“What is it?” cried Elaine quickly.
With a sharp movement Diana slammed the door behind her and Elaine stepped back, her mouth falling ajar.
“Good evening,” said Diana coldly, and then a line from a forgotten nickel novel flashed into her head, “I hope I don’t intrude.”
“What do you want?” demanded Elaine. “You’ve got your nerve to come butting in here!”
Charley who had not said a word set down his glass heavily on the arm of the chair. The two girls looked at each other with unwavering eyes.
“Excuse me,” said Diana slowly, “but I think you’ve got my man.”
“I thought you were supposed to be a lady!” cried Elaine in rising anger. “What do you mean by forcing your way into this room?”
“I mean business. I’ve come for Charley Abbot.”
Elaine gasped.
“Why, you must be crazy!”
“On the contrary, I’ve never been so sane in my life. I came here to get something that belongs to me.”
Charley uttered an exclamation but with a simultaneous gesture the two women waved him silent.
“All right,” cried Elaine, “we’ll settle this right now.”
“I’ll settle it myself,” said Diana sharply. “There’s no question or argument about it. Under other circumstances I might feel a certain pity for you—in this case you happen to be in my way. What is there between you two? Has he promised to marry you?”
“That’s none of your business!”
“You’d better answer,” Diana warned her.
“I won’t answer.”
Diana took a sudden step forward, drew back her arm and with all the strength in her slim hard muscles, hit Elaine a smashing blow in the cheek with her open hand.
Elaine staggered up against the wall. Charley uttered an exclamation and sprang forward to find himself looking into the muzzle of a forty-four held in a small determined hand.
“Help!” cried Elaine wildly. “Oh, she’s hurt me! She’s hurt me!”
“Shut up!” Diana’s voice was hard as steel. “You’re not hurt. You’re just pulpy and soft. But if you start to raise a row I’ll pump you full of tin as sure as you’re alive. Sit down! Both of you. Sit down!”
Elaine sat down quickly, her face pale under her rouge. After an instant’s hesitation Charley sank down again into his chair.
“Now,” went on Diana, waving the gun in a constant arc that included them both. “I guess you know I’m in a serious mood. Understand this first of all. As far as I’m concerned neither of you have any rights whatsoever and I’d kill you both rather than leave this room without getting what I came for. I asked if he’d promised to marry you.”
“Yes,” said Elaine sullenly.
The gun moved toward Charley.
“Is that so?”
He licked his lips, nodded.
“My God!” said Diana in contempt. “And you admit it. Oh, it’s funny, it’s absurd—if I didn’t care so much I’d laugh.”
“Look here!” muttered Charley, “I’m not going to stand much of this, you know.”
“Yes you are! You’re soft enough to stand anything now.” She turned to the girl, who was trembling. “Have you any letters of his?”
Elaine shook her head.
“You lie,” said Diana. “Go and get them! I’ll give you three. One——”
Elaine rose nervously and went into the other room. Diana edged along the table, keeping her constantly in sight.
“Hurry!”
Elaine returned with a small package in her hand which Diana took and slipped into her blazer pocket.
“Thanks. You had ‘em all carefully preserved I see. Sit down again and we’ll have a little talk.”
Elaine sat down. Charley drained off his whisky and soda and leaned back stupidly in his chair.
“Now,” said Diana, “I’m going to tell you a little story. It’s about a girl who went to a war once and met a man who she thought was the finest and bravest man she had ever known. She fell in love with him and he with her and all the other men she had ever known became like pale shadows compared with this man that she loved. But one day he was shot down out of the air, and when he woke up into the world he’d changed. He didn’t know it himself but he’d forgotten things and become a different man. The girl felt sad about this—she saw that she wasn’t necessary to him any more, so there was nothing to do but say good-by.
“So she went away and every night for a while she cried herself to sleep but he never came back to her and five years went by. Finally word came to her that this same injury that had come between them was ruining his life. He didn’t remember anything important any more—how proud and fine he had once been, and what dreams he had once had. And then the girl knew that she had the right to try and save what was left of his life because she was the only one who knew all the things he’d forgotten. But it was too late. She couldn’t approach him any more—she wasn’t coarse enough and gross enough to reach him now—he’d forgotten so much.
“So she took a revolver, very much like this one here, and she came after this man to the apartment of a poor, weak, harmless rat of a girl who had him in tow. She was going to either bring him to himself—or go back to the dust with him where nothing would matter any more.”
She paused. Elaine shifted uneasily in her chair. Charley was leaning forward with his face in his hands.
“Charley!”
The word, sharp and distinct, startled him. He dropped his hands and looked up at her.
“Charley!” she repeated in a thin clear voice. “Do you remember Fontenay in the late fall?”
A bewildered look passed over his face.
“Listen, Charley. Pay attention. Listen to every word I say. Do you remember the poplar trees at twilight, and a long column of French infantry going through the town? You had on your blue uniform, Charley, with the little numbers on the tabs and you were going to the front in an hour. Try and remember, Charley!”
He passed his hand over his eyes and gave a funny little sigh. Elaine sat bolt upright in her chair and gazed from one to the other of them with wide eyes.
“Do you remember the poplar trees?” went on Diana. “The sun was going down and the leaves were silver and there was a bell ringing. Do you remember, Charley? Do you remember?”
Again silence. Charley gave a curious little groan and lifted his head.
“I can’t—understand,” he muttered hoarsely. “There’s something funny here.”
“Can’t you remember?” cried Diana. The tears were streaming from her eyes. “Oh God! Can’t you remember? The brown road and the poplar trees and the yellow sky.” She sprang suddenly to her feet. “Can’t you remember?” she cried wildly. “Think, think—there’s time. The bells are ringing—the bells are ringing, Charley! And there’s just one hour!”
Then he too was on his feet, reeling and swaying.
“Oh-h-h-h!” he cried.
“Charley,” sobbed Diana, “remember, remember, remember!”
“I see!” he said wildly. “I can see now—I remember, oh I remember!”
With a choking sob his whole body seemed to wilt under him and he pitched back senseless into his chair.
In a minute the two girls were beside him.
“He’s fainted!” Diana cried—”get some water quick.”
“You devil!” screamed Elaine, her face distorted. “Look what’s happened! What right have you to do this? What right? What right?”
“What right?” Diana turned to her with black, shining eyes. “Every right in the world. I’ve been married to Charley Abbot for five years.”
Charley and Diana were married again in Greenwich early in June. After the wedding her oldest friends stopped calling her Diamond Dick—it had been a most inappropriate name for some years, they said, and it was thought that the effect on her children might be unsettling, if not distinctly pernicious.
Yet perhaps if the occasion should arise Diamond Dick would come to life again from the colored cover and, with spurs shining and buckskin fringes fluttering in the breeze, ride into the lawless hills to protect her own. For under all her softness Diamond Dick was always hard as steel—so hard that the years knew it and stood still for her and the clouds rolled apart and a sick man, hearing those untiring hoofbeats in the night, rose up and shook off the dark burden of the war.
“Diamond Dick and the First Law of Woman” was written in Great Neck in December 1923. International bought it for $1500.
Fitzgerald had been counting on his play, The Vegetable, to solve his money problems. After The Vegetable failed at its Atlantic City tryout in November 1923, he was compelled to write himself out of debt with stories. Between November 1923 and April 1924 he wrote ten stories: “The Sensible Thing,” “Rags Martin-Jones and the Pr-nce of W-les,” “Diamond Dick and the First Law of Woman,” “Gretchen’s Forty Winks,” “The Baby Party,” “The Third Casket,” “One of My Oldest Friends,” “The Pusher-in-the-Face,” “The Unspeakable Egg,” and “John Jackson’s Arcady.” These were competent commercial stories which paid off Fitzgerald’s debts and financed the writing of The Great Gatsby on the Riviera in the summer of 1924.
