Tetlow's jaw dropped a little. He looked at Norman, was astonished to discover beneath a thin veneer of calm signs of greater agitation than he had ever seen in him. "To-day was the first time, sir," he said. "And I can't quite account for my doing it. Miss Hallowell has been here several months. I never specially noticed her until the last few days--when the question of discharging her came up. You may remember it was settled by you."
Norman flung his cigarette away and stalked to the window.
"Mr. Norman," pursued Tetlow, "you and I have been together many years. I esteem it my greatest honor that I am able--that you permit me--to class you as my friend. So I'm going to give you a confidence--one that really startles me. I called on Miss Hallowell last night."
Norman's back stiffened.
"She is even more charming in her own home.
And--" Tetlow blushed and trembled--"I am going to make her my wife if I can."
Norman turned, a mocking satirical smile unpleasantly sparkling in his eyes and curling his mouth "Old man," he said, "I think you've gone crazy."
Tetlow made a helpless gesture. "I think so myself. I didn't intend to marry for ten years--and then --I had quite a different match in mind."
"What's the matter with you, Billy?" inquired Norman, inspecting him with smiling, cruelly unfriendly eyes.
"I'm damned if I know, Norman," said the head clerk, assuming that his friend was sympathetic and dropping into the informality of the old days when they were clerks together in a small firm. "I'd have proposed to her last night if I hadn't been afraid I'd lose her by being in such a hurry. . . . You're in love yourself."
Norman startled violently.
"You're going to get married. Probably you can sympathize. You know how it is to meet the woman you want and must have."
Norman turned away.
"I've had--or thought I had--rather advanced ideas on the subject of women. I've always had a horror of being married for a living or for a home or as an experiment or a springboard. My notion's been that I wouldn't trust a woman who wasn't independent.
And theoretically I still think that's sound. But it doesn't work out in practice. A man has to have been in love to be able to speak the last word on the *** question."
Norman dropped heavily into his desk chair and rumpled his hair into disorder. He muttered something --the head clerk thought it was an oath.
"I'd marry her," Tetlow went on, "if I knew she was simply using me in the coldest, most calculating way. My only fear is that I shan't be able to get her --that she won't marry me."
Norman sneered. "That's not likely," he said.
"No, it isn't," admitted Tetlow. "They--the Hallowells--are nice people--of as good family as there is. But they're poor--very poor. There's only her father and herself. The old man is a scientist--spends most of his time at things that won't pay a cent--utterly impractical. A gentleman--an able man, if a little cracked--at least he seemed so to me who don't know much about scientific matters. But getting poorer steadily. So I think she will accept me."
A gloomy, angry frown, like a black shadow, passed across Norman's face and disappeared. "You'd marry her--on those terms?" he sneered.
"Of course I HOPE for better terms----"
Norman sprang up, strode to the window and turned his back.
"But I'm prepared for the worst. The fact is, she treats me as if she didn't care a rap for the honor of my showing her attention."
"A trick, Billy. An old trick."
"Maybe so. But-- I really believe she doesn't realize. She's queer--has been queerly brought up. Yes, I think she doesn't appreciate. Then, too, she's young and light--almost childish in some ways. . . . I don't blame you for being disgusted with me, Fred. But--damn it, what's a man to do?"
"Cure himself!" exploded Norman, wheeling violently on his friend. "You must act like a man. Billy, such a marriage is ruin for you. How can we take you into partnership next year? When you marry, you must marry in the class you're moving toward, not in any of those you're leaving behind."
"Do you suppose I haven't thought of all that?" rejoined Tetlow bitterly. "But I can't help myself.
It's useless for me to say I'll try. I shan't try."
"Don't you want to get over this?" demanded Norman fiercely.
"Of course-- No--I don't. Fred, you'd think better of me if you knew her. You've never especially noticed her. She's beautiful."
Norman dropped to his chair again.
"Really--beautiful," protested Tetlow, assuming that the gesture was one of disgusted denial. "Take a good look at her, Norman, before you condemn her.
I never was so astonished as when I discovered how good-looking she is. I don't quite know how it is, but I suppose nobody ever happened to see how--how lovely she is until I just chanced to see it." At a rudely abrupt gesture from Norman he hurried on, eagerly apologetic, "And if you talk with her-- She's very reserved. But she's the lady through and through--and has a good mind. . . . At least, I think she has.
I'll admit a man in love is a poor judge of a woman's mind. But, anyhow, I KNOW she's lovely to look at.
You'll see it yourself, now that I've called your attention to it. You can't fail to see it."
Norman threw himself back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "WHY do you want to marry her?" he inquired, in a tone his sensitive ear approved as judicial.
"How can I tell?" replied the head clerk irritably.
"Does a man ever know?"
"Always--when he's sensibly in love."
"But when he's just in love? That's what ails me," retorted Tetlow, with a sheepish look and laugh.
"Billy, you've got to get over this. I can't let you make a fool of yourself."
Tetlow's fat, smooth, pasty face of the overfed, underexercised professional man became a curious exhibit of alarm and obstinacy.
"You've got to promise me you'll keep away from her--except at the office--for say, a week. Then--we'll see."
Tetlow debated.
"It's highly improbable that anyone else will discover these irresistible charms. There's no one else hanging round?"
