Audrey was frightened. She did not care a penny's worth what her little
world thought. Indeed, she knew that she had given it a new thrill and
so had won its enthusiastic approval. She was afraid of what Clayton
would think.
She was absurdly quiet and virtuous all the next day, gathered out her
stockings and mended them; began a personal expenditure account for the
New-year, heading it carefully with "darning silk, 50 cents"; wrote a
long letter to Chris, and--listened for the telephone. If only he would
call her, so she could explain. Still, what could she explain? She had
done it. It was water over the dam--and it is no fault of Audrey's that
she would probably have spelled it "damn."
By noon she was fairly abject. She did not analyze her own anxiety, or
why the recollection of her escapade, which would a short time before
have filled her with a sort of unholy joy, now turned her sick and
trembling.
Then, in the middle of the afternoon, Clay called her up. She gasped a
little when she heard his voice.
"I wanted to tell you, Audrey," he said, "that we can probably use the
girl you spoke about, rather soon."
"Very well. Thank you. Is--wasn't there something else, too?"
"Something else?"
"You are angry, aren't you?"
He hesitated.
"Surprised. Not angry. I haven't any possible right to be angry."
"Will you come up and let me tell you about it, Clay?"
"I don't see how that will help any."
"It will help me."
He laughed at that; her new humility was so unlike her.
"Why, of course I'll come, Audrey," he said, and as he rang off he was
happier than he had been all day.
He was coming. Audrey moved around the little room, adjusting chairs,
rearranging the flowers that had poured in on New-year's day, brushing
the hearth. And as she worked she whistled. He would be getting into the
car now. He would be so far on his way. He would be almost there. She
ran into her bedroom and powdered her nose, with her lips puckered,
still whistling, and her heart singing.
But he scolded her thoroughly at first.
"Why on earth did you do it," he finished. "I still can't understand.
I see you one day, gravity itself, a serious young woman--as you are
to-day. And then I hear--it isn't like you, Audrey."
"Oh yes, it is. It's exactly like me. Like one me. There are others, of
course."