His Second Wife | Page 6

later to make a good match for her--these aims loomed
large in Amy's mind. She felt her own youth returning, and she
prolonged this period. She wanted Ethel all to herself. She even shut
her husband out.
"You can rest up a bit," she told him, "for what's coming later on." And
Joe, with a good-natured groan at the prospect of late hours ahead,
made the most of the rest allowed to him.
Each morning the two sisters fared forth in a taxi. And Amy began to
reveal to her sister the dazzling world of shops in New York: shops
large and small, American, French and English, shops for gowns and
hats and shoes, and furs and gloves and corsets. At numberless counters
they studied and counselled, and lunching at Sherry's they shopped on.
And the shimmer and sheen of pretty things made life a glamourous
mirage, in which Ethel could feel herself rapidly becoming a New
Yorker, gaining assurance day by day, feeling "her type" emerge in the
glass where she studied herself with impatient delight.

There were little reminders now and then of what she had left behind
her. One day in a department store, as they stood before a counter
looking at silk stockings, all at once to Ethel's ears came the deep tones
of an organ, and turning with a low cry of surprise she looked over the
bustling throngs of women to an organ loft above, where a girl was
singing a solo in a high sweet soprano voice. In a flash to Ethel's mind
there came a vivid picture of the old yellow church at home. And with a
queer expression looking about her at the crowds, she exclaimed, "How
funny!" She was again reminded of church when one afternoon in a
large darkened chamber she sat with scores of women whose eyes were
fixed as though in devotion upon a softly lighted stage where "models"
kept appearing. What lovely figures some of them had. Others rather
took her breath, and gave her the feeling she'd had before in her sister's
bedroom. But then as her eye was caught again by the rapt faces all
about, she chuckled to herself and thought, "There ought to be candles
and incense here!"
She was appalled at the prices. And as the exciting days wore on,
uneasily in her room at night she would sit down with pencil and paper
and ask, "How much did I spend today?" Her father had left her
nothing but the shabby old frame house. This she had sold to a friend of
his, and the small fund thus secured she had resolved to husband.
"Oh, Ethel, go slow, you little fool. This is every penny you have in the
world."
But the adorable things she saw, and the growing hunger she felt as she
began to notice with a more discerning eye the women in shops and on
the streets--just why they were so dashing and how they got this and
that effect--all swept aside her caution, the easier because of the fact
that everything she bought was charged.
One evening in a large café she sat watching Amy who was dancing
with her husband. It was at the time when the new style dances were
just coming into vogue. In Ohio they had been only a myth. But Amy
was a beautiful dancer; and watching her now, Ethel reflected, "She
expects me to be like that. If I'm not, she'll be disappointed, ashamed.
And why shouldn't I be! What do you ever get in this world if you're

always saving every cent? You miss your chance and then it's too late.
I'll be meeting her friends in a few weeks more. I've simply got to
hurry!" And with Amy's dancing teacher she arranged for lessons--at a
price that made her gasp. But the lessons were a decided success.
"You've a wonderful figure for dancing," the teacher said confidingly,
"and a sense for rhythm that most of these women haven't any idea of."
He smiled down at her and she fairly beamed.
"Oh, how nice!" sighed Ethel. Something in the little look which
flashed between them gave her a thrill of assurance. And this feeling
came again and again, in the shops and while she was seated at
luncheon in some crowded restaurant, or on the streets or back at home,
where even Joe was beginning to show his admiring surprise.
"You're making a fine little job of it," she heard him say to Amy one
night.
She caught other remarks and glances from strangers, men and women.
And Ethel now began to feel the whole vast bustling ardent town
centred on what in her high-school club, as they read Bernard Shaw,
they had quite frankly and solemnly spoken of as "Sex." All