Infatuation

The Story

Phyllis Ladd grows up as an only child in a world defined by the quiet, orderly devotion of her father, a man whose professional life is a mystery to her. She is a girl of high-strung, ardent nature, feeling herself "different" from her schoolfellows, with a capacity for intense feeling that matures early. Her father, Mr. Ladd, has been her entire world since her mother’s death, and they share a bond of deep, unspoken affection. However, when a relative, Aunt Sally, insists that Phyllis must experience the social whirl of Washington, D.C., the rhythm of their life is disrupted. Phyllis is thrilled by the prospect of senators, balls, and the excitement of the "big world," while her father hides his profound loneliness behind a mask of cheerful encouragement, resigned to the fact that his daughter is destined to choose a life of her own.

Upon her return, the quiet order of their lives is shattered by the arrival of Cyril Adair, an actor with a striking, if somewhat unrefined, vitality. Phyllis becomes infatuated with him, drawn to his presence, his passion, and the danger he represents. Her friends and acquaintances—particularly women, whom she finds increasingly hypocritical—warn her against him, calling him a "bad lot" and a "vagabond." These criticisms only serve to deepen her romantic obsession; she views them as enemies and clings to the idea that her love is a noble, transformative force. She becomes a regular fixture at his performances, idolizing him as a hidden genius, and ignores the warnings that men like Adair are "a power for mischief."

The courtship moves quickly, fueled by Adair’s intensity and Phyllis’s own impulsive nature. Despite her father’s misgivings and the obvious class divide between them, Phyllis is determined to carve out a life with Adair. She finds in him a source of thrilling, often volatile, emotion that she feels she has been denied in her protected upbringing. After a series of heated, secret meetings, Adair urges her to run away with him as his company travels to Ferrisburg. Phyllis, feeling that she has reached a point of no return, decides to leave her father’s house. She pens a desperate, apologetic note for her father, kisses him goodbye, and slips out into the night to meet Adair.

Their early life together is a struggle against poverty and the grueling reality of the acting profession. They live in a cramped, "box of a place" in New York, where Phyllis manages their meager resources with a mix of girlish enthusiasm and determined practicality. Adair is mercurial—at once tender and passionately devoted, and at other times cruel, self-absorbed, and prone to violent outbursts when he feels his work is misunderstood or unappreciated. Phyllis, however, remains steadfast in her devotion, viewing his artistic temperament with a mix of maternal patience and intense, romantic adoration. She becomes his fiercest advocate, sacrificing her own comfort and even her relationship with her father to ensure Adair’s success.

The turning point comes when they are approached by a financier who attempts to buy Adair’s "cooperation" in a shady scheme, offering a fortune that could change their lives. Adair, in a burst of integrity that surprises even Phyllis, rejects the bribe with a furious, defiant outburst, asserting that his wife is not for sale. This act of strength, combined with the intervention of a theatre producer named Rolls Reece—who is impressed by Adair’s talent and by the influence Phyllis has on his character—eventually paves the way for a more stable future. As their fortunes slowly improve, the story culminates in a long-awaited reconciliation. Mr. Ladd arrives to visit them, and in a quiet moment of grace, the father and the husband meet, burying their past grievances. The story ends not in the high-octane drama of the theater, but in the simple, quiet restoration of family, leaving the reader with the sense that for all the turbulence of youth and passion, life has a way of finding its balance.

The People

• Phyllis Ladd: An intense, passionate young woman who rejects her comfortable, sheltered life to follow her heart. She is defined by an unwavering, almost blind, devotion to the man she loves, viewing her sacrifice as a necessary price for independence and true passion.
• Mr. Ladd: Phyllis’s father, a man of quiet strength and dignity. He wants nothing more than his daughter’s happiness, even when it demands the ultimate sacrifice of letting her go. His transition from a lonely, bitter parent to a man who accepts his son-in-law is the emotional backbone of the book.
• Cyril Adair: A proud, volatile actor with a flair for the dramatic and a deep-seated, often destructive, need for approval. He is a man of extremes—both in his professional ambition and his personal relationships—who struggles to reconcile his artistic ego with the demands of a stable life.
• Rolls Reece: A pragmatic and observant theatrical producer who acts as the bridge between Adair’s chaotic world and the professional success he craves. He is one of the few characters who sees the "power behind the throne" and recognizes that Phyllis is the steadying force in Adair’s life.
• Aunt Sally: A cynical, worldly woman who acts as a catalyst for Phyllis’s departure. Her dismissive view of marriage and life serves to alienate Phyllis from the values of her own social circle and pushes her closer to her own, independent (if reckless) choices.

In Its Own Voice

The author emphasizes the divide between the life Phyllis is born into and the one she chooses, noting the risks of her early emotional development:

"A child ought not to think; ought not to suffer; ought not to understand."

When the reality of their difficult life in New York sets in, the contrast between their romantic ideals and the dingy reality of their living situation becomes sharp:

"Accommodation for dormice, although plentiful, left much to be desired, except for dormice fond of grubbiness, gloom, and ill-smelling passages and halls."

The book captures the volatile, often childish nature of the artistic temperament that Adair embodies, and the toll it takes on those who love him:

"The revelation of her husband's weakness, of his utter dependence on her good opinion, atoned not a little for the violent things he said."

What It's Really About

At its heart, this is a study of the "man’s woman"—a character type that the book frames with both admiration and a touch of melancholy. Phyllis is a woman who finds her definition not in the approval of her peers or the social conventions of her class, but through the singular, total investment of her soul in another person. The book asks a persistent question about the nature of love: Is it a form of self-abnegation, or is it the ultimate expression of individual will? Phyllis’s decision to leave her father is portrayed as an act of defiance, yet the story is careful to show that this defiance is rooted in a traditional, almost submissive, desire to merge her existence with the man she has chosen.

The narrative also interrogates the nature of the "artist" in society. Through Cyril Adair, the author explores the tension between talent and stability. Adair is depicted as a man who is "cruelly sensitive," a trait that makes him a brilliant performer but a difficult, often impossible, husband. The book argues that such men require a specific kind of support—a "power behind the throne"—to survive the harsh, transactional realities of the world. Phyllis’s role is to act as this ballast. She is the one who keeps the books, manages the household, and shields her husband from the consequences of his own ego.

There is a subtle, almost biting critique of the social circles Phyllis leaves behind. The "sneaking, cowardly, backbiting" women she despises represent a version of safety that Phyllis finds suffocating. The book suggests that the "just and true" outlook Phyllis developed as a child—the insight that made her feel "different"—is exactly what makes her unfit for a conventional marriage of convenience and instead drives her into a life of intense, high-stakes passion.

Ultimately, the book is concerned with the necessity of reconciliation. It posits that the "Golden Young Man" of a girl’s dreams is not merely a romantic ideal, but a human being who will eventually be weighed down by his own flaws. The final movement of the story suggests that maturity comes when the romantic illusions of youth are tempered by the realities of forgiveness. The book does not pathologize Phyllis’s choice; it treats it as a necessary phase of life, one that leads, through hardship and heartache, to a more durable and realistic understanding of the world.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the domestic detail of early 20th-century fiction will find much to admire here. The book captures the feeling of a specific, vanished social world—the era of liveried coachmen and gaslit streets—with a warmth that feels earned rather than sentimental. It is a story about the messy, often illogical choices that define adulthood, and it excels in depicting the claustrophobia of both high society and the poverty-stricken acting districts of old New York.

One of the most rewarding aspects of the book is its honesty about the difficulty of loving someone who is fundamentally "difficult." Phyllis’s internal life—her pride, her moments of doubt, and her fierce, sometimes irrational loyalty—is rendered with a precision that feels remarkably modern. The way she keeps her own "secret heart" while navigating the demands of her husband’s career provides a fascinating, grounded look at a woman’s agency in an era that often denied it.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the period-specific attitudes embedded in the prose. The author’s view of gender, particularly the idea that women are "made for men," is a product of its time and may feel restrictive or even jarring to contemporary sensibilities. Furthermore, the dialogue sometimes leans into a formal, slightly theatrical rhythm that can take a moment to adjust to. The book also relies on a certain level of dramatic irony; the reader is often in a position to see the flaws in Adair that Phyllis chooses to ignore, which can be an exercise in patience.

Yet, there is a genuine, lingering sweetness to the conclusion that stays with you. It is not a story that promises a simple "happily ever after," but rather one that reflects on the resilience of human connection. If you are interested in a character-driven portrait of a woman who dares to define her own life, and if you enjoy prose that is both observational and compassionate, you will find this a deeply engaging, if occasionally challenging, experience.