Hypnotize Philip with the evil red eye of the cigar? Nonsense. No. He had asked Philip seriously if be had any serious girl, and Philip said he hadnât one. Went around, of course. (Perfectly normal.)
Seriously.
Seriously, Philip had girls but no one he wanted to marry, if that was what Hanno meant.
Yes, that was what Hanno meant.
It was then that Philip had said he would wait for someone like Puppchen. What he meant was someone who kind of looked up to him. Oh, Hanno could laugh, but it wasnât funny. He really wanted someone who needed him rather than someone who believed he needed her.
(And Anni thought there was something wrong about his needing to be needed.)
So he had told Philip Scott that there was someone who needed him.
He described Miss Mildredâs plight, the light affair, the heavy consequences. He told Philip about the man being married. He asked Philip to marry Miss Mildred so that she could have her child without what she considered disgrace ⦠a marriage in name only, of course. If Philip would take Miss Mildred to New York and marry her and then come back, leaving her in the city ⦠he Hanno financing, of course ⦠If Philip would help Miss Mildred have her baby respectably, and then a quiet divorce ⦠he financing again â¦
Philip had said, âTough on the poor kid, but, gee, Hanno.â
âThe baby will have a chance of life and, then, if Miss Mildred doesnât want it, you bet your life, there are many people who do.â
âOh, I get it now. Now I see,â Philip said, and it was Puppchen he saw, of course. Philip saw Puppchen grateful to him, Puppchen smiling at him. Philip had agreed so easily because he saw a smiling, grateful Puppchen with this child nestled in her arms.
âYes, Philip, now you see.â That, too, had seemed right. If Miss Mildred didnât want it, why not adopt this baby? It had seemed to him, smiling gratefully at Philip, disposing of the cigar, that perhaps the Fates had not slipped up, perhaps this was why they had allowed the accident. An eye for an eye, he had told himself, a life for a life. He and Puppchen would take this baby and give it the best possible life.
He had thought! He had thought!
Because that wasnât what had happened.
âThanksgiving,â he had told Philip, âThanksgiving vacation, you and Miss Mildred go off to New York and get married.â
It hadnât been so easy to persuade Miss Mildred. (It is easier to give than to receive.) It had been easier to persuade Philip to do his good deed than to persuade Miss Mildred to receive it.
âNo, it isnât right,â she said. âIt just isnât right.â
But it had seemed right. To him and Philip immediately, to Miss Mildred after a while. Only Puppchen was sad about it. She hadnât said so, of course, never would say so, but just as she had believed it wrong when he proposed to take her loverâs baby for his own, so apparently it was wrong for Philip to father Miss Mildredâs child. Miss Mildred should have an abortion, not have Philip. Oh, Puppchen had bowed to his decision, of course, but it left her unhappy. In part her disapproval came from her feeling that it was wrong, but part, of course, came because she did not want Philip to marry Miss Mildred and go away. Puppchen needed Philip. In his need, he had forgotten Puppchenâs. He had disregarded what Philip meant to Puppchen, something he had known about since the evening of the Infanta dress.
In October that had been, a month after they had come to Bradley. He had wondered as Puppchen came down the stairs in the Infanta dress how she had managed to do up the back without him. He had disapproved, thinking it too big an effect for Felixâs stairway, for Felixâs country room, for an evening with just himself and Philip Scott. (He had designed the Infanta dress for the Oscar presentation the year before.)
He remembered how he had
Seriously.
Seriously, Philip had girls but no one he wanted to marry, if that was what Hanno meant.
Yes, that was what Hanno meant.
It was then that Philip had said he would wait for someone like Puppchen. What he meant was someone who kind of looked up to him. Oh, Hanno could laugh, but it wasnât funny. He really wanted someone who needed him rather than someone who believed he needed her.
(And Anni thought there was something wrong about his needing to be needed.)
So he had told Philip Scott that there was someone who needed him.
He described Miss Mildredâs plight, the light affair, the heavy consequences. He told Philip about the man being married. He asked Philip to marry Miss Mildred so that she could have her child without what she considered disgrace ⦠a marriage in name only, of course. If Philip would take Miss Mildred to New York and marry her and then come back, leaving her in the city ⦠he Hanno financing, of course ⦠If Philip would help Miss Mildred have her baby respectably, and then a quiet divorce ⦠he financing again â¦
Philip had said, âTough on the poor kid, but, gee, Hanno.â
âThe baby will have a chance of life and, then, if Miss Mildred doesnât want it, you bet your life, there are many people who do.â
âOh, I get it now. Now I see,â Philip said, and it was Puppchen he saw, of course. Philip saw Puppchen grateful to him, Puppchen smiling at him. Philip had agreed so easily because he saw a smiling, grateful Puppchen with this child nestled in her arms.
âYes, Philip, now you see.â That, too, had seemed right. If Miss Mildred didnât want it, why not adopt this baby? It had seemed to him, smiling gratefully at Philip, disposing of the cigar, that perhaps the Fates had not slipped up, perhaps this was why they had allowed the accident. An eye for an eye, he had told himself, a life for a life. He and Puppchen would take this baby and give it the best possible life.
He had thought! He had thought!
Because that wasnât what had happened.
âThanksgiving,â he had told Philip, âThanksgiving vacation, you and Miss Mildred go off to New York and get married.â
It hadnât been so easy to persuade Miss Mildred. (It is easier to give than to receive.) It had been easier to persuade Philip to do his good deed than to persuade Miss Mildred to receive it.
âNo, it isnât right,â she said. âIt just isnât right.â
But it had seemed right. To him and Philip immediately, to Miss Mildred after a while. Only Puppchen was sad about it. She hadnât said so, of course, never would say so, but just as she had believed it wrong when he proposed to take her loverâs baby for his own, so apparently it was wrong for Philip to father Miss Mildredâs child. Miss Mildred should have an abortion, not have Philip. Oh, Puppchen had bowed to his decision, of course, but it left her unhappy. In part her disapproval came from her feeling that it was wrong, but part, of course, came because she did not want Philip to marry Miss Mildred and go away. Puppchen needed Philip. In his need, he had forgotten Puppchenâs. He had disregarded what Philip meant to Puppchen, something he had known about since the evening of the Infanta dress.
In October that had been, a month after they had come to Bradley. He had wondered as Puppchen came down the stairs in the Infanta dress how she had managed to do up the back without him. He had disapproved, thinking it too big an effect for Felixâs stairway, for Felixâs country room, for an evening with just himself and Philip Scott. (He had designed the Infanta dress for the Oscar presentation the year before.)
He remembered how he had
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