Sleeping Fires: A Novel | Page 8

was engaged to Marguerite McLane and looked as if he were having his last glad fling. Ogden Bascom had proposed to Guadalupe Hathaway every month for five years. It was safe to say that he would toe the mark if he won her. But he did not appear to be nursing a blighted heart at present.
Madeleine's depression left her. That, at least, Howard would never do. She felt full of hope and buoyancy once more, not realizing that it is easier to win back a lover than change the nature of man.
When Madeleine reached the Cliff House, that shabby innocent-looking little building whose evil fame had run round the world, she stared at it fascinated. Its restaurant overhung the sea. On this side the blinds were down. It looked as if awaiting the undertaker. She pictured Howard's horror when she told him of her close contact with vice, and anticipated with a pleasurable thrill the scolding he would give her. They had never quarrelled and it would be delightful to make up.
"Not Mrs. Talbot! No! Assuredly not!"
Involuntarily Madeleine raised her veil. She recognized the voice of "Old" Ben Travers (he was only fifty but bald and yellow), the Union Club gossip, and the one man in San Francisco she thoroughly disliked. He stood with his hat in his hand, an expression of ludicrous astonishment on his face.
"Yes, it is I," said Madeleine coolly. "And I am very much interested."
"Ah? Interested?" He glanced about. If this were an assignation either the man was late or had lost courage. But he assumed an expression of deep respect. "That I can well imagine, cloistered as you are. But, if you will permit me to say so, it is hardly prudent. Surely you know that this is a place of ill repute and that your motives, however innocent, might easily be misconstrued."
"I am alone!" said Madeleine gaily, "and my veil is up! Not a man has glanced at me, I look so tiresomely respectable in these stout walking clothes. Even you, dear Mr. Travers, whom we accuse of being quite a gossip, understand perfectly."
"Oh, yes, indeed. I do understand. And Mrs. Talbot is like Caesar's wife, but nevertheless--there is a hack. It is waiting, but I think I can bribe him to take us in. You really must not remain here another moment--and you surely do not intend to walk back--six miles?"
"No, I'll be glad to drive--but if you will engage the hack--I shouldn't think of bothering you further."
"I shall take you home," said Travers firmly. "Howard never would forgive me if I did not--that is--that is--"
Madeleine laughed merrily. "If I intend to tell him! But of course I shall tell him. Why not?"
"Well, yes, it would be best. I'll speak to the man."
The Jehu was reluctant, but a bill passed and he drove up to Madeleine. "Guess I can do it," he said, "but I'll have to drive pretty fast."
Madeleine smiled at him and he touched his hat. She had employed him more than once. "The faster the better, Thomas," she said. "I walked out and am tired."
"I saw you come striding down the road, ma'am," he said deferentially, "and I knew you got off your own beat by mistake. I think I'd have screwed up my courage and said something if Mr. Travers hadn't happened along."
Madeleine nodded carelessly and entered the hack, followed by Travers, in spite of her protests.
"I too walked out here and intended to ask some one to give me a lift home. I am the unfortunate possessor of a liver, my dear young lady, and must walk six miles a day, although I loathe walking as I loathe drinking weak whiskey and water."
Madeleine shrugged her shoulders and attempted to raise one of the curtains. The interior was as dark as a cave. But Travers exclaimed in alarm.
"No! No! Not until we get out of this. When we have reached the city, but not here. In a hack on this road--"
"Oh, very well. Then entertain me, please, as I cannot look out. You always have something interesting to tell."
"I am flattered to think you find me entertaining. I've sometimes thought you didn't like me."
"Now you know that is nonsense. I always think myself fortunate if I sit next you at dinner." Madeleine spoke in her gayest tones, but in truth she dreaded what the man might make of this innocent escapade and intended to make a friend of him if possible.
She was growing accustomed to the gloom and saw him smile fatuously. "That sends me to the seventh heaven. How often since you came have I wished that my dancing days were not over."
"I'd far rather hear you talk. Tell me some news."
"News? News? San Francisco is as flat at present as spilled champagne. Let me see? Ah! Did