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She felt all at once as though a whole new world were opened to her. She stood on Pisgah. And she was ashamed and confused at her ignorance of those things which Corthell tactfully assumed that she knew as a matter of course. What wonderful pleasures she had ignored! How infinitely removed from her had been the real world of art and artists of which Corthell was a part!
"He's a good sort, and I like him well enough, but he's the kind of man that gets up a reputation for being clever and artistic by running down the very one particular thing that every one likes, and cracking up some book or picture or play that no one has ever heard of. Just let anything get popular once and Sheldon Corthell can't speak of it without shuddering.
Landry says he knows he will make two or three more fortunes in the next few years. "'Good-by, Laura, dear. Ever your loving sister, "'P.S. I open this letter again to tell you that we met Mr. Corthell on the street yesterday. He sails for Europe to-day." "Oh," said Jadwin, as Laura put the letter quickly down, "Corthell that artist chap. By the way, whatever became of him?"
But on those few occasions when he and Laura's husband met, he could detect no lack of cordiality in the other's greeting. Once even Jadwin had remarked: "I'm very glad you have come to see Mrs. Jadwin, Corthell. I have to be away so much these days, I'm afraid she would be lonesome if it wasn't for some one like you to drop in now and then and talk art to her."
You would be as eager as I for that wonderful, wonderful change that makes a new heaven and a new earth." This time Laura did not answer. There was a moment's silence. Then Corthell said: "Do you know, I think I shall go away." "Go away?" "Yes, to New York. Possibly to Paris. There is a new method of fusing glass that I've promised myself long ago I would look into.
Neither he nor Laura had once spoken of Jadwin throughout the entire evening. Little by little the companionship grew. Corthell shut his eyes, his ears. The thought of Laura, the recollection of their last evening together, the anticipation of the next meeting filled all his waking hours. He refused to think; he resigned himself to the drift of the current. Jadwin he rarely saw.
Words and music of the opera." During this, the last entr'acte, Laura remained in the box with Mrs. Cressler, Corthell, and Jadwin. The others went out to look down upon the foyer from a certain balcony.
She was, he was persuaded, a woman of more spirit, of more pride than this would seem to indicate. Corthell ended by believing that Jadwin had, in some way, coerced her; though he fancied that for the few days immediately following the excursion Laura had never been gayer, more alert, more radiant.
"It is not not easy for a woman to ask for me to ask favours like this. Each time I tell myself it will be the last. I am you must remember this, Curtis, I am perhaps I am a little proud. Don't you see?" They were at breakfast table again. It was the morning after Laura had given Corthell his dismissal. As she spoke Jadwin brought his hand down upon the table with a bang.
In his lapel was an inevitable carnation, dried, shrunken, and lamentable. He was redolent of perfume and spoke of himself as an artist. He caused it to be understood that in the intervals of "coaching society plays" he gave his attention to the painting of landscapes. Corthell feigned to ignore his very existence.
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