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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Don't you worry, Cele," she reassured her. "When the fall comes you'll hear the crash. I'll slip you the returns a little ahead of time so that you can get out from under." "It it wasn't that," protested Cecille quickly. She wondered why she didn't pack up and get out. But she was still there another night when Felicity finally came home again with every lithe line of her body pulsing triumph.
But it is far finer, I think, to be sure that Broadway never guessed at all of the other courtship which went steadily forward in the same interval, elementally, naturally as willows bud in spring. Perry himself was unaware of it. Cecille too for a while. For Felicity left him oftener and oftener to the other girl.
Once, remarking the incongruity of their names, Cecille repeated her own with a shade of scorn and provoked from her companion one of the few personalities in which she ever indulged. "Cecille Manners!" she drawled. "Cecille Manners gown-fitter's assistant! With a name like that I should be in a Broadway chorus." It happened late one evening. Cecille was half undressed for bed.
"Would you be?" Cecille asked the question unaware of the other's irony. "Say, who do you think I am," she asked, "to try to dictate terms like that to life? What do you think I am? A champion? Because that's what you're talking now. The whole purse or nothing! I know my limits. I'm going to be glad to get a fair percentage split for my share. A home! A man! Content! I get you at last, Cecille.
She too had dreamed what that embrace would be; she had wanted always to be near him, yet she had just shrunk from it. "Who am I to dictate such terms to life?" Felicity had demanded. "And who was she," in all that long month Cecille had been asking of herself, "who was she? And what was she waiting for?"
"I was a little more than a half hour late in having my say," Cecille admitted. "But I had it. I saw the announcement of the dance in the afternoon paper and her name, and I decided to go. I don't know why; that is, I didn't not until she recognized me. Then I knew! She was shaking hands with me and telling me to have a good time.
Familiarity breeds complacency oftener than contempt. But it was neither the one nor the other which forced Cecille to ask, over and over again. Once Felicity surprised in her eyes the light that invariably accompanied the question. "You're a queer kid," she added that time, after the usual answer. "I sure don't get you." Later she thought she had solved it.
Cecille had been listening without a sound, her eyes clinging to Felicity's face, which was twisted, somewhat awry. "Is that what they slipped you too?" Cecille licked her lips. They were dry. "I I guess so." "And that suits you? You think that's fair and square?" "I don't know," Cecille whispered dully. "I don't know." "Then it's time you found out," Felicity flung at her fiercely. "I had to.
And in the face of such gravity her inquisitor must surely have sought a different topic. Yet the intimacy was a fact, one of those odd facts which life persists in producing. There had never been much companionship, however. Now and then they ate one meal together, an early dinner for Cecille and a late breakfast for Felicity, at six o'clock in the evening.
And Felicity's gravity at last had caught at the other girl's attention. Slowly she looked up. "Why?" she asked dully. Felicity sat and studied her pondered her. Felicity's face was harder than Cecille had ever seen it before, and infinitely more tender. "I hate to leave you," she said. "I wouldn't mind so much if I could get you.
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