The New Adam by Stanley G Weinbaum

Author:Stanley G Weinbaum [Weinbaum, Stanley G]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER V

FRUITION

THE thrilling drabness of a Crown Point wedding was over; since morning Vanny had been a wife, and it was now mid-afternoon! She was alone now for the first few moments since the epochal events of the morning. Edmond had given her his car to drive to her apartment for such necessary packing as she had to do—things she would need in the house on Kenmore.

She ordered her trunk up from the cellar locker-room, and placed her key in the apartment lock with a queer sad little puckering of her lips. Things moved so swiftly! Who could have dreamed it two nights ago—or even last evening? How had Paul taken her scribbled note? Had he told the rest of the bunch? What had they said and thought—especially Walter, who used to call her Vanny the Invulnerable? Invulnerable! The joke was on Walter, and herself, too! How had it all happened, anyway?

“I don’t care,” she thought, as she entered the living room. “I just fell hard for him, and that’s that!”

Eblis bounded in with a protesting squall; she had forgotten to feed him in the rush of the morning’s events. She rectified the omission, and passed into her bedroom. There she paused at the sight of the wine-velvet dress draped over the foot of the bed, beside the black hose and the diminutive black silk dansette she had worn; an embarrassed recollection colored her throat.

“I don’t care,” she told herself again, picking up the lingerie. “I’m glad I wore it.” She spread it against her, standing before the door-mirror, and turned a little pirouette. Black stockings must have looked somewhat less sensual, she thought, but there wasn’t very much of the dansette. She tucked up her skirt, surveying her legs critically. Long, soft, rounded, nice!

“I’m glad!” she repeated. “I’m glad he liked the way I looked—glad he was man and I woman enough to thrill! And that I’m honest enough to be glad! In fact,” she told her reflection, “I’m a complete Pollyanna, and what of it?”

She folded the garment, placed it on the bed, and proceeded to bury it with others from various closets and drawers. The janitor struggled in with a flat steamer trunk, and she transferred the bed’s burden to its hollow. She followed with an old hand-mirror of her grandmother’s, a manicure set that was a graduation gift, a few other mementoes. For a moment or two she hesitated over a framed picture of Paul, finally laying it on the dresser. “If there’s room,” she thought.

The doorbell rang; she ran to answer.

“Oh—Walter!”

“H’lo, Vanny.” He stood polishing his glasses. “Mind if I come in?” He entered. “Congratulations—or is it best wishes? I never remember which to offer the bride.”

“I’ll take a little of both,” said Vanny. “You don’t seem very enthused.”

“Oh, I really am!” He paused again. “Only Paul, you know—”

“What about Paul?” she was a little anxious.

“Well, he asked me to see you. He got your note, and I guess it pretty well upset him.”

“I should have been more tactful, I suppose,” said Vanny, “but I didn’t exactly know how.

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