26

If Dick had had any reason to doubt his suspicion of the state of Paula’s heart, that reason vanished with the return of Graham. He could see confirmations everywhere. There was a happier tone in Paula’s happy laugh, a richer song in her throat, a warmness of excitement and a continuous energy of action. She lost flesh, and looked lovelier than ever.

But how long could that continue? Not long, Dick was certain. Paula was not an actress. And she could not hide anything.

And Paula could detect no change in Dick’s behavior. He worked as usual, played as usual, chanted his songs, and was the happiest good fellow. But one day she saw the knowledge in his eyes and face. And she did not understand. If Dick knew, why did he not speak? He was a straight talker. He was the one who acted, did things, no matter what they were. Graham had called the situation a triangle. Well, Dick could solve it. He could solve anything. Then why didn’t he?

She was proud, a woman of their own race and type, to watch these two gray-eyed blond men together. She was excited, feverish, but not nervous. Quite coldly, sometimes, she compared the two when they were together.

She assured herself that her attraction toward Graham lay not in his freshness, newness, difference. And she denied to herself that passion played the greatest part. Deep down she was conscious of her own recklessness and madness. Alone, looking at herself in her mirror, she shook her head in mock reproof and cry out, “Oh, you huntress! You huntress!”

Had she attacked Graham? she asked herself. He wanted to go. With her, or without her, he wanted to go. But she held him.

27

Imperceptibly Paula and Graham drew closer. Soon the second kiss was on their lips. This time Paula did not flame in anger. Instead, she commanded:

“You must not go.”

“I must not stay,” Graham reiterated for the thousandth time. “Oh, I have kissed behind doors, but this is you, and this is Dick.”

“It will work out, I tell you, Evan.”

“Come with me then. Come now.”

She recoiled.

“Remember,” Graham encouraged, “what Dick said to Leo. If it is you, Paula, my wife, who runs away, I will say ‘Bless you, my children’.”

“And that is just why it is so hard, Evan. He is Great Heart. You named him well. Listen—you watch him now. He is gentle toward me, I mean. And more. You watch him—”

“He knows?—he has spoken?” Graham broke in.

“He has not spoken, but I am sure he knows, or guesses. You watch him. He won’t compete against you.”

“Compete!”

“Just that. He won’t compete. But I’m sure he guesses. He will not interfere. Oh, trust me, I know him. It is his own code that he is living up to. He can teach the philosophers what applied philosophy is.”

“You are right,” Graham murmured. “I well named him when I named him Great Heart.”

“I call him my Rock of Ages,” Paula said gratefully. “He is so solid. He stands in any storm.—Oh, you don’t really know him. He is so sure. He stands right up. God smiles on him. God has always smiled on him. And, Evan, I am afraid for him now. That is why I don’t know what to do, my dear.”

Her eyes filled with sudden moisture.

“You see Dick’s code. And he lives by his code. Truly, if I go with you, he will say, ‘Bless you, my children.’ Though it breaks his heart he will say it. Past love, he believes, does not come back. And every hour, he says, pays for itself, on both sides.”

“And I agree with him,” Graham said. “Dollars are dollars, but love lives or dies. When it is dead how can it be collected? We are all agreed, and the way is simple. We love. It is enough. Why delay another minute?”

His fingers strayed along her fingers. He bent to her, then slowly turned her face up to his and kissed her willing lips.

“Dick does not love me like you,” she said; “not madly, I mean. He has had me so long, I think I have become a habit to him.”

“It is so simple,” Graham urged. “Let us go.”

She drew away from him suddenly, and buried her flushed face in her hands.

“You do not understand, Evan. I love Dick. I shall always love him.”

“And me?” Graham demanded sharply.

“Oh, without saying,” she smiled. “You are the only man, besides Dick, that has ever kissed me this … way, and that I have kissed this way. But … I don’t know. The triangle, as you call it, must be solved for me. I can’t solve it myself. I compare the two of you, weigh you, measure you. I remember Dick and all our past years. And I consult my heart for you. And I don’t know. I don’t know. You are a great man, my great lover. But Dick is a greater man than you. You are—I grope to describe you—more human. And that is why I love you more … or at least I think perhaps I do. But wait, there is more I want to say. I remember Dick and all our past years. But I remember him today, as well, and tomorrow. That is why I am not sure. Dick has always been bright, light, strong, unassailable. And he doesn’t deserve pity. And it’s my fault … and yours, Evan.”

She abruptly thrust Evan’s hand away.

“And every act, every permitted touch of you, makes him pitiable. Don’t you see how tangled it is for me? And then there is my own pride …”

“Why do you tell me all this about Dick?” Graham demanded another time. “To keep me away? To protect yourself from me?”

Paula nodded, then quickly added,

“No, not quite that. Because you know I don’t want to keep you away … too far. I say it because Dick is so much in my mind. For twelve years, you realize, he filled my mind. I say it because … because I think it, I suppose. Think! The situation! You are breaking a perfect marriage.”

“I know it,” he answered. “And I do not like this role.”

Paula yielded and fought at the same time.

“I love my husband—never forget that,” she warned Graham, and within the minute was in his arms.

28

“There are only the three of us for once, thank goodness,” Paula cried, seizing Dick and Graham by the hands and leading them toward Dick’s favorite lounging couch in the big room. “Come, let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the deaths of kings.”

She was in a merry mood. Paula sat cross-legged on the couch, where she could view Graham lounging comfortably in the big chair, or Dick, on his elbow, sprawled among the cushions. And ever, as they talked, her eyes roved from one to the other.

She was proud of her husband; but she no longer felt sorry for him. They were right. It was a game. The battle is for the strong.

It was all a madness, but it was life, it was living. She had never so lived before, and it was worth it, no matter what inevitable payment must be made in the end. Love? Had she ever really loved Dick? Had she mistaken all these years? Her eyes warmed as they rested on Graham.

29

Shortly after eleven, restless and moody, Dick wandered out into the big patio, where he smiled with grim amusement at the various signs of Paula’s neglect of her goldfish. This was Dick’s one great gift to Paula. The patio bore no relation to the scheme and architecture of the Big House, and was deeply hidden. It was not often shown. Outside Paula’s sisters and intimates, on rare occasions some artists were permitted to enter. It was round and small. The Big House was of sturdy concrete, but here was marble.

The heart and key of the fairy patio was the fountain, consisting of three related shallow basins at different levels, of white marble. Dick went up the stairway. Although he had made it possible for her, it was entirely her own creation—her masterpiece. It had long been her dream, and he had realized it for her. And yet now, he meditated, it meant nothing to her.

He wandered idly through her rooms. He looked to her easel; a portrait of himself confronted him. He looked more closely. Was that expression of the eyes, of the whole face, his? He walked over to one of the mirrors, relaxed his face, and began to think about Paula and Graham. Slowly the expression came into his eyes and face. He returned to the easel and verified it. Paula knew. Paula knew that he knew. She carried it in her memory to the canvas.

Paula’s maid entered from the wardrobe room. Her eyes were down, and she seemed deep in thought. Dick remarked the sadness of her face. She was in heavy depression.

“Good morning,” he startled her.

The maid’s lips trembled.

“Mister Forrest,” she began haltingly, “maybe you think I’m a fool, but I want to tell you something. You are very kind man. You are very kind to my old mother. You are very kind to me …”

She hesitated, moistening her frightened lips with her tongue, then proceeded.

“Mrs. Forrest, she, I think …”

“Mrs. Forrest makes a very nice picture,” he said.

The maid sighed, and the same compassion returned into her eyes as she looked long at Dick’s portrait. She sighed again, and Dick noticed the coldness in her voice as she answered:

“Yes, Mrs. Forrest makes a very nice picture.”

She looked at him with sudden sharp scrutiny, studying his face, then turned to the canvas and pointed at the eyes.

“No good,” she condemned.

Her voice was harsh, touched with anger.

“No good,” she said more loudly, still more harshly, and went out.

Dick stiffened his shoulders. Well, it was the beginning of the end. The maid knew. Soon more people will know, all will know.