Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 65: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE YELLOW DIAMOND PENDANT The half-hearted snow patting against the windowpane made my nerves jumpy. I arose and paced in a silly sort of fashion up and down Caro- line’s pretty sitting room, holding in my hand a letter which told me that she and Will would reach home the twenti- ‘eth, ergo, I should have to get out! Snow is very pretty, even exciting, when one has a moleskin coat and a fat bank account, but when one pos- sesses nothing except a reputation for being a very superior sort of butterfly, a name, and family pride for which one’s ancestors have fought, and bled, and died, and which must go on stain- less to the end—well, then snow begins to conjure up pictures of a homeless heroin® and out in the cold world alone. My situation was so absurd, I laughed—a _ little hysterical sort of burst of merriment. There was I, in the midst of luxury, wearing casually a gown that riust have cost Cousin Mary a thousand francs, a spoiled beauty— Jim Marston once called me that— whose favor was a man’s passport to social recognition, engaged to a man with so much money that he, himself, hardly knew the sum total, with not a roof over my head after the twentieth ; unless I should go on managing a lot of stupid people who would ask me to stay with them—climbers whose posi- tion in our social world always went up a peg or two by my presence in the house. It was terribly funny—yjust that, truly. . I don’t know why I hesitated over angling for an invitation—I never had before; or why Will and Caroline’s home-coming should have given me such a feeling of utter desolation. For five years we had pursued this course, and I always had gone my way hopefully, cheerfully, letting each day take care of itself as long as I was stowed away in luxury and mumsey was taken care of. No doubt, love had changed me, and I had come plump up against the fact that all my life I had been lead- ing an aimless sort of existence, actu- ated by not one noble thought or im- pulse, just hanging on with all my strength to the top of the social lad- 55 der, a place made for me by my an- cestors; toppling in the air, for, since my father’s death, the ladder had been unsupported by the Callaway fortune which it always had had to lean upon; joggling the ladder this way and that, like a clever juggler ; even at times airily kissing my fingers to the audience of my numerous admirers. Indeed, love had changed me, and life suddenly seemed very real and important. I sat down and let my head fall upon my arms, while two tears rolled slowly down my cheeks and splashed upon the point Ventse which edged the sleeves of my imported gown. There was no cause to cry, except that love is an in- explicable thing, and the heart of a girl something which she herself hardly - understands. After a while I pressed my hand against my breast, where hung a little locket inclosing a tiny picture of Billy. I did not look at it, but I pressed it tightly, tightly ; somehow, at that moment, I could not look upon the face of the man I loved. Aren’t women — silly ? I dried my eyes, the storm was all over, the sunshine came out; at least inside, for outside the snow whirled and swirled as snow very properly should do. I went to my desk—Caro- line’s desk—and brought forth a little book wherein I jot down names and dates for future reference. The names are always prospective hostesses, the dates when I manage that I shall be asked to visit. I checked off the month and found I had two places from which to choose—one, an old friend of mum- seys, to be used in case of sheer desperation; the other, the Seymour Browns, climbers, who had managed to push into the social game through downright cleverness. There, for a month, I would be absolute mistress of a blue-and-white bedroom fit for a princess, a rose boudoir, and a marble bath, in exchange for shedding the luster of old-time aristocracy over the place, and corralling for them a few ex- clusive dinner parties. I noted the telephone number, and five minutes later I was gushing to Mrs. Seymour Brown that I would be per- (C@) ANU IOOK (E@)