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Updated: September 29, 2025
I'm afraid I shall faint if I don't get out in the air. It's very close in here." "It is very close, madam," said the headwaiter, and he helped to support her down the steps quietly and deferentially, just as if he believed it. Zada and Cheever thought they were escaping from a crisis, but they were drifting deeper and deeper into the converging currents.
Zada L'Etoile and others had a new costume for every dance. Kedzie had one tiresome hip-length shift and little else. As usual, poor Kedzie found that realization was for her the parody of anticipation. Kedzie's new art danced into her life a few new suitors, but they came at a time when she was almost imbecile over Thomas Gilfoyle, the advertising bard.
She could not resent his familiarity beyond sneering at him and calling him a foolish cub. She left him and returned to the table where Peter Cheever smoked a bitter cigar. It is astonishing how sad these notorious revelers look in repose. They are solemner than deacons. "Come on, Peterkin dance the rest of this with me," Zada implored. Peterkin shook his head.
The maid had needed only one motion. Cheever watched Zada out of the corner of his eye and wondered why he had ever been fated to fall in love with such a creature. He was convinced that he had been fate-forced into the intrigue. He had no sense whatever of volition or wicked intent. He could only feel that he had tried to be decent and play fair and be generous.
She tried to look surprised at the unimaginable suggestion of Cheever's being in her environs. She succeeded as well as Dyckman did in pretending that his errand was trivial. "Er yes, I imagined you might happen to know where I could find him. I have a little business with him." Zada thought to crush him with a condescension a manicurial sarcasm: "Have you been to the gentleman's home?"
That hit Zada pretty hard, but she bore it. She came back by another door. "I guess I am nearly as dotty as she is about Dyckman. First thing you know she'll be trying to get free herself. What if she asks you for a divorce?" "I'd like to see her!" "You mean you wouldn't give her her freedom?" "Not in a thousand years." He was astounded at the sepulchral woe of Zada's groan.
In blissless ignorance of it, Zada had been inspired to set a firm of sleuths on Charity's trail. She wanted to be able to convince Cheever that Charity was intrigued with Dyckman. The operators who kept Mrs. Charity Coe Cheever under espionage had the most stupid things to report to Zada. To Zada's disgust, Mrs. Cheever never called upon Jim Dyckman, and he never called on her.
Unfortunately, he had been recognized and taken to his official home instead of to the residence of his heart. Zada was all for dashing to him at once; but he persuaded her that that would be quite impossible. He was in no real danger in his own house, and he would come back to his heart's one real first, last, only, and onliest darling love just as soon as he could.
About it were chairs and divans that would have satisfied a lotus-eater. Cheever avoided proffers of conversation and pretended to read the magazines and newspapers. He kept his eyes on the doors. He did not want to take any one into his confidence, as he felt that, after all, Zada might have been out of her head. He did not want any seconds or bottle-holders. He was not afraid.
It was a yellow boy. He repeated, "Where does Zada L'Etoile live?" The chauffeur told him and got the bill. It was better than the poke in the eye he could have had instead. Dyckman had sent his own car home. He had difficulty in finding a taxicab on Fifth Avenue along there. At length he stopped one and named the apartment-house where Zada lived.
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