had been responsible for his marriage, wanted to make it and keep it a success, and she invited
the young people to stay for a while so that she might probe into the problem. Caution and tact
were necessary, she pointed out to the young wife, for men are headstrong creatures and do not
take kindly to being manipulated and maneuvered. Lanny's toleration for Reds and Pinks was
rooted in his sympathy for suffering, and Irma would love him less if that were taken out of his
disposition.
"I don't mind his giving money away," said Irma. "If only he didn't have to meet such
dreadful people—and so many of them!"
"He's interested in ideas; and apparently they come nowadays from the lower strata. You and
I mayn't like it, but it's a fact that they are crashing the gates. Perhaps it's wiser to let in a few
at a time."
Irma was willing to take any amount of trouble to understand her husband and to keep him
entertained; she was trying to acquire ideas, but she wanted them to be safe, having to do with
music and art and books and plays, and not politics and the overthrowing of the capitalist
system. "What he calls the capitalist system," was the way she phrased it, as if it were a tactical
error to admit that such a thing existed. "I've made sure that he'll never be interested in my
friends in New York," she explained. "But he seems to be impressed by the kind of people he meets
at your affairs, and if you'll show me how, I'll do what I can to cultivate them—before it's too late. I
mean, if he goes much further with his Socialists and Communists, the right sort of people
won't want to have anything to do with him." "I doubt if that will happen," said Emily, smiling.
"They'll tolerate him on your account. Also, they make allowances for Americans— we're
supposed to be an eccentric people, and the French find us entertaining, much as Lanny finds
his Reds and Pinks."
V
The husband wasn't told of this conversation, or others of the kind which followed; but he
became aware, not for the first time in his life, of female arms placed about him, exerting a
gentle pressure in one direction and away from another. Not female elbows poked into his ribs,
but soft, entwining arms; a feeling of warmth, and perhaps a contact of lips, or whispered words
of cajolement: darling, and dear, and intimate pet names which would look silly in print and
sound so from any but a chosen person. Never: "Let's not go there, dear," but instead: "Let's
go here, dear." And always the "here" had to do with music or pictures, books or plays, and
not with the overthrow of the so-called, alleged, or hypothetical capitalist system.
Under Emily's guidance Irma decided that she had made a mistake in discouraging Lanny's
efforts as an art expert. To be sure, it seemed silly to try to make more money when she had so
much, but the prejudices of men had to be respected; they just don't like to take money from
women, and they make it a matter of prestige to earn at least their pocket-money. Irma
decided that Zoltan Kertezsi was an excellent influence in her husband's life. So far she had looked
upon him as a kind of higher servant, but now decided to cultivate him as a friend.
"Let's stay in Paris a while, dear," she proposed. "I really want to understand about pictures,
and it's such a pleasure to have Zoltan's advice."
Lanny, of course, was touched by this act of submission. They went to exhibitions, of which
there appeared to be no end in Paris.
Also, there were private homes having collections, and Zoltan possessed the magic keys that
opened doors to him and his guests. Pretty soon Irma discovered that she could enjoy looking
at beautiful creations. She paid attention and tried to understand the points which Zoltan
explained: the curves of mountains or the shape of trees which made a balanced design in a
landscape; the contrasting colors of an interior; the way figures had been placed and lines
arranged so as to lead the eye to one central feature. Yes, it was interesting, and if this was what
Lanny liked, his wife would like it, too. Marriage was a lottery, she had heard, and you had to
make the best of what you had drawn.
VI
"Zaharoff's house on the Avenue Hoche contains some gay and bright Bouchers," remarked
Lanny. "He's not apt to be there, but the servants know me, so no doubt we can get in."
The three of them called at the white-stone mansion with the glass-covered window-boxes full of
flowers. The tottery old butler was still on duty, and the beautiful portraits still hung in the
drawing-room where Sir Basil had burned his private papers and set fire to his chimney. The
butler reported that his master was at the chateau and seldom came to town now; but no one
knew when he might come, and he continued the custom which had prevailed ever since Lanny
had known him, of having a full-course dinner prepared every evening, enough for himself and
several guests. If after a certain hour he had not arrived, the servants ate what they wanted and
