The Social Secretary
THE SOCIAL
SECRETARY
by
DAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPS
Author of The Plum Tree
The Cost etc. etc.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
CLARENCE F. UNDERWOOD
Decorations by
Ralph Fletcher Seymour
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
Copyright 1905
The Bobbs-Merrill Company
October
The Social Secretary
The Social Secretary
I
November 29. At half-pastone to-day—half-past one exactly—Ibegan my "career."
Mrs. Carteret said she would call forme at five minutes to one. But it wasten minutes after when she appeared,away down at the corner of I Street.Jim was walking up and down thedrawing-room; I was at the window,watching that corner of I Street."There she blows!" I cried, my voicebrave, but my heart like a big lump ofsomething soggy and sad.
[Pg 2]Jim hurried up and stood behind me,staring glumly over my shoulder. Hehas proposed to me in so many wordsmore than twenty times in the last threeyears, and has looked it every timewe've met—we meet almost every day.I could feel that he was getting readyto propose again, but I hadn't the slightestfear that he'd touch me. He's inthe army, and his "pull" has kept himsnug and safe at Washington and haspromoted him steadily until now he'sa Colonel at thirty-five. But he wasbrought up in a formal, old-fashionedway, and he'd think it a deadly insultto a woman he respected enough to askher to be his wife if he should touchher without her permission. I admireJim's self-restraint, but—I couldn't bearbeing married to a man who worshipedme, even if I only liked him. If I[Pg 3]loved him, I'd be utterly miserable. I'vebeen trying hard to love Jim for thepast four months, or ever since I'vereally realized how desperate my affairsare. But I can't. And the most exasperatingpart of my obstinacy is that Ican't find a good reason or excuse for it.
As I was saying—or, rather, writing—Jimstood behind me and said in ahusky sort of voice: "You ain't goin'to do it, are you, Gus?"
I didn't answer. If I had said anything,it would have been a feeble,miserable "No"—which would havemeant that I was accepting the alternative—him.All my courage had goneand I felt contemptibly feminine anddependent.
I looked at him—I did like the expressionof his eyes and the strengthand manliness of him from head to foot.[Pg 4]What a fine sort of man a "pull" anda private income have spoiled in JimLafollette! He went on: "Surely, I'mnot more repellent to you than—thanwhat that auto is coming to take youaway to."
"Shame on you, Jim Lafollette!" Isaid angrily—most of the anger so thathe wouldn't understand and take advantageof the tears in my eyes and voice."But how like you! How brave!"
He reddened at that—part