasn’t come to pass.” “Just how, Darley? I’m absolutely in the dark in regard to your deals and I’m curious to know the inside. You’ve got something particular in mind, I know, or you wouldn’t speak that way.” For the first time in minutes Roberts looked at the other, looked steadily, blankly. “I’m sorry genuinely, Armstrong, but I can’t tell you now. Don’t misunderstand, please. “Yes, certainly.” The voice was short. “No offence, I’m sure.” That there was offence was obvious, yet Roberts made no further comment or explanation. For perhaps a minute there was silence; in characteristic change of thought absolute Armstrong shifted. “As long as we’re in the confidant business,” he digressed, “there’s still one question I’d like to ask, Darley. Elice and I have been intimate now for a number of years. I’ve asked you repeatedly to call with me and you’ve always refused. Even yet you’ve barely met her. I quote you by the yard when I’m with her, and, frankly, she’s—curious why you stay at arm’s length. Between yourself and myself why is it, Darley?” Roberts laughed; an instant later the light left his face. “You know I have few women acquaintances,” he said. “I know, but this particular case is different.” “And those I do have,” completed the other, “are all securely married.” Armstrong colored. “I don’t mean that,” smiled Roberts, “and you know I don’t. I’m not fool enough to fancy I’m a charmer. The explanation, I believe, is in my ancestry. I think they must have been fishes too, and instinct warns me to avoid bait. It’s my own peace of mind I’m considering and preserving, friend Armstrong.” “Peace of mind!” the other laughed. “From you that’s good, Darley. But the tape line—” “Can’t you find it?” “I confess—You think there is a time then, after all, when it pays?” “Do you fancy I show signs of feeble-mindedness?” “No, emphatically not; but—Jove, you are human then after all! I begin to have hope.” Roberts stifled a yawn, a real yawn. “I think I’ll turn in,” he said. “Just a moment, Darley. I feel as though I’d discovered a gold mine, and I want to blaze its location before departing. Just when, with your philosophy, do you contemplate taking this important leap among the attached?” Roberts looked at his companion in silence. “Pardon me, Darley,” swiftly, “that was flippant, I admit, but I’m really serious.” “Serious? I’ll take you at your word. It’ll be when I mean business, not pastime. Stretch the tape if you wish. There are some things it doesn’t pay to play with. It’ll be when I can give a woman the things, the material things, she wants and demands to make her happy and contented. The world is artificial, and material things are its reflection. When I can make the woman who chooses to marry me pass current anywhere, when I can be the means of giving her more pleasure, more opportunity, more of the good things of life than she has known before, then, when I know, not hope, this,—and not a minute before—Does that answer your question?” “Yes; that’s clear enough, I’m sure—the implication, too, for that matter.” The speaker yawned, unnecessarily it seemed, for his look was keen. “By the way, though, you haven’t given me a satisfactory explanation for avoiding Elice. She’s attached practically, not unattached; and I personally want you to know her. I think it would make you understand some things you don’t understand now. You might even approve of—dangling. What do you say, will you go out with me some evening or will you have another engagement as usual? I shan’t suggest it again, Darley.” Standing, as he had risen a moment before, Darley Roberts looked down at the speaker steadily, the distinctive half-smile of tolerant analysis upon his lips. He laughed outright as though to clear the atmosphere. “Certainly I’ll go, Armstrong, if you wish. It never occurred to me before that you took it that way. I had supposed that you and Elice were an example of two being a company and three making a crowd; also, to change the simile, that previously your invitations were the proverbial crumbs of charity. I’ll be pleased to go any time you wish.” “All right.” Armstrong too had risen. “How about Sunday evening next week? Elice will be back Saturday.” “A week from Sunday; I shall not forget.” With the attitude of a big healthy animal, a bit sleepy now, Roberts stretched himself luxuriously, then started for his own room adjoining, calling back, “Good-night.” Armstrong watched him in silence until the other’s hand was on the knob. “Good-night,” he echoed absently. |
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