New York - The Novel

two-seater, and drove her home.
    After he’d gone, she sat in her room for a couple of hours, taking stock of the situation. What did it mean? Was he not serious about her at all, and only intending to seduce her? He wouldn’t try to force himself on her, she was sure—he would know that Sean would put a knife in his back if ever he did that. And he surely wouldn’t have spent all this time courting her when he could have plenty of easy women as a mistress, if that’s what he wanted. No, from everything that had passed between them, she was sure he was thinking of her as a wife.
    She wished she could talk it over with Gretchen, but Gretchen and her family had gone away that week to visit relations in New Jersey. Anyway, she told herself, she was perfectly capable of thinking it out for herself.
    What was his game, then? Simple enough, she supposed: he wanted to sample the goods before he bought. She couldn’t really blame him for that. Out in the country, it was thought decent enough so long as you married before the first child was born.
    And she’d refused him. Why? A sense of her own reputation? God knows, the place he’d chosen was discreet enough. Had she wanted him? Perhaps not. Not just then. She hardly knew. Was that such a good reason to refuse? Was he disappointed? Was he angry? Had she lost him?
    It was early evening when she left the house. It was still her day off. She walked down Irving Place to Fourteenth Street, across to Fourth Avenue, and took a train down to City Hall. It was only a short walk to Beekman Street from there.
    She hadn’t quite decided what she was going to say, or do, when she got to the saloon. But at the least, she would speak to him, let him know that she was sorry for disappointing him. More than that she hadn’t decided. She’d see what reception she got, and take it from there.
    She was halfway down the street when she saw him. He’d just come out of the saloon, and he was looking angry. It made her pause, nervously, and her first thought was that his bad temper was probably her fault. He turned along the street, with his back to her. There weren’t many people about, but she didn’t want to call out to him, so she started to walk quickly, to catch up with him.
    She noticed that there was a ragged street urchin in his path, a little boy of seven or eight, by the look of him. He was standing there with his hand out for a coin. Nolan waved him out of the way, irritably, as he drew near. But the little fellow stood his ground, his hand still out. Nolan reached him, and paused. His hand seemed to go to his pocket. And then, silently, and with great deliberation, he smacked the urchin across the face so hard that the little boy was lifted clean off his feet and sent rolling in the gutter. People turned at the sound. The little boy lay in the street so shocked he didn’t even scream. And Nolan walked on as though nothing had happened.
    She stopped. She stared. Normally she’d have rushed to the boy, but others were doing that, and besides, for some reason she couldn’t. She turned and started to hurry away. As she did so, a sudden feeling, not only of shock, but a kind of nausea, overcame her.
    She turned up toward City Hall. A train was leaving and she quickly got on. It wasn’t only that she wanted to sit down, but somehow to remove herself from the street. As the train slowly trundled up the Bowery, she tried to make sense of what had just happened.
    She’d seen Nolan. Seen him when he had no idea she was there. Seen him, as it were, unclothed. Seen him angry. But no anger—even if she was the cause of it—gave him the right to do what he just did. It wasn’t just the violence of the blow—you could see worse than that any day around Five Points. It was Nolan’s cold, deliberate cruelty that had been exposed.
    And this was the man who she’d been thinking of marrying, the man who’d kissed her, the man who, only hours before, had pressed his body into hers. And foolish though it might be, and though it was the boy he struck, and not herself, she felt a terrible, sickening sense, as though she had been violated.
    When he called at Gramercy Park again the next week, she sent out word that she was unwell. A few days later, she asked Mrs. Master to help her. She gave few details, simply telling her that Nolan had been courting her, and that she had discovered something bad about him. And after a little gentle questioning, Mrs. Master told her she’d take