Humphrey was in no way dismayed by this answer. He knew very well it needs only two or three introductions to bridge the gap between oneself and anyone anywhere in the world. He therefore asked everyone he knew, stating his purpose very clearly, and before many weeks had passed he found himself on a certain terrace, looking over Long Island Sound, being curiously regarded by the namesakes of buildings and breakfast foods, and talking to Caroline Coates. He found her amazingly ignorant of the immense importance of recent researches into the functions of the ductless glands, and it was a keen pleasure to him to tell her of the great strides in human health and happiness and longevity that were promised by the new knowledge. You may imagine the effect of this gaunt, gauche, hollow-cheeked young man, in altogether the wrong sort of jacket, sitting among the well-groomed crowd, lecturing a popular idol of twenty-three on the effects of certain unsavoury juices upon horrible insane little girls, who wallowed in their own dung. Of course, she fell wildly, madly, head-over-heels in love with him, and before the month was out it was announced they were engaged to be married.
Certain buildings rocked a little; certain breakfast foods popped and crackled even more snappishly than usual. But in the main people felt that it showed what a fine girl Caroline was, and yet it was in no way a threat, because it couldn't possibly last. For example, what would happen when Humphrey went to Vienna, to work under the celebrated Vingleberg?
«I shall be there,» said Humphrey, «for three years straight. And if I get out of that lab for forty-eight consecutive hours any time in those three years, it'll be because the place has burned down. I can't get back here to see you.»
«Maybe I'll come over between shows.»
«I wish you'd change your mind.»
«Darling, I'd like to get married now, just as much as you would. But I simply cannot walk out on a new show and leave everyone flat. Besides …»
«You want just one more.»
«Yes, I do. Maybe I could come when it's over.»
«They say the damned thing'll run for years.»
«It may fold up in six months. Humphrey, I know you think I'm just greedy to have a fuss made over me …»
«I've never suggested such a thing.»
«But you think so. And if you didn't you'd be crazy. Because I am, just a bit. But if ever I feel it getting a real hold on me …»
«And what do you think a real hold feels like? Like this?»
This terminated the conversation just as they were on an important point, which was rather a pity. Humphrey's boat sailed; Caroline's play opened; she was more idolized than ever, and everyone expected her to fall in love with someone else. But the first year passed, and the second year passed, and the third year wore on, and Caroline was still faithful. There were two excellent reasons for this. She was so extremely fond of Humphrey, and she was so extremely fond of herself.
When the three years were over, Humphrey Baxter was on the boat, and the boat was docking. For some weeks he had had a picture in his mind of how Caroline would look when she greeted him, and this picture was so much with him that when he was reading the right-hand page of his book, it hovered like an illustration on the left. Because this was the 1920's, he had costumed her in silver fox and violets. He looked down on the landing stage, and saw plenty of fur and flowers, but he saw no sign of Caroline.
He went down the gangway and through the barrier. Two people came up and grasped his either hand. They were Dick and Stella Archer, the very people who had introduced him to Caroline in the first place, and thus established squatter's rights in the relationship. They held his hands and looked at him, and uttered the pleasantest and friendliest of greetings. Humphrey looked this way and that. «Where's Caroline?» said he.
The greetings were gone like a burst bubble. Three altogether greyer people stood, in an east wind, in the giant cheerlessness of the landing shed.
«Carrie couldn't come,» said Stella.
There was no doubt at all that Humphrey's mouth was sensitive, extremely sensitive. «Is she ill?» he asked.
«Well …» said Dick.
«She's not ill,» said Stella. «But she couldn't come. Humphrey, get your things through, and we'll go to lunch at the Revestel, and we'll tell you about it.»
«Very well,» said Humphrey.
They went to the Revestel, where they had eaten so often in the old days. They ordered lunch. «I think it's about time you told me what it is,» said Humphrey.
«Humphrey,» said Stella, «you've got to understand.»
It was perhaps, after all, rather difficult to decide whether Humphrey's mouth was very sensitive or a little cruel. «Go on,» he said.
«We're old friends,» said Dick, «we've known you and Carrie the hell of a long time, you know.» Humphrey looked at Stella.
«Carrie's fallen in love,» said Stella.
Humphrey closed his eyes. He might have been asleep, or dead. These skull-faced men can look astonishingly dead at times.
However, after a few long seconds he opened them again. Dick was saying something.
«When?» asked Humphrey of Stella.
«Last month, Humphrey. And almost at once it was too late to write.»
«With whom?»
«He's quite a decent sort,» said Dick. «In fact, it's Brodie.»
«Alan Brodie the tennis champion,» said Stella.
«National Singles eight times,» said Dick. «The last six years in succession.»
«He talks like that because he is scared and miserable,» said Stella.
«Alan Brodie toured Europe the first year I was there,» said Humphrey. «He came to Vienna. There was some kind of fuss at his hotel. A mob of women scuffling. It doesn't often happen over there.»
«He's a popular idol,» said Stella.
«Do you mean like Carrie?»
«He's a beautiful creature, Humphrey. He gives people the same sort of thrill that Carrie does. And the two of them together … !»
«She must have changed a great deal.»
«Not really, Humphrey. I think she's realized what she's meant for.»
«She's not meant for that sort of thing at all,» said Humphrey, not loudly or emphatically, but with complete finality.
«Humphrey, you'll just have to wait till you see them together.»
«I can wait,» said Humphrey.
In New York it is seldom necessary to wait very long. Humphrey had a book to publish, and therefore a publisher, and therefore an invitation to lunch, and at a certain restaurant frequented by the people who are known to each other and to the gossip columnists. A woman for whose glands he would have paid a small fortune was sitting at the next table. Suddenly she uttered a sort of squeal. Then Humphrey, with a sensation that made of him a life-long opponent of electrocution, heard her utter the following words: «Oh, look! The lovers!»
Humphrey had no reason to turn his head. He saw other people looking in the direction of the door. He had time enough to observe, on faces horribly besmeared with success, a look of simple pleasure such as made even those faces seem quite attractive. Humphrey not only observed this, but reflected on it. «It must be a good thing,» he thought, «that can so transfigure faces like these.»
All this time the faces in question were turning, like searchlights converging on an unseen objective, as they followed Caroline and her Alan Brodie. Suddenly Humphrey found himself caught as it were in the full blaze, which meant she was close behind him. He turned, and they met.
Everything was very pleasant, good-humoured and gay. Caroline and Brodie sat down with Humphrey and his publisher; other people came to greet them and were induced to sit down also. Everyone talked a great deal except Humphrey, who was not expected to talk a great deal.