FullReads

Sudden wealth had given Arnold a new masterfulness. “Marry me before you go.”

“Not at all,” replied Maxine. “On the boat going over—-“

“Over where?”

“Honolulu, on my way to Japan, I’ll meet a tall bearded stranger, sunburned, with the flame of the Orient in his eyes, and on his thin, cruel, sensual mouth—-“

Arnold Hatch took off his glasses. Maxine stiffened. “Don’t you d—-” But she was too late.

“There,” said Arnold, “he’ll have to have some beard, and some flame, and some thin, cruel, sensual mouth to make you forget that one.”

Maxine started, alone, against her mother’s remonstrances. After she’d picked out her boat she changed to another because she learned, at the last minute, that the first boat was an oil-burner. Being an inexperienced traveller she took a good many trunks and was pretty unpopular with the steward before he could make her understand that one trunk to the stateroom was the rule. On the first two days out on the way to the Hawaiian Islands she spent all her time (which was twenty-four hours a day in her bed) hoping that Balboa was undergoing fitting torment in punishment for his little joke about discovering the so-called Pacific Ocean. But the swell subsided, and the wind went down, and Maxine appeared on deck and in another twelve hours had met everyone from the purser to the honeymoon couple, in the surprising way one does on these voyages. She looked for the tall bearded stranger with the sunburn of the Orient and the thin, cruel, sensual lips. But he didn’t seem to be about. Strangely enough, everyone she talked to seemed to be from Nebraska, or Kansas, or Iowa, or Missouri. Not only that, they all were very glib with names and places that had always seemed mythical and glamorous.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Tannenbaum and I went to India last year, and Persia and around. Real interesting. My, but they’re dirty, those towns. We used to kick about Des Moines, now that they use so much soft coal, and all the manufacturing and all. But my land, it’s paradise compared to those places. And the food! Only decent meals we had in Egypt was a place in Cairo called Pardee’s, run by a woman whose husband’s left her or died, or something. Real home-loving woman she was. Such cooking…. Why, that’s so! Your name’s Pardee, too, isn’t it! Well, I always say to Mr. Tannenbaum, it’s a small world, after all. No relation, of course?”

“Of course not.” How suddenly safe Oklahoma seemed. And Arnold Hatch.

“Where you going from Honolulu, Miss Pardee?”

“Samarkand.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Samarkand.”

“Oh, yeh. Samar–le’ see now, where is that, exactly? I used to know, but I’m such a hand for forgetting—-“

“I don’t know,” said Maxine, distinctly.

“Don’t–but I thought you said you were going—-“

“I am. But I don’t know where it is.”

“Then how—-“

“You just go to an office, where there are folders and a man behind the desk, and you say you want to go to Samarkand. He shows you. You get on a boat. That’s all.”

The people from Iowa, and Kansas, and Nebraska and Missouri said, Oh, yes, and there was nothing like travel. So broadening. Maxine asked them if they knew about the Vale of Kashmir and one of them, astoundingly enough, did. A man from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, who had spent a year there superintending the erection of a dredge. A plump man, with eyeglasses and perpetually chewing a dead cigar.

Gold and sunlight, myrrh and incense, the tinkling of anklets. Maxine clung to these wildly, in her mind.

But Honolulu, the Moana Hotel on Waikiki Beach, reassured her. It was her dream come true. She knew it would be so when she landed and got her first glimpse of the dark-skinned natives on the docks, their hats and necks laden with leis of flowers. There were palm trees. There were flaming hibiscus hedges. Her bed was canopied with white netting, like that of a princess (the attendant explained it was to keep out the mosquitoes).