That night, going to bed, Martin and Jeannette had their first quarrel. It left her shaken and unhappy all the next day. She ridiculed their guests and Martin defended them; she declared they were stupid and common; he, that she didn’t know them, that they were a very good-hearted sort, that she had been cold and patronizing with Mrs. Gibbs, that her husband had noticed it, and become awfully “sore”; it would have been a “damn sight better,” Martin concluded stormily, if they had never been asked.
“And after all the trouble I went to!” raged Jeannette to herself, hugging her side of the bed, rebellion strong within her, “cooking all day long, planning everything out, going over to Columbus Avenue twice, getting flowers for the table, working myself dizzy and ruining my organdie, just so he could make a good impression on them and perhaps help himself a little at the office!”
A tear trickled down her nose, and she wiped it off with a finger-tip. She would never give in to him,--never! She would make him beg and beg and beg for her forgiveness! It would be a long, long time.... With head aching and trying to choke down a sniffle that threatened to betray her, she fell asleep.
There was an eager reconciliation the next night; promises, vows, assurances, harsh self-accusations, and Martin carried her off after dinner to two dollar seats at the _Broadway_, where Jeannette whispered penitently, hugging his arm in the dark of the theatre, that if the Gibbses _did_ ask them to visit them some Sunday, she would go and be her nicest to both.
The occasion when Sandy MacGregor had the young Devlins to dine with him in style on the roof garden of the new Astor Hotel was another affair that turned out unfortunately. The lady whom Sandy asked to be fourth in the party,--a Mrs. Fontella,--was not the type with whom Jeannette had been accustomed to associate. She was boldly handsome with great round black eyes, masses of auburn hair, a cavernous red mouth, and a large, prominent bust. She was noisy and coarse, and when she laughed she showed a great deal of gum and rows of glittering gold-filled teeth. Jeannette froze into her most rigid and uncommunicative self. Just before dessert was served, Martin and Sandy excused themselves from the table and disappeared, leaving her sitting for almost half-an-hour alone with her noisy and conspicuous companion. It was evident when the men returned they had been downstairs to the bar where they had had drinks and had been shaking dice. Jeannette was thoroughly incensed, and although Sandy had seats for the theatre, she complained she was ill and insisted upon going home.