Laura began to be frightened.
“What is it you want to do, Cora?” she asked, trembling.
Cora was swift and businesslike. “See here, Laura, I’ve got to keep my head about me. You can do a great deal for me, if you won’t be emotional just now, and help me not to be. I can’t afford it, because I’ve got to do things, and I’m going to do them just as quickly as I can, and get it over. If I wait any longer I’ll go insane. I CAN’T wait! You’ve been a wonderful sister to me; I’ve always counted on you, and you’ve never once gone back on me. Right now, I need you to help me more than I ever have in my life. Will you–-“
“But I must know–-“
“No, you needn’t! I’ll tell you just this much: I’ve got myself in a devil of a mess–-“
Laura threw her arms round her: “Oh, my dear, dear little sister!” she cried.
But Cora drew away. “Now that’s just what you mustn’t do. I can’t stand it! You’ve got to be QUIET. I can’t–-“
“Yes, yes,” Laura said hurriedly. “I will. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“It’s perfectly simple: all I want you to do is to take charge of my travelling-bag, and, when a messenger-boy comes, give it to him without letting anybody know anything about it.”
“But I’ve got to know where you’re going—I can’t let you go and not–-“
“Yes, you can! Besides, you’ve promised to. I’m not going to do anything foolish –-“
“Then why not tell me?” Laura began. She went on, imploring Cora to confide in her, entreating her to see their mother—to do a dozen things altogether outside of Cora’s plans.
“You’re wasting your breath, Laura,” said the younger sister, interrupting, “and wasting my time. You’re in the dark: you think I’m going to run away with Val Corliss and you’re wrong. I sent him out of the house for good, a while ago–-“
“Thank heaven for that!” cried Laura.
“I’m going to take care of myself,” Cora went on rapidly. “I’m going to get out of the mess I’m in, and you’ve got to let me do it my own way. I’ll send you a note from downtown. You see that the messenger–-“
She was at the door, but Laura caught her by the sleeve, protesting and beseeching.
Cora turned desperately. “See here. I’ll come back in two hours and tell you all about it. If I promise that, will you promise to send me the bag by the–-“
“But if you’re coming back you won’t need–-“
Cora spoke very quietly. “I’ll go to pieces in a moment. Really, I do think I’d better jump out of the window and have it over.”
“I’ll send the bag,” Laura quavered, “if you’ll promise to come back in two hours.”
“I promise!”
Cora gave her a quick embrace, a quick kiss, and, dry-eyed, ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house.
She walked briskly down Corliss Street. It was a clear day, bright noon, with an exhilarating tang in the air, and a sky so glorious that people outdoors were continually conscious of the blue overhead, and looked up at it often. An autumnal cheerfulness was abroad, and pedestrians showed it in their quickened steps, in their enlivened eyes, and frequent smiles, and in the colour of their faces. But none showed more colour or a gayer look than Cora. She encountered many whom she knew, for it was indeed a day to be stirring, and she nodded and smiled her way all down the long street, thinking of what these greeted people would say tomorrow. ”I saw her yesterday, walking down Corliss Street, about noon, in a gray suit and looking fairly radiant!” Some of those she met were enemies she had chastened; she prophesied their remarks with accuracy. Some were old suitors, men who had desired her; one or two had place upon her long list of boy-sweethearts: she gave the same gay, friendly nod to each of them, and foretold his morrow’s thoughts of her, in turn. Her greeting of Mary Kane was graver, as was aesthetically appropriate, Mr. Wattling’s engagement having been broken by that lady, immediately after his drive to the Country Club for tea. Cora received from the beautiful jilt a salutation even graver than her own, which did not confound her.
Halfway down the street was a drug-store. She went in, and obtained appreciative permission to use the telephone. She came out well satisfied, and went swiftly on her way. Ten minutes later, she opened the door of Wade Trumble’s office.
He was alone; her telephone had caught him in the act of departing for lunch. But he had been glad to wait—glad to the verge of agitation.
“By George, Cora!” he exclaimed, as she came quickly in and closed the door, “but you CAN look stunning! Believe me, that’s some get-up. But let me tell you right here and now, before you begin, it’s no use your tackling me again on the oil proposition. If there was any chance of my going into it which there wasn’t, not one on earth—why, the very fact of your asking me would have stopped me. I’m no Dick Lindley, I beg to inform you: I don’t spend my money helping a girl that I want, myself, to make a hit with another man. You treated me like a dog about that, right in the street, and you needn’t try it again, because I won’t stand for it. You can’t play ME, Cora!”
“Wade,” she said, coming closer, and looking at him mysteriously, “didn’t you tell me to come to you when I got through playing?”
“What?” He grew very red, took a step back from her, staring at her distrustfully, incredulously.
“I’ve got through playing”, she said in a low voice. “And I’ve come to you.”
He was staggered. “You’ve come–-” he said, huskily.
“Here I am, Wade.”
He had flushed, but now the colour left his small face, and he grew very white. “I don’t believe you mean it.”
“Listen,” she said. “I was rotten to you about that oil nonsense. It WAS nonsense, nothing on earth but nonsense. I tell you frankly I was a fool. I didn’t care the snap of my finger for Corliss, but—oh, what’s the use of pretending? You were always such a great `business man,’ always so absorbed in business, and put it before everything else in the world. You cared for me, but you cared for business more than for me. Well, no woman likes THAT, Wade. I’ve come to tell you the whole thing: I can’t stand it any longer. I suffered horribly because—because–-” She faltered. “Wade, that was no way to WIN a girl.”
“Cora!” His incredulity was strong.
“I thought I hated you for it, Wade. Yes, I did think that; I’m telling you everything, you see just blurting it out as it comes, Wade. Well, Corliss asked me to help him, and it struck me I’d show that I could understand a business deal, myself. Wade, this is pretty hard to say, I was such a little fool, but you ought to know it. You’ve got a right to know it, Wade: I thought if I put through a thing like that, it would make a tremendous hit with you, and that then I could say: `So this is the kind of thing you put ahead of ME, is it? Simple little things like this, that I can do, myself, by turning over my little finger!’ So I got Richard to go in—that was easy; and then it struck me that the crowning triumph of the whole thing would be to get you to come in yourself. That WOULD be showing you, I thought! But you wouldn’t: you put me in my place—and I was angry—I never was so angry in my life, and I showed it.” Tears came into her voice. “Oh, Wade,” she said, softly, “it was the very wildness of my anger that showed what I really felt.”
“About—about ME?” His incredulity struggled with his hope. He stepped close to her.
“What an awful fool I’ve been, she sighed.
“Why, I thought I could show you I was your EQUAL! And look what it’s got me into, Wade!”