chapter the seventeenthin perspective part 1 about four years and a quarter later--to beexact, it was four years and four months-- mr. and mrs. capes stood side by side uponan old persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat
rheumatoid arthritis awareness ribbon color, and surveyed a shining dinner-table set forfour people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequentgleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. capes had altered scarcely at all duringthe interval, except for a new quality of
smartness in the cut of his clothes, butann veronica was nearly half an inch taller; her face was at once stronger and softer, her neck firmer and rounder, andher carriage definitely more womanly than it had been in the days of her rebellion. she was a woman now to the tips of herfingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and aquarter ago. she was dressed in a simple evening gown ofsoft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravityof her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the controlof a simple ribbon of silver.
a silver necklace enhanced the dusky beautyof her neck. both husband and wife affected an unnaturalease of manner for the benefit of the efficient parlor-maid, who was putting thefinishing touches to the sideboard arrangements. "it looks all right," said capes."i think everything's right," said ann veronica, with the roaming eye of a capablebut not devoted house-mistress. "i wonder if they will seem altered," sheremarked for the third time. "there i can't help," said capes. he walked through a wide open archway,curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the
apartment that served as a reception-room. ann veronica, after a last survey of thedinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the highbrass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerfulfireplace. "it's still a marvel to me that we are tobe forgiven," she said, turning. "my charm of manner, i suppose. but, indeed, he's very human.""did you tell him of the registry office?" "no--o--certainly not so emphatically as idid about the play." "it was an inspiration--your speaking tohim?"
"i felt impudent.i believe i am getting impudent. i had not been near the royal societysince--since you disgraced me. what's that?"they both stood listening. it was not the arrival of the guests, butmerely the maid moving about in the hall. "wonderful man!" said ann veronica,reassured, and stroking his cheek with her finger. capes made a quick movement as if to bitethat aggressive digit, but it withdrew to ann veronica's side."i was really interested in his stuff. i was talking to him before i saw his nameon the card beside the row of microscopes.
then, naturally, i went on talking.he--he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries. of course, he had no idea who i was.""but how did you tell him? you've never told me.wasn't it--a little bit of a scene?" "oh! let me see. i said i hadn't been at the royal societysoiree for four years, and got him to tell me about some of the fresh mendelian work. he loves the mendelians because he hatesall the big names of the eighties and nineties.
then i think i remarked that science wasdisgracefully under-endowed, and confessed i'd had to take to more profitable courses.'the fact of it is,' i said, 'i'm the new playwright, thomas more. perhaps you've heard--?'well, you know, he had." "fame!""isn't it? 'i've not seen your play, mr. more,' hesaid, 'but i'm told it's the most amusing thing in london at the present time. a friend of mine, ogilvy'--i suppose that'sogilvy & ogilvy, who do so many divorces, vee?--'was speaking very highly of it--veryhighly!'"
he smiled into her eyes. "you are developing far too retentive amemory for praises," said ann veronica. "i'm still new to them.but after that it was easy. i told him instantly and shamelessly thatthe play was going to be worth ten thousand pounds.he agreed it was disgraceful. then i assumed a rather portentous mannerto prepare him." "how? show me.""i can't be portentous, dear, when you're about. it's my other side of the moon.but i was portentous, i can assure you.
'my name's not more, mr. stanley,' i said.'that's my pet name.'" "yes?" "i think--yes, i went on in a pleasingblend of the casual and sotto voce, 'the fact of it is, sir, i happen to be yourson-in-law, capes. i do wish you could come and dine with ussome evening. it would make my wife very happy.'""what did he say?" "what does any one say to an invitation todinner point-blank? one tries to collect one's wits.'she is constantly thinking of you,' i said."
"and he accepted meekly?""practically. what else could he do? you can't kick up a scene on the spur ofthe moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. with me behaving as if everything wasinfinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? and just then heaven sent old manningtree--i didn't tell you before of the fortunate intervention of manningtree, did i? he was looking quite infernallydistinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon
across him--what is a wide crimson ribbon?some sort of knight, i suppose. he is a knight. 'well, young man,' he said, 'we haven'tseen you lately,' and something about 'bateson & co.'--he's frightfully anti-mendelian--having it all their own way. so i introduced him to my father-in-lawlike a shot. i think that was decision.yes, it was manningtree really secured your father. he--""here they are!" said ann veronica as the bell sounded.
part 2they received the guests in their pretty little hall with genuine effusion. miss stanley threw aside a black cloak toreveal a discreet and dignified arrangement of brown silk, and then embraced annveronica with warmth. "so very clear and cold," she said. "i feared we might have a fog."the housemaid's presence acted as a useful restraint. ann veronica passed from her aunt to herfather, and put her arms about him and kissed his cheek."dear old daddy!" she said, and was amazed
to find herself shedding tears. she veiled her emotion by taking off hisovercoat. "and this is mr. capes?" she heard her auntsaying. all four people moved a little nervouslyinto the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound andmovement. mr. stanley professed a great solicitude towarm his hands. "quite unusually cold for the time ofyear," he said. "everything very nice, i am sure," missstanley murmured to capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before thefire.
also she made little pussy-like sounds of areassuring nature. "and let's have a look at you, vee!" saidmr. stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. ann veronica, who knew her dress becameher, dropped a curtsy to her father's regard. happily they had no one else to wait for,and it heartened her mightily to think that she had ordered the promptest possibleservice of the dinner. capes stood beside miss stanley, who wasbeaming unnaturally, and mr. stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entirepossession of the hearthrug.
"you found the flat easily?" said capes inthe pause. "the numbers are a little difficult to seein the archway. they ought to put a lamp." her father declared there had been nodifficulty. "dinner is served, m'm," said the efficientparlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over. "come, daddy," said ann veronica, followingher husband and miss stanley; and in the fulness of her heart she gave a friendlysqueeze to the parental arm. "excellent fellow!" he answered a littleirrelevantly.
"i didn't understand, vee.""quite charming apartments," miss stanley admired; "charming! everything is so pretty and convenient." the dinner was admirable as a dinner;nothing went wrong, from the golden and excellent clear soup to the delightful icedmarrons and cream; and miss stanley's praises died away to an appreciativeacquiescence. a brisk talk sprang up between capes andmr. stanley, to which the two ladies subordinated themselves intelligently. the burning topic of the mendeliancontroversy was approached on one or two
occasions, but avoided dexterously; andthey talked chiefly of letters and art and the censorship of the english stage. mr. stanley was inclined to think thecensorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; goodwholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by "vicious, corrupting stuff" that"left a bad taste in the mouth." he declared that no book could besatisfactory that left a bad taste in the mouth, however much it seized andinterested the reader at the time. he did not like it, he said, with asignificant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had donewith them.
capes agreed with the utmost cordiality. "life is upsetting enough, without thenovels taking a share," said mr. stanley. for a time ann veronica's attention wasdiverted by her aunt's interest in the salted almonds. "quite particularly nice," said her aunt."exceptionally so." when ann veronica could attend again shefound the men were discussing the ethics of the depreciation of house property throughthe increasing tumult of traffic in the west end, and agreeing with each other to adevastating extent. it came into her head with real emotionalforce that this must be some particularly
fantastic sort of dream. it seemed to her that her father was insome inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, asunaccountably, appealing. his tie had demanded a struggle; he oughtto have taken a clean one after his first failure.why was she noting things like this? capes seemed self-possessed and elaboratelygenial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasionalclumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of hishospitality. she wished he could smoke and dull hisnerves a little.
a gust of irrational impatience blewthrough her being. well, they'd got to the pheasants, and in alittle while he would smoke. what was it she had expected? surely her moods were getting a little outof hand. she wished her father and aunt would notenjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. her father and her husband, who had bothbeen a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintlyflushed. it was a pity people had to eat food.
"i suppose," said her father, "i have readat least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twentyyears. three a week is my allowance, and, if i getshort ones, four. i change them in the morning at cannonstreet, and take my book as i come down." it occurred to her that she had never seenher father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. to capes he was almost deferential, and shehad never seen him deferential in the old time, never.the dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated.
it was as if she had grown right past herfather into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he hadalways been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him fromthe other side. it was a great relief to arrive at last atthat pause when she could say to her aunt, "now, dear?" and rise and hold back thecurtain through the archway. capes and her father stood up, and herfather made a belated movement toward the curtain.she realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. and capes was thinking that his wife was asupremely beautiful woman.
he reached a silver cigar and cigarette boxfrom the sideboard and put it before his father-in-law, and for a time thepreliminaries of smoking occupied them both. then capes flittered to the hearthrug andpoked the fire, stood up, and turned about. "ann veronica is looking very well, don'tyou think?" he said, a little awkwardly. "very," said mr. stanley. "very," and cracked a walnutappreciatively. "life--things--i don't think her prospectsnow--hopeful outlook." "you were in a difficult position," mr.stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate
whether he had not gone too far. he looked at his port wine as though thattawny ruby contained the solution of the matter."all's well that ends well," he said; "and the less one says about things the better." "of course," said capes, and threw a newlylit cigar into the fire through sheer nervousness."have some more port wine, sir?" "it's a very sound wine," said mr. stanley,consenting with dignity. "ann veronica has never looked quite sowell, i think," said capes, clinging, because of a preconceived plan, to thesuppressed topic.
part 3 at last the evening was over, and capes andhis wife had gone down to see mr. stanley and his sister into a taxicab, and hadwaved an amiable farewell from the pavement steps. "great dears!" said capes, as the vehiclepassed out of sight. "yes, aren't they?" said ann veronica,after a thoughtful pause. and then, "they seem changed." "come in out of the cold," said capes, andtook her arm. "they seem smaller, you know, evenphysically smaller," she said.
"you've grown out of them.... your aunt liked the pheasant.""she liked everything. did you hear us through the archway,talking cookery?" they went up by the lift in silence. "it's odd," said ann veronica, re-enteringthe flat. "what's odd?""oh, everything!" she shivered, and went to the fire andpoked it. capes sat down in the arm-chair beside her."life's so queer," she said, kneeling and looking into the flames.
"i wonder--i wonder if we shall ever getlike that." she turned a firelit face to her husband."did you tell him?" capes smiled faintly. "yes.""how?" "well--a little clumsily.""but how?" "i poured him out some port wine, and isaid--let me see--oh, 'you are going to be a grandfather!'""yes. was he pleased?" "calmly!he said--you won't mind my telling you?"
"not a bit.""he said, 'poor alice has got no end!'" "alice's are different," said ann veronica,after an interval. "quite different.she didn't choose her man.... well, i told aunt.... husband of mine, i think we have ratheroverrated the emotional capacity of those-- those dears.""what did your aunt say?" "she didn't even kiss me. she said"--ann veronica shivered again--"'ihope it won't make you uncomfortable, my dear'--like that--'and whatever you do, dobe careful of your hair!'
i think--i judge from her manner--that shethought it was just a little indelicate of us--considering everything; but she triedto be practical and sympathetic and live down to our standards." capes looked at his wife's unsmiling face."your father," he said, "remarked that all's well that ends well, and that he wasdisposed to let bygones be bygones. he then spoke with a certain fatherlykindliness of the past...." "and my heart has ached for him!""oh, no doubt it cut him at the time. it must have cut him." "we might even have--given it up for them!""i wonder if we could."
"i suppose all is well that ends well.somehow to-night--i don't know." "i suppose so. i'm glad the old sore is assuaged.very glad. but if we had gone under--!" they regarded one another silently, and annveronica had one of her penetrating flashes. "we are not the sort that goes under," saidann veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes."we settled long ago--we're hard stuff. we're hard stuff!"
then she went on: "to think that is myfather! oh, my dear! he stood over me like a cliff; the thoughtof him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done.he was the social order; he was law and wisdom. and they come here, and they look at ourfurniture to see if it is good; and they are not glad, it does not stir them, thatat last, at last we can dare to have children." she dropped back into a crouching attitudeand began to weep.
"oh, my dear!" she cried, and suddenlyflung herself, kneeling, into her husband's arms. "do you remember the mountains?do you remember how we loved one another? how intensely we loved one another!do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? i'm greedy, i'm greedy!i want children like the mountains and life like the sky.oh! and love--love! we've had so splendid a time, and foughtour fight and won. and it's like the petals falling from aflower.
oh, i've loved love, dear! i've loved love and you, and the glory ofyou; and the great time is over, and i have to go carefully and bear children, and--take care of my hair--and when i am done with that i shall be an old woman. the petals have fallen--the red petals weloved so. we're hedged about with discretions--andall this furniture--and successes! we are successful at last! successful!but the mountains, dear! we won't forget the mountains, dear, ever.that shining slope of snow, and how we
talked of death! we might have died! even when we are old, when we are rich aswe may be, we won't forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy ofone another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from lifeand left it light and fire. stark and stark!do you remember it all?... say you will never forget! that these common things and secondarythings sha'n't overwhelm us.
these petals!i've been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals.
petals!...silly woman!... i've never had these crying fitsbefore...." "blood of my heart!" whispered capes,holding her close to him. "i know.i understand."
