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To have their Kedzie float home to them on pinions of radiant beauty was an almost intolerable beatitude. Kedzie's mother started down the aisle, crying, "Kedzie, my baby! My little lost baby!" before Adna could check her. Kedzie did not answer her mother, but went on with her work as if she were deaf. She came streaming from the projection-machine in long beams of light.
They were common people now, and they had moonlight and stars, a breeze and a shadowy landscape; they shared them with the multitude, and they were happy for a while. Something in Kedzie's heart whispered: "What's the use of being rich? What's the good of living in a palace with a gang of servants hanging over your shoulder?
"Do you see anything in what's happened to prevent your getting married?" "No, Mrs. Thropp." "Then I don't see much use wastin' time, do you? Life's too uncertain to go postponin' happiness when it's right within your reach. Kedzie's father and I ought to be gettin' back home, and I'd feel a heap more comfortable if I could know my poor little chick was safe in the care of a good man."
Occasionally he introduced her to friends of his whom they encountered. It pained and angered him, and Kedzie, too, to note that the men were inclined to eye Kedzie with tolerant amusement. There was a twinkle of contempt in their smiling eyes that seemed to say: "Where did Dyckman pick you up, my pretty?" Kedzie's movie fame was unknown to Dyckman's crowd.
"Nice rooms reasonable," he said, "and I'll be near to look after you." "You're awful fresh, seems to me, on short acquaintance," was Kedzie's stinging rebuke. Skip laughed. "Didn't you see the special-delivery stamp on me forehead? But I guess you're a goil can take care yourself." Kedzie guessed she was. But she was in need of help. Where else could she turn?
Her heart was forever fixed on the next thing, just quitting the last thing. Eternal, delicious, harrowing discontent was Kedzie's whole spirit. Charity Coe's habit was self-denial; Kedzie's self-fostering, all-demanding. She was what Napoleon would have been if the Little Corporal had been a pretty girl with a passion for delicacies instead of powers.
Please don't fail to call on Miss Havender. Yours, with best wishes, She sent the letter to the address Kedzie had given her which was that of Kedzie's abandoned boarding-house. Since Kedzie, by the time her marriage had reached its first morning-after, had already found her brand-new husband odious, there was small hope of her learning to like him or their poverty better on close acquaintance.
They did not photograph a thousand feet for every two hundred used. Kedzie's first pictures had gone to the exchanges before the fire, and they were continuing their travels about the world while she was at work revamping the rest. About this time the Hyperfilm managers decided to move their factory to California, where the sempiternal sunlight insured better photography at far less expense.
Kedzie's anxiety was not exactly flattering, but it was sincere. She wondered if some accident had befallen him in his new car. She really could not bear the thought of losing another husband by a motor accident. Suppose he should just be horribly crippled. Then she could never divorce him. She hated her thoughts, but she could not be responsible for them.
Ferriday began to think seriously that the only way he could break Kedzie's pride completely would be to make her his wife. He began to wonder if that were not, after all, what she was driving at or trying to drive him to.
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