New York - The Novel

she’d wait in the larger studio. She’d sat down on the sofa there, then got up to look at the books on the table. There were no poems on the table that day, just a newspaper and an old copy of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s
Scarlet Letter
. She’d read the book, so she contented herself with reading the newspaper. She heard the young man leave, and Theodore busying himself about the studio.
    Then he entered, and stood there smiling.
    “I didn’t think you’d come.”
    “I happened to be passing,” she said. “I said I’d look in.”
    “That was my last customer for the day. Would you like to eat something?”
    “If you like,” she said, and stood up.
    He came over to her.
    “We can go out to eat in a little while,” he said. Then he began to kiss her.
    Their affair lasted through that month and the next. Of course, there were only certain times when she could meet him, but it was surprising how, with a little ingenuity, they could contrive to get together. And on her free days they went out walking, or he took her to concerts or the theater, or other things he thought she might like. Now and then he’d explain to her how he took his photographs, the way he tried to compose them or arrange the light, and she discovered that she had some natural understanding for such things, so that quite soon she could tell which was the best work and sometimes how it was achieved.
    She knew he would not marry her. She was not sure she’d even wish it. But she knew that she interested him, and that he had affection for her.
    They did not tell Gretchen.
    It was in the middle of September that Sean came to see her. They walked round Gramercy Park together.
    “So what’s going on with Theodore Keller?” he asked.
    “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.
    “Yes you do. I know all about it, Mary.”
    “Are you following me, Sean? I’m almost thirty years old. Have you nothing better to do?”
    “Never mind how I know. I’m not having my sister trifled with.”
    “My God, Sean, how many girls have you trifled with in your life?”
    “They weren’t my sister.”
    “Well, it’s my business and not yours.”
    “I can have him taken care of, you know.”
    “Oh my God, Sean, don’t even be thinking such a thing.”
    “Do you love him?”
    “He’s very good to me.”
    “If there’s a child, he must marry you, Mary. I wouldn’t allow anything else.”
    “Sean, I don’t want you interfering in my life. This is my doing as much as his. If you’re going to be this way, I don’t want to see you any more. I mean it.”
    Sean was silent after that for a moment or two.
    “If you’re ever in trouble, Mary, I want you to come to me,” he said gently. “You’ve always a place in my house.” He paused. “Just one thing you’re to promise me. You’ll never give a child away. Never. I’ll look after any child.”
    “You’re not to touch Theodore—he’s not to blame. You must promise me that.”
    “As you wish.”
    That October, when Theodore had decided he should go down to the battlefields, she had suffered a good deal. But she hadn’t let him see. And she’d realized also that it was better he should go then, before she became so attached that the parting would be too painful to bear.
    He’d been gone a week when she wondered if she might be with child. During the time of her uncertainty, she’d been so frightened that it was all she could do to concentrate on her work in the house. And Sean’s words had come to her often then. But to her relief, that danger had passed.
    Theodore had been gone many months, and after his return, though very tempted, she had been determined to keep him only as a friend. God knows, she thought, he’s sure to take up with other women if he hasn’t already.
    And so they had remained friends. She hadn’t taken another lover, so far, and she hadn’t found a man she wanted to marry. But she’d kept her secret memory, and she was proud of it.
    She’d even been able to be helpful to him. When he had told her he was looking for a patron, it was Mary who’d gone to Frank Master and asked him to look at his work. That had been five years ago, and Master had been a fine patron ever since—commissioning work, providing contacts—everything that an artist could hope for. And when he said heneeded to get journalists to come to the opening of the exhibition, she’d even made Sean speak to some of the newspapermen he knew.
    So now, finding Theodore pacing about in a