“That Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver may have to pay something for what she has
done to me? Well, what of it?” And suddenly Claire flew into a passion,
as she always did when our talk came to her rival. “Why shouldn’t she
take chances the same as the rest of us? Why should I have it and she
get off?”
I fought for my composure. After a pause, I said: “It’s not a thing
we want anybody to have, Claire. We don’t want anybody to take such a
chance. The girl ought to have been told.”
“Told? Do you imagine she would have given up her great catch?”
“She might have, how can you be sure? Anyhow, she should have had the
chance.”
There was a long silence. I was so shaken that it was hard for me to
find words. “As a matter of fact,” said Claire, grimly, “I thought of
warning her myself. There’d have been some excitement at least! You
remember--when they came out of church. You helped to stop me!”
“It would have been too late then,” I heard myself saying.
“Well,” she exclaimed, with fresh excitement, “it’s Miss Sylvia’s
turn now! We’ll see if she’s such a grand lady that she can’t get my
diseases!”
I could no longer contain myself. “Claire,” I cried, “you are talking
like a devil!”
She picked up a powder-puff, and began to use it diligently. “I know,”
she said--and I saw her burning eyes in the glass--“you can’t fool me.
You’ve tried to be kind, but you despise me in your heart. You think I’m
as bad as any woman of the street. Very well then, I speak for my class,
and I tell you, this is where we prove our humanity. They throw us out,
but you see we get back in!”
“My dear woman,” I said, “you don’t understand. You’d not feel as you
do, If you knew that the person to pay the penalty might be an innocent
little child.”
“_Their_ child! Yes, it’s too bad if there has to be anything the matter
with the little prince! But I might as well tell you the truth--I’ve had
that in mind all along. I didn’t know just what would happen, or how--I
don’t believe anybody does, the doctors who pretend to are just faking
you. But I knew Douglas was rotten, and maybe his children would be
rotten, and they’d all of them suffer. That was one of the things that
kept me from interfering and smashing him up.”
I was speechless now, and Claire, watching me, laughed. “You look as if
you’d had no idea of it. Don’t you know that I told you at the time?”
“You told me at the time!”
“I suppose, you didn’t understand. I’m apt to talk French when I’m
excited. We have a saying: ‘The wedding present which the mistress
leaves in the basket of the bride.’ That was pretty near telling, wasn’t
it?”
“Yes,” I said, in a low voice.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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