The City of Fire - Page 112/221

Lynn arose suddenly, her chin a bit high, a light of determination in

her eyes. She felt herself growing angry again: "Come and look at my view of the moon on the valley," she said

suddenly, pulling aside the soft scrim curtain and letting in a flood

of moonlight. "Here, I'll turn out the light so you can see better.

Isn't that beautiful?"

She switched off the lights and the stranger drew near apathetically,

gazing out into the beauty of the moonlight as it touched the houses

half hidden in the trees and vines, and flooded the Valley stretching

far away to the feet of the tall dark mountains.

"I hate mountains!" shuddered Opal, "They make me afraid! I almost ran

over a precipice when I was coming here yesterday. If I have to go back

that same way I shall take Laurie, or if he won't go I'll cajole that

stunning prince of yours if you don't mind. I loathe being alone.

That's why I ran down here to see Laurie!"

But Lynn had switched on the lights and turned from the window. Her

face was cold and her voice hard: "Suppose we go to bed," she said, "will you have the bed next the

window or the door? And what shall I get for you? Have you everything?

See, here is the bathroom. Father and mother had it built for me for my

birthday. And the furniture is some of mother's grandmother's. They had

it done over for me."

"It's really a dandy room!" said Opal admiringly, "I hadn't expected to

find anything like this," she added without seeming to know she was

patronizing. "You are the only child, aren't you? Your father and

mother just dote on you too. That must be nice. We had a whole houseful

at home, three girls and two boys, and after father lost his money and

had to go to a sanitarium we had frightful times, never any money to

buy anything, the girls always fighting over who should have silk

stockings, and mother crying every night when we learned to smoke. Of

course mother was old fashioned. I hated to have her weeping around all

the time, but all our set smoked and what could I do? So I just took

the first good chance to get married and got out of it all. And Ed

isn't so bad. Lots of men are worse. And he gives me all the money I

want. One thing the girls don't have to fight over silk stockings and

silk petticoats any more. I send them all they want. And I manage to

get my good times in now and then too. But tell me, what in the world

do you do in this sleepy little town? Don't you get bored to death? I

should think you'd get your father to move to the city. There must be

plenty of churches where a good looking minister like your father could

get a much bigger salary than out in the country like this. When I get

back to New York I'll send for you to visit me and show you a real good

time. I suppose you've never been to cabarets and eaten theatre

suppers, and seen a real New York good time. Why, last winter I had an

affair that was talked of in the papers for days. I had the whole lower

floor decorated as a wood you know, with real trees set up, and mossy

banks, and a brook running through it all. It took days for the

plumbers to get the fittings in, and then they put stones in the

bottom, and gold fish, and planted violets on the banks and all kinds

of ferns and lilies of the valley, everywhere there were flowers

blossoming so the guests could pick as many as they wanted. The stream

was deep enough to float little canoes, and they stopped in grottoes

for champagne, and when they came to a shallow place they had to get

out and take off their shoes and stockings and wade in the brook. On

the opposite bank a maid was waiting with towels. The ladies sat down

on the bank and their escorts had to wipe their feet and help them on

with their shoes and stockings again, and you ought to have heard the

shouts of laughter! It certainly was a great time! Upstairs in the ball

room we had garden walks all about, with all kinds of flowers growing,

and real birds flying around, and the walls were simply covered with

American beauty roses and wonderful climbers, in such bowers that the

air was heavy with perfume. The flowers alone cost thousands--What's

the matter? Did you hear something fall? You startled me, jumping up

like that! You're nervous aren't you? Don't you think music makes

people nervous?"