And then it had changed.
Unconsciously he clenched his hands as he thought of what had followed, of the black days of ruin, of death,
of the dissolution of all that he had hoped and dreamed for. He had fought, because he was born a fighter. He
had risen again and again, only to find misfortune still at his face. At first he had laughed, and had called it
bad luck. But the bad luck had followed him, dogging him with a persistence which developed in him a new
perspective of things. He dropped away from his clubs. He began to measure men and women as he had not
measured them before, and there grew in him slowly a revulsion for what those measurements revealed. The
spirit that was growing in him called out for bigger things, for the wild freedom which he had tasted for a time
with Gregson--for a life which was not warped by the gilded amenities of the crowded ballroom to-night, by
the frenzied dollar-fight to-morrow. No one could understand that change in him. He could find no spirit in
sympathy with him, no chord in another breast that he could reach out and touch and thrill with
understanding. Once he had hoped-- and tried--
A deep breath, almost a sigh, fell from his lips as he thought of that last night, at the Brokaw ball. He heard
again the laughter and chatter of men and women, the soft rustle of skirts--and then the break, the silence, as
the low, sweet music of his favorite waltz began, while he stood screened behind a bank of palms looking
down into the clear gray eyes of Eileen Brokaw. He saw himself as he had stood then, leaning over her slim
white shoulders, intoxicated by her beauty, his face pale with the fear of what he was about to say; and he saw
the girl, with her beautiful head thrown a little back, so that her golden hair almost touched his lips, waiting
for him to speak. For months he had fought against the fascination of her beauty. Again and again he had
almost surrendered to it, only to pull himself back in time. He had seen this girl, as pure-looking as an angel,
strike deeply at the hearts of other men; he had heard her laugh and talk lightly of the wounds she had made.
Behind the eyes which gazed up at him, dear and sweet as pools of sunlit water, he knew there lay the
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consuming passion for power, for admiration, for the froth- like pleasures of the life that was swirling about
them. Sincerity was but their mask. He knew that the beautiful gray eyes lied to him when he saw in them all
that he held glorious in womanhood.
He laughed softly to himself as the picture grew in his mind, and he saw Ransom come blundering in through
the palms, mopping his red face and chattering inane things to little Miss Meesen. Ransom was always
blundering. This time his blunder saved Philip. The passionate words died on his lips; and when Ransom and
Miss Meesen turned about in a giggling flutter, he spoke no words of love, but opened up his heart to this girl
whom he would have loved if she had been like her eyes. It was his last hope--that she would understand
him, see with him the emptiness of his life, sympathize with him.
And she had laughed at him!
She had risen to her feet; there had come for an instant a flash like that of fire in her eyes; her voice trembled a
little when she spoke. There was resentment in the poise of her white shoulders as Ransom's voice came to
them in a loud laugh from behind the palms; her red lips showed disdain and anger. She hated Ransom for
breaking in; she despised Philip for allowing the interruption to tear away her triumph. Her own betrayal of
herself was like tonic to Philip. He laughed joyously when he was alone out in the cool night air. Ransom
never knew why Philip hunted him out and shook his fat hand so warmly at parting.
Philip again felt himself in the fever of that night as he turned from the rock and began picking his way down
the side of the ridge toward the Bay. He found himself wondering what had become of good-natured,
dense-headed Ransom, who had all he could do to spend his father's allowance. From Ransom his thoughts
turned to little Harry Dell, Roscoe, big Dan Philips, and three or four others who had sacrificed their hearts at [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]