old-fashioned brownstone house. As he opened the door, he called, 

 “Nora!” 

 No beautiful partner of a free-love affair appeared, but an elderly woman in spectacles who had once been Professor Moreton’s cook, and now, doing all the housework for Ben, contrived to make him so comfortable that the editor of a more radical paper than his own had described the flat as “a bourgeois interior.” 

 “Nora,” said Ben, “put something in my bag for the night—I’m going to Newport in a few minutes.” 

 He had expected a flood of questions, for Nora was no looker-on at life, and he was surprised by her merely observing that she was glad he was getting away from the heat. The truth was that she knew far more about David than he did. She had consistently coddled David since his infancy, and he told her a great deal. Besides, she took care of his things when he was at Ben’s. She had known of sachets, photographs, and an engraved locket that he wore on his watch-chain. She was no radical. She had seen disaster come upon the old professor and attributed it, not to the narrowness of the trustees, but to the folly of the professor. She disapproved of most of Ben’s friends, and would have despised his paper if she ever read it. The only good thing about it in her estimation was, he seemed to be able “to knock a living out of it”—a process which Nora regarded with a sort of gay casualness. She did not blame him for making so little money and thus keeping her housekeeping cramped, but she never in her own mind doubted that it would be far better if he had more. The idea that David was about to marry money seemed to her simply the reward of virtue—her own virtue in bringing David up so well. She knew that Mr. Cord opposed the marriage, but she supposed that Ben would arrange all that. She had great confidence in Ben. Still he was very young, very young, so she gave him a word of advice as she put his bag into his hand. 

 “Don’t take any nonsense. Remember you’re every bit as good as they. Only don’t, for goodness’ sake, Mr. Ben, talk any of your ideas to them. A rich man like Mr. Cord wouldn’t like that.” 

 Ben laughed. “How would you like me to bring you home a lovely heiress of my own?” he said. 

 She took a thread off his coat. “Only don’t let her come interfering in my kitchen,” she said, and hurried him away. He had a good deal of courage, but he had not enough to tell Nora he was going to Newport to stop her darling’s marriage. 

 Prev. P 8/53 next