The Triflers | Page 6

her every minute for more than
ten years, and so I wanted to be by myself a little while. Right after she
died, I went down to the farm--her farm in Connecticut--and thought I
could be alone there. But--she left me a great deal of money, Monte."
Somehow, she could speak of such a thing to him. She was quite
matter-of-fact about it.
"It was a great deal too much," she went on. "I did n't mind myself,
because I could forget about it; but other people--they made me feel
like a rabbit running before the hounds. Some one put the will in the
papers, and people I'd never heard of began to write to me--dozens of
them. Then men with all sorts of schemes--charities and gold mines and
copper mines and oil wells and I don't know what all, came down there
to see me: down there to the little farm, where I wanted to be alone. Of
course, I could be out to them; but even then I was conscious that they
were around. Some of them even waited until I ventured from the house,
and waylaid me on the road.

"Then there were others--people I knew and could n't refuse to see
without being rude. I felt," she said, looking up at Monte, "as if the
world of people had suddenly all turned into men, and that they were
hunting me. I could n't get away from them without locking myself up,
and that was just the thing I did n't want to do. In a way, I 'd been
locked up all my life. So I just packed my things and took the steamer
without telling any one but my lawyer where I was going."
"It's too bad they wouldn't let you alone," said Monte.
"It was like an evil dream," she said. "I did n't know men were like
that."
Monte frowned.
Of course, that is just what would happen to a young woman as
good-looking as she, suddenly left alone with a fortune. Her name,
without a doubt, was on the mailing list of every promoter from New
York to San Francisco. It was also undoubtedly upon the list of every
man and woman who could presume an acquaintance with her. She had
become fair game.
"Then on the boat I met Teddy," she went on. "It was difficult not to
meet him."
He nodded.
"I did n't mind so much at first; he was interesting."
"Yes, he's that," admitted Monte.
"And he was very pleasant until--he began to make love to me."
If Monte knew Teddy Hamilton, this happened about the third day.
"That was very annoying," she said reminiscently. "It was annoying,
not only because of Teddy, but in itself. In some ways he did it very
nicely--especially when he sang in the moonlight. I suppose it was my
fault that I gave him the opportunity. I could have kept myself in my

stateroom, or I could have played bridge with the elderly ladies in the
cabin. But, you see, that's what Aunty always made me do, and I did
want to get out. I did enjoy Teddy up to that point. But I did not want to
fall in love with him, or with any one else. I suppose I 'm too
selfish--too utterly and completely selfish."
"To--er--to fall in love?" he questioned.
"Yes. Oh, as long as I'm making you my father confessor, I may as well
be thorough." She smiled.
Monte leaned forward with sudden interest. Here was a question that at
odd moments had disturbed his own peace of mind. It was Chic Warren
who had first told him that in remaining a bachelor he was leading an
utterly selfish life.
"Does a distaste for falling in love necessarily go back to selfishness?"
he asked. "Is n't it sometimes merely a matter of temperament?"
"And temperament," she asked, "is what?"
That was altogether too abstract a problem for Monte to discuss. Yet he
had his own ideas.
"It's the way you're made," he suggested.
"I doubt it, Monte," she answered. "I think it's rather the way you make
yourself; because I imagine that, to start with, we are all made a good
deal alike. It's just what you 'd rather do."
"And you'd rather paint?"
She considered a moment. It was as if she were trying at this time to be
very honest with herself.
"I'd rather be free to paint or not," she declared. "While Aunty was
alive, to paint seemed to be the only way to be free. It gave me the
excuse for coming here, for getting away a few hours a day. Now--well,
just to be free seems enough. I don't suppose a man knows how a

woman hungers for that--for just sheer, elemental freedom."
He did