Modern Chronicle, a — Volume 03 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 80 pages of information about Modern Chronicle, a — Volume 03.

Modern Chronicle, a — Volume 03 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 80 pages of information about Modern Chronicle, a — Volume 03.

“I can’t see anything wrong with their clothes,” he maintained.

“And to think that I was doing it all to please you!” she cried reproachfully.

“To please me!”

“Who else?  We-we don’t know anybody in New York.  And I wanted you to be proud of me.  I’ve tried so hard and—­and sometimes you don’t even look at my gowns, and say whether you like them and they are all for you.”

This argument, at least, did not fail of results, combined as it was with a hint of tears in Honora’s voice.  Its effect upon Howard was peculiar —­he was at once irritated, disarmed, and softened.  He put down his cigarette—­and Honora was on his knee!  He could not deny her attractions.

“How could you be so cruel, Howard?” she asked.

“You know you wouldn’t like me to be a slattern.  It was my own idea to save money—­I had a long talk about economy one day with Mrs. Holt.  And you act as though you had such a lot of it when we’re in town for dinner with these Rivington people.  You always have champagne.  If—­if you’re poor, you ought to have told me so, and I shouldn’t have ordered another dinner gown.”

“You’ve ordered another dinner gown!”

“Only a little one,” said Honora, “the simplest kind.  But if you’re poor—­”

She had made a discovery—­to reflect upon his business success was to touch a sensitive nerve.

“I’m not poor,” he declared.  “But the bottom’s dropped out of the market, and even old Wing is economizing.  We’ll have to put on the brakes for awhile, Honora.”

It was shortly after this that Honora departed on the first of her three visits to St. Louis.

CHAPTER IV

THE NEW DOCTRINE

This history concerns a free and untrammelled—­and, let us add, feminine —­spirit.  No lady is in the least interesting if restricted and contented with her restrictions,—­a fact which the ladies of our nation are fast finding out.  What would become of the Goddess of Liberty?  And let us mark well, while we are making these observations, that Liberty is a goddess, not a god, although it has taken us in America over a century to realize a significance in the choice of her sex.  And—­another discovery!—­she is not a haus frau.  She is never domiciled, never fettered.  Even the French, clever as they are, have not conceived her:  equality and fraternity are neither kith nor kin of hers, and she laughs at them as myths—­for she is a laughing lady.  She alone of the three is real, and she alone is worshipped for attributes which she does not possess.  She is a coquette, and she is never satisfied.  If she were, she would not be Liberty:  if she were, she would not be worshipped of men, but despised.  If they understood her, they would not care for her.  And finally, she comes not to bring peace, but a sword.

At quarter to seven one blustery evening of the April following their fourth anniversary Honora returned from New York to find her husband seated under the tall lamp in the room he somewhat facetiously called his “den,” scanning the financial page of his newspaper.  He was in his dressing gown, his slippered feet extended towards the hearth, smoking a cigarette.  And on the stand beside him was a cocktail glass—­empty.

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Modern Chronicle, a — Volume 03 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.