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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-14 04:28:59 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-14 04:28:59 -0800 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9fa3bc --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #74612 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/74612) diff --git a/old/74612-0.txt b/old/74612-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index dbf70ca..0000000 --- a/old/74612-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9124 +0,0 @@ - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74612 *** - - - - - - DIVERGING ROADS - - BY ROSE WILDER LANE - - NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1919 - - Copyright, 1919, by THE CENTURY CO. - - _Published, March, 1919_ - - - - - PROLOGUE - - -The tale of California's early days is an epic, an immortal song of -daring, of hope, of the urge of youth to unknown trails, of struggle, -and of heartbreak. Across the great American plains the adventurers -came, scrawling the story of their passing in lines of blood; they came -around the Horn in wind-jammers, beating their way northward in the -strange Pacific; they forced their way into the wilderness, awakening -California's hills from centuries-long sleep, and they pitched their -tents and built their cabins by thousands in Cherokee Valley. - -Those were the great days of Cherokee, days of feverish activity, -of hard, fierce living, of marvelous event. The tales came down to -Masonville, where the stage stopped to change horses, and drivers, -express-messengers, and prospectors gathered in Mason's bar. The -Chinese laundryman had found beside his cabin a nugget worth sixteen -hundred dollars; the stage to Honey Creek had been held up just north -of Cherokee Hill; Jim Thane had struck it rich on North Branch. - -Mason, prospering, ordered a billiard-table sent up from San -Francisco, built a dance-hall. Richardson came in with his family and -put up a general store. Cherokee was booming; Cherokee miners came down -with their sacks of gold-dust, and Masonville thrived. - -But the great days passed. The time came when placer mining no longer -paid in Cherokee, and the camp moved on across the mountains. Cherokee -Valley was left behind, a desolate little hollow among the hills, -denuded of its trees, disfigured here and there by the scars of shallow -tunnels where hope still fought against defeat. A handful of dogged -miners remained, and a few Portuguese families living in little cabins, -harvesting a bare subsistence from the unwilling soil. - -A few discouraged men came down to Masonville and took up homestead -claims, clearing the chaparral from their rolling acres, sowing grain -or setting out fruit-trees. They had wives and children; in time they -built a school-house. Later the railroad came through, and there was a -station and a small bank. - -But the stirring times of enterprise and daring were gone forever. The -epic had ended in bad verse. Masonville slipped quietly to sleep, like -an old man sitting in the sun with his memories. And youth, taking -up its old immortal song of courage and of hope, went on to farther -unknown trails and different adventure. - - - - - DIVERGING ROADS - - - - - CHAPTER I - - -There is a peculiar quality in the somnolence of an old town in which -little has occurred for many years. It is the unease of relaxation -without repose, the unease of one who lies too late in bed, aware that -he should be getting up. The men who lounge aimlessly about the street -corners cannot be wholly idle. Their hands, at least, must be busy. The -scarred posts and notched edges of the board sidewalks show it; the -paint on the little stations is sanded shoulder-high to prevent their -whittling there. Energy struggles feebly under the weight of the slow, -uneventful days; but its pressure is always there, an urge that becomes -an irritation in young blood. - -Helen Davies, pausing in the doorway of Richardson's store on a warm -spring afternoon, said to herself that she would be glad never to see -Masonville again. The familiar sight of its one drowsy street, the -rickety wooden awnings over the sidewalks, the boys pitching horseshoes -in the shade of the blacksmith-shop, was almost insupportable. - -She did not want to stand there looking at it. She did not want to -follow the old stale road home to the old farm-house, which had not -changed since she could remember. She felt that she should be doing -something, she did not know what. - -A long purple curl of smoke unrolling over the crest of Cherokee Hill -was the plume of Number Five coming in. Two short, quick puffs of white -above the bronze mist of bare apricot orchards mutely announced the -whistle for the grade. - -Men sauntered past, going toward the station. The postmaster appeared -in his shirt-sleeves, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with mail sacks down -the middle of the street. The afternoon hack from Cherokee rattled by, -bringing a couple of tired, dust-grimed drummers. And the Masonville -girls, bare-headed, laughing, talking in high, gay voices, came -hurrying from the post-office, from the drug-store, from one of their -Embroidery Club meetings, to see Number Five come in. Helen shifted the -weight of the package on her arm, pulled her sunbonnet farther over her -face, and started home. - -Depression and revolt struggled in her mind. She passed the wide, -empty doorway of Harner's livery-stable, the glowing forge of the -blacksmith-shop, without seeing them, absorbed in the turmoil of her -thoughts. But at the corner where the gravel walk began, and the -street frankly became a country road slipping down a little slope -between scattered white cottages, her self-absorption vanished. - -A boy was walking slowly down the path. The elaborate unconcern of his -attitude, the stiffness of his self-conscious back, told her that he -had been waiting for her, and a rush of dizzying emotion swept away all -but the immediate moment. The sunshine was warm on her shoulders, the -grass of the lawns was green, every lace-curtained window behind the -rose-bushes seemed to conceal watching eyes, and the sound of her feet -on the gravel was loud in her ears. She overtook him at last, trying -not to walk too fast. They smiled at each other. - -"Hello, Paul," she said shyly. - -He was a stocky, dark-haired boy, with blue eyes. His father was dead, -killed in a mine over at Cherokee. He had come down to the Masonville -school, and they were in the same class, the class that would graduate -that spring. He was studying hard, trying to get as much education as -possible before he would have to go to work. He lived with his mother -in a little house near the edge of town, on the road to the farm. - -"Hello," he replied. He cleared his throat. "I had to go to the -post-office to mail a letter," he said. - -"Did you?" she answered. She tried to think of something else to say. -"Will you be glad when school's over?" she asked. - -Paul and she stood at the head of the class. He was better in -arithmetic, but she beat him in spelling. For a long time they had -exchanged glances of mutual respect across the school-room. Some one -had told her that Paul said she was all right. He had beat her in -arithmetic that day. "She takes a licking as well as a boy," was what -he had said. But she had gone home and looked in the mirror. - -The flutter at her heart had stopped then. No, she was not pretty. Her -features were too large, her forehead too high. She despised the face -that looked back at her. She longed for tiny, pretty features, large -brown eyes, a low forehead with curling hair. The eyes in the mirror -were gray and the hair was straight and brown. Not even a pretty, light -brown. It was almost black. For the first time she had desperately -wanted to be pretty. But now she did not care. He had waited for her, -anyway. - -They walked slowly along the country road, under the arch of the trees, -through the branches of which the sun sent long, slanting rays of -light. There was a colored haze over the leafless orchards, and the -hills were freshly green from the rains. - -"Well, I've got a job promised as soon as school is over," said Paul. - -"What kind of job?" she asked. - -"Working at the depot. It pays fifteen a month to start," he replied. -It was as if they were uttering poetry. The words did not matter. What -they said did not matter. - -"That's fine," she said. "I wish I had a job." - -"Gee, I hate to see a girl go to work," said Paul. - -His lips were full and very firm. When he set them tightly, as he did -then, he looked determined. There was something obstinate about the -line of his chin and the slight frown between his heavy black brows. -Her whole nature seemed to melt and flow toward him. - -"I don't see why!" she flashed. "A girl like me has to work if she's -going to get anywhere. I bet I could do as well as a boy if I had a -chance." - -The words were like a defensive armor between her and her real desire. -She did not want to work. She wanted to be soft and pretty, tempting -and teasing and sweet. She wanted to win the things she desired by -tears and smiles and coaxing. But she did not know how. - -Paul looked at her admiringly. He said, "I guess you could, all right. -You're pretty smart for a girl." - -She glowed with pleasure. - -They had often walked along this road as far as his house, when -accident brought them home from school at the same time. But their talk -had never had this indefinable quality, as vague and beautiful as the -misty color over the orchards. - -Sometimes she had stopped at his house for a few minutes. His mother -was a little woman with brisk, bustling manner. She always stood at -the door to see that they wiped their feet before they went in. The -house was very neat. There was an ingrain carpet on the front-room -floor, swept till every thread showed. The center-table had a crocheted -tidy on it and a Bible and a polished sea-shell. This room rose like a -picture in her mind as they neared the gate. She did not want to leave -Paul, but she did not want to go into that room with him now. - -"Look here--wait a minute--" he said, stopping in the gateway. "I -wanted to tell you--" He turned red and looked down at one toe, boring -into the soft ground. "About this being valedictorian--" - -"Oh!" she said. There had been a fierce rivalry between them for the -honor of being valedictorian at the graduating exercises. There was -nothing to choose between them in scholarship, but Paul had won. She -knew the teachers had decided she did not dress well enough to take -such a prominent part. - -"I hope you don't feel bad about it, Helen," he went on awkwardly. "I -told them I'd give it up, because you're a girl, and anyway you ought -to have it, I guess. I don't feel right about taking it, some way." - -"That's all right," she answered. "I don't care." - -"Well, it's awfully good of you." She could see that he was very much -relieved. She was glad she had lied about it. "Come in and look at -what I've got in the shed," he said, getting away from the subject as -quickly as possible. - -She followed him around the house, under the old palm-tree that stood -there. He had cleared out the woodshed and put in a table and a chair. -On the table stood a telegraphic-sounder and key and a round, red, dry -battery. - -"I'm going to learn to be an operator," he said. "I've got most of the -alphabet already. Listen." He made the instrument click. "I'm going to -practise receiving, listening to the wires in the depot. Morrison says -I can after I get through work. Telegraph-operators make as much as -seventy dollars a month, and some of them, on the fast wires, make a -hundred. I guess the train-dispatcher makes more than that." - -"Oh, Paul, really?" She was all enthusiasm. He let her try the key. "I -could do it. I know I could," she said. - -He was encouraging. - -"Sure you could." But there was a faint condescension in his tone, and -she felt that he was entering a life into which she could not follow -him. - -"That's the trouble with this rotten old world," she said resentfully. -"You can get out and do things like that. A girl hasn't any chance at -all." - -"Oh, yes, she has," he answered. "There's lots of girl operators. -There's one down the line. Her father's station agent. And up at Rollo -there's a man and his wife that handle the station between them. He -works nights, and she works daytimes. They live over the depot, and if -anything goes wrong she can call him." - -"That must be nice," she said. - -"He's pretty lucky, all right," Paul agreed. "It isn't exactly like -having her working, of course--right together like that. I guess maybe -they couldn't--been married, unless she did. He didn't have much, I -guess. He isn't so awful much older than--But anyway, I'd hate to -see--anybody I cared about going to work," he finished desperately. -He opened and shut the telegraph-key, and the metallic clacks of the -sounder were loud in the stillness. Unsaid things hung between them. -Dazzled, tremulous, shaken by the beating of her heart, Helen could not -speak. - -The palpitant moment was ended by the sound of his mother's voice. -"Paul! Paul, I want some wood." They laughed shakily. - -"I--I guess I better be going," she said. He made no protest. But when -they stood in the woodshed doorway he said all in a rush: - -"Look here, if I get a buggy next Sunday, what do you say we go driving -somewhere?" - -She carried those words home with her, singing as she went. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -He came early that Sunday afternoon, but she had been ready, waiting, -long before she saw the buggy coming down the road. - -She had tried to do her hair in a new way, putting it up in rag curlers -the night before, working with it for hours that morning in the stuffy -attic bedroom before the wavy mirror, combing it, putting it up, taking -it down again, with a nervous fluttering in her wrists. In the end she -gave it up. She rolled the long braid into its usual mass at the nape -of her neck, and pinned on it a black ribbon bow. - -She longed for a new white dress to wear that day. Her pink gingham, -whose blue-and-white-plaid pattern had faded to blurred lines of mauve -and pale pink, was hideous to her as she contemplated it stretched in -all its freshly ironed stiffness on the bed. But it was the best she -could do. - -While she dressed, the sounds of the warm, lazy, spring morning -floated in to her through the half-open window. The whinnying of the -long-legged colt in the barnyard, the troubled, answering neigh of -his mother from the pasture, the cackling of the hens, blended like -the notes of a pastoral orchestra with the rising and falling whirr of -steel on the grindstone. Under the stunted live-oak in the side-yard -her father was sharpening an ax, while her little sister Mabel turned -the crank and poured water on the whirling stone. The murmur of their -talk came up to her, Mabel's shrill, continuous chatter, her father's -occasional monosyllables. She heard without listening, and the sounds -ran like an undercurrent of contentment in her thoughts. - -When she had pinned her collar and put on her straw sailor she stood -for a long time gazing into the eyes that looked back at her from the -mirror, lost in a formless reverie. - -"My land!" her mother said when she appeared in the kitchen. "What're -you all dressed up like that for, this time of day?" - -"I'm going driving," she answered, constrained. She had dreaded the -moment. Her mother stopped, the oven door half open, a fork poised in -her hand. - -"Who with?" - -"Paul." She tried to say the name casually, making an effort to meet -her mother's eyes as usual. It was as if they looked at each other -across a wide empty space. Her mother seemed suddenly to see in her a -stranger. - -"But--good gracious, Helen! You're only a little girl!" The words -were cut across by Tommy's derisive chant from the table, where he sat -licking a mixing-spoon. - -"Helen's got a feller! Helen's got a feller!" - -"Shut up!" she cried. "If you don't shut up--!" - -But he got away from her and, slamming the screen door, yelled from the -safe distance of the woodpile: - -"Helen's mad, and I'm glad, an' I know what will please her--!" - -She went into the other room, shutting the door with a shaking hand. -She felt that she hated the whole world. Yes, even Paul. Her mother -called to her that even if she was going out with a beau, that was no -reason she shouldn't eat something. Dinner wouldn't be ready till two -o'clock, but she ought to drink some milk anyway. She answered that she -was not hungry. - -Paul would come by one o'clock, she thought. His mother had only a cold -lunch on Sundays, because they went to church. He came ten minutes -late, and she had forgotten everything else in the strain of waiting. - -She met him at the gate, and he got out to help her into the -buggy-seat. He was wearing his Sunday clothes, the blue suit, carefully -brushed and pressed, and a stiff white collar. He looked strange and -formal. - -"It isn't much of a rig," he said apologetically, clearing his throat. -She recognized the bony sorrel and the rattling buggy, the cheapest in -Harner's livery-stable. But even that, she knew, was an extravagance -for Paul. - -"It's hard to get a rig on Sunday," she said, "Everybody takes them all -out in the morning. I think you were awfully lucky to get such a good -one. Isn't it a lovely day?" - -"It looks like the rains are about over," he replied in a polite voice. -After the first radiant glance they had not looked at each other. He -chirped to the sorrel, and they drove away together. - -Enveloped in the hood of the buggy-top, they saw before them the yellow -road, winding on among the trees, disappearing, appearing again like -a ribbon looped about the curves of the hills. There was gold in the -green of the fields, gold in the poppies beside the road, gold in the -ruddiness of young apricot twigs. The clear air itself was filled with -vibrant, golden sunshine. They drove in a golden haze. What did they -say? It did not matter. They looked at each other. - -His arm lay along the back of the buggy-seat. Its being there was -like a secret shared between them, a knowledge held in common, to be -cherished and to be kept unspoken. When the increasing consciousness of -it grew too poignant to be borne any longer in silence they escaped -from it in sudden mutual panic, breathless. They left the buggy, tying -the patient sorrel in the shade beneath a tree, and clambered up the -hillside. - -They went, they said, to gather wild flowers. He took her hand to help -her up the trail, and she permitted it, stumbling, when unaided she -could have climbed more easily, glad to feel that he was the leader, -eager that he should think himself the stronger. At the top of the -hill they came to a low-spreading live-oak with a patch of young grass -beneath it, and here, forgetting the ungathered flowers, they sat down. - -They sat there a long time, talking very seriously on grave subjects; -life and the meaning of it, the bigness of the universe, and how it -makes a fellow feel funny, somehow, when he looks at the stars at night -and thinks about things. She understood. She felt that way herself -sometimes. It was amazing to learn how many things they had felt in -common. Neither of them had ever expected to find any one else who felt -them, too. - -Then there was the question of what to do with your life. It was a -pretty important thing to decide. You didn't want to make mistakes, -like so many men did. You had to start right. That was the point, the -start. When you get to be eighteen or so, almost twenty, you realize -that, and you look back over your life and see how you've wasted a lot -of time already. You realize you better begin to do something. - -Now here was the idea of learning telegraphy. That looked pretty good. -If a fellow really went at that and worked hard, there was no telling -what it might lead to. You might get to be a train-dispatcher or even a -railroad superintendent. There were lots of big men who didn't have any -better start than he had. Look at Edison. - -She agreed. She was sure there was nothing he could not do. Somehow, -then, they began to talk as if she would be with him. She might be a -telegrapher, too. Wouldn't it be fun if she was, so they could be in -the same town? He'd help her with the train orders, and if he worked -nights she could fix his lunch for him. - -They made a sort of play of it, laughing about it. They were only -supposing, of course. They carefully refrained from voicing the thought -that clamored behind everything they said, that set her heart racing -and kept her eyes from meeting his, the thought of that young couple at -Rollo. - -And at the last, when they could no longer ignore the incredible fact -that the afternoon was gone, that only a golden western sky behind the -flat, blue mass of the hills remained to tell of the vanished sunlight, -they rose reluctantly, hesitant. He had taken her two hands to help her -to her feet. In the grayness of the twilight they looked at each other, -and she felt the approach of a moment tremendous, irrevocable. - -He was drawing her closer. She felt, with the pull of his hands, an -urging within herself, a compulsion like a strong current, sweeping her -away, merging her with something unknown, vast, beautifully terrible. -Suddenly, in a panic, pushing him blindly away, she heard herself -saying, "No--no! Please--" The tension of his arms relaxed. - -"All right--if you don't want--I didn't mean--" he stammered. Their -hands clung for a moment, uncertainly, then dropped apart. They -stumbled down the dusky trail and drove home almost in silence. - - * * * * * - -Spring came capriciously that next year. She smiled unexpectedly -upon the hills through long days of golden sunshine, coaxing wild -flowers from the damp earth and swelling buds with her warm promise. -She retreated again behind cold skies, abandoning eager petals and -sap-filled twigs to the chill desolation of rain and the bitterness of -frost. - -Farmers trudging behind their plows felt her coming in the stir of the -scented air, in the responsiveness of the springy soil and, looking up -at the sparkling skies, felt a warmth in their own veins even while -they shook their heads doubtfully. And rising in the dawns they tramped -the orchard rows, bending tips of branches between anxious fingers, -pausing to cut open a few buds on their calloused palms. - -But to Helen the days were like notes in a melody. Linnet's songs and -sunshine streaming through the attic windows or gray panes and rain -on the roof were one to her. She woke to either as to a holiday. She -slipped from beneath the patchwork quilt into a cold room and dressed -with shivering fingers, hardly hearing Mabel's drowsy protests at being -waked so early. Life was too good to be wasted in sleep. She seemed -made of energy as she ran down the steep stairs to the kitchen. It -swelled in her veins as a river frets against its banks in the spring -floods. - -Every sight and sound struck upon her senses with a new freshness. -There was exhilaration in the bite of cold water on her skin when she -washed in the tin basin on the bench by the door, and the smell of -coffee and frying salt pork was good. She sang while she spread the red -table-cloth on the kitchen table and set out the cracked plates. - -She sang: - - "You're as welcome as the flowers in Ma-a-ay, - And I--love you in the same o-o-old way." - -It seemed to her that she was caroling aloud poetry so exquisite that -all its meaning escaped the dull ears about her. She walked among them, -alone, wrapped in a glory they could not perceive. - -Even her mother's tight-lipped anxiety did not quite break through her -happy absorption. Her mother worked silently, stepping heavily about -the kitchen, now and then glancing through the window toward the barn. -When her husband came clumping up the path and stopped at the back -steps to scrape the mud from his boots, she went to the door and opened -it, saying almost harshly, "Well?" - -He said nothing, continuing for a moment to knock a boot heel against -the edge of the step. Then he came slowly in, and began to dip water -from the water pail into the wash-basin. The slump of his body in the -sweat-stained overalls expressed nothing but weariness. - -"I guess last night settled it," he said. "We won't get enough of a -crop to pay to pick it. Outa twenty buds I cut on the south slope only -four of 'em wasn't black." - -His wife went back to the stove and turned the salt pork, holding -her head back from the spatters. "What're we going to do about the -mortgage?" The question filled a long silence. Helen's song was hushed, -though the echoes of it still went on in some secret place within her, -safe there even from this calamity. - -"Same as we've always done, I guess," her father answered at last, -lifting a dripping face and reaching for the roller towel. "See if I -can get young Mason to renew it." - -"Well, he will. Surely he will," Helen said. Her tone of cheerfulness -was like a slender shaft splintering against a stone wall. "And there -must be _some_ fruit left. If there isn't much of a crop what we do get -ought to bring pretty good prices, too." - -"You're right it ought to," her father replied bitterly. "A good crop -never brings 'em." - -"Well, anyway, I'm through school now, and I'll be doing something," -Helen said. She had no clear idea what it would be, but suddenly she -felt in her youth and happiness a strength that her discouraged father -and mother did not have. For the first time they seemed to her old and -worn, exhausted by an unequal struggle, and she felt that she could -take them up in her arms and carry them triumphantly to comfort and -peace. - -"Eat your breakfast and don't talk nonsense," her father said. - -But her victorious mood revived while she washed the dishes. She felt -older, stronger, and more confident than she had ever been. The news of -the killing frost, which depressed her mother and quieted even Mabel's -usual rebellion at having to help with the kitchen work, was to Helen -a call to action. She splashed the dishes through the soapy water so -swiftly that Mabel was aggrieved. - -"You know I can't keep up," she complained. "It's bad enough to have -the frost and never be able to get anything decent, and stick here in -this old kitchen all the time, without having you act mean, too." - -"Oh, don't start whining!" Helen began. They always quarreled about -the dishes. "I'd like to know who did every smitch of work yesterday, -while you went chasing off." But looking down at Mabel's sullen little -face, she felt a wave of compassion. Poor little Mabel, whose whole -heart had been set on a new dress this summer, who didn't have anything -else to make her happy! "I don't mean to be mean to you, Mabel," she -said. She put an arm around the thin, angular shoulders. "Never mind, -everything'll be all right, somehow." - -That afternoon when the ironing was finished she dressed in her pink -gingham and best shoes. She was going to town for the mail, she -explained to her mother, and when her sister said, "Why, you went day -before yesterday!" she replied, "Well, I guess I'll just go to town, -anyway. I feel like walking somewhere." - -Her mother apparently accepted the explanation without further thought. -The blindness of other people astonished Helen. It seemed to her that -every blade of grass in the fields, every scrap of white cloud in the -sky, knew that she was going to see Paul. The roadside cried it aloud -to her. - -She let her hand rest a moment on the gate as she went through. It -was the gate on which they leaned when he brought her home from church -on Sunday nights. She could feel his presence there still; she could -almost see the dark mass of his shoulders against the starry sky, and -the white blur of his face. - -The long lane by Peterson's meadow was crowded with memories of him. -Here they had stopped to gather poppies; there, just beside the gray -stone, he had knelt one day to tie her shoe. On the little bridge -shaded by the oak-trees they always stopped to lean on the rail and -watch their reflections shot across by ripples of light in the stream -below. She was dazzled by the beauty of the world as she went by all -these places. The sky was blue. It was a revelation to her. She had -never known that skies were blue with that heart-shaking blueness or -that hills held golden lights and violet shadows on their green slopes. -She had never seen that shadows in the late afternoon were purple as -grapes, and that the very air held a faint tinge of orange light. It -seemed to her that she had been blind all her life. - -She stood some time on the little bridge, looking at all this -loveliness, and she said his name to herself, under her breath "Paul." -A quiver ran along her nerves at the sound of it. - -He would be busy handling baggage at the station when Number Five came -in. She thought of his sturdy shoulders in the blue work-shirt, the -smooth forehead under his ragged cap, the straight-looking blue eyes -and firm lips. She would stand a little apart, by the window where the -telegraph-keys were clicking, and he would pass, pushing a hand-truck -through the crowd on the platform. Their eyes would meet, and the look -would be like a bond subtly uniting them in an intimacy unperceived by -the oblivious people who jostled them. Then she would go away, walking -slowly through the town, and he would overtake her on his way home to -supper. She could tell him, then, about the frost. Her thoughts went no -further than that. They stopped with Paul. - -But before she reached his house she saw Sammy Harner frolicking in -the road, hilarious in the first spring freedom of going barefoot. He -skipped from side to side, his wide straw hat flapping; he shied a -stone at a bird; he whistled shrilly between his teeth. When he saw -her he sobered quickly and came trotting down the road, reaching her, -panting. - -"I was coming out to your house just 's fast as I could," he said. "I -got a note for you." He sought anxiously in his pockets, found it in -the crown of his hat. "He gave me a nickel, and said to wait if they's -an answer." - -She saw that his eyes were fixed curiously on her hands, which shook -so with excitement that she could hardly tear the railway company's -yellow envelope. She read: - - _Dear Friend Helen_: - - I have got a new job and I have to go to Ripley to-night where I - am going to work. I would like to see you before I go, as I do not - know when I can come back, but probably not for a long time. I did - not know I was going till this afternoon and I have to go on the - Cannonball. Can you meet me about eight o'clock by the bridge? I - have to pack yet and I am afraid I cannot get time to come out to - your house and I want to see you very much. Please answer by Sammy. - - YOUR FRIEND, PAUL. - -Sammy's interested gaze had shifted from her hands to her face. It -rested on her like an unbearable light. She could not think with those -calm observant eyes upon her. She must think. What must she think -about? Oh, yes, an answer. A pencil. She did not have a pencil. - -"Tell him I didn't have a pencil," she said. "Tell him I said, 'Yes.'" -And as Sammy still lingered, watching her with unashamed curiosity, she -added sharply, "Hurry! Hurry up now!" - -It was a relief to sit down, when at last Sammy had disappeared around -the bend in the road. The whirling world seemed to settle somewhat into -place then. She had never thought of Paul's going away. She wondered -dully if it were a good job, and if he were glad to go. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -She came down the road again a little after seven o'clock. It was -another cold night, and the stars glittered frostily in a sky almost as -black as the hills. The road lost itself in darkness before her, and -the fields stretched out into a darkness that seemed illimitable, as -endless as the sky. She felt herself part of the night and the cold. - -For an eternity she walked up and down the road, waiting. Once she -went as far as the top of the hill beyond the bridge, and saw shining -against the blackness the yellow lights of his house. She looked at -them for a long time. She thought that she would watch them until he -came out. But she was driven to walking up and down, up and down, -stumbling in the ruts of the road. At last she saw him coming, and -stood still in the pool of darkness under the oaks until he reached her. - -"Helen?" he said uncertainly. "Is it you?" - -"Yes," she answered. Her throat ached. - -"I came as quick as I could," he said. Somehow she knew that his throat -ached, too. They moved to the little railing of the bridge and stood -trying to see each other's faces in the gloom. "Are you cold?" he asked. - -"No," she said. She saw then that the shawl had slipped from her -shoulders and was dragging over one arm. The wind fluttered it, and her -hands were clumsy, trying to pull it back into place. - -"Here," he was taking off his coat. "No," she said again. But she let -him wrap half the coat around her. They stood close together in the -folds of it. The chilly wind flowed around them like water, and the -warmth of their trembling bodies made a little island of cosiness in a -sea of cold. - -"I got to go," he said. "It's a good job. Fifty dollars a month. I got -to support mother, you know. Her money's pretty nearly gone already, -and she spent a lot putting me through school. I just got to go. I -wish--I wish I didn't have to." - -She tried to hold her lips steady. - -"It's all right," she said. "I'm glad you got a good job." - -"You mean you aren't going to miss me when I'm gone?" - -"Yes, I'll miss you." - -"I'm going to miss you an awful lot," he said huskily. "You going to -write to me?" - -"Yes, I'll write if you will." - -"You aren't going to forget me--you aren't going to get to going with -anybody else--are you?" - -She could not answer. The trembling that shook them carried them beyond -speech. Wind and darkness melted together in a rushing flood around -them. The ache in her throat dissolved into tears, and they clung -together, cheek against hot cheek, in voiceless misery. - -"Oh, Helen! Oh, Helen!" She was crushed against the beating of his -heart, his arms hurt her. She wanted them to hurt her. "You're -so--you're so--sweet!" he stammered, and gropingly they found each -other's lips. - -Words came back to her after a time. - -"I don't want you to go away," she sobbed. - -His arms tightened around her, then slowly relaxed. His chin lifted, -and she knew that his mouth was setting into its firm lines again. - -"I got to," he said. The finality of the words was like something solid -beneath their feet once more. - -"Of course--I didn't mean--" She moved a little away from him, -smoothing her hair with a shaking hand. A new solemnity had descended -upon them both. They felt dimly that life had changed for them, that it -would never be the same again. - -"I got to think about things," he said. - -"Yes--I know." - -"There's mother. Fifty dollars a month. We just can't--" - -Tears were welling slowly from her eyes and running down her cheeks. -She was not able to stop them. - -"No," she said. "I've got to do something to help at home, too." She -groped for the shawl at her feet. He picked it up and wrapped it -carefully around her. - -They walked up and down in the starlight, trying to talk soberly, -feeling very old and sad, a weight on their hearts. Ripley was a -station in the San Joaquin valley, he told her. He was going to be -night operator there. He could not keep a shade of self-importance -from his voice, but he explained conscientiously that there would not -be much telegraphing. Very few train orders were sent there at night. -But it was a good job for a beginner and pretty soon maybe he would -be able to get a better one. Say, when he was twenty or twenty-one -seventy-five dollars a month perhaps. It wouldn't be long to wait. They -were clinging together again. - -"You--we mustn't," she said. - -"It's all right--just one--when you're engaged." She sobbed on his -shoulder, and their kisses were salty with tears. - -He left her at her gate. The memory of all the times they had stood -there was the last unbearable pain. They held each other tight, without -speaking. - -"You--haven't said--tell me you--love me," he stammered after a long -time. - -"I love you," she said, as though it were a sacrament. He was silent -for another moment, and in the dim starlight she felt rather than saw -a strange, half-terrifying expression on his face. - -"Will you go away with me--right now--and marry me--if I ask you to?" -His voice was hoarse. - -She felt that she was taking all she was or could be in her cupped -hands and offering it to him. - -"Yes," she said. - -His whole body shook with a long sob. He tried to say something, -choking, tearing himself roughly away from her. She saw him going down -the road, almost running, and then the darkness hid him. - - * * * * * - -In the days that followed it seemed to her that she could have borne -the separation better if she had not been left behind. He had gone down -the shining lines of track beyond Cherokee Hill into a vague big world -that baffled her thoughts. He wrote that he had been in San Francisco -and taken a ride on a sight-seeing car. It was a splendid place, he -said; he wished she could see the things he saw. He had seen Chinatown, -the Presidio, the beach, and Seal Rocks. Then he had gone on to Ripley, -which wasn't much like Masonville. He was well, and hoped she was, and -he thought of her every day and was hers lovingly. Paul. But she felt -that she was losing touch with him, and when she contemplated two or -three long years of waiting she felt that she would lose him entirely. -She thought again of that young couple at Rollo, and pangs of envy -were added to the misery in which she was living. - -He had been gone two weeks when she announced to her mother that she -was going to be a telegraph-operator. She held to the determination -with a tenacity that surprised even herself. She argued, she pleaded, -she pointed out the wages she would earn, the money she could send -home. There was a notice in the Masonville weekly paper, advertising a -school of telegraphy in Sacramento, saying: "Operators in great demand. -Graduates earn $75 to $100 a month up." She wrote to that school, and -immediately a reply came, assuring her that she could learn in three -months, that railroad and telegraph companies were clamoring for -operators, that the school guaranteed all its graduates good positions. -The tuition was fifty dollars. - -Her father said he guessed that settled it. - -But in the end she won. When he renewed the mortgage he borrowed -another hundred dollars from the bank. Fifty dollars seemed a fortune -on which to live for three months. Her mother and she went over her -clothes together, and her mother gave her the telescope-bag in which to -pack them. - -An awkward intimacy grew up between the two while they worked. Her -mother said it was just as well for her to have a good job for a while. -Maybe she wouldn't make a fool of herself, getting married before she -knew her own mind. Helen said nothing. She felt that it was not easy to -talk with one's mother about things like getting married. - -Her mother said one other thing that stayed in her mind, perhaps -because of its indefiniteness, perhaps because of her mother's -embarrassment when she said it, an embarrassment that made them both -constrained. - -"There's something I got to say to you, Helen," she said, keeping her -eyes on the waist she was ironing and flushing hotly. "Your father's -still against this idea of your going away. He says first thing we know -we'll have you back on our hands, in trouble. Now I want you should -promise me if anything comes up that looks like it wasn't just right, -you let me know right away, and I'll come straight down to Trenton and -get you. I'm going to be worried about you, off alone in a city like -that." - -She promised quickly, uncertainly, and her mother began in a hurry to -talk of something else. Mrs. Updike, who lived on the next farm, was -going down to San Francisco to visit her sister. She would take Helen -as far as Sacramento and see her settled there. Helen must be sure to -eat her meals regularly and keep her clothes mended and write every -week and study hard. She promised all those things. - -There was a flurry on the last morning. Between tears and excitement, -Mabel was half hysterical, Tommy kept getting in the way, her mother -unpacked the bag a dozen times to be sure that nothing was left out. -They all drove to town, crowded into the two-seated light wagon, and -there was another flurry at the station when the train came in. She -hugged them all awkwardly, smiling with tears in her eyes. She felt for -the first time how much she loved them. - -Until the train rounded the curve south of town she gazed back at -Masonville and the little yellow station where Paul had worked. Then -she settled back against red velvet cushions to watch unfamiliar trees -and hills flashing backward past the windows. She had an excited sense -of adventure, wondering what the school would be like, promising -herself again to study hard. She and Mrs. Updike worried at intervals, -fearing lest by some mischance Mr. Weeks, the manager of the school, -would fail to meet them at the Sacramento station. They wore bits of -red yarn in their buttonholes so that he would recognize them. - -He was waiting when the train stopped. He was a thin, well-dressed -man, with a young face that seemed oddly old, like a half-ripe apple -withered. He hurried them through noisy, bustling streets, on and off -street-cars, up a stairway at last to the school. - -There were two rooms, a small one, which was the office, and a larger -one, bare and not very clean, lighted by two high windows looking out -on an alley. In the large room were half a dozen tables, each with -a telegraph-sounder and key upon it. There was no one there at the -moment, Mr. Weeks explained, because it was Saturday afternoon. The -school usually did no business on Saturday afternoons, but he would -make an exception for Helen. If she liked, he said briskly, she could -pay him the tuition now, and begin her studies early Monday morning. -He was sure she would be a good operator, and he guaranteed her a -good position when she graduated. He would even give her a written -guarantee, if she wished. But she did not ask for that. It would have -seemed to imply a doubt of Mr. Weeks' good faith. - -Mrs. Updike, panting from climbing the stairs and nervous with anxiety -about catching her train, asked him about rooms. Providentially, he -knew a very good one and cheap, next door to the school. He was kind -enough to take them to see it. - -There were a number of rooms in a row, all opening on a long hallway -reached by stairs from the street. They were kept by Mrs. Brown, who -managed the restaurant down-stairs. She was a sallow little woman, with -very bright brown eyes and yellow hair. She talked continuously in a -light, mechanically gay voice, making quick movements with her hands -and moving about the room with a whisking of silk petticoats, driven, -it seemed, by an intensity of energy almost feverish. - -The room rented for six dollars a month. It had a large bow-window -overlooking the street, gaily flowered wall-paper, a red carpet, a big -wooden bed, a wash-stand with pitcher and bowl, and two rocking-chairs. -At the end of the long hall was a bathroom with a white tub in it, the -first Helen had seen. There was something metropolitan about that tub; -a bath in it would be an event far different from the Saturday night -scrubs in the tin wash-tub at home. And she could eat in the restaurant -below; very good meals for twenty cents, or even for less if she wanted -to buy a meal-ticket. - -"I guess it's as good as you can do," said Mrs. Updike. - -"I think it's lovely," Helen said. - -So it was settled. Helen gave Mrs. Brown six dollars, and she whisked -away after saying: "I'm sure I hope you'll like it, dearie, and if -there's anything you want, you let me know. I sleep right in the next -room, so nothing's going to bother you, and if you get lonesome, just -come and knock on my door." - -Then Mrs. Updike, with a hasty farewell peck at her cheek, hurried -away to catch her train, Mr. Weeks going with her to take her to the -station, and Helen was left alone. - -She locked her door first, and counted her money, feeling very -businesslike. Then she unpacked her bag and put away her things, -pausing now and then to look around the room that was hers. It seemed -very large and luxurious. She felt a pleasant sense of responsibility -when everything was neatly in order and she stood at the window, -looking down the street to the corner where at intervals she saw -street-cars passing. She promised herself to work very hard, and to pay -back soon the money her father had lent her, with interest. - -Then she thought, smiling, that in a little while she would go -down-stairs and eat supper in a restaurant, and then she would buy a -tablet and pencil and, coming back to this beautiful room, she would -sit down all alone and write a letter to Paul. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -The thought of Paul was the one clear reality in Helen's life while she -blundered through the bewilderments of the first months in Sacramento. -It was the only thing that warmed her in the midst of the strangeness -that surrounded her like a thin, cold fog. - -There was the school. She did not know what she had expected, but she -felt vaguely that she had not found it. Faithfully every morning at -eight o'clock she was at her table in the dingy back room, struggling -to translate the dots and dashes of the Morse alphabet into crisp, even -clicks of the sounder. There were three other pupils, farm boys who -moved their necks uncomfortably in stiff collars and reddened when they -looked at her. - -There was a wire from that room into the front office. Sometimes its -sounder opened, and they knew that Mr. Weeks was going to send them -something to copy. They moved to that table eagerly. There were days -when the sounder did not click again, and after a while one of the boys -would tiptoe to the office and report that Mr. Weeks was asleep. On -other days the sounder would tap for a long time meaninglessly, while -they looked at each other in bewilderment. Then it would make a few -shaky letters and stop and make a few more. - -Then for several days Mr. Weeks would not come to the school at all. -They sank into a kind of stupor, sitting in the close, warm room, while -flies buzzed on the window-pane. Helen's moist finger-tips stuck to the -hard rubber of the key; it was an effort to remember the alphabet. But -she kept at work doggedly, knowing how much depended upon her success. -Always before her was the vision of the station where she would work -with Paul, a little yellow station with housekeeping rooms up-stairs. -She thought, too, of the debt she owed her father, and the help she -could give him later when she was earning money. - -Bit by bit she learned a little about the other pupils. Two of them had -come down from Mendocino County together. They had worked two summers -to earn the money, and yet they had been able to save only seventy-five -dollars for the tuition. However, they had been sharp enough to -persuade Mr. Weeks to take them for that sum. They lived together in -one room, and cooked their meals over the gas-jet. It was one of them -who asked Helen if she knew that gas would kill a person. - -"If you turned it on for a long time and set fire to it, I suppose it -would burn you up," she said doubtfully. - -"I don't mean that way," he informed her, excited. "It kills you if -you just breathe it long enough. It's poison." After that she looked -with terrified respect at the gas-jet in her room, and was always very -careful to turn it off tightly. - -The other boy had a more knowing air and smoked cigarettes. He -swaggered a little, giving them to understand that he was a man of -the world and knew all the wickedness of the city. He looked at Helen -with eyes she did not like, and once asked her to go to a show with -him. Although she was very lonely and had never seen a show in a real -theater, she refused. She felt that Paul would not like her to go. At -the end of three months in Sacramento these were the only people she -knew, except Mrs. Brown. - -She felt that she would like Mrs. Brown if she knew her better. Her -shyness kept her from saying more than "Good evening," when she handed -her meal-ticket over the restaurant counter to be punched, and for some -inexplicable reason Mrs. Brown seemed shy with her. It was her own -fault, Helen thought; Mrs. Brown laughed and talked gaily with the men -customers, cajoling them into buying cigars and chewing-gum from her -little stock. - -Helen speculated about Mr. Brown. She never saw him; she felt quite -definitely that he was not alive. Yet Mrs. Brown often looked at her -wide wedding-ring, turning it on her finger as if she were not quite -accustomed to wearing it. A widow, and so young! Helen's heart ached at -the thought of that brief romance. Mrs. Brown's thin figure and bright -yellow hair were those of a girl; only her eyes were old. It must be -grief that had given them that hard, weary look. Helen smiled at her -wistfully over the counter, longing to express her friendliness and -sympathy. But Mrs. Brown's manner always baffled her. - -These meetings were not frequent. Helen tried to make her three-dollar -meal ticket last a month, and that meant that only five times a week -she could sit in state, eating warm food in an atmosphere thick with -smells of coffee and stew and hamburger steak. She had learned that -cinnamon rolls could be bought for half price on Saturday nights, and -she kept a bag of them in her room, and some fruit. This made her a -little uneasy when she saw Mrs. Brown's anxious eye on the vacant -tables; she felt that she was defrauding Mrs. Brown by eating in her -room. - -Mrs. Brown worked very hard, Helen knew. It was she who swept the hall -and kept the rooms in order. She did not do it very well, but Helen -saw her sometimes in the evenings working at it. She swept with quick, -feverish strokes. Her yellow hair straggled over her face; her high -heels clicked on the floor; her petticoats made a whisking sound. There -was something piteous about her, as there is about a little trained -animal on the stage, set to do tasks for which it is not fitted. Helen -stole down the hallway at night, taking the broom from its corner as if -she was committing a theft, and surreptitiously swept and dusted her -own room, so that Mrs. Brown would not have to do it. - -She wished that it took more time. When she had finished there was -nothing to do but sit at her window and look down at the street. People -went up and down, strolling leisurely in the warm summer evening. She -saw girls in dainty dresses, walking about in groups, and the sight -increased her loneliness. Buggies went by; a man with his wife and -children out driving, a girl and her sweetheart. At the corner there -was the clanging of street-cars, and she watched to see them passing, -brightly lighted, filled with people. Once in a while she saw an -automobile, and her breath quickened, she leaned from the window until -it was out of sight. She felt then the charm of the city, with its -crowds, its glitter, its strange, hurried life. - -Two young men passed often down that street in an automobile. They -looked up at her window when they went by and slowed the machine. If -she were leaning on the sill, they waved to her and shouted gaily. She -always pretended that she had not seen them, and drew back, but she -watched for the machine to pass again. It seemed to be a link between -her and all that exciting life from which she was shut out. She would -have liked to know those young men. - -She sat at the window one evening near the end of the three months -that she had planned to spend in the telegraph school. Paul's picture -was in her hand. He had had it taken for her in Ripley. It was a -beautiful, shiny picture, cabinet size, showing him against a tropical -background of palms and ferns. He had taken off a derby hat, which he -held self-consciously; his stocky figure wore an air of prosperity in -an unfamiliar suit. - -She brooded upon the firm line of his chin, the clean-cut lips, the -smooth forehead from which the hair was brushed back slickly. His neck -was turned so that his eyes did not quite meet hers. It was baffling, -that aloof gaze; it hurt a little. She wished that he would look at -her. She felt that the picture would help her more if he would, and she -needed help. - -Mr. Weeks had returned from one of his long absences that day, and -she had taken courage to ask him about a job. He had listened while -she stood beside his desk, stammering out her worry and her need. Her -money was almost gone; she thought she telegraphed pretty well, she -had studied hard. She watched his shaking hand fumbling with some -papers on his desk, and felt pityingly that she should not bother him -when he was sick. But desperation drove her on. She did not suspect -the truth until he looked up at her with reddened eyes and answered -incoherently. Then she saw that he was drunk. - -Her shock of loathing came upon her in a wave of nausea. She trembled -so that she could hardly get down the stairs, and she had walked a long -time in the clean sunshine before the full realization of what it meant -chilled her. She sat now confronting that realization. - -She had only two dollars, a half-used meal-ticket, and a week's rent -paid in advance. She saw clearly that she could hope for nothing from -the telegraph school. It did not occur to her to blame anybody. Her -mind ran desperately from thought to thought, like a caged creature -seeking escape between iron bars. - -She could not go home. She could not live there again, defeated, -knowing day by day that she had added a hundred dollars to the -mortgage. She had told Paul so confidently that she could do as well as -a boy if she had the chance, and she had had the chance. He could not -help her. The street below was full of happy people going by, absorbed -in their own concerns, careless of hers. - -She had not seen the automobile with the two young men in it until it -stopped across the street. Even then she saw it dimly with dull eyes. -But the two young men were looking up at her window, talking together, -looking up again. They were getting out. They crossed the street. She -heard their voices below, and a moment later her heart began to thump. -They were coming up the stairs. - -Something was going to happen. At last something was going to break the -terrible loneliness and deadness. She stood listening, one hand at her -throat, alert, breathless. - -They were standing half-way up the stairs, talking. She felt indecision -in the sound of their voices. One of them ran down again. There was -an aching silence. Then she heard footsteps and the high, gay voice -of Mrs. Brown. They were laughing together. "Oh, you Kittie!" one of -the young men said. The three came up the stairs, and she heard their -clattering steps and caught a word or two as they went past her room. -Then the scratch of a match, and light gleamed through the crack of -Mrs. Brown's door. - -They went on talking. It appeared that they were arguing, coaxing, -urging something. Mrs. Brown's voice put them off. There was a crash -and laughter. She gathered that they were scuffing playfully. Later she -heard Mrs. Brown's voice at the head of the back stairs, calling down -to some one to send up some beer. - -Her tenseness relaxed. She felt herself falling into bottomless depths -of depression. The bantering argument was going on again. Meaningless -scraps of it came to her while she undressed in the dark and crept into -bed. - -"Aw, come on, Kittie, be a sport! A stunning looker like that! What're -you after anyhow--money?" - -"Cut that out. No, I tell you. What's it to you why I won't?" - -She crushed her face into the pillow and wept silently. It seemed the -last unkindness of fate that Mrs. Brown should give a party and not ask -her. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - -The next day she dressed very carefully in a fresh white waist and her -Indianhead skirt and went down to the telegraph-office to ask for a -job. She knew where to find the office; she had often looked at its -plate-glass front lettered in blue during her lonely walks on the -crowded street. Her heart thumped loudly and her knees were weak when -she went through the open door. - -The big room was cut across by a long counter, on which a young man -lounged in his shirt-sleeves, a green eye-shade pushed back on his -head. Behind him telegraph instruments clattered loudly, disturbing -the stifling quiet of the hot morning. The young man looked at her -curiously. - -"Manager? Won't I do?" he asked. - -She heard her voice quavering: - -"I'd rather see him--if he's busy--I could--wait." - -The manager rose from the desk where he had been sitting. He was a -tall, thin man, with thin hair combed carefully over the top of his -head. His lips were thin, too, and there were deep creases on either -side of his mouth, like parentheses. His eyes looked her over, -interested. He was sorry, he said. He didn't need another operator. She -had experience? - -She was a graduate of Weeks' School of Telegraphy, she told him -breathlessly. She could send perfectly, she wasn't so sure of her -receiving, but she would be awfully careful not to make mistakes. She -had to have a job, she just had to have a job; it didn't matter how -much it paid, anything. She felt that she could not walk out of that -office. She clung to the edge of the counter as if she were drowning -and it were a life-line. - -"Well--come in. I'll see what you can do," he said. He swung open a -door in the counter, and she followed him between the tables. There was -a dusty instrument on a battered desk, back by the big switchboard. The -manager took a message from a hook and gave it to her. "Let's hear you -send that." - -She began painstakingly. The young man with the eye-shade had wandered -over. He stood leaning against a table, listening, and after she had -made a few letters she felt that a glance passed between him and the -manager, over her head. She finished the message, even adding a careful -period. She thought she had done very well. When she looked up the -manager said kindly: - -"Not so bad! You'll be an operator some day." - -"If you'll only give me a chance," she pleaded. - -He said that he would take her address and let her know. She felt that -the young man was slightly amused. She gave the manager her name and -the street number. He repeated it in surprise. - -"You're staying with Kittie Brown?" Again a glance passed over her -head. Both of them looked at her with intensified interest, for which -she saw no reason. "Yes," she replied. She felt keenly that it was an -awkward moment, and bewilderment added to her confusion. The young -man turned away and, sitting down, began to send a pile of messages, -working very busily, sending with his right hand and marking off the -messages with his left. But she felt that his attention was still upon -her and the manager. - -"Well! And you want to work here?" The manager rubbed one hand over his -chin, smiling. "I don't know. I might." - -"Oh, if you would!" - -He hesitated for an agonizing moment. - -"Well, I'll think about it. Come and see me again." He held her fingers -warmly when they shook hands, and she returned the pressure gratefully. -She felt that he was very kind. She felt, too, that she had conducted -the interview very well, and returning hope warmed her while she went -back to her room. - -That afternoon she had a visitor. She had written her weekly letter -to her mother, saying that she had almost finished school and was -expecting to get a job, hesitating a long time, miserably, before she -added that she did not have much money left and would like to borrow -another five dollars. She had eaten a stale roll and an apple and was -considering how long she could make the meal-ticket last when she heard -the knock on her door. - -She opened it in surprise, thinking there had been a mistake. A -stout, determined-looking woman stood there, a well-dressed woman who -wore black gloves and a veil. Immediately Helen felt herself young, -inexperienced, a child in firm hands. - -"You're Helen Davies? I'm Mrs. Campbell." She stepped into the room, -Helen giving way before her assured advance. She swept the place with -one look. "What on earth was your mother thinking of, leaving you in a -place like this? Did you know what you were getting into?" - -"I don't--what--w-won't you take a chair?" said Helen. - -Mrs. Campbell sat down gingerly, very erect. They looked at each other. - -"I might as well talk straight out to you," Mrs. Campbell said, as if -it were a customary phrase. "I met Mrs. Morris, Mrs. Updike's sister, -at the lodge convention in Oakland last week, and she told me about -you, and I promised to look you up. Well, when I found out! I told Mr. -Campbell I was coming straight down here to talk to you. If you want -to stay in a place like this, well and good, it's your affair. Though -I should feel it my duty to write to your mother. I wouldn't want my -own girl left in a strange town, at your age, and nobody taking any -interest in her." - -"I'm sure it's very kind." Helen murmured in bewilderment. - -"Well,"--Mrs. Campbell drew a long breath and plunged,--"I suppose you -know the sort of person this Kittie Brown, she calls herself, is? I -suppose you know she's a bad woman?" - -A wave of blackness went through the girl's mind. - -"Everybody in town knows what _she_ is," Mrs. Campbell continued. -"Everybody knows--" She went on, her voice growing more bitter. Helen, -half hearing the words, choked back a sick impulse to ask her to stop -talking. She felt that everything about her was poisoned; she wanted to -escape, to hide, to feel that she would never be seen again by any one. -When the hard voice had stopped it was an effort to speak. - -"But--what will I do?" - -"Do? I should think you'd want to get out of here just as quick as you -could." - -"Oh, I do want to. But where can I go? I--my rent's paid. I haven't any -money." - -Mrs. Campbell considered. - -"Well, you will have money, won't you? Your folks don't expect you to -live here on nothing, do they? If it's only a day or two, I could -take you in myself rather than leave you in a place like this. There's -plenty of decent places in town." She became practical. "The first -thing to do's to pack your things right away. How long is your rent -paid? Can't you get some of it back?" - -She waited while Helen packed. She did not stop talking, and Helen -tried to answer her coherently and gratefully. She felt that she should -be grateful. They went down the stairs, and Mrs. Campbell waited -outside the restaurant while Helen went in to ask Mrs. Brown to refund -the week's rent. - -It was noon, but there were only one or two people in the restaurant. -Mrs. Brown's smile faded when Helen stammered that she was leaving. - -"You are? What's wrong? Anybody been bothering you?" Her glance fell -upon the waiting Mrs. Campbell, and her sallow face whitened. "Oh, -that's it, is it?" - -"No," Helen said hastily. "That is, it's been very nice here, and I -liked it, but a friend of mine--she wants me to stay with her. I'm -sorry to leave, but I haven't much money." She struggled against -feeling pity for Mrs. Brown. She choked over asking her to refund the -rent. - -Mrs. Brown said she could not do it. She offered, however, to give -Helen something in trade, two dollars' worth. They both tried to make -the transaction commonplace and dignified. - -Helen, at a loss, pointed out a heap of peanut candy in the glass -counter. She had often looked at it and wished she could afford to buy -some. Mrs. Brown's thin hands shook, but she was piling the candy on -the scale when Mrs. Campbell came in. - -"What's she doing?" Mrs. Campbell asked Helen. "You buying candy?" - -"I don't know what business it is of yours, coming interfering with -me!" Mrs. Brown broke out. "I never did her any harm. I never even -talked to her. You ask her if I ever bothered her. You ask her if -I didn't leave her alone. You ask her if I ain't keeping a decent, -respectable, quiet place and doing the best I can and minding my own -business and trying to make a square living. You ask her what I ever -did to her all the time she's been here." Her voice was high and -shrill. Tears were rolling down her face. Mechanically she went on -breaking up the candy and piling it on the scales. "I don't know what I -ever did to you that you don't leave me alone, coming poking around." - -"I didn't come here to talk to you," said Mrs. Campbell. "Come on out -of here," she commanded Helen. - -"I wish to God you'd mind your own business!" Mrs. Brown cried after -them. "If you'd only tend to your own affairs, you _good_ people!" She -hurled the words after them like a curse, her voice breaking with -sobs. The door slammed under Mrs. Campbell's angry hand. - -Helen, shaking and quivering, tried not to be sorry for Mrs. Brown. -She was ashamed of the feeling. She knew that Mrs. Campbell did not -have it. Hurrying to keep pace with that furious lady's haste down the -street, she was overwhelmed with shame and confusion. The whole affair -was like a splash of mud upon her. Her cheeks were red, and she could -not make herself meet Mrs. Campbell's eyes. - -Even when they were on the street-car, safely away from it all, her -awkwardness increased. Mrs. Campbell herself was a little disconcerted -then. She looked at Helen, at the bulging telescope-bag, the shabby -shoes, and the faded sailor hat, and Helen felt the gaze like a burn. -She knew that Mrs. Campbell was wondering what on earth to do with her. - -Pride and helplessness and shame choked her. She tried to respond to -Mrs. Campbell's efforts at conversation, but she could not, though -she knew that her failure made Mrs. Campbell think her sullen. Her -rescuer's impatient tone was cutting her like the lash of a whip before -they got off the car. - -Mrs. Campbell lived in splendor in a two-story white house on a -complacent street. The smoothness of the well-kept lawns, the -immaculate propriety of the swept cement walks, cried out against -Helen's shabbiness. She had never been so aware of it. When she was -seated in Mrs. Campbell's parlor, oppressed by the velvet carpet and -the piano and the bead portieres, she tried to hide her feet beneath -the chair and did not know what to do with her hands. - -She answered Mrs. Campbell's questions because she must, but she felt -that her last coverings of reticence and self-respect were being torn -from her. Mrs. Campbell offered only one word of advice. - -"The thing for you to do is to go home." - -"No," Helen said. "I--I can't--do that." - -Mrs. Campbell looked at her curiously, and again the red flamed in -Helen's cheeks. She said nothing about the mortgage. Mrs. Campbell had -not asked about that. - -"Well, you can stay here a few days." - -She lugged the telescope-bag up the stairs, the wooden steps of which -shone like glass. Mrs. Campbell showed her a room at the end of the -hall. A mass of things filled it; children's toys, old baskets, a -broken chair. It was like the closets at home, but larger. It was large -enough to hold a narrow white iron bed, a wash-stand, and a chair, and -still leave room to swing the door open. These things appeared when -Mrs. Campbell had dragged out the others. - -Watching her swift, efficient motions in silence, Helen tried again to -feel gratitude. But the fact that Mrs. Campbell expected it made it -impossible. She could only stand awkwardly, longing for the moment -when she would be alone. When at last Mrs. Campbell went down-stairs -she shut the door quickly and softly. She wanted to fling herself on -the sagging bed and cry, but she did not. She stood with clenched -hands, looking into the small, blurred mirror over the wash-stand. -A white, tense face looked back at her with burning eyes. She said -to it, "You're going to do something, do you hear? You're going to -do something quick!" Although she did not know what she could do, -she could keep her self-control by telling herself that she would do -something. - -Some time later she heard the shouts of children and the clatter of -pans in the kitchen below. It was almost supper-time. She took a -cinnamon roll from the paper sack in her bag, but she could not eat it. -She was looking at it when Mrs. Campbell called up the back stairs, -"Miss Davies! Come to supper." - -She braced herself and went down. It was a good supper, but she -could not eat very much. Mr. Campbell sat at the head of the table, -a stern-looking man who said little except to speak sharply to the -children when they were too noisy. There were two children, a girl -of nine and a younger boy in a sailor suit. They looked curiously at -Helen and did not reply when she tried to talk to them. She perceived -that they had been told to leave her alone, and she felt that her -association with a woman like Mrs. Brown was still visible upon her -like a splash of mud. - -When she timidly offered to help with the dishes after supper Mrs. -Campbell told her that she did not need any help. Her tone was not -unkind, but Helen felt the rebuff, and fearing she would cry, she went -quickly up-stairs. - -She looked at Paul's picture for some time before she put it back -into her bag where she thought Mrs. Campbell would not see it. Then, -sitting on the edge of the bed under a flickering gas-jet, she wrote -him a long letter. She told him that she had moved, and in describing -the street, the beautiful house, the furniture in the parlor, she drew -such a picture of comfort and happiness that its reflection warmed -her somewhat. It was a beautiful letter, she thought, reading it over -several times before she carefully turned out the gas and went to bed. - -Early in the morning she went to the telegraph-office and pleaded again -for a job. Mr. Roberts, the manager, was very friendly, talking to -her for some time and patting her hand in a manner which she thought -fatherly and found comforting. He told her to come back. He might do -something. - -She went back every morning for a week, and often in the afternoons. -The rest of the time she wandered in the streets or sat on a bench in -the park. She felt under such obligations when she ate Mrs. Campbell's -food that several times she did not return to the house until after -dark, when supper would be finished. She had to ring the door-bell, for -the front door was kept locked, and each time Mrs. Campbell asked her -sharply where she had been. She always answered truthfully. - -At the end of the week she received a letter from her mother, telling -her to come home at once and sending her five dollars for the fare. -Mrs. Campbell had written to her, and she was horrified and alarmed. - - Your father says we might have known it and saved our money, and I - blame myself for ever letting you go. I don't say it will be easy - for you here, short as we are this winter, but you ought to be glad - you have a good home to come to even if it isn't very fine, and - don't worry about the money, for your father won't say a word. Just - you come home right away. Lovingly, - - YOUR MOTHER - -Helen hated Mrs. Campbell. What right had that woman to worry her -mother? Helen could get along all right by herself, and she wrote her -mother that she could. She had a job at last. Mr. Roberts had made a -place for her in the office, as a clerk at five dollars a week. She did -not mention the wages to her mother; she said only that she had a job, -and her mother was not to worry. She would be making more money soon -and could send some home. - -The letter had been waiting for her, propped on the hall table, -when she hurried in, eager to tell Mrs. Campbell the glad news. Her -anger when she read it was obscurely a relief. The compulsion to feel -gratitude toward Mrs. Campbell was lifted from her. She wrote her -answer and hastened to drop it in the corner mail-box. - -Running back to the house, she met Mrs. Campbell returning from a -sewing-circle meeting. Mrs. Campbell was neatly hatted and gloved, and -the expression in her pale blue eyes behind the dotted veil suddenly -made Helen realize how blow-away she looked, bare-headed, her loosened -hair ruffled by the breeze, her blouse sagging under the arms. She -stood awkwardly self-conscious while Mrs. Campbell unlocked the front -door. - -"Did you get your mother's letter?" - -"Yes. I got it." - -"Well, what did she say?" - -Helen did not answer that. - -"I got a job," she said. Her breath came quickly. - -"You have? What kind of job?" - -Helen told her. They were in the hall now, standing by the golden-oak -hat-rack at the foot of the stairs. The children watched, wide-eyed, in -the parlor door. - -Perplexity and disgust struggled on Mrs. Campbell's face. - -"You think you're going to live in Sacramento on five dollars a week?" - -"I'm going to. I got to. I'll manage somehow. I won't go home!" Helen -cried, confronting Mrs. Campbell like an antagonist. - -"Oh, I don't doubt you'll _manage_!" Mrs. Campbell said cuttingly. She -went down the hall, and the slam of the dining-room door shouted that -she washed her hands of the whole affair. - -She came up the back stairs half an hour later. Helen was sitting on -the bed, her bag packed, trying to plan what to do. She had only the -five dollars. It would be two weeks before she could get more money -from the office. Mrs. Campbell opened the door without knocking. - -"I'm going to talk this over with you," she said, patient firmness in -her tone. "Don't you realize you can't get a decent room and anything -to eat for five dollars a week? Do you think it's right to expect your -folks to support you, poor as they are? It isn't--" - -"I don't expect them to!" Helen cried. - -"As though you didn't have a good home to go back to," Mrs. Campbell -conveyed subtly that a well-bred girl did not interrupt while an older -woman was speaking. "Now be reasonable about this, my--" - -"I won't go back," Helen said. She lifted miserable eyes to Mrs. -Campbell's, and the expression she saw there reminded her of a horse -with his ears laid back. - -"Then you've decided, I suppose, where you _are_ going?" - -"No--I don't know. Where could I begin to look for a--nice room that I -can live in on my wages?" - -Mrs. Campbell exclaimed impatiently. Her almost ruthless capability -in dealing with situations did not prepare her to meet gracefully one -that she could not handle. Her voice grew colder, and the smooth cheeks -beneath the smooth, fair hair reddened while she continued to talk. Her -arguments, her grudging attempts at persuasion, her final outburst of -unconcealed anger, were futile. Helen would not go home. She meant to -keep her job and to live on the wages. - -"Well, then I guess you'll have to stay here. I can't turn you out on -the streets." - -"How much would you charge for the room?" said Helen. - -"Charge!" Helen flushed again at the scorn in the word. - -"I couldn't stay unless I paid you something. I'd have to do that." - -"Well, of all the ungrateful--!" - -Tears came into Helen's eyes. She knew Mrs. Campbell meant well, and -though she did not like her, she wished to thank her. But she did not -know how to do it without yielding somewhat to the implacable force of -the older woman. She could only repeat doggedly that she must pay for -the room. - -She was left shaken, but with a sense of victory emphasized by Mrs. -Campbell's inarticulate exclamation as she went out. It was arranged -that Helen should pay five dollars a month for the room. - -But the bitterness of living in that house, on terms which she felt -were charity, increased daily. She tried to make as little trouble as -possible, stealing in at the back door so that no one would have to -answer her ring, making her bed neatly, and slipping out early so that -she would not meet any of the family. She spent her evenings at the -office or at the library, where she could forget herself in books and -in writing long letters. For some inexplicable reason this seemed to -exasperate Mrs. Campbell, who inquired where she had been and did not -hide a belief that her replies were lies. Helen felt like a suspected -criminal. She would have left the house if she could have found another -room that she could afford. - -It was only at the office that she could breathe freely. She worked -from eight in the morning to six at night, and then until the office -closed at nine o'clock she could practise on the telegraph instrument -behind the tables where the real wires came in. She worked hard at it, -for at last she was on the road to the little station where she would -work with Paul. She felt that she could never be grateful enough to -Mr. Roberts for giving her the chance. - -He was very kind. Often he came behind the screen where she was -studying and talked to her for a long time. He was surprised at first -by her working so hard. He seemed to think she had not meant to do -it. But his manner was so warmly friendly that one day when he took -her hand, saying, "What's the big idea, little girl--keeping me off -like this?" she told him about everything but Paul. She told him about -the farm and the mortgage and the failure of the fruit crop, even, -shamefaced, about Mr. Weeks' drinking, and that she did not know what -she would have done if she had not got the job. She was very grateful -to him and tried to tell him so. - -He said drily not to bother about that, and she felt that she had -offended him. Perhaps her story had sounded as if she were begging -for more money, she thought with burning cheeks. For several days he -gave her a great deal of hard work to do and was cross when she made -mistakes. She did her best, trying hard to please him, and he was soon -very friendly again. - -His was the only friendliness she found to warm her shivering spirit, -and she became daily more grateful to him for it. Though she was -puzzled by his displays of affectionate interest in her and his sudden -cold withdrawals when she eagerly thanked him, this was only part -of the bewildering atmosphere of the office, in which she felt many -undercurrents that she could not understand. - -The young operator with the green eye-shade, for instance, always -regarded her with a cynical and slightly amused eye, which she resented -without knowing why. When she laid messages beside his key, he covered -her hand with his if he could, and sometimes when she sat working he -came and put his hand on her shoulder. She was always angry, for she -felt contempt in his attitude toward her, but she did not know how to -show her resentment without making too much of the incidents. - -"Mr. McCormick, leave me alone!" she said impatiently. "I want to work." - -"Just what _is_ the game?" he drawled. - -"What do you mean?" she asked, reddening under that cool, satirical -gaze. He looked at her, grinning until she felt only that she hated -him. Or sometimes he said something like: "Oh, well, I'm not butting -in. It's up to you and the boss," and strolled away, whistling. - -Much looking at life from the back-door keyhole of the -telegraph-operator's point of view had made him blasé and wearily -worldly-wise at twenty-two. He knew that every pretty face was moulded -on a skeleton, and was convinced that all lives contained one. Only -virtue could have surprised him, and he could not have been convinced -that it existed. When he was on duty in the long, slow evenings, -Helen, practising diligently behind her screen, heard him singing -thoughtfully: - - "Life's a funny proposition after all; - Just why we're here and what it's all about, - It's a problem that has driven many brainy men to drink, - It's a problem that they've never figured out." - -Life seemed simple enough to Helen. She would be a telegraph-operator -soon, earning as much as fifty dollars a month. She could repay the -hundred dollars then, buy some new clothes, and have plenty to eat. -She would try to get a job at the Ripley station,--always in the back -of her mind was the thought of Paul,--and she planned the furnishing -of housekeeping rooms, and thought of making curtains and embroidering -centerpieces. - -It was spring when he wrote that he was coming to spend a day in -Sacramento. He was going to Masonville to help his mother move to -Ripley. On the way he would stop and see Helen. - -Helen, in happy excitement, thought of her clothes. She must have -something new to wear when they met. Paul must see in the first glance -how much she had changed, how much she had improved. She had not -been able to save anything, but she must, she must have new clothes. -Two days of worried planning brought her courage to the point of -approaching Mr. Roberts and asking him for her next month's salary -in advance. Next month's food was a problem she could meet later. Mr. -Roberts was very kind about it. - -"Money? Of course!" he said. He took a bill from his own pocket-book. -"We'll have to see about your getting more pretty soon." Her heart -leaped. He put the bill in her palm, closing his hand around hers. -"Going to be good to me if I do?" - -"Oh, I'd do anything in the world I could for you," she said, looking -at him gratefully. "You're so good! Thank you ever so much." His look -struck her as odd, but a customer came in at that moment, and in taking -the message she forgot about it. - -She went out at noon and bought a white, pleated, voile skirt for five -dollars, a China-silk waist for three-ninety-five, and a white, straw -sailor. And that afternoon McCormick, with his cynical smile, handed -her a note that had come over the wire for her. "Arrive eight ten -Sunday morning. Meet me. PAUL." - -She was so radiantly self-absorbed all the afternoon that she hardly -saw the thundercloud gathering in Mr. Roberts' eyes, and she went -back to her room that evening so confidently happy that she rang the -door-bell without her usual qualm. Mrs. Campbell's lips were drawn into -a tight, thin line. - -"There's some packages for you," she said. - -"Yes, I know. I bought some clothes. Thank you for taking them in," -said Helen. She felt friendly even toward Mrs. Campbell. "A white, -voile skirt, and a silk waist, and a hat. Would--would you like to see -them?" - -"No, _thank_ you!" said Mrs. Campbell, icily. Going up the stairs, -Helen heard her speaking to her husband. "'I bought some clothes,' she -says, bold as brass. Clothes!" - -Helen wondered, hurt, how people could be so unkind. She knew that the -clothes were an extravagance, but she did want them so badly, for Paul, -and it seemed to her that she had worked hard enough to deserve them. -Besides, Mr. Roberts had said that she might get a raise. - -She was dressed and creeping noiselessly out of the house at seven -o'clock the next morning. The spring dawn was coming rosily into the -city after a night of rain; the odor of the freshly washed lawns and -flower-beds was delicious, and birds sang in the trees. The flavor of -the cool, sweet air and the warmth of the sunshine mingled with her -joyful sense of youth and coming happiness. She looked very well, she -thought, watching her slim white reflection in the shop-windows. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - -When the train pulled into the big, dingy station Helen had been -waiting for some time, her pulses fluttering with excitement. But her -self-confidence deserted her when she saw the crowds pouring from the -cars. She shrank back into the wailing-room doorway; and she saw Paul -before his eager eyes found her. - -It was a shock to find that he had changed, too. Something boyish -was gone from his face, and his self-confident walk, his prosperous -appearance in a new suit, gave her the chill sensation that she was -about to meet a stranger. She braced herself for the effort, and when -they shook hands she felt that hers was cold. - -"You're looking well," she said shyly. - -"Well, so are you," he answered. They walked down the platform -together, and she saw that he carried a new suitcase, and that even his -shoes were new and shining. However, these details were somewhat offset -by her perception that he was feeling awkward, too. - -"Where shall we go?" They hesitated, looking at each other, and in -their smile the strangeness vanished. - -"I don't care. Anywhere, if you're along," he said. "Oh, Helen, it sure -is great to see you again! You look like a million dollars, too." His -approving eye was upon her new clothes. - -"I'm glad you like them," she said, radiant. "That's an awfully nice -suit, Paul." Happiness came back to her in a flood and putting out her -hand, she picked a bit of thread from his dear sleeve. "Well, where -shall we go?" - -"We'll get something to eat first," he said practically. "I'm about -starved, aren't you?" She had not thought of eating. - -They breakfasted in a little restaurant on waffles and sausages and -coffee. The hot food was delicious, and the waiter in the soiled white -apron grinned understandingly while he served them. Paul gave him -fifteen cents, in an off-hand manner, and she thrilled at his careless -prodigality and his air of knowing his way about. - -The whole long day lay before them, bright with limitless -possibilities. They left the suitcase with the cashier of the -restaurant and walked slowly down the street, embarrassed by the riches -of time that were theirs. Helen suggested that they walk awhile in the -capitol grounds; she had supposed they would do that, and perhaps in -the afternoon enjoy a car-ride to Oak Park. But Paul dismissed these -simple pleasures with a word. - -"Nothing like that," he said. "I want a real celebration, a regular -blow-out. I've been saving up for it a long time." He struggled with -this conscience. "It won't do any harm to miss church one Sunday. Let's -take a boat down the river." - -"Oh, Paul!" She was dazzled. "But--I don't know--won't it be awfully -expensive?" - -"I don't care how much it costs," he replied recklessly. "Come on. -It'll be fun." - -They went down the shabby streets toward the river, and even the dingy -tenements and broken sidewalks of the Japanese quarter seemed to them -to have a holiday air. They laughed about the queer little shops and -the restaurant windows, where electric lights still burned in the -clear daylight over pallid pies and strange-looking cakes. Helen must -stop to speak to the straight-haired, flat-faced Japanese babies who -sat stolidly on the curbs, looking at her with enigmatic, slant eyes, -and she saw romance in the groups of tall Hindoo laborers, with their -bearded, black faces and gaily colored turbans. - -It was like going into a foreign land together, she said, and even Paul -was momentarily caught by the enchantment she saw in it all, though he -did not conceal his detestation of these foreigners. "We're going to -see to it we don't have them in our town," he said, already with the -air of a proprietor in Ripley. - -"Now this is something like!" he exclaimed when he had helped Helen -across the gang-plank and deposited her safely on the deck of the -steamer. Helen, pressing his arm with her fingers, was too happy to -speak. The boat was filling with people in holiday clothes; everywhere -about her was the exciting stir of departure, calls, commands, the -thump of boxes being loaded on the deck below. A whistle sounded -hoarsely, the engines were starting, sending a thrill through the very -planks beneath her feet. - -"We'd better get a good place up in front," said Paul. He took her -through the magnificence of a large room furnished with velvet chairs, -past a glimpse of shining white tables and white-clad waiters, to a -seat whence they could gaze down the yellow river. She was appalled by -his ease and assurance. She looked at him with an admiration which she -would not allow to lessen even when the boat edged out into the stream -and, turning, revealed that he had led her to the stern deck. - -Her enthusiastic suggestion that they explore the boat aided Paul's -attempt to conceal his chagrin, and she listened enthralled to his -explanations of all they saw. He estimated the price of the crates -of vegetables and chickens piled on the lower deck, on their way to -the city from the upper river farms. It was his elaborate description -of the engines that caught the attention of a grimy engineer who had -emerged from the noisy depths for a breath of air, and the engineer, -turning on them a quizzically friendly gaze, was easily persuaded to -take them into the engine-room. - -Helen could not understand his explanations, but she was interested -because Paul was, and found her own thrill in the discovery of a dim -tank half filled with flopping fish, scooped from the river and flung -there by the paddle wheel. "We take 'em home and eat 'em, miss," said -the engineer, and she pictured their cool lives in the green river, and -the city supper-tables at which they would be eaten. She was fascinated -by the multitudinous intricacies of life, even on that one small boat. - -It was a disappointment to find, when they returned again to the upper -decks, that they could see nothing but green levee banks on each -side of the river. But this led to an even more exciting discovery, -for venturesomely climbing a slender iron ladder they saw beyond the -western levee an astounding and incredible stretch of water where land -should be. Their amazement emboldened Paul to tap on the glass wall -of a small room beside them, in which they saw an old man peacefully -smoking his pipe. He proved to be the pilot, who explained that it was -flood water they saw, and who let them squeeze into his tiny quarters -and stay while he told long tales of early days on the river, of -floods in which whole settlements were swept away at night, of women -and children rescued from floating roofs, of cows found drowned in -tree-tops, and droves of hogs that cut their own throats with their -hoofs while swimming. Listening to him while the boat slowly chugged -down the curves of the sunlit river, Helen felt the romance of living, -the color of all the millions of obscure lives in the world. - -"Isn't everything interesting!" she cried, giving Paul's arm an excited -little squeeze as they walked along the main deck again. "Oh, I'd like -to live all the lives that ever were lived! Think of those women and -the miners and people in cities and everything!" - -"I expect you'd find it pretty inconvenient before you got through," -Paul said. "Gee, but you're awfully pretty, Helen," he added -irrelevantly, and they forgot everything except that they were together. - -They had to get off at Lancaster in order to catch the afternoon boat -back to Sacramento. There was just time to eat on board, Paul said, -and overruling her flurried protests he led her into the white-painted -dining-room. The smooth linen, the shining silver, and the imposing -waiters confused her; she was able to see nothing but the prices on -the elaborate menu-cards, and they were terrifying. Paul himself -was startled by them, and she could see worried calculation in his -eyes. She felt that she should pay her share; she was working, too, -and earning money. The memory of the office, the advance she had -drawn on her wages, her uncomfortable existence in Mrs. Campbell's -house, passed through her mind like a shadow. But it was gone in an -instant, and she sat happily at the white table, eating small delicious -sandwiches and drinking milk, smiling across immaculate linen at Paul. -For a moment she played with the fancy that it was a honeymoon trip, -and a thrill ran along her nerves. - -They were at Lancaster before they knew it. There was a moment of -flurried haste, and they stood on the levee, watching the boat push off -and disappear beyond a wall of willows. A few lounging Japanese looked -at them with expressionless, slant eyes, pretending not to understand -Paul's inquiries until his increasing impatience brought from them in -clear English the information that the afternoon boat was late. It -might be along about five o'clock, they thought. - -"Well, that'll get us back in time for my train," Paul decided. "Let's -look around a little." - -The levee road was a tunnel of willow-boughs, floored with soft sand in -which their feet made no sound. They walked in an enchanted stillness, -through pale light, green as sea-water, drowsy, warm, and scented with -the breath of unseen flowers. Through the thin wall of leaves they -caught glimpses of the broad river, the yellow waves of which gave -back the color of the sky in flashes of metallic blue. And suddenly, -stepping out of the perfumed shadow, they saw the orchards. A sea of -petals, fragile, translucent, unearthly as waves of pure rosy light, -rippled at their feet. - -The loveliness of it filled Helen's eyes with tears. "Oh!" she said, -softly. "Oh--Paul!" Her hand went out blindly toward him. One more -breath of magic would make the moment perfect. She did not know what -she wanted, but her whole being was a longing for it. "Oh, Paul!" - -"Pears, by Jove!" he cried. "Hundreds of acres, Helen! They're the tops -of trees! We're looking down at 'em! Look at the river. Why, the land's -fifteen feet below water-level. Did you ever see anything like it?" -Excitement shook his voice. "There must be a way to get down there. I -want to see it!" He almost ran along the edge of the levee, Helen had -to hurry to keep beside him. She did not know why she should be hurt -because Paul was interested in the orchards. She was the first to laugh -about going down-stairs to farm when they found the wooden steps on the -side of the levee. - -But she felt rebuffed and almost resentful. She listened abstractedly -to Paul's talk about irrigation and the soil. He crumbled handfuls of -it between his fingers while they walked between the orchard rows, -and his opinion led to a monologue on the soil around Ripley and the -fight the farmers were making to get water on it. He was conservative -about the project; it might pay, and it might not. But if it did, a -man who bought some cheap land now would make a good thing out of it. -It occurred to her suddenly to wonder about the girls in Ripley. There -must be some; Paul had never written about them. She thought about it -for some time before she was able to bring the talk to the point where -she could ask about them. - -"Girls?" Paul said. "Sure, there are. I don't pay much attention to -them, though. I see them in church, and they're at the Aid Society -suppers, of course. They seem pretty foolish to me. Why, I never -noticed whether they were pretty, or not." Enlightenment dawned upon -him. "I'll tell you; they don't seem to talk about anything much. -You're the only girl I ever struck that I could really talk to. I--I've -been awfully lonesome, thinking about you." - -"Really truly?" she said, looking up at him. The sunlight fell across -her white dress, and stray pink petals fluttered slowly downward around -her. "Have you really been lonesome for me, too?" She swayed toward -him, ever so little, and he put his arms around her. - -He did love her. A great contentment flowed through her. To be in his -arms again was to be safe and rested and warm after ages of racking -effort in the cold. He was thinking only of her now. His arms crushed -her against him; she felt the roughness of his coat under her cheek. -He was stammering love-words, kissing her hair, her cheeks, her lips. - -"Oh, Paul, I love you, I love you, I love you!" she said, her arms -around his neck. - -Much later they found a little nook under the willows on the levee bank -and sat there with the river rippling at their feet, his arm around -her, her head on his shoulder. They talked a little then. Paul told her -again all about Ripley, but she did not mind. "When we're married--" -said Paul, and the rest of the sentence did not matter. - -"And I'm going to help you," she said. "Because I'm telegraphing now, -too. I'll be earning as much--almost as much, as you do. We can live -over the depot--" - -"We will not!" said Paul. "We'll have a house. I don't know that I'm -crazy about my wife working." - -"Oh, but I do want to help! A house would be nice. Oh, Paul, with -rose-bushes in the yard!" - -"And a horse and buggy, so we can go riding Sunday afternoons." - -"Besides, if I'm making money--" - -"I know. We wouldn't have to wait so long." - -She flushed. It was what she meant, but she did not want to think so. -"I didn't--I don't--" - -"Of course there's mother. And I want to feel that I can support--" - -She felt the magic departing. - -"Never mind!" The tiniest of cuddling movements brought his arms tight -around her again. - -"Oh, sweetheart, sweetheart, you're worth it!" he cried. "I'd wait for -you!" - -They were startled when they noticed the shadows under the trees. They -had not dreamed it was so late. She smoothed her hair and pinned on her -hat with trembling fingers, and they raced for the landing. The river -was an empty stretch of dirty gray lapping dusky banks. There was no -one at the landing. - -"It must be way after five o'clock. I wish I had a watch. The boat -couldn't have gone by without our seeing it?" The suggestion drained -the color from their cheeks. They looked at each other with wide eyes. -"It couldn't have possibly! Let's ask." - -The little town was no more than half a dozen old wooden buildings -facing the levee. A store, unlighted and locked, a harness shop, also -locked, two dark warehouses, a saloon. She waited in the shadow of it -while he went in to inquire. He came out almost immediately. - -"No, the boat hasn't gone. They don't know when it'll get here. No one -there but a few Japanese." - -They walked uncertainly back to the landing and stood gazing at the -darkening river. "I suppose there's no knowing when it will get here? -There's no other way of getting back?" - -"No, there's no railroad. I _have_ got you into a scrape!" - -"It's all right. It wasn't your fault," she hastened to say. - -They walked up and down, waiting. Darkness came slowly down upon them. -The river breeze grew colder. Stars appeared. - -"Chilly?" - -"A little," she said through chattering teeth. - -He took off his coat and wrapped it around her, despite her protests. -They found a sheltered place on the bank and huddled together, -shivering. A delicious sleepiness stole over her, and the lap-lap of -the water, the whispering of the leaves, the warmth of Paul's shoulder -under her cheek, all became like a dream. - -"Comfortable, dear?" - -"Mmmmhuh," she murmured. "You?" - -"You bet your life!" She roused a little to meet his kiss. The night -became dreamlike again. - -"Helen?" - -"What!" - -"Seems to me we've been here a long time. What'll we do? We can't stay -here till morning." - -"I don't--know--why not. All night--under the stars--" - -"But listen. What if the boat comes by and doesn't stop? There isn't -any light." - -She sat up then, rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes. - -"Well, let's make a fire. Got any matches?" - -He always carried them, to light the switch-lamps in Ripley. They -hunted dry branches and driftwood and coaxed a flickering blaze alive. -"It's like being stranded on a desert island!" she laughed. His eyes -adored her, crouching with disheveled hair in the leaping yellow light. -"You're certainly game," he said. "I--I think you're the pluckiest girl -in the world. And when I think what a fool I am to get you into this!" - -There came like an echo down the river the hoarse whistle of the boat. -A moment later it was upon them, looming white and gigantic, its -lights cutting swaths in the darkness as it edged in to the landing. -Struggling to straighten her hat, to tuck up her hair, to brush the -sand from her skirt, Helen stumbled aboard with Paul's hand steadying -her. - -The blaze of the salon lights hurt their eyes, but warmth and security -relaxed tired muscles. The room was empty, its carpet swept, the velvet -chairs neatly in place. - -"Funny, I thought there'd be a lot of passengers," Paul wondered aloud. -He found a cushion, tucked it behind Helen's head, and sat down beside -her. "Well, we're all right now. We'll be in Sacramento pretty soon." - -"Don't let's think about it," she said with quivering lips. "I hate to -have it all end, such a lovely day. It'll be such a long time--" - -He held her hand tightly. - -"Not so awfully long. I'm not going to stand for it." He spoke firmly, -but his eyes were troubled. She did not answer, and they sat looking at -the future while the boat jolted on toward the moment of their parting. - -"Damn being poor!" The word startled her as a blow would have done. -Paul, so sincerely and humbly a church member--Paul swearing! He went -on without a pause. "If I had a little money, if I only had a little -money! What right has it got to make such a difference? Oh, Helen, you -don't know how I want you!" - -"Paul, Paul dear, you mustn't!" Her hand was crushed against his face, -his shoulders shook. She drew his dear, tousled head against her -shoulder. - -"Don't, dear, don't! Please." - -He pushed away from her and got up. She let him go, shielding his -embarrassment even from her own eyes. "I seem to be making a fool of -myself generally," he said shakily. He walked about the room, looking -with an appearance of interest at the pictures on the walls. "It's -funny there aren't more people on board," he said conversationally -after a while. "Well, I guess I'll go see what time we get in." He came -back five minutes later, an odd expression on his face. - -"Look here, Helen," he said gruffly. "We won't get in for hours. -Something wrong with the engines. They're only making half time. -I--ah--I don't know why I didn't think of it before. You've got to work -to-morrow and all. The man suggested--" - -"Well, for goodness' sake, suggested what?" - -"Everybody else has berths," he said. "You better let me get you one, -because there's no sense in your sitting up all night. There's no -knowing when we'll get in." - -"But, Paul, I hate to have you spend so much. I could sleep a little -right here." A vision of the office went through her mind, and she -saw herself, sleepy-eyed, struggling to get messages into the right -envelopes and trying to manage the unmanageable messenger-boys. She was -tired. But it would be awfully expensive, no doubt. "And besides, I'd -rather stay here with you," she said. - -"So would I. But we might as well be sensible. You've got to work, -and I'd probably go to sleep, too. Come on, let's see how much it is, -anyhow." - -They found the right place after wandering twice around the boat. A -weary man sat behind the half-door, adding up a column of figures. -"Berths? Sure. Outside, of course. One left. Dollar and a half." His -expectation brought the money, as if automatically, from Paul's pocket. -He came out, yawning, a key with a dangling tag in his hand. "This way." - -They followed him down the corridor. Matters seemed to be taken from -their hands. He stepped out on the dark deck. - -"Careful there, better give your wife a hand over those ropes," he -cautioned over his shoulder, and they heard the sound of a key in a -lock. An oblong of light appeared; he stepped out again to let them -pass him. They went in. "There's towels. Everything all right, I -guess," he said cheerfully. "Good-night." - -Their eyes met for one horrified second. Embarrassment covered -them both like a flame. "I--Helen! You don't think--?" They swayed -uncertainly in the narrow space between berths and wash-stand. Did the -boat jolt so or was it the beating of her heart? - -"Paul, did you hear? How could--?" - -"I guess I better go now," he said. He fumbled with the door. -"Good-night." - -"Good-night." She felt suddenly forlorn. But he was not gone. "Helen? -It might be true. We might be married!" - -She clung to him. - -"We can't! We couldn't! Oh, Paul, I love you so!" - -"We can be married--we will be--just as soon as we get to Sacramento." -His kisses smothered her. "The very first thing in the morning! We'll -manage somehow. I'll always love you just as much. Helen, what's the -matter? Look at me. Darling!" - -"We can't," she gasped. "I'd be spoiling everything for you. Your -mother and me and everything on your hands, and you're just getting -started. You'd hate me after a while. No, no, no!" - -They stumbled apart. - -"What am I saying?" he said hoarsely, and she turned away from him, -hiding her face. - -A rush of cold moist air blew in upon her from the open doorway. He was -gone. She got the door shut, and sat down on the edge of the berth. A -cool breeze flowed in like water through the shutters of the windows; -she felt the throbbing of the engines. Even through her closed lids -she could not bear the light, and after a while she turned it out, -trembling, and lay open-eyed in the darkness. - -The stopping of the boat struck her aching nerves like a blow. She -sat up, neither asleep nor awake, pushing her hair back from a face -that seemed sodden and lifeless. A pale twilight filled the stateroom. -She smoothed her hair, straightened her crumpled dress as well as she -could, and went out on the deck. The boat lay at the Sacramento landing. - -A few feet away Paul was leaning upon the railing, his face pale and -haggard in the cold light As she went toward him the events of the -night danced fantastically through her brain, as grotesque and feverish -as images in a dream. - -"You don't hate me, do you, Helen?" he pleaded hopelessly. - -"Of course not," she said. Through her weariness she felt a stirring of -pity. For the first time in her life she told herself to smile, and did -it. "We'd better be getting off, hadn't we?" - -The grayness of dawn was in the air, paling the street-lights. A few -workmen passed them, plodding stolidly, carrying lunch-pails and tools; -a baker's wagon rattled by, awakening loud echoes. She tried to comfort -Paul, whose talk was one long self-reproach. - -He hoped she would not get into a row with the folks where she stayed. -If she did, she must let him know; he wouldn't stand for anything like -that. She could reach him in Masonville till Saturday; then he would -come down again on his way home. He hadn't thought he could stop on -the way back, but he would. He'd be worried about her until he saw her -again and was sure everything was all right. He had been an awful boob -not to be sure about the boat; he'd never forgive himself if-- - -"What is it?" he broke off. She had turned to look after a young man -who passed them. The motion was almost automatic; she had hardly seen -the man and not until he was past did her tired mind register an -impression of a cynically smiling eye. - -"Nothing," she said. She had been right; it was McCormick. But it would -require too much effort to talk about him. - -The blinds of Mrs. Campbell's house were still down when they reached -it. The tight roll of the morning paper lay on the porch. She would -have to ring, of course, to get in. They faced each other on the damp -cement walk, the freshness of the dewy lawns about them. - -"Well, good-by." - -"Good-by." They felt constrained in the daylight, under the blank stare -of the windows. Their hands clung. "You really aren't mad at me, Helen, -about anything?" - -"Of course I'm not. Nothing's happened that wasn't as much my fault as -it was yours." - -"You'll let me know?" - -She promised, though she had no intention of troubling him with her -problems. It was not his fault that the boat was late, and she had gone -as gladly as he. "Don't bother about it. I'll be all right. Good-by." - -"Good-by." Still their fingers clung together. She felt a rush of -tenderness toward him. - -"Don't look so worried, you dear!" Quickly, daringly, she leaned toward -him and brushed a butterfly's wing of a kiss upon his sleeve. Then, -embarrassed, she ran up the steps. - -"See you Saturday," he called in a jubilant undertone. She watched his -stocky figure until it turned the corner. Then she rang the bell. There -was time for the momentary glow to depart, leaving her weak and chilly, -before Mrs. Campbell opened the door. She said nothing. Her eyes, her -tight lips, her manner of drawing her dressing-gown back from Helen's -approach, spoke her thoughts. Explanations would be met with scornful -unbelief. - -Helen held her head high and countered silence with silence. But before -she reached her room she heard Mrs. Campbell's voice, high-pitched and -cutting, speaking to her husband. - -"Brazen as you please! You're right. The only thing to do's to put her -out of this house before we have a scandal on our hands. That's what I -get for taking her in, out of charity!" - -Helen shut her door softly. She would leave the house that very day. -The battered alarm clock pointed to half-past five. Three hours before -she could do anything. She undressed mechanically, half-formed plans -rushing through her mind. No money, next month's wages spent for these -crumpled clothes. She could telegraph her mother, but she must not -alarm her. Why hadn't she thought of borrowing something from Paul? -There was Mr. Roberts, but she could never make up more money. Perhaps -he would advance the raise he had promised. Her brain was working with -hectic rapidity. She saw in flashes rooming-houses, the office, Mr. -Roberts. She thought out every detail of long conversations, heard her -own voice explaining, arguing, promising, thanking. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - -She woke with a start at the sound of the alarm. Her sleep had not -refreshed her. Her body felt wooden, and there was a gritty sensation -behind her eyeballs. Dressing and hurrying to the office was like a -nightmare in which a tremendous effort accomplishes nothing. The office -routine steadied her. She booked the night messages, laying wet tissue -paper over them, running them through the copying-machine, addressing -their envelopes, sending out messenger-boys, settling their disputes -over long routes. Everything was as usual; the sunshine streamed in -through the plate-glass front of the office; customers came and went; -the telephone rang; the instruments clicked. Her holiday was gone as -if she had dreamed it. There remained only the recurring sting of Mrs. -Campbell's words, and a determination to leave her house. - -She tried several times to talk to Mr. Roberts. But he was in a black -mood. He walked past her without saying good-morning, and over the -question of a delayed message his voice snapped like a whip-lash. She -saw that some obscure fury was working in him and that he would grant -no favors until it had worn itself out. Perhaps he would be in a -better humor later. She must ask him for some money before night. - -In the lull just before noon she sat at her table behind the screen, -her head on her arms. She did not feel like working at the instrument. -Mr. McCormick was lounging against the front counter, talking to Mr. -Roberts, who sat at his desk. They would take care of any customers; -for a moment she could rest and try to think. - -"Miss Davies!" - -"Yes, sir!" She leaped to her feet. Mr. Roberts' tone was dangerous. -Had she forgotten a message? - -"I'd like to show you the batteries. Come with me." - -"Oh, thank you! I'd like to see them." She tried by the cheerfulness of -her voice to make his frown relax. - -She followed him gingerly down the stairway to the basement. The -batteries stood in great rows on racks of shelves, big glass jars -rimmed with poisonous-looking green and yellow stains, filled with -discolored water and pieces of rotting metal. A failing electric-light -bulb illuminated their dusty ranks, and dimly showed black beams and -cobwebs overhead. - -"It's awfully good of you to take so much trouble," she began -gratefully. - -"Cut that out! How long're you going to think you're making a damn fool -of me?" Mr. Roberts turned on her suddenly a face that terrified her. -Words choked in his throat. He caught her wrist, and she felt his whole -body shaking. "You--you--damned little--" The rows of glass jars spun -around her. She hardly understood the words he flung at her. "Coming -here with your big eyes, playing me for all you're worth, acting -innocence! D'you think you've fooled me a minute? D'you think I haven't -seen through your little game? How long d'you think I'm going to stand -for it--say?" - -"Let me go," she said, panting. - -She steadied herself against the end of a rack, where his furious -gesture flung her. They faced each other in the close space, breathing -hard. "I don't know--what you mean," she said. Her world was going to -pieces under her feet. - -"You know damn well what I mean. Don't keep on lying to me. You can't -put it over. I know where you were last night." His face was contorted -again. "Yes, and all the other nights, all the time you've been kidding -yourself you were making a fool of me. I know all about it. Get that? I -know what you were before I ever gave you a job. What d'you suppose I -gave it to you for? So you could run around on the outside, laughing at -me?" - -"Wait--oh, please--" - -"I've done all the listening to you I'm going to do. You're going to do -something besides talk from now on. I'm not a boy you can twist around -your finger. I don't care how cute you are." - -"I don't--want to. I only--want to get away," she said. She still faced -him, for she could not hide her face without taking her eyes from him, -and she was afraid to do that. When the silence continued she began -to drop into it small disjointed phrases. "I didn't know, I thought -you were so good to me. We couldn't help the boat being late. Please, -please, just let me go away. I was only trying to learn to telegraph. I -thought I was doing so well." - -She felt, then, that he was no longer angry, and turning against the -cobwebbed boards, she covered her face with her arms and cried. She -hated herself for doing it; but she could not help it. Every instant -she tried to stop, and very soon she was able to do so. When she lifted -her head Mr. Roberts was gone. - -She waited a while among the uncaring battery jars, steadying -herself, and wiping her face with her handkerchief. When she forced -herself to climb up into the daylight again there was no one in the -office but McCormick, who sat at the San Francisco wire, gazing into -space, whistling "Life's a funny proposition after all," while the -disregarded sounder clattered fretfully, calling him. - -Of course she would leave the office. She put on her hat and did so at -once, but when she was out in the sunlight, with the eyes of passers-by -upon her, she could do nothing but writhe among her thoughts like a -flayed thing among nettles. The side streets were better than the -others, for there fewer people could see her. If it were only night, so -she could crawl unobserved into some corner and die. - -It was a long time before she realized that her body was aching and -that she was limping on painful feet. She had reached a street in some -residence sub-division, where cement sidewalks ran through tangles -of last year's weeds, and little cottages stood forlornly at long -intervals. She stumbled over an expanse of dry stubble and green grass -and sat down. She could not suffer any more. It was good to sit in the -warm sunshine, to be alone. Life was vile. She shrank from it with sick -loathing. She had been so hurt that she no longer felt pain, but her -soul was nauseated. - -There was no refuge into which she could crawl. There was no time to -heal her bruises, no one to help her bear them. The afternoon was -almost gone. At the house there was Mrs. Campbell, at the office--she -could get more money from her mother and go home to stay. She owed her -mother a hundred dollars--months of privation and heartbreaking work. -She could not shudder away from the hideousness of life at such a cost -to others. Somehow she must find strength in herself to stand up, to go -on, to do something. - -Mr. Roberts' recommendation was necessary before she could get another -telegraph job. She did not know how to do anything else. She owed him -ten dollars, which must be paid. Paul--shamed blood rose in her cheeks -when her thoughts touched him. She must face this thing alone. - -In the depths of her mind she felt a hardness growing. All her finer -sensibilities, hurt beyond bearing, were concealing themselves beneath -a coarser hardihood. Her chin went up, her lips set, her eyes narrowed -unconsciously. - -After a long time she rose, brushing dead grass-stalks from her skirt, -and started back to town. A street-car carried her there quickly. On -the way she remembered that she should eat, and thought of Mrs. Brown. -The half-punched meal-ticket was still in her purse. She had shivered -at the thought of ever seeing Mrs. Brown again, and many times she had -intended to throw away the bit of paste-board, but she had not been -able to do so because it represented food. - -She got off the car at the corner nearest the little restaurant, and -forced herself to its doors. It was closed and empty, and a "For Rent" -sign was glued to the dirty window. Under her quick relief there was a -sense of triumph. She had made herself go there, at least. - -In a dairy-lunch she drank a cup of coffee and swallowed a sandwich. -Then she went back to the telegraph-office. - -She held her head high and walked steadily, as she might have gone to -her own execution. She felt that something within her was being crushed -to death, something clean and fine and sensitive, which must die before -she could make herself face Mr. Roberts again. She opened the office -door and went in. - -Mr. Roberts was at one of the wires. McCormick, frowning, was booking -messages at her high desk. She hung her hat in the cabinet and took the -pen from his hand. - -"Well, Little Bright-eyes, welcome to our city!" he exclaimed in his -usual manner, but she saw that he was nervous, disturbed by the sense -of tension in the air. - -"After this you're going to call me Miss Davies," she said, folding -a message into an envelope. She struck the bell for the next -messenger-boy. Well, she had been able to do that. - -It was harder to approach Mr. Roberts. She did not know whether she -most shrank from him, despised him, or feared him, but her heart -fluttered and she felt ill when he came through the railing into the -office and sat down at his desk. She went over the day's bookings, and -checked up the messenger books without seeing them, until her hatred of -her cowardice grew into a kind of courage. Then she went over to his -desk. - -"Mr. Roberts," she said clearly. "I'm not any of the things you called -me." Her cheeks, her forehead, even her neck, were burning painfully. -"I'm a perfectly decent girl." - -"Well, there's no use making such a fuss about it," he mumbled, -searching among his papers for one which apparently was not there. - -"I wouldn't stay, only I owe you ten dollars and I've got to have a -job. You know that. It was all the truth I told you, about having to -work. I got to stay here--" - -"How do you know I'm going to let you?" he said, stung. - -"I'm a good clerk. You can't get another as good any cheaper." She -found herself on the defensive and struck wildly. "You ought to anyway -let me keep the job, to make up--" - -"That'll do," he said harshly. Turning away from her he caught -McCormick's eye, which dropped quickly to the message he was sending. -"Go take those messages off the hook and get them out, if you want a -job so bad." - -She obeyed. It startled her to find she was meeting McCormick's grin -with a little twisted smile almost as cynical. What she wanted to do -was to scream. - -Late that afternoon she was leaning on the front counter, watching -people go by outside the plate-glass windows and wondering what was the -truth about them, when she felt McCormick's gaze upon her. He came a -step closer, putting his elbow on the counter beside hers, and spoke -confidentially. - -"Well, I guess you got the old man buffaloed, all right." - -"I wish you'd leave me alone," she said in a hard, clear voice. - -"Oh, what's the use of getting sore? You're a plucky little devil. I -like you." He spoke meditatively, as if considering impersonally his -sensations. "Made a killing at poker last night," he went on. When she -did not answer, "There's no string tied to a little loan." - -But this, even with the flash of hope it offered, was too much to be -borne. - -"Go away!" she cried. He strolled back to the wires, whistling. - -She was checking up the last undelivered message at six o'clock and -telling herself that she must go back to Mrs. Campbell's for the night, -when Mr. Roberts laid a telegram on the desk beside her. "I'll try to -keep the office going without your assistance," he said with an attempt -at sarcasm. "Don't bother about me. Just get out." - -The flowing operator's script danced before her eyes. She read it -twice. "See your service this afternoon. Can offer Miss Davies night -duty St. Francis hotel forty-five dollars a month report immediately. -BRYANT, MGR." - -"San Francisco?" she stammered, incredulous, gazing at the SF -date-line. Across the yellow sheet she looked at Mr. Roberts, seeing -in his eyes a dislike that was almost hatred. "I'll go to-night," she -said. "I think everything's in order. That Ramsey message was out -twice." - -When he had gone, she borrowed ten dollars from McCormick, promising to -return it at the end of the month. She hardly resented his elaborately -kissing the money good-by, and holding her hand when he gave it to -her. But she spent twenty-five cents of it to send a message from the -station to Paul, though McCormick would have sent it for her as a note, -costing nothing. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - -Cooped in a narrow space at the end of a long corridor, Helen sat -gazing at the life of a great San Francisco hotel. Every moment -the color and glitter shifted under the brilliant light of mammoth -chandeliers. Tall, gilded elevator-doors opened and closed; women -passed, wrapped in satins and velvets, airy feathers in their shining -hair; men in evening dress escorted them; bell-boys went by, carrying -silver trays and calling unintelligibly, their voices rising above the -continuous muffled stir and the faint sounds of music from the Blue -Room. - -Helen had choked the telegraph-sounder with a pencil, so that she might -hear the music. But the tones of the violins came to her blurred by -a low hum of voices, by the rustle of silks, by the soft movement of -many feet on velvet carpets. Nothing was clear, simple, or distinct in -the medley. Her ears were baffled, as her eyes were dazzled and her -thoughts confused, by a multiplicity of sensations. San Francisco was a -whirlpool, an endless roaring circle, stupendous and dizzying. - -This had been her sick impression of it on that first morning, when she -struggled through the eddying crowds at the ferry building, lugging -her telescope-bag with one hand and with the other trying to hold her -hat in place against gusts of wind. Beneath the uproar of street-car -gongs, of huge wagons rumbling over the cobbles, of innumerable -hurrying feet, whistles, bells, shouts, she had felt a great impersonal -current, terrifying in its heedlessness of all but its own mighty -swirl, and she had had the sensation of standing at the brink of a -maelstrom. - -After ten months the impression still remained. But now she seemed to -have been drawn into the motionless vertex. The city roared around her, -still incomprehensible, still driven by its own breathless speed, but -in the heart of it she was alien and untouched. She had found nothing -in it but loneliness. - -Her first terrors had vanished, leaving her with a frustrated sense -of having been ridiculous in having them. She had gathered her whole -strength for a great effort, and she had found nothing to do. Far -from lying in wait with nameless dangers and pitfalls for the unwary -stranger, the city apparently did not know she was there. - -At the main telegraph-office Mr. Bryant had received her indifferently. -He was a busy man; she was one detail of his routine work. He directed -her to the St. Francis, asked her to report there at five o'clock, -and, looking at her again, inquired whether she knew any one in San -Francisco or had arranged for a place to live. Three minutes later he -handed her over to a brisk young woman, who gave her an address and -told her what car to take to reach it. - -She had found a shabby two-story house on Gough Street, with a -discouraged palm in a tub on the front porch. A colorless woman showed -her the room. It was a small, neat place under the eaves, furnished -with an iron bed, a wash-stand, a chair, and a strip of rag carpet. The -bathroom was on the lower floor, and the rent was two dollars and a -half a week. Helen set down her bag with a sigh of relief. - -Thus simply she found herself established in San Francisco. Her -first venture into the St. Francis had been no more exciting. After -a panic-stricken plunge into its magnificence she was accepted -noncommittally by the day-operator, a pale girl with eye-glasses, who -was already putting on her hat. She turned over a few unsent messages, -gave Helen the cash-box and rate-book, and departed. - -Thereafter Helen met her daily, punctually at five o'clock, and saw her -leave. Helen rather looked forward to the moment. It was pleasant to -say, "Good evening," once a day to some one. - -In the afternoon she walked about, looking at the city, and learned to -know many of the streets by name. She discovered the public library -and read a great deal. The library was also a pleasant place to spend -Sundays, being less lonely than the crowded parks, and if the librarian -were not too busy one might sometimes talk to her about a book. - -The dragging of the days, as much as her need for more money, had -driven her to asking for extra work at the main office. But here, -too, she had been dropped into the machine and put down before her -telegraph-key, with barely a hurried human touch. A beginner, rated -at forty-five dollars, she replaced a seventy-five-dollar operator -on a heavy wire, and the days became a nerve-straining tension of -concentration on the clicking sounder at her ear, while the huge -room with its hundreds of instruments and operators faded from her -consciousness. - -Released at four o'clock, she ate forlornly in a dairy lunch-room and -hurried to the St. Francis. Here, at least, she could watch other -people's lives. Gazing out at the changing crowd in the hotel corridor -she let her imagination picture the romances, the adventures, at her -finger-tips. A man spoke cheerfully to the cigar-boy while he lighted -his cigarette at the swinging light over the news-stand counter. He was -the center of a scandal that had filled the afternoon papers, and under -her hand was the message he had sent to his wife, denying, appealing, -swearing loyalty and love. A little, soft-eyed woman in clinging laces, -stepping from the elevator to meet a plump man in evening dress, was -there to put through a big mining deal with him. The ends of the -intrigue stretched out into vagueness, but her telegrams revealed its -magnitude. - -Helen's cramped muscles stirred restlessly. There was barely room to -move in the tiny office, crowded with table and chair and wastebasket. -Spaciousness was on the other side of the counter. - -She snatched the pencil from the counter and began a letter to Paul. -Her imagination, at least, was released when she wrote letters. - - _Dear Paul_: - - I wonder what you are doing now! It's eight o'clock and of course - you've had your supper. Your mother's probably finishing up the - kitchen work and putting the bread to rise, and you haven't - anything to do but sit on the porch and look at the stars and the - lighted windows here and there in the darkness, and listen to the - breeze in the trees. And here I am, sitting in a place that looks - just like a hothouse with all the flowers come to life. There's - a ball up-stairs, and a million girls have gone through the - corridors, with flowers and feathers and jewels in their hair, and - dresses and evening cloaks as beautiful as petals. How I wish you - could see them all, and the men, too, in evening dress. They're the - funniest things when they're fat, but some of the slim ones look - like princes or counts or something. - - What kind of new furniture was it your mother got? You've never - told me a word about the place you're living since you moved, and - I'm awfully interested. Do please tell me what color the wall-paper - is and the carpets, and the woodwork, and what the kitchen is like, - and if there are rose-bushes in the yard. Did your mother get new - curtains, too? There is a lovely new material for curtains just - out--sort of silky, and rough, in the loveliest colors. I see it in - the store windows, and if your mother wants me to I'd love to price - it, and get samples for her. - - A little boy's just come in with a toy balloon, and it got away - from him and it's bumping up around on the gilded ceiling, and - I wish you could hear him howl. It must be fun for the balloon, - though, after being dragged around for hours, tugging all the time - to get away, to escape at last and go up and up and up-- - - I felt just like that this morning. Just think, Paul, I sent the - last of the hundred dollars home, and another fifty besides! Isn't - that gorgeous? I'm making over ninety dollars a month now, with my - extra work at SF office, and my salary here-- - -She paused, biting her pencil. That would give him a start, she -thought. He had been so self-satisfied when he got his raise to being -day-operator and station-agent. She had not quite got over the hurt of -his taking it without letting her know that the night-operator's place -would be vacant. He had explained that a girl couldn't handle the job, -but she knew that he did not want her to be working with him. - -In the spring, she thought, she would be able to get some beautiful new -clothes and go home for a visit. Paul would come, too, when he knew she -would be there. He would see then how well she could manage on a very -little money. In a few months more she would be able to save enough for -a trousseau, tablecloths, and embroidered towels-- - -"Blank, please!" A customer leaned on the counter. She gave him the pad -and watched him while he wrote. His profile was handsome; a lock of -fair hair beneath the pushed-back hat, a straight forehead, an aquiline -nose, a thin, humorous mouth. He wrote nervously, dashing the pencil -across the paper, tearing off the sheet and crumpling it impatiently, -beginning again. When he finished, shoving the message toward her with -a quick movement, he looked at her and smiled, and she felt a charm in -the warm flash of his eyes. His nervous vitality was magnetic. - -She read the message. "'G. H. Kennedy, Central Trust Company, Los -Angeles. Drawing on you for five hundred. Must have it. Absolutely sure -thing this time. Full explanations follow by letter. GILBERT.' -Sixty-seven cents, please," she said. She wished that she could think -of something more to say; she would have liked to talk to him. There -was about him an impression of something happening every instant. When, -turning away, he paused momentarily, she looked at him quickly. But he -was speaking to the rival operator. - -"Hello, kid!" - -"On your way," the girl replied imperturbably. Her eyes laughed and -challenged. But with an answering smile he went past, and only his hat -remained visible in glimpses through the crowd. Then it turned a corner -and was gone. - -"Fresh!" the girl murmured. "But gee, he can dance!" - -Helen looked at her with interest. She was a new girl, on relief duty. -The regular operator for her company was a sober, conscientious woman -of thirty, who studied German grammar in her leisure moments. This one -was not at all like her. - -"Do you know him?" said Helen, smiling shyly. This was an opening for -conversation, and she met it eagerly. The other girl had a friendly and -engaging manner, which obviously included all the world. - -"Sure I do," she answered, though there was uncertainty under the -round tones. She ran a slim forefinger through the blond curl that lay -against her neck, smiling at Helen with a display of even, white teeth. -Helen thought of pictures on magazine covers. It must be wonderful to -be as pretty as that, she thought wistfully. "Who's he wiring to?" - -Helen passed the message across the low railing that separated the -offices. She noticed the shining of the girl's fingernail as she ran it -along the lines. - -"Well, what do you know about that? He _was_ giving me a song and dance -about being Judge Kennedy's son. You never can tell about men," she -commented sagely, returning the telegram. "Sometimes they tell you the -absolute truth." - -A childlike quality made her sophistication merely piquant. Her -comments on the passing guests fascinated Helen, and an occasional -phrase revealed glimpses of a world of gaiety in which she seemed to -flutter continually, like a butterfly in the sunshine. She worked, it -appeared, only at irregular intervals. - -"Momma supports me, of course on her alimony. Papa certainly treated -her rotten, but his money's perfectly good," she said artlessly. Her -frankness also was childlike, and her calm acceptance of the situation -made it necessary to regard it as commonplace. Helen, in self-defense, -could not be shocked. - -"She's lot of fun, momma is. Just loves a good time. She's out dancing -now. Gee! I wish I was! I'm just crazy about dancing, aren't you? -Listen to that music! All I want is just to dance all night long. -That's what I really love." - -"Do you ever--often, I mean--do it? Dance all night long?" Helen asked, -wide-eyed. - -"Only once a night." She laughed. "About five nights a week." - -Helen thought her entertaining, and warmed to her beauty and charm. -In an hour she was asking Helen to call her Louise, and although she -made no attempt to conceal her astonishment at the barrenness of -Helen's life, her generous desire to share her own good times took -the sting from her pity. Why, Helen didn't know the city at all, she -cried, and Helen could only assent. They must go out to some of the -cafés together; they must have tea at Techau's; Helen must come to -dinner and meet momma. Louise jumbled a dozen plans together in a rush -of friendliness. It was plain that she was genuinely touched in her -butterfly heart by Helen's loneliness. - -"And you're a brunette!" she cried. "We'll be stunning together. I'm so -blonde." The small circle of her thought returned always to herself. -Helen, dimly seeing this, felt an amused tolerance, which saved her -pride while she confessed to herself her inferiority in cleverness -to this sparkling small person. Louise would never have drifted into -dull stagnation; she would have found some way to fill her life with -realities instead of dreams. - -Midnight came before Helen realized it. Tidying her desk for the night, -she found the unfinished letter to Paul and tucked it into her purse. -She had not been forced to feed upon her imagination that evening. - -Louise walked to the car-line with her, and it was settled that the -next night Helen should come to dinner and meet momma. It meant cutting -short her extra work and paying the day-operator to stay late at the -St. Francis, but Helen did not regret the cost. This was the first -friend the city had offered her. - - * * * * * - -Three weeks later she was sharing the apartment on Leavenworth Street -with Louise and her momma. - -The change had come with startling suddenness. There had been the -dinner first. Helen approached it diffidently, doubtful of her -self-possession in a strange place, with strange people. She fortified -herself with a new hat and a veil with large velvet spots, yet at -the very door she had a moment of panic and thought of flight and -a telephone message of regrets. Only the thought of her desperate -loneliness gave her courage to ring the bell. - -The strain disappeared as soon as she met momma. Momma, slim in a silk -petticoat and a frilly dressing-sack, had taken her in affectionately. -Momma was much like Louise. Helen thought again of pictures on magazine -covers, though Louise suggested a new magazine, and her mother did -not. Even Helen could see that Momma's pearly complexion was liberally -helped by powder, and her hair was almost unnaturally golden. But the -eyes were the same, large and blue, fringed with black lashes, and both -profiles had the same clear, delicate outlines. - -"Yes, dear, most people do think we're sisters," Mrs. Latimer said -complacently, when Helen spoke of the resemblance. - -"We have awful good times together, don't we, Momma?" Louise added, her -arm around her mother's waist, and Helen felt a pang at the fondness of -the reply. "We certainly do, kiddie." - -It was a careless, happy-go-lucky household. Dinner was scrambled -together somehow, with much opening of cans, in a neglected, dingy -kitchen. Helen and Louise washed the dishes while momma stirred the -creamed chicken. It was fun to wash dishes again and to set the table, -and Helen could imagine herself one of the family while she listened -to their intimate chatter. They had had tea down town; there was -mention of some one's new car, somebody's diamonds; Louise had seen a -lavallière in a jeweler's shop; she teased her mother to buy it for -her, and her mother said fondly, "Well, honey-baby, we'll see." - -They had hardly begun to eat when the telephone-bell rang, and momma, -answering it, was gone for some time. They caught scraps of bantering -talk and Louise wondered, "Who's that she's jollying now?" She sprang -up with a cry of delight when momma came back to announce that the -crowd was going to the beach. - -There was a scramble to dress. Helen, hooking their gowns in the -cluttered bedroom, saw dresser drawers overflowing with sheer -underwear, silk stockings, bits of ribbon, crushed hat-trimmings, and -plumes. Louise brushed her eyebrows with a tiny brush, rubbed her nails -with a buffer, dabbed carefully at her lips with a lip-stick Helen -hoped that she did not show her surprise at these novel details of the -toilet. They had taken it for granted she was going to the beach with -them. Their surprise and regret were genuine when she said she must go -to work. - -"Oh, what do you want to do that for?" Louise pouted. "You look all -right." She said it doubtfully, then brightened. "I'll lend you some -of my things. You'd be perfectly stunning dressed up. Wouldn't she be -stunning, Momma? You've got lovely hair and that baby stare of yours. -All you need's a dress and a little--Isn't it, Momma?" - -Her mother agreed warmly. Helen glowed under their praise and was -deeply grateful for their interest in her. She wanted very much to go -with them, and when she stood on the sidewalk watching them depart in a -big red automobile, amidst a chorus of gay voices, she felt chilled and -lonely. - -They were lovely to be so friendly to her, she thought, while she -went soberly to work. She felt that she must in some way return their -kindness, and after discarding a number of plans she decided to take -them both to a matinée. - -It was Louise, at their third meeting, who suggested that she come to -live with them. "What do you know, Momma, Helen's living in some awful -hole all alone. Why couldn't she come in with us? There's loads of -room. She could sleep with me. Momma, why not?" - -Her mother, smiling lazily, said: - -"Well, if you kids want to, I don't care." Helen was delighted by -the prospect. It was arranged that she should pay one third of the -expenses, and Louise cried joyfully: "Now, Momma, you've got to get my -lavallière!" - -The next afternoon Helen packed her bag and left the room on Gough -Street. Her feet wanted to dance when she went down the narrow stairs -for the last time and let herself out into the windy sunshine. - - * * * * * - -It was maddening to find herself so tied down by her work. In the early -mornings, dragging herself from bed, she left Louise drowsy among the -pillows and saw while she dressed the tantalizing signs of last night's -gaiety in the dress flung over a chair, the scattered slippers and -silk stockings. She came home at midnight to a dark, silent apartment, -letting herself in with a latch-key to find the dinner dishes still -unwashed and spatterings of powder on the bedroom carpet, where street -shoes and a discarded petticoat were tangled together. She enjoyed -putting things in order, pretending the place was her own while she -did it, but she was lonely. Later she awoke to blink at Louise, -sitting half undressed on the edge of the bed, rubbing her face with -cold-cream, and to listen sleepily to her chatter. - -"You'll be a long time dead, kiddie," momma said affectionately. -"What's the use of being a dead one till you have to?" Helen's youth -cried that momma was right. But she knew too well the miseries of -being penniless; she dared not give up a job. A chance remark, flung -out on the endless flow of Louise's gossip, offered the solution. "What -do you know about that boob girl at MX office? She's picked a chauffeur -in a garden of millionaires, and she's going to quit work and _marry_ -him!" - -Helen's heart leaped. It was her chance. When she confronted Mr. Bryant -across the main-office counter the next morning her hands trembled, but -her whole nature had hardened into a cold determination. She would get -that job. It paid sixty dollars a month; the hours were from eight to -four. Whether she could handle market reports or not did not matter; -she would handle them. - -She scored her first business triumph when she got this job, although -she did not realize until many years later what a triumph it had been. -She settled into her work at the Merchants' Exchange wires with only -one thought. Now she was free to live normally, to have a good time, -like other girls. - -The first day's work strained her nerves to the breaking point The -shouts of buyers and sellers on the floor, the impatient pounding on -the counter of customers with rush messages, the whole breathless haste -and excitement of the exchange, blurred into an indistinct clamor -through which she heard only the slow, heavy working of the Chicago -wire, tapping out a meaningless jumble of letters and fractions. She -concentrated upon it, with an effort which made her a blind machine. -The scrawled quotations she flung on the counter were wrought from an -agony of nerves and brain. - -But it was over at last, and she hurried home. The dim stillness of the -apartment was an invitation to rest, but she disregarded it, slipping -out of her shirt-waist and splashing her face and bare arms with cold -water. A new chiffon blouse was waiting in its box, and a thrill -of anticipation ran through her when she lifted it from its tissue -wrappings. - -She fastened the soft folds, pleased by the lines of her round arms -seen through the transparency, and her slender neck rising from white -frills. In the hand-glass she gazed at the oval of her face reflected -in the dressing-table mirror, and suddenly lifting her lids caught the -surprising effect of the sea-gray eyes beneath black lashes, an effect -she had never known until Louise spoke of it. - -She was pretty. She was almost--she caught her breath--beautiful. The -knowledge was more than beauty itself, for it brought self-assurance. -She felt equal to any situation the evening might offer, and she was -smiling at herself in the mirror when Louise burst in, a picture in -a dashing little serge suit and a hat whose black line was like the -stroke of an artist's pencil. - -"The alimony's come!" she cried. "We're going to have a regular time! -Momma'll meet us down town. Look, isn't it stunning?" She displayed -the longed-for lavallière twinkling against her smooth young neck. "I -knew I'd get it somehow Momma--the stingy thing!--she went and got her -new furs. But we met Bob, and he bought it for me." She sat down before -the mirror, throwing off her hat and letting down her hair. "I don't -know--it's only a chip diamond." Her moods veered as swiftly as light -summer breezes. "I wish momma'd get me a real one. It's nonsense, her -treating me like a baby. I'm seventeen." - -Helen felt her delight in the new waist evaporate. Louise's chatter -always made her feel at a disadvantage. There was a distance between -them that they seemed unable to bridge, and Helen realized that it was -her fault. Perhaps it was because she had been so long alone that she -often felt even more lonely when she was with Louise. - -The sensation returned, overpowering, when they joined the crowd in the -restaurant. She could only follow Louise's insouciant progress through -a bewildering medley of voices, music, brilliant lights, and stumble -into a chair at a table ringed with strange faces. Momma was there, -her hat dripping with plumes, white furs flung negligently over her -shoulders, her fingers a blaze of rings. There was another resplendent -woman, named Nell Allan; a bald-headed fat man called Bob; a younger -man, with a lean face and restless blue eyes, hailed by Louise as -Duddy. They were having a very gay time, but Helen, shrinking unnoticed -in her chair, was unaccountably isolated and lonely. She could think of -nothing to say. There was no thread in the rapid chatter at which she -could clutch. They were all talking, and every phrase seemed a flash of -wit, since they all laughed so much. - -"I love the cows and chickens, but this is the life!" Duddy cried at -intervals. "Oh, you chickens!" and "This is the life!" the others -responded in a chorus of merriment. Helen did not doubt that it all -meant something, but her wits were too slow to grasp it, and the talk -raced on unintelligibly. She could only sit silent eating delicate food -from plates that waiters whisked into place and whisked away again, and -laughing uncertainly when the others did. - -Color and light and music beat upon her brain. About her was a -confusion of movement, laughter, clinking glasses, glimpses of white -shoulders and red lips, perfumes, hurrying waiters, steaming dishes, -and over and through it all the quick, accented rhythm of the music, -swaying, dominating, blending all sensations into one quickening -vibration. - -Suddenly, from all sides, hidden in the artificial foliage that covered -the walls, silvery bells took up the melody. Helen, inarticulate and -motionless, felt her nerves tingle, alive, joyful, eager. - -There was a pushing back of chairs, and she started. But they were only -going to dance. Duddy and momma, Bob and Mrs. Allan, swept out into a -whirl of white arms and dark coats, tilted faces and swaying bodies. -"Isn't it lovely!" Helen murmured. - -But Louise was not listening. She sat mutinous, her fingers tapping -time to the music, her eyes beneath the long lashes searching the room. -"I can't help it. I just got to dance!" she muttered, and suddenly she -was gone. Some one met her among the tables, put his arms around her, -and whirled her away. Helen, watching for her black hat and happy face -to reappear, saw that she was dancing with the man whose telegram had -introduced them. Memory finally gave her his name. Gilbert Kennedy. - -Louise brought him to the table when the music ceased. There were gay -introductions, and Helen wished that she could say something. But momma -monopolized him, squeezing in an extra chair for him beside her, and -saying how glad she was to meet a friend of her little girl's. - -Helen could only be silent, listening to their incomprehensible -gaiety, and feeling an attraction for him as irresistible as an -electric current. She did not know what it was, but she thought him the -handsomest man she had ever seen, and she felt that he did whatever he -wanted to do with invariable success. He was not like the others. He -talked their jargon, but he did not seem of them, and she noticed that -his hazel eyes, set in a network of tiny wrinkles, were at once avid -and weary. Yet he could not be older than twenty-eight or so. He danced -with momma, when again the orchestra began a rag, but coming back to -the table with the others, he said restlessly: - -"Let's go somewhere else. My car's outside. How about the beach?" - -"Grand little idea!" Duddy declared amid an approving chorus. Helen, -following the others among the tables and through the swinging doors -to the curb where the big gray car stood waiting, told herself that -she must make an effort, must pay for this wonderful evening with some -contribution to the fun. But when they had all crowded into the machine -and she felt the rush of cool air against her face and saw the street -lights speeding past, she forgot everything but joy. She was having -a good time at last, and a picture of the Masonville girls flashed -briefly through her mind. How meager their picnics and hay rides -appeared beside this! - -She half formed the phrases in which she would describe to Paul their -racing down the long boulevard beside the beach, the salty air, and the -darkness, and the long white lines of foam upon the breakers. This, -she realized with exultation, was a joy-ride. She had read the word in -newspapers, but its aptness had never before struck her. - -It was astounding to find, after a rush through the darkness of the -park, that the car was stopping. Every one was getting out. Amazed and -trying to conceal her amazement, she went with them through a blaze of -light into another restaurant where another orchestra played the same -gay music and dancers whirled beyond a film of cigarette smoke. They -sat down at a round bare table, and Helen perceived that one must order -something to drink. - -She listened to the rapid orders, hesitating. "Blue moons" were -intriguing, and "slow gin fizz" was fascinating, with its suggestion -of fireworks. But beside her Mr. Kennedy said, "Scotch high-ball," -and the waiter took her hesitation for repetition. The glass appeared -before her, there was a cry of "Happy days!" and she swallowed a -queer-tasting, stinging mouthful. She set the glass down hastily. - -"What's the matter with the high-ball?" Mr. Kennedy inquired. He had -paid the waiter, and she felt the obligation of a guest. - -"It's very good really. But I don't care much for drinks that are -fizzy," she said. She saw a faint amusement in his eyes, but he did not -smile, and his order to the waiter was peremptory. "Plain high-ball -here, no seltzer." The waiter hastened to bring it. - -Mr. Kennedy's attention was still upon her, and she saw no escape. She -smiled at him over the glass. "Happy days!" she said, and drank. She -set down the empty glass and the muscles of her throat choked back -a cough. "Thank you," she said, and was surprised to find that the -weariness was no longer in his eyes. - -"You're all right!" he said. His tone was that of the vanquished -greeting the victor, and his next words were equally enigmatic. "I hate -a bluffer that doesn't make good when he's called!" The orchestra had -swung into a new tune, and he half rose. "Dance?" - -It was hard to admit her deficiency and let him go. - -"I can't. I don't know how." - -He sat down. - -"You don't know how to dance?" His inflection said that this was -carrying a pretense too far, that in overshooting a mark she had missed -it. His keen look at her suddenly made clear a fact for which she had -been unconsciously groping while she watched these men and women, the -clue to their relations. Beneath their gaiety a ceaseless game was -being played, man against woman, and every word and glance was a move -in that game, the basis of which was enmity. He thought that she, too, -was playing it, and against him. - -"Why do you think I'm lying to you, Mr. Kennedy? I would like to dance -if I could--of course." - -"I don't get you," he replied with equal directness. "What do you come -out here for if you don't drink and don't dance?" - -It would be too humiliating to confess the extent of her inexperience, -her ignorance of the city in which she had lived for almost a year. "I -come because I like it," she said. "I've worked hard for a long time -and never had any fun. And I'm going to learn to dance. I don't know -about drinking. I don't like the taste of it much. Do people really -like to drink high-balls and things like that?" - -It startled a laugh from him. - -"Keep on drinking 'em, and you'll find out why people do it," he -answered. Over his shoulder he said to the waiter, "Couple of rye -high-balls, Ben." - -The others were dancing. They were alone at the table, and when, -resting an elbow on the edge of it, he concentrated his attention upon -her, the crowded room became a swirl of color and light about their -isolation. Her breath came faster, the toe of her slipper kept time -to the music, exhilaration mounted in her veins, and her success in -holding his interest was like wine to her. But a cold, keen inner self -took charge of her brain. - -The high-balls arrived. She felt that she must be rude, and did not -drink hers. When he urged she refused as politely as she could. He -insisted. - -"Drink it!" She felt the clash of an imperious, reckless will against -her impassive resistance. There was a second in which neither moved, -and their whole relation subtly changed. Then she laughed. - -"I'd really rather not," she said lightly. - -"Come on--be game," he said. - -"The season's closed," Louise's flippancies had not been without their -effect on her. It was easier to drop back into her own language. "No, -really--tell me, why do people drink things that taste like that?" - -He met her on her own ground. "You've got to drink, to let go, to have -a good time. It breaks down inhibitions." She noted the word. The -use of such words was one of the things that marked his difference -from the others. "God knows why," he added wearily. "But what's the -use of living if you don't hit the high spots? And there's a streak -of--perversity--depravity in me that's got to have this kind of thing." - -Their group swooped down about the table, and the general ordering of -more drinks ended their talk. There was a clamor when Helen said she -did not want anything. Duddy swept away her protests and ordered for -her, but momma came to the rescue. - -"Let the kid alone; she's not used to it. You stick to lemon sours, -baby. Don't let them kid you," she said. The chatter swept on, leaving -her once more unnoticed, but when the music called again Mr. Kennedy -took her out among the dancers. - -"You're all right," he said. "Just let yourself go and follow me. It's -only a walk to music." And unaccountably she found herself dancing, -felt the rhythm beat through blood and nerves, and stiffness and -awkwardness drop away from her. She felt like a butterfly bursting from -a chrysalis, like a bird singing in the dawn. She was so happy that Mr. -Kennedy laughed at the ecstacy in her face. - -"You look like a kid in a candy-shop," he said, swinging her past a jam -with a long, breathless swooping glide and picking up the step again. - -"I'm--per-fect-ly-happy!" she cried, in time to the tune. "It's -awfully good--of you-ou!" - -He laughed again. - -"Stick to me, and I'll teach you a lot of things," he said. - -She found, when she went reluctantly back to the table with him, -that the others were talking of leaving. It hurt to hear him -enthusiastically greeting the suggestion. But after they were in -the machine it appeared that they were not going home. There was -an interval of rushing through the cool darkness, and then another -restaurant just like the others, and more dancing. - -The hours blurred into a succession of those swift dashes through the -clean night air, and recurring plunges into light and heat and smoke -and music. Helen, faithfully sticking to lemon sours as momma had -advised, discovered that she could dance something called a rag, and -something else known as a Grizzly Bear; heard Duddy crying that she was -some chicken; felt herself a great success. Bob was growing strangely -sentimental and talked sorrowfully about his poor old mother; momma's -cheeks were flushed under the rouge, and she sang part of a song, -forgetting the rest of the words. The crowd shifted and separated; -somewhere they lost part of it, and a stranger appeared with Louise. - -Helen, forced at last to think of her work next morning, was horrified -to find that it was two o'clock. Momma agreed that the best of friends -must part. They sang while they sped through the sleeping city, the -stars overhead and the street-lights flashing by. Drowsily happy, Helen -thought it no harm to rest her head on Mr. Kennedy's shoulder, since -his other arm was around momma, and she wondered what it would be like -if a man so fascinating were in love with her. It would be frightfully -thrilling and exciting, she thought, playing daringly with the idea. - -"See you, again!" they all cried, when she alighted with momma and -Louise before the dark apartment-house. The others were going on -to more fun somewhere. She shook hands with Mr. Kennedy, feeling a -contraction of her heart. "Thank you for a very pleasant time." She -felt that he was amused by the stilted words. - -"Don't forget it isn't the last one!" he said. - -She did not forget. The words repeated themselves in her mind; she -heard his voice, and felt his arm around her waist and the music -throbbing in her blood for a long time. The sensations came back to -her in the pauses of her work next day, while she dragged through the -hours as if she were drugged, hearing the noise of the exchange and the -market quotations clicking off the Chicago wire, now very far and thin, -now close and sickeningly loud. - -She was white and faint when she got home, and Momma suggested a -bromo-seltzer and offered to lend her some rouge. But Mr. Kennedy had -not telephoned, and she went to bed instead of going out with them that -evening. It was eleven days before he did telephone. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - -In the mornings Helen went to work. The first confusion of the -Merchants' Exchange had cleared a little. She began to see a pattern -in the fluctuations of the market quotations. January wheat, February -wheat, May corn, became a drama to her, and while she snatched the -figures from the wire and tossed them to the waiting boy, saw them -chalked up on the huge board, and heard the shouts of the brokers, she -caught glimpses of the world-wide gamble in lives and fortunes. - -But it was only another great spectacle in which she had no part. She -was merely a living mechanical attachment to the network of wires. She -wanted to tear herself away, to have a life of her own, a life that -went forward, instead of swinging like a pendulum between home and the -office. - -She did not want to work. She had never wanted to work. Working had -been only a means of reaching sooner her own life with Paul. The road -had run straight before her to that end. But now Paul would not let her -follow it; he did not want her to work with him at Ripley; she would -have to wait until he made money enough to support her. And she hated -work. - -Resting her chin on one palm, listening half consciously for her call -to interrupt the ceaseless clicking of the sounder, she gazed across -the marble counter and the vaulted room; the gesticulating brokers, -the scurrying messengers, faded into a background against which she -saw again the light and color and movement of the night when she had -met Mr. Kennedy. She heard his voice. "What's the use of living if you -don't hit the high spots?" - -She hurried home at night, expecting she knew not what. But it had not -happened. Restlessness took possession of her, and she turned for hours -on her pillow, dozing only to hear the clicking of telegraph-sounders, -and music, and to find herself dancing on the floor of the Merchants' -Exchange with a strange man who had Mr. Kennedy's eyes. On the eleventh -day she received a letter from Paul, which quieted the turmoil of her -thoughts like a dash of cold water. In his even neat handwriting he -wrote: - - I suppose the folks you write about are all right. They sound - pretty queer to me. I don't pretend to know anything about San - Francisco, though. But I don't see how you are going to hold down a - job and keep up with the way they seem to spend their time, though - I will not say anything about dancing. You know I could not do it - and stay in the church, but I do not mean to bring that up again in - a letter. You were mighty fine and straight and sincere about that, - and if you do not feel the call to join I would not urge you. But I - do not think I would like your new friends. I would rather a girl - was not so pretty, but used less slang when she talks. - -The words gained force by echoing a stifled opinion of her own. With -no other standard than her own instinct, she had had moments of -criticising Louise and momma. But she had quickly hidden the criticism -in the depths of her mind, because they were companions and she had not -been able to find any others. Now they stood revealed through Paul's -eyes as glaringly cheap and vulgar. - -Her longing for a good time, if she must have it with such people, -appeared weak and foolish to her. She felt older and steadier when she -went home that night. Then, just as she entered the door, the telephone -rang and Louise called that Gilbert Kennedy wanted to speak to her. - -It was impossible to analyze his fascination. Uncounted times she had -gone over all he had said, all she could conjecture about him, vainly -seeking an explanation of it. The mere sound of his voice revived the -spell like an incantation, and her half-hearted resistance succumbed to -it. - -Before the dressing-table, hurrying to make herself beautiful for an -evening with him, she leaned closer to the glass and tried to find the -answer in the gray eyes looking back at her. But they only grew eager, -and her reflection faded, to leave her brooding on the memory of his -face, half mocking and half serious, and the tired hunger of his eyes. - -"Have a heart, for the lovea Mike!" cried Louise. "Give me a chance. -You aren't using the mirror yourself, even!" She slipped into the chair -Helen left and, pushing back her mass of golden hair, gazed searchingly -at her face. "Got to get my lashes dyed again; they're growing out. -Say, you certainly did make a hit with Kennedy!" - -"Where's the nail polish?" Helen asked, searching in the hopeless -disorder of the bureau drawers. "Oh, here it is. What do you know about -him?" - -"Well, he's one of those Los Angeles Kennedys. You know, old man was -indicted for something awhile ago. Loads of money." Louise, dabbing on -cold-cream, spoke in jerks. "His brother was the one that ran off with -Cissy Leroy, and his wife shot her up. Don't you remember? It was in -all the papers. I used to know Cissy, too. She was an awful good sport, -really. Don't you love that big car of his?" - -Helen did not answer. In her revulsion she felt that she was not at all -interested in Gilbert Kennedy, and she had the sensation of being freed -from a weight. - -Momma, slipping a rustling gown over her head, spoke through the folds. -"He's a live wire," she praised. She settled the straps over her -shoulders, tossing a fond smile at Helen. "Hook me up, dearie? Yes, -he's a live wire all right, and you've certainly got him coming." - -A sudden thought chilled Helen to the finger-tips. She fumbled with the -hooks. - -"He isn't married, is he?" - -"Married! Well, I should say not! What do you think I am?" momma -demanded. "Do you think I'd steer you or Louise up against anything -like that?" Her voice softened. "I know too well what unhappiness comes -from some one taking another lady's husband away from his home and -family, though he does pay the alimony regular as the day comes around, -I will say that for him. I hope never to live to see the day my girl, -or you either, does a thing like that." There was genuine emotion in -her voice. Helen felt a rush of affectionate pity for her, and Louise, -springing up, threw her bare arms around her mother. - -"Don't you worry, angel momma! I see myself doing it!" she cried. - -At such moments of warm-hearted sincerity Helen was fond of them both. -She felt ashamed while she finished dressing. They were lovely to her, -she thought, and they accepted people as they were, without sneaking -little criticisms and feelings of superiority. She did not know what -she thought about anything. - -Her indecisions were cut short by the squawk of an automobile-horn -beneath the windows. With last hasty slaps of powder-puffs and a -snatching of gloves, they hurried down to meet Mr. Kennedy at the door, -and again Helen felt his charm like a tangible current between them. -Words choked in her throat, and she stood silent in a little whirlpool -of greetings. - -There were three indistinct figures already in the tonneau; a glowing -cigar-end lighted a fat, jolly face, and two feminine voices greeted -momma and Louise. Hesitating on the curb, Helen felt a warm, possessive -hand close on her arm. - -"Get out, Dick. Climb in back. This little girl's going in front with -me." The dominating voice made the words like an irresistible force. -Not until she was sitting beside him and a docile young man had wedged -himself into the crowded space behind, did it occur to her to question -it. - -"Do you always boss people like that?" - -They were racing smoothly down a slope, and his answer came through the -rushing of the wind past her ears. "Always." The gleam of a headlight -passed across his face and she saw it keen, alert, intensely alive. -"Ask, and you'll have to argue. Command, and people jump. It's the -man that orders what he wants that gets it. Philosophy taught in ten -lessons," he added in a contemptuous undertone. "Well, little girl, you -haven't been forgetting me, have you?" - -She disregarded the change of tone. His idea had struck her as -extraordinarily true. It had never occurred to her. She turned it over -in her mind. - -"A girl ought to be able to work it, too," she said. - -He laughed. - -"Maybe. She finds it easier to work a man." - -"I'm too polite to agree that all of you are soft things." - -"You're too clever to find any of us hard to handle." - -"Yes? Isn't it too bad putty is so uninteresting?" - -She was astounded at her own words. They came from her lips with no -volition of her own, leaping automatically in response to his. She felt -only the stimulation of his interest, of his electrical presence beside -her, of their swift rush through the darkness pierced by flashing -lights. - -"You don't, of course, compare me to putty?" - -"Well, of course, it does set and stay put, in the end. You can depend -on it." - -"You can count on me, all right. I'm crazy about you." - -"Crazy people are unaccountable." - -Her heart was racing. The speed of the car, the rush of the air, were -in her veins. She had never dreamed that she could talk like this. This -man aroused in her qualities she had never known she possessed, and -their discovery intoxicated her. - -He was silent a moment, turning the car into a quieter street. There -was laughter behind them, one of the others called: "We should worry -about the cops! Go to it, Bert!" He did not reply, and the leap of the -car swept their chatter backward again. - -"Going too fast for you?" She read a double meaning and a challenge in -the words. - -"I've never gone too fast!" she answered. "I love to ride like this. -Where are we going?" - -"Anywhere you want to go, as long as it's with me." - -"Then let's just keep going and never get there. Do you know what I -thought you meant the other night when you said we'd go to the beach?" - -"No, what?" He was interested. - -She told him. This was safer ground, and she enlarged her mental -picture of the still, moonlit beach, the white breakers foaming along -the shore, the salt wind, and the darkness, and the car plunging down a -long white boulevard. - -"Do you mean to tell me you'd never been to the beach resorts before?" - -"Isn't it funny?" she laughed. - -"You're a damn game little kid." - -She found that the words pleased her more than anything he had yet said. - -They sped on in silence. Helen found occupation enough in the sheer -delight of going so swiftly through a blur of light and darkness -toward an unknown end. She did not resist the fascination of the man -beside her; there was exhilaration in his being there, security in his -necessary attention to handling the big machine. They passed the park -gates, and the car leaped like a live thing at the touch of a whip, -plunging faster down the smooth road between dark masses of shrubbery. -A clean, moist odor of the forest mixed with a salt tang in the air, -and the headlights were like funnels of light cutting into the solid -night a space for them to pass. - -"Isn't it wonderful!" Helen sighed, and despised the inadequacy of the -word. - -"I like the bright lights better myself." After a pause, he added, -"Country bred, aren't you?" His inflection was not a question. - -She replied in the same tone. - -"College man, I suppose." - -"How did you dope that?" - -"'Inhibitions,'" she answered. - -"What? O-o-oh! So you haven't been forgetting me?" - -"I didn't forget the word," she said. "I looked it up." - -"Well, make up your mind to get rid of 'em?" - -"I'd get rid of anything I didn't want." - -"Going to get rid of me?" - -"No," she said coolly. "I'll just let you go." - -It struck her that she was utterly mad. She had never dreamed of -talking like that to any one. What was she doing and why? - -"Don't you believe it one minute!" His voice had the dominating ring -again, and suddenly she felt that she had started a force she was -powerless to control. The situation was out of her hands, running away -with her. Her only safety was silence, and she shrank into it. - -When the car stopped she jumped out of it quickly and attached herself -to momma. In the hot, smoky room they found a table at the edge of -the dancing floor, and she slipped into the chair farthest from him, -ordering lemonade. Exhilaration left her; again she could think of -nothing that seemed worth saying, and she felt his amused eyes upon her -while she sat looking at the red crepe-paper decorations overhead and -the maze of dancing couples. It was some time before the rhythm of the -music began to beat in her blood and the scene lost its tawdriness and -became gay. - -"Everybody's doing it now!" Louise hummed, looking at him under her -long lashes. The others were dancing, and the three sat alone at the -table. "Everybody's doing it, doing it, doing it. Everybody's doing it, -but you--and me." - -"Go and grab off somebody else," he answered good-humoredly. "I'm -dancing with Helen--when she gets over being afraid of me." He lighted -a cigarette casually. - -"Oh, really? I'd love to dance. Only I don't do it very well." - -His arms were around her and they were dancing before she perceived how -neatly she had risen to the bait. She stumbled and lost a step in her -fury. - -"No? Not afraid of me?" he laughed. "Well, don't be. What's the use?" - -"It isn't that," she said. "Only I don't know how to play your game. -And I don't want to play it. And I'm not going to. You're too clever." - -"Don't be afraid," he said, and his arm tightened. They missed step -again, and she lost the swing of the music. "Let yourself go, relax," -he ordered. "Let the music--that's better." - -They circled the floor again, but her feet were heavy, and the -knowledge that she was dancing badly added to her effort. Phrases -half formed themselves in her mind and escaped. She wanted to be able -to carry off the situation well, to make her meaning clear in some -graceful, indirect way, but she could not. - -"It's this way," she said. "I'm not your kind. Maybe I talked that way -for a while, but I'm not really. I--well--I'm not. I wish you'd leave -me alone. I really do." - -The music ended with a crash, and two thumps of many feet echoed the -last two notes. He still held her close, and she felt that inexplicable -charm like the attraction of a magnet for steel. - -"You really do?" His tone thrilled her with an intoxicating warmth. The -smile in his eyes was both caressing and confident. Consciously she -kept back the answering smile it commanded, looking at him gravely. - -"I really do." - -"All right." His quick acquiescence was exactly what she had wanted, -and it made her unhappy. They walked back to the table, and for hours -she was very gay, watching him dance with momma and Louise. She crowded -into the tonneau during their quick, restless dashes from one dancing -place to the next. She laughed a great deal, and when they met Duddy -and Bob somewhere a little after midnight she danced with each of them. -But she felt that having a good time was almost as hard work as earning -a living. - -It was nearly two weeks before she went out again with momma and -Louise, and this time she did not see him at all. Louise was astonished -by his failure to telephone. - -"What in the world did you do with that Kennedy man?" she wanted to -know. "You must have been an awful boob. Why, he was simply dippy about -you. Believe me, I'd have strung him along if I'd had your chance. And -a machine like a palace car, too!" she mourned. - -"Oh, well, baby, Helen doesn't know much about handling men," momma -comforted her. "She did the best she could. You never can tell about -'em, anyway. And maybe he's out of town." - -But this was not true, for Louise had seen him only that afternoon with -a stunning girl in a million dollars' worth of sables. - -Helen was swept by cross-currents of feeling. She told herself that -she did not care what he did. She repeated this until she saw that the -repetition proved its untruth. Then she let her imagination follow -him. But it could do this only blindly. She could picture his home -only by combining the magnificence of the St. Francis with scraps from -novels she had read, and while she could see him running up imposing -steps, passing through a great door and handing his coat to a dignified -man servant, either a butler or a footman, she could not follow him -further. She could see him with a beautiful girl at a table in a -private room of a café; there were no longer any veils between her and -that side of a man's life, and she no longer shrank from facing the -world as it exists. But she knew that this was only one of his many -interests and occupations. She would have liked to know the others. - -She turned to thoughts of Paul as one comes from a dark room into -clear light. At times she felt an affection for him that made her -present life seem like a feverish dream. She imagined herself living -in a pretty little house with him. There would be white curtains at -the windows and roses over the porch. When the housework was all -beautifully done she would sit on the porch, embroidering a centerpiece -or a dainty waist. The gate would click, and he would come up the -walk, his feet making a crunching sound on the gravel. She would run -to meet him. It had been so long since she had seen him that his -face was vague. When with an effort she brought from her memory the -straight-looking blue eyes, the full, firm lips, the cleft in his chin, -she saw how boyish he looked. He was a dear boy. - -The days went by, each like the day before. The rains had begun. Every -morning, in a ceaseless drizzle from gray skies, she rushed down a -sidewalk filmed with running water and crowded into a street-car jammed -with irritated people and dripping umbrellas. When she reached the -office her feet were wet and cold and the hems of her skirts flapped -damply at her ankles. - -She had a series of colds, and her head ached while she copied endless -quotations from relentlessly clicking sounders. At night she rode -wearily home, clinging to a strap, and crawled into bed. Her muscles -ached and her throat was sore. Momma, even in the scurry of dressing -for the evening, stopped to bring her a glass of hot whiskey-and-water, -and she drank it gratefully. When at last she was alone she read awhile -before going to sleep. One forgot the dreariness of living, swept away -into an artificial world of adventure and romance. - -Christmas came, and she recklessly spent all her money for gifts to -send home; socks and ties and a shaving cup for her father, a length -of black silk and a ten-dollar gold piece for her mother, hair ribbons -and a Carmen bracelet for Mabel, a knife and a pocket-book with a -two-dollar bill in it for Tommy. They made a large, exciting bundle, -and when she stood in line at the post-office she pictured happily the -delight there would be when it was opened. She hated work with a hatred -that increased daily, but there was a deep satisfaction in feeling that -she could do such things as this with money she herself had earned. - -The brokers at the Merchants' Exchange gave her twenty dollars at -Christmas, and with this she bought a gilt vanity-case for Louise, -gloves for momma, and Paul's present. She thought a long time about -that and at last chose a monogrammed stick-pin, with an old English "P" -deeply cut in the gold. - -He sent her a celluloid box lined with puffed pink sateen, holding a -comb and brush set. It made a poor showing among the flood of presents -that poured in for momma and Louise, but she would have been ashamed -of being ashamed of it. However, she let them think it came from her -mother. She had not told them about Paul, feeling a dim necessity of -shielding that part of her life from Louise's comments. - -There were parties every night Christmas week, but she did not go to -any of them. She was in the throes of grippe and though the work at the -office was light it took all her sick energy. Even on New Year's night -she stayed at home, resisting all the urgings of Louise and momma, who -told her she was missing the time of her life. She went resolutely -to bed, to lie in the darkness and realize that it was New Year's -night, that her life was going by and she was getting nothing she -wanted. "It's the man that orders what he wants that gets it." Gilbert -Kennedy's voice came back to her. - -Rain was beating on the window-panes, and through the sound of it she -heard the distant uproar of many voices and a constant staccato of -fireworks crackling through the dripping night in triumphant expression -of the inextinguishable gaiety of the city. She thought of Paul. So -much had happened since she saw him, so much had come between them. He -had been living and growing older, too. It was impossible to see what -his real life had been through his matter-of-fact letters, chronicle -of where he had been, how much money he was saving, on which Sundays -the minister had had dinner at his house. Only occasional phrases were -clear in her memory. "When we are married--" She could still thrill -over that. And he always signed his letters, "lovingly, Paul." And -once, speaking of a Sunday-school picnic, he had written, "I wish you -had been there. There was no girl that could touch you." - -There was comfort and warmth in the thought that he loved her. When -she saw him again everything would be all right. She went to sleep -resolving that she would work hard, save her money, go home for a visit -in March or April, and ask him to come. The hills would be green, the -orchards would be iridescent with the colors of spring, and she would -wear a thin white dress-- - -In February her mother wrote and asked for more money. - - Old Nell died last week. Tommy found her dead in the pasture when - he went to get the cows. We will have to have a new horse for the - spring plowing, and your father has found a good six-year-old, - blind in one eye, that we can get cheap. We will have to have sixty - dollars, and if you can spare it, it will come in very handy. We - would pay you back later. I would not ask you for it only you are - making a good salary, and I would rather get it from you than from - the bank. It would be only a loan, for I would not ask you to give - it to us. If you can let us have it, please let me know right away. - -She had saved thirty dollars and had just drawn her half-month's pay. -Momma would gladly wait for her share of the month's expenses. As -soon as she was through work she went to the post-office and got a -money-order for sixty dollars. She felt a fierce pride in being able to -do it, and she was glad to know that she was helping at home, but there -was rage in her heart. - -It seemed to her that fate was against her, that she would go on -working forever, and never get anything she wanted. She saw weeks and -months and years of work stretching ahead of her like the interminable -series of ties in a railroad track, vanishing in as barren a -perspective. - -For nearly three years her whole life had been work. Those few evenings -at the cafés had been her only gaiety. She had copied innumerable -market quotations, sent uncounted messages, been a mere machine, and -for what? She did not want to work, she wanted to live. - -That night she went to the beach with the crowd. Bob was there and -Duddy and a score of others she had met in cafés. There again was the -stir of shifting colors under brilliant lights, the eddy and swirl of -dancers, sparkling eyes, white hands, a glimmer of rings, perfume, -laughter, and through it all the music, throbbing, swaying, blending -all sensations into one quickening rhythm, one exhilarating vibration -of nerves and spirit. Helen felt weariness slip from her shoulders; she -felt that she was soaring like a lark; she could have burst into song. - -She danced. She danced eagerly, joyously, carried by the music as by -the crest of a wave. Repartee slipped from her lips as readily as from -Louise's; she found that it did not matter what one said, only that -one said it quickly; her sallies were met by applauding laughter. In -the automobile, dashing from place to place, she took off her hat and, -facing the rushing wind, sang aloud for pure joy. - -They encountered Gilbert Kennedy just after midnight. She turned a -flushed, radiant face to him when he came over to their table. She felt -sure of herself, ready for anything. He leaned past her to shake hands -with momma, who greeted him in chorus with Louise. - -"Back in our midst once more!" he said to Helen over his shoulder. He -brought up a chair beside hers, and she saw in his first glance that he -was tired and moody. She felt the lessening of his magnetic vitality; -it seemed to have drained away through some inner lesion. He ordered -straight Scotch and snapped his fingers impatiently until the waiter -brought it. - -"Who you with, Bert? Didn't see your car outside," said Duddy. - -"Oh, I was with some crowd. Don't know where they are. Haven't got the -car," he answered. - -"Stick around with us then." "I bet you've been hitting the high spots, -and smashed it!" Bob and Duddy said simultaneously. But the orchestra -was beginning another tune, and only Helen noticed that in the general -pushing back of chairs he did not reply. - -She shook her head at the question in his eyes, and he asked no one -else to dance. Of course, after that, she had to refuse the others, -too, and they were left sitting at the bare table ringed with the -imprints of wet glasses. An unaccountable depression was settling -on her; she felt sorry and full of pity, she did not know why, and -an impulse to put her hand on his smooth, fair hair surprised and -horrified her. - -"Rotten life, isn't it?" he said. It was a tone so new in him that she -did not know how to reply. - -"I'm sorry," she answered. - -"Sorry? Good Lord, what for?" - -"I don't know. I just am. I'm sorry for--whatever it is that's -happened." She saw that she had made a mistake, and the remnant of her -exhilaration fluttered out like a spent candle. She sat looking at the -dancers in silence, and they appeared to her peculiar and curious, -going round and round with terrific energy, getting nowhere. The music -had become an external thing, too, and she observed the perspiring -musicians working wearily, with glances at the clock. - -"Funny," she said at length. - -"What?" - -"All these people--and me, too--doing this kind of thing. We don't get -anything out of it. What do we do it for?" - -"Oh, safety-valve. Watts discovered the steam-engine on the principle." -His voice was very tired. - -The more she considered the idea, the more her admiration for him grew. -She was not in the least afraid of him now; she was eager to talk to -him. Her hand went out detainingly when he rose, but he disregarded -it. "So long," he said carelessly, and she saw that, absorbed in some -preoccupation, he hardly knew that she was there. She let him go and -sat turning an empty glass between her fingers, lost in speculations -concerning him. Though she spent many of her evenings at the beach -during several weeks, she did not see him again, and she heard one -night that he had gone broke and left town. - -She could not believe that disaster had conquered him. That last -meeting and his disappearance had increased the charm he had for her. -Her mind recurred to him, drawn by an irresistible fascination. She -had only to brood on the memory of him for a moment and a thrill ran -through her body. It could not be that she loved him. Why, she did not -even know him. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - -In March Paul came to see her. - -It had been a hard day at the office. A mistake had been made in -a message, and a furious broker, asserting that it had cost him -thousands of dollars, that she was at fault, that he was going to -sue the telegraph company, had pounded the counter and refused to be -quieted. All day she was overwhelmed with a sense of disaster. It would -be months before the error was traced, and alternately she recalled -distinctly that she had sent the right word and remembered with equal -distinctness that she had sent the wrong one. - -Dots and dashes jumbled together in her mind. She was exhausted at four -o'clock, and thought eagerly of a hot bath and the soothing softness of -a pillow. Slumped in the corner of a street-car, she doggedly endured -its jerks and jolts, keeping a grip on herself with a kind of inner -tenseness until the moment when she could relax. - -Louise was hanging over the banister on the upper landing when she -entered the hall of the apartment-house. Her excited stage-whisper met -Helen on the stairs. - -"Sh-sh-sh! Somebody's here to see you." - -"Who?" The event was unusual, but Louise's manner was even more so. -Vague pictures of her family and accident and death flashed through -Helen's startled mind. - -He said his name was Masters. He was an awful stick. Momma'd sent -Louise out to give her the high sign. Louise's American Beauty man was -in town, and there was going to be a party at the Cliff House. They -could sneak in and dress and beat it out the back way. Momma had the -guy in the living-room. He'd simply spoil the party. - -"Aw, have a heart, Helen. Momma'll get rid of him somehow. You can fix -it up afterward." - -Helen's first thought was that Paul must not see her looking like -this, disheveled, her hair untidy, and her fingers ink-stained. Her -heart was beating fast, and there was a fluttering in her wrists. It -was incredible that he was really near, separated from her only by a -partition. The picture of him sitting there a victim of momma's efforts -to entertain him was ghastly and at the same time hysterically comic. -She tip-toed in breathless haste past the closed door and gained the -safety of the bedroom, Louise's kimono rustling behind her. The first -glance into the mirror was sickening. She tore off her hat and coat and -let down her hair with trembling fingers. - -"He's--an awful good friend. I must see him. Heavens! what a fright! -Be an angel and find me a clean waist," she whispered. The comb shook -in her hand; hairpins slipped through her fingers; the waist she found -lacked a button, and every pin in the room had disappeared. It was an -eternity before she was ready, and then, leaning for one last look in -the glass, she was dissatisfied. There was no color in her face; even -her lips were only palely pink. She bit them; she rubbed them with -stinging perfume till they reddened; then with a hurried resolve she -scrubbed her cheeks with Louise's rouge pad. That was better. Another -touch of powder! - -"Do I look all right?" - -"Stunning! Aw, Helen, come through. Who is he? You've never told me a -word." Louise was wild with curiosity. - -"Sh-sh!" Helen cautioned. She drew a deep breath at the living-room -door. Her little-girl shyness had come back upon her. Then she opened -the door and walked in. - -Momma, in her kimono, was sitting in the darkest corner of the room, -with her back toward the window. Only a beaded slipper toe and some -inches of silk stocking caught the light. She was obviously making -conversation with painful effort. Paul sat facing her, erect in a stiff -chair, his eyes fixed politely on a point over her shoulder. He rose -with evident relief to meet Helen. - -"Good afternoon, Mr. Masters," she said, embarrassed. - -"Good afternoon." They shook hands. - -"I'm very glad to see you. Won't you sit down?" she heard herself -saying inanely. - -Momma rose, clutching her kimono around her. - -"Well, I'll be going, as I have a very important engagement, and you'll -excuse me, Mr. Masters, I'm sure," she said archly. "So charmed to have -met you," she added with artificial sweetness. - -The closing of the door behind her left them facing each other with -nothing but awkwardness between them. He had changed indefinably, -though the square lines of his face, the honest blue eyes, the firm -lips were as she remembered them. Under the smooth-shaven skin of his -cheeks there was the blue shadow of a stubborn beard. He appeared -prosperous, but not quite sure of himself, in a well-made broadcloth -suit, and he held a new black derby hat in his left hand. - -"I'm awfully glad to see you," she managed to say. "I'm--so surprised. -I didn't know you were coming." - -"I sent you a note on the wires," he replied. "I wasn't sure till last -night I could get off." - -"I didn't get it," she said. Silence hung over them like a threat. "I'm -sorry I didn't know. I hope you didn't have to wait long. I'm glad -you're looking so well. How is your mother?" - -"She's all right. How is yours?" - -"She's very well, thank you." She caught her laugh on a hysterical -note. "Well--how do you like San Francisco weather?" - -His bewilderment faded slowly into a grin. - -"It is rather hard to get started," he admitted. "You look different -than I thought you would, somehow. But I guess we haven't changed much -really. Can't we go somewhere else?" - -She read his dislike of momma in the look he cast at her living-room. -It was natural, no doubt. But a quick impulse of loyalty to these -people who had been so kind to her illogically resisted it. This room, -with its close air, its film of dust over the table-tops, its general -air of neglect emphasized by the open candy box on the piano-stool and -the sooty papers in the gas grate, was nevertheless much pleasanter -than the place where she had been living when she met Louise. - -"I don't know just where," she replied. "Of course, I don't know the -city very well because I work all day. But we might take a walk." - -There was a scurry in the hallway when she opened the door; she caught -a glimpse of Louise in petticoat and corset-cover dashing from the -bathroom to the bedroom. She hoped that Paul had not seen it, but his -cheeks were red. It was really absurd; what was there so terrible about -a petticoat? He should have known better than to come to the house -without telephoning, anyway. She cast about quickly for something to -say. - -No, he answered, he could not stay in town long, only twenty-four -hours. He wanted to see the superintendent personally about the -proposition of putting in a spur-track at Ripley for the loading of -melons. There were--her thoughts did not follow his figures. She heard -vaguely something about irrigation districts and water-feet and sandy -loam soil. So he had not come to see her! - -Then she saw that he, too, was talking only to cover a sense of -strangeness and embarrassment as sickening as her own. She wished that -they were comfortably sitting down somewhere where they could talk. -It was hard to say anything interesting while they walked down bleak -streets with the wind snatching at them. - -"Whew! You certainly have some wind in this town!" he exclaimed. At the -top of Nob Hill its full force struck them, whipping her skirts and -tugging at her hat while she stood gazing down at the gray honeycomb of -the city and across it at masses of sea fog rolling over Twin Peaks. -"It gives me an appetite, I tell you! Where'll we go for supper?" - -She hesitated. She could not imagine his being comfortable in any of -the places she knew. Music and brilliant lights and cabaret singers -would be another barrier between them added to those she longed to -break down. She said that she did not know the restaurants very well, -and his surprise reminded her that she had written him pages about -them. She stammered over an explanation she could not make. - -There were so many small, unimportant things that were important -because they could not be explained, and that could not be explained -without making them more important than they were. It seemed to her -that the months since they had last met were full of them. - -She took refuge in talking about her work. But she saw that he did not -like that subject. He said briefly that it was a rotten shame she had -to do it, and obviously hoped to close the theme with that remark. - -They found a small restaurant down town, and after he had hung up his -hat and they had discussed the menu, she sat turning a fork over and -over and wondering what they could talk about. She managed to find -something to say, but it seemed to her that their conversation had no -more flavor than sawdust, and she was very unhappy. - -"Look here, Helen, why didn't you tell those folks where you live that -we're engaged?" There was nothing but inquiry in his tone, but the -words were a bombshell. She straightened in her chair. - -"Why--" How could she explain that vague feeling about keeping it from -Louise and momma? "Why--I don't know. What was the use?" - -"What was the use? Well, for one thing, it might have cleared things up -a little for some of these other fellows that know you." - -What had momma told him? "I don't know any men that would be -interested," she said. - -"Well, you never can tell about that," he answered reasonably. "I was -sort of surprised, that's all. I had an idea girls talked over such -things." - -She was tired, and in the dull little restaurant there was nothing -to stimulate her. The commonplace atmosphere, the warmth, and the -placidity of his voice lulled her to stupidity. - -"I suppose they do," she said. "They usually talk over their rings." -She was alert instantly, filled with rage at herself and horror. His -cheeks grew dully red. "I didn't mean--" she cried, and the words -clashed with his. "If that's it I'll get you a ring." - -"Oh, no! No! I don't want you to. I wouldn't think of taking it." - -"Of course you know I haven't had money enough to get you a good one. I -thought about it pretty often, but I didn't know you thought it was so -important. Seems to me you've changed an awful lot since I knew you." - -The protest, the explanation, was stopped on her lips. It was true. -She felt that they had both changed so much that they might be -strangers. - -"Do you really think so?" she asked miserably. - -"I don't know what to think," he answered honestly, pain in his voice. -"I've been--about crazy sometimes, thinking about--things, wanting to -see you again. And now--I don't know--you seem so different, sitting -there with paint on your face--" Her hand went to her cheek as if it -stung her--"and talking about rings. You didn't use to be like this -a bit, Helen," he went on earnestly. "It seems to me as if you'd -completely lost track of your better self somehow. I wish you'd--" - -This struck from her a spark of anger. - -"Please don't begin preaching at me! I'm perfectly able to take care -of myself. Really, Paul, you just don't understand. It isn't anything, -really, a little bit of rouge. I only put it on because I was tired -and didn't have any color. And I didn't mean it about the ring. I just -didn't think what I was saying. But I guess you're right. I guess -neither of us knows the other any more." - -She felt desolate, abandoned to dreariness. Everything seemed all -wrong with the world. She listened to Paul's assurances that he knew -she was all right, whatever she did, that he didn't care anyhow, that -she suited him. But they sounded hollow in her ears, for she knew that -beneath them was the same uncertainty she felt. When, flushing, he -said again that he would get her a ring, she answered that she did not -want one, and they said no more about it. The abyss between them was -left bridged only by the things they had not said, fearing to make it -forever impassable by saying them. - -He left her at her door promptly at the proper hour of ten. There was -a moment in which a blind feeling in her reached out to him; she felt -that they had taken hold of the situation by the wrong end somehow, -that everything would be all right if they had had a chance. - -He supposed she couldn't take the morning off. He had to see the -superintendent, but maybe they could manage an hour or two. No, she had -to work. With the threat of that missent message hanging over her she -dared not further spoil her record by taking a day off without notice. -And she knew that one or two hours more could not possibly make up the -months of estrangement between them. - -"Well, good-night." - -"Good-night." Their hands clung a moment and dropped apart. If only -he would say something, do something, she did not know what. But -awkwardness held him as it did her. - -"Good-night." The broad door swung slowly shut behind her. Even then -she waited a moment, with a wild impulse to run after him. But she -climbed the stairs instead and went wearily to bed, her heart aching -with a sense of irreparable loss. - -In the morning she was still very tired, and while she drove herself -through the day's work she told herself that probably she had never -really loved him. "Unless you can love as the angels may, with the -breadth of heaven betwixt you," she murmured, remembering the volume of -poetry she had found on a library shelf. She had thrilled over it when -she read it, dreaming of him; now it seemed to her a grim and almost -cynical test. Well, she might as well face a lifetime of work. Lots of -women did. - -She managed to do this, seeing years upon years of lonely effort, -during which she would accumulate money enough to buy a little home of -her own. There would be no one in it to criticise her choice of friends -or say that she painted. That remark clung like a bur in her mind. Yes, -she could face a lifetime in which no one would have the right to say -things like that! - -But when she went home she found that she could not endure an evening -of loneliness. Louise and momma were going out, and she was very gay -while she dressed to go with them. They said they had never seen her in -better spirits. - -Unaccountably, the lights, the music, the atmosphere of gaiety, did not -get into her blood as usual. At intervals she had moments of depression -that they did not touch. She sat isolated in the crowd, sipping her -lemonade, feeling that nothing in the world was worth while. - -However, she went again the next night. She began to go almost as -frequently as momma and Louise, and to understand the unsatisfied -restlessness which drove Mrs. Latimer and her friends. She was tired in -the morning, and there were more complaints of her work at the office, -but she did not care. She felt recklessly that nothing mattered, and -she went back to the beach resorts as a thirsty person will tip an -emptied glass in which perhaps a drop remains. - -"What's the matter, little one? Got a grouch?" said Louise's American -Beauty man one night He was jovial and bald; his neck bulged over the -back of his collar, and he wore a huge diamond on his little finger. -Helen did not like him, but it was his party. He owned the big red car -in which they had come to the beach, and she felt that his impatient -reproach was justified. She was not paying her way. - -"Not a bit!" she laughed. "Only for some reason I feel like a cold -plum-pudding." - -"What you need's brandy sauce," Duddy said, appreciating his own wit. - -"You mean you want me to get lit up!" - -"That's the idea! Bring on the booze, let joy be unrefined! Waiter, rye -high-balls all around!" - -She did not object; that did not seem worth while, either. When the -glasses came she emptied hers with the rest, and her spirits did -seem to lighten a little. "It removes inhibitions," Gilbert Kennedy -had said. And he was gone, too. If he were only there the sparkle of -life would come back; she would be exhilarated, witty, alive to her -finger-tips once more-- - -The crowd was moving on again. She went with them into the cool night, -and it seemed to her that life was nothing but a moving on from -dissatisfaction to dissatisfaction. Squeezed into a corner of the -tonneau, she relapsed into silence, and it was some time before she -noticed the altered note in the excitement of the others. - -"Give 'er the gas! Let 'er out! Damn it, if you let 'em pass--!" the -car's owner was shouting, and the machine fled like a runaway thing. -Against a blur of racing sand dunes Helen saw a long gray car creeping -up beside them. "You're going to kill us!" momma screamed, disregarded. -Helen, on her feet, clinging to the back of the front seat, yelled with -the others. "Beat 'im! Beat 'im! Y-a-a-ah!" - -Her hat, torn from her head, disappeared in the roaring blur behind -them. Her hair whipped her face. She was wildly, gloriously alive. -"Faster--faster, oh!" The gray car was gaining. Inch by inch it crawled -up beside them. "Can't you go _faster_?" she cried in a bedlam of -shouts. Oh, if only her hands were on the wheel! It was unbearable that -they should lose. "Give 'er more gas--she'll make eighty-five!" the -owner yelled. - -Everything in Helen narrowed to the challenge of that plunging gray -car. Its passing was like an intolerable pulling of something vital -from her grip. Pounding her hand against the car-door she shrieked -frantic protests. "Don't let him do it! Go on! Go on!" The gray car was -forging inexorably past them. It swerved. Momma's scream was torn to -ribbons by the wind. It was ahead now, and one derisive yell from its -driver came back to them. Their speed slowed. - -"He's turning in at The Tides. Stop there?" the chauffeur asked over -his shoulder. - -"Yes, damn you! Wha'd yuh think you're driving, a baby-carriage? You're -fired!" his employer raged, and he was still swearing when Helen, -gasping and furious, stumbled from the running-board against Gilbert -Kennedy. - -"Good Lord, was it you?" he cried. "Some race!" he exulted and swinging -her off her feet, he kissed her gayly. Something wild and elemental in -her rushed to meet its mate in him. He released her instantly, and in a -chorus of greetings, "Drinks on me, old man!" "Some little car you've -got!" "Come on in!" she found herself under a glare of light in the -swirl and glitter of The Tides. He was beside her at the round table, -and her heart was pounding. - -"No--no--this is on me!" he declared. "Only my money's good to-night. -I'm going to Argentine to-morrow on the water-wagon. What'll you have?" - -They ordered, helter-skelter, in a clamor of surprise and inquiry. -"Argentine, what're you giving us!" "What's the big idea?" "You're -kidding!" - -"On the level. Argentine. To-morrow. Say, listen to me. I've got -hold of the biggest proposition that ever came down the pike. Six -million acres of land--good land, that'll raise anything from hell to -breakfast. Do you know what people are paying for land in California -right now? I'll tell you. Five hundred, six hundred, a thousand dollars -an acre. And I've got six million acres of land sewed up in Argentine -that I can sell for fifty cents an acre and make--listen to what I'm -telling you--and make a hundred per cent. profit. The Government's -backing me--they'd give me the whole of Argentine. I tell you there's -millions in it!" - -He was full of radiant energy and power. Her imagination leaped -to grasp the bigness of this project. Thousands of lives altered, -thousands of families migrating, cities, villages, railroads built. -She felt his kiss on her lips, and that old, inexplicable, magnetic -attraction. The throbbing music beat in her veins like the voice of it. -He smiled at her, holding out his arms, and she went into them with -recklessness and longing. - -They were carried together on waves of rhythm, his arms around her, her -loosened hair tumbling backward on her neck. - -"I'm mad about you!" - -"And you're going away?" - -"Sorry?" - -"Sorry? Bored. You always do!" - -He laughed. - -"Not on your life! This time I'm taking you with me." - -"Oh, but I wouldn't take you--seriously!" - -"I mean it. You're coming." - -"I'm dreaming." - -"I mean it." His voice was almost savage. "I want you." - -Fear ran like a challenge through her exultation. She felt herself a -small fluttering thing against his breast, while the intoxicating music -swept them on through a whirling crowd. His face so close to her was -keen and hard, his eyes were reckless as her own leaping blood. "All -I've ever needed is a girl like you. You're not going to get away this -time." - -"Oh, but I'm perfectly respectable!" - -"All right! Marry me." - -Behind the chaos of her mind there was the tense, suffocating -hesitation of the instant before a diver leaves the -spring-board--security behind him, ecstasy ahead. His nearness, his -voice, the light in his eyes, were all that she had been wanting, -without knowing it, all these months. The music stopped with a crash. - -He stood, as he had stood once before, his arm still tight around her, -and in a flash she saw that other time and the dreary months that had -followed. - -"All right. It's settled?" There was the faintest question in his -confident voice. - -"You really do--love me?" - -"I really do." His eyes were on hers, and she saw his confidence change -to certainty. "You're game!" he said, and kissed her triumphantly, -in the crowded room, beneath the glaring lights and crepe-paper -decorations. She did not care; she cared for nothing in the world now -but him. - -"Let's--go away--a little while by ourselves, out where it's dark and -cool," she said hurriedly as they crossed the floor. - -"Not on your life! We're going to have the biggest party this town -ever saw!" he answered exultantly over his shoulder, and she saw his -enjoyment of the bomb he was about to drop upon the unsuspecting -group at the table. "The roof is off the sky to-night. This is a -wedding-party!" - -Louise and momma were upon her with excited cries and kisses, and -Helen, flushed, laughing, trying not to be hysterical, heard his voice -ordering drinks, disposing of questions of license, minister, ring, -rooms at the St. Francis, champagne, supper, flowers. She was the -beggar maid listening to King Cophetua. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - -At ten o'clock on a bright June morning Helen Kennedy tip-toed across a -darkened bedroom and closed its door softly behind her. Her tenseness -relaxed with a sigh of relief when the door shut with the tiniest of -muffled clicks and the stillness behind its panels remained unbroken. - -Sunlight streamed through the windows of the sitting-room, throwing -a quivering pattern of the lace curtains on the velvet carpet and -kindling a glow of ruddy color where it touched mahogany chairs and a -corner of the big library table. She moved quickly to one of the broad -windows and carefully raised a lower sash. The low roar of the stirring -city rushed in like the noise of breakers on a far-away beach, and -clean, tingling air poured upon her. She breathed it in deeply, drawing -the blue silk negligée closer about her throat. - -The two years that had whirled past since she became Bert Kennedy's -wife had taught her many things. She had drawn from her experience -generalities on men, women, life, which made her feel immeasurably -older and wiser. But there were problems that she had not solved, -points at which she felt herself at fault, and they troubled her -vaguely while she stood twisting the cord of the window-shade in her -hand and gazing out at the many-windowed buildings of San Francisco. - -She had learned that men loved women for being beautiful, gay, -unexacting, sweet-tempered always, docile without being bores. She had -learned that men were infuriated by three things; questions, babies, -and a woman who was ill. She had learned that success in business -depended upon "putting up a front" and that a woman's part was to help -in that without asking why or for what end. She had learned that the -deepest need of her own nature was to be able to look up to the man she -loved, even though she must go down on her own knees in order to do it. -She knew that she adored her husband blindly, passionately, and that -she dared not open her eyes for fear she would cease to do so. - -But she had not quite been able to fit herself into a life with him. -She had not learned what to do with these morning hours while he was -asleep; she had not learned to occupy all her energies in useless -activities while he was away; in a word, she did not know what to do -with the part of her life he did not want, and she could not compel -herself to be satisfied in doing nothing with it. - -Gathering up the trailing silks of her nightgown and negligée she went -back to the pile of magazines and books on the table. She did not -exactly want to read; reading seemed to her as out of place in the -morning as soup for breakfast. But she could not go out, for at any -moment Bert might wake and call to her, and she could not dress, for -he saw a reproach in that, and was annoyed. She turned over the books -uncertainly, selecting at last a curious one called "Pragmatism," which -had fascinated her when she dipped into its pages in the library. She -had it in her hand when the door-bell rang loudly. - -She stood startled, clutching the book against her breast. Her heart -beat thickly, and the color faded from her face and then poured back in -a burning flush. The bell rang again more imperatively. The very sound -of it proclaimed that it was rung by a collector. Was it the taxi-cab -man, the tailor, the collection agency? She could not make herself go -to the door, and the third long, insistent peal of the bell wrung her -like the tightening of a rack. It would waken Bert, but what further -excuse could she make to the grimly insulting man she visualized on the -other side of the door? The bell continued to ring. - -After a long time it was silent, and she heard the slam of the -automatic elevator's door. A second later she heard Bert's voice. - -"Helen! Helen! What the devil?" - -She opened the bedroom door and stood smiling brightly on the -threshold. "'Morning, Bert dear! Behold, the early bird's gone with his -bill still open!" - -"Well, why the hell didn't you open the door and tell him to stop that -confounded noise? Were you afraid of disturbing him?" - -He knew how it hurt her, but she was trained not to show it. It -appeared to her now that she had been criminally selfish in not -guarding Bert's sleep. She saw herself a useless incumbrance to her -husband's career, costing him a great deal and doing nothing whatever -to repay him. - -"That's the trouble--it wouldn't have disturbed him a bit!" she laughed -bravely. "Somebody ought to catch a collector and study the species and -find out what will disturb 'em. I think they're made of cast-iron. I -wonder does collecting run in families, or do they just catch 'em young -and harden them." - -Sometimes even in the mornings talk like this made him smile. But this -morning he only growled unintelligibly, turning his head on the pillow. -She went softly past the bed into the dressing-room. - -Bert had scouted her idea of getting an apartment with a kitchenette. -He said he had not married a cook, and he hated women with burned -complexions and red hands. He made her feel plebeian and common in -preferring a home to a hotel. But she had found when she interviewed -the apartment-house manager and had spent a happy morning buying a -coffee percolator and dainty cups and napkins, that he did not mind -her giving him coffee in bed. She found a deep pleasure in doing it. - -The percolator stood behind a screen in the dressing-room. She turned -on the electric switch and, sitting down before the mirror, took off -her lace cap and released her hair from its curlers. Bert liked her -hair curled. Its dark mist framed a face that she regarded anxiously -in the mirror. The features had sharpened a little, and her complexion -had lost a shade of its freshness. Bert would insist on her drinking -with him, and she knew she must do it to keep her hold on him. A sense -of the unreasonableness of men in loving women for their beauty and -then destroying it came into her mind, nebulous, almost a thought. But -she disregarded it, from a habit she had formed of disregarding many -things, and began combing and coiling her hair, carefully inspecting -the result from all angles with a hand mirror. - -A few minutes later she came into the bedroom, carrying a tray and -kicking the trailing lengths of her negligée before her. She held the -tray in one hand while she cleared the bedside table with the other, -and when she had poured the coffee she went through the sitting-room -and brought in the morning paper. It had been the taxi-cab man. His -bill, stuck in the crack of the door, fluttered down when she opened -it, and after glancing at the figures hastily, she thrust it out of -sight. - -Bert was sitting up in bed, drinking his coffee, and the smile he threw -at her made her happy. She curled on the bed beside his drawn-up knees -and, taking her own cup from the tray, smiled at him in turn. She never -loved him more than at such moments as this, when his rumpled hair -and the eyes miraculously cleared and softened by sleep made him seem -almost boyish. - -"Good?" - -"You're some little chef when it comes to coffee!" he replied. "It hits -the spot." He yawned. "Good Lord, we must have had a time last night! -Did I fight a chauffeur or did I dream it?" - -"It was only a--rather a--dispute," she said hurriedly. - -"That little blond doll was some baby!" - -He could not intend to be so cruel, not even to punish her for letting -the bell waken him. It was only that he liked to feel his own power -over her He cared only for women that he could control, and she knew -that it was the constant struggle between them, in which he was always -victorious, that gave her her greatest hold on him. But it did hurt her -cruelly in this moment of security to be reminded of the dangers that -always threatened that hold. - -"Oh, stunning!" she agreed, keeping her eyes clear and smiling. She -would not fall into the error and the confession of being catty. But -she felt that he perceived her motive, and she knew that in any case -he held the advantage over her. She was in the helpless position of the -one who gives the greater love. - -They sipped their coffee in silence broken only by the crackling of the -newspaper. Then, pushing it away, he set down his cup and leaned back -against the pillows, his hands behind his head. A moment had arrived in -which she could talk to him, and behind her carefully casual manner her -nerves tightened. - -"It was pretty good coffee," she remarked. "You know, I think it would -be fun if we had a real place, with a breakfast-room, don't you? Then -we'd have grape-fruit and hot muffins and all that sort of thing, too. -I'd like to have a place like that. And then we'd have parties," she -added hastily. "We could keep them going all night long if we wanted to -in our own place." - -He yawned. - -"Dream on, little one," he said. But his voice was pleasant. - -"Now listen, dear. I really mean it. We could do it. It wouldn't be a -bit more trouble to you than a hotel, really. I'd see that it wasn't. I -really want it awfully badly. I know you'd like it if you'd just let me -try it once. You don't know how nice I'd make it for you." - -His silence was too careless to be antagonistic, but he was listening. -She was encouraged. - -"You don't realize how much time I have when you're gone. I could keep -a house running beautifully, and you'd never even see the wheels go -round. I--" - -"A house!" He was aroused. "Great Scott, doesn't it cost enough for the -two of us to live as it is? Don't you make my life miserable whining -about bills?" - -The color came into her cheeks, but she had never risked letting -herself feel resentment at anything he chose to say. She laughed -quite naturally. "My goodness!" she said. "You're talking as if I -were a puppy! I've never whined a single whine; it's the howling of -the collectors you've heard. Let 'em howl; it's good enough for 'em! -No, but really, sweetheart, please just let me finish. I've thought -it all out. You don't know what a good manager I am." She hurried on, -forestalling the words on his lips. "You don't know how much I want to -be just a little bit of help. I can't be much, I know. But I'm sure I -could save money--" - -"Old stuff!" he interrupted. "It isn't the money you save; it's the -money you make that counts." - -"I know!" she agreed quickly. "But we could get a house, we could buy -a house, for less than we're paying here in rent. A very nice house. I -wouldn't ask you to do it, if it cost any more than we're spending now. -But--of course I don't know anything about such things--but I should -think it would give you an advantage in business if you owned some -property. Wouldn't--wouldn't it--make people put more confidence--" She -faltered miserably at the look in his eyes, and before he could speak -she had changed her tactics, laughing. - -"I'm just trying to tease you into giving me something I want, and I -know I'm awfully silly about it." She nestled closer to him, slipping -an arm under his neck. "Oh, honey, it wouldn't cost anything at all, -and I do so want to have a house to do things to. I feel so--so -unsettled, living this way. I feel as if I were always sitting on the -edge of a chair waiting to go somewhere else. And I'm used to working -and--and managing a little money. I know it wasn't much money, but I -liked to do it. You're letting a lot of perfectly good energy go to -waste in me, really you are." - -He laughed, tightening his arm about her shoulders, and for one -deliriously happy moment she thought she had won. Then he kissed her, -and before he spoke she knew she had lost. - -"I should worry! You're giving me all I want," he said, and there -was different delight in the words. She was satisfying him, and for -the moment it was enough. He made the mistake of overconfidence in -emphasizing a point already won and so losing it. - -"And as long as I'm giving you three meals a day and glad rags, it -isn't up to you to worry. I'll look after the finances if you'll take -care of your complexion. It's beginning to need it," he added with -brutality that defeated its own purpose. Even in her pain she had an -instant of seeing him clearly and feeling that she hated him. - -She slipped to her feet and stood trembling, not looking down at him. - -"Well, that's settled, then," she said in a clear, hard little voice. -"I'll go and dress. It's nearly noon." - -She felt that her own anger was threatening the most precious thing in -her life; she felt that she was two persons who were tearing each other -to pieces. With a blind instinct of reaching out to him for help she -turned at the dressing-room door. "I know you don't realize what you're -doing to me--you don't realize--what you're throwing away," she said. - -There was a cool amusement in his eyes. - -"Well, but why the melodrama?" he asked reasonably. She stood convicted -of hysteria and stupidity, and she felt again his superiority and his -mastery over her. - -When she came from the dressing-room to find him, careless, -good-humored, handsome, tugging his tie into its knot before the -mirror, she knew that nothing mattered except that she loved him and -that she must hold his love for her. She came close to him, longing -for a reassurance that she would not ask. Unless he gave it to her, -left her with it to hold in her heart, she would be tortured by -miserable doubts and flickering jealousies until he came back. She -would be tied to the telephone, waiting for a call from him, trying to -follow in her imagination the intricate business affairs from which she -was shut out, telling herself that it was business and nothing else -that kept him from her. - -"Well, bye-bye," he said, putting on his hat. - -"Good-by." Her voice was like a detaining hand. "You--you won't be gone -long?" - -He relented. - -"I'm going down to see Clark & Hayward. I'm going to put through a deal -with them that'll put us on velvet," he declared. - -"Clark & Hayward? They're the real-estate people?" - -"You're some little guesser. They certainly are. We're going to be -millionaires when I get through with them! Farewell!" - -The very door seemed to click triumphantly behind him, and she heard -him whistling while he waited for the elevator. When he appeared on the -sidewalk below, she was leaning from the window, and she would have -waved to him if he had looked up. Her occupation for the day vanished -when he swung into a street-car and was carried out of sight. - -She picked up the pragmatism book again and read a few paragraphs, put -it down restlessly. The untidy bedroom nagged at her nerves, but Bert -was paying for hotel service, and once when she had made the bed he -had told her impatiently that there was no sense in letting the very -servants know she was not used to living decently. - -She would go for a walk. There might be something new to see in the -shop windows. She would take the book with her and read it in the dairy -lunch-room where she ate when alone. It seemed criminal to her to spend -money unnecessarily when they owed so much, and she could not help -trying to save it, though all her efforts seemed to make no difference. - -If she could have only a small amount of money regularly, she -could manage so much better. Even the salary she had earned as a -telegraph-operator sometimes seemed like riches to her, because she had -known that she would have it every month and had managed it herself. -But every attempt to establish regularity and stability in her present -life ended always in the same failure, and she hurriedly turned even -her slightest thoughts from the memory of conversations like that just -ended. - -In the dressing-room she snapped on all the lights and under their -merciless glare critically inspected every line of her face. The -carefully brushed arch of the eyebrows was perfect; the slightest trace -of rouge was spread skillfully on her cheeks, the round point of her -chin, the lobes of her ears. She coaxed loose a tendril of dark hair -and, soaking it with banderine, plastered it against her cheek in a -curve that was the final touch of striking artificiality. She did not -like it, but Bert did. - -She took time in adjusting her hat. Everything depended on that, she -knew. She tied her veil with meticulous care. Then, slowly turning -before the long mirror set in the door, she critically inspected every -detail of her costume, the trim little boots, the crisp, even edges of -her skirt, the line of the jacket, the immaculate gloves. A tremendous -amount of thought and effort had gone into the making of that smart -effect, and she felt that she had done a good job. She would still -compare favorably with any of the women Bert might meet. A tiny spark -of cheerfulness was kindled by the thought. She tried to nourish it, -but it went out in dreariness. - -What kind of deal was Bert putting through with Clark & Hayward? It -was the first time he had mentioned real estate since the unexplained -failure of his plan to go to Argentine. That was another memory from -which she hastily turned her thoughts, a memory of his alternate -moodiness and wild gaiety, of his angry impatience at her most -tentative show of interest or sympathy, of their ending an ecstatic, -miserable honeymoon by sneaking out of the hotel leaving an unpaid bill -behind them. She still avoided the hotel, though he must long since -have paid the bill. She had not dared ask him, but he had made a great -deal of money since then. - -There had been the flurry of excitement about the mining stocks, which -were selling like wild-fire and promised millions until something -happened. And then the scheme for floating a rubber plantation in -Guatemala--his long eastern trip and her diamond ring had come out of -that--and then the affair of the patent monkey-wrench. He had said -again that there were millions in it, and had derided her dislike of -the inventor. She wondered what had become of that enterprise, and -secretly thought that she had been right and that the man had tried to -swindle Bert. - -Now it was real estate again. She did not doubt that her clever husband -would succeed in it; she was sure that he would be one of America's -biggest business men some day, when he turned his genius to one line -and followed it with a little more steadiness. But she would have liked -to know more about his business affairs. Since they could not have a -home yet, she would like to be doing something interesting. - -She stopped such thoughts with an impatient little mental shake. -Perhaps she would feel better when she had eaten luncheon. With the -book tucked under her arm she walked briskly down the sunny, wind-swept -streets, threading her way indifferently through the tangle of traffic -at the corners with the sixth sense of the city dweller, seeing -without perceiving them the clanging street-cars, the silent, shining -limousines, the streams of cleverly dressed women, preoccupied men, -fluffy dogs on chains, and the panorama of shop-windows filled with -laces, jewels, gowns, furs, hats. She walked surrounded by an isolation -as complete as if she were alone in a forest, and nothing struck -through it until she paused before a window-display of hardware. - -She came to that window frequently, drawn by an irresistible -attraction. With a pleasant sense of dissipation she stood before -it, gazing at glittering bathroom fixtures, rank on rank of shining -pans, rows of kitchen utensils, electric flat-irons. To-day there -was a glistening white kitchen cabinet, with ingenious flour-bin and -built-in sifter, hooks for innumerable spoons, sugar and spice jars, an -egg-beater, a market-memorandum device. A tempting yellow bowl stood on -a white shelf. - -Some day, she thought, she would have a yellow kitchen. She had in mind -the shade of yellow, a clear yellow, like sunshine. There would be -cream walls and yellow woodwork, at the windows sheer white curtains, -which would wash easily, and on the window-sill a black jar filled with -nasturtiums. The breakfast-room should be a glassed-in porch, and its -curtains should be thin yellow silk, through which the sunshine would -cast a golden light on the little breakfast table spread with a white -embroidered cloth and set with shining silver and china. The coffee -percolator would be bubbling, and the grape-fruit in place, and when -she came from the kitchen with the plate of muffins Bert would look -up from his paper and say, "Muffins again? Fine! You're some little -muffin-maker!" - -She dimpled and flushed happily, standing before the unresponsive -sheet of plate glass. Then, with a shrug and a half laugh at herself, -she came back to reality and went on. But the display held her as a -candy-shop holds a child, and she must stop again to look at the next -window, filled with color-cards and cans of paint. Her mind was still -busy with color combinations for a living-room when she entered the -dairy lunch-room and carried her tray to a table. - -For a moment she looked at the crowd about her, clerks and shopgirls -and smartly dressed stenographers hurriedly drinking coffee and eating -pie. Then she propped her book against the sugar bowl and began slowly -to eat, turning a page from time to time. This was an astonishing book. -It was not fiction, but it was even more interesting. She read quickly, -skipping the few words she did not understand, grasping their meaning -by a kind of intuition, wondering why she had never before considered -ideas of this kind. - -She was so deeply absorbed that she merely felt, without realizing, the -presence of some one hesitating at her elbow, some one who moved past -her to draw out a chair opposite her and set down his tray. She moved -her coffee-cup to make room for it, and apologetically lifted the book -from the sugar bowl, glancing across it to see Paul. - -The shock was so great that for an instant she did not move or think. -He stood motionless and stared at her with eyes wiped blank of any -expression. Her cup rattled as the book dropped against it and the -sound roused her. With the sensation of a desperate twist, like that of -a falling cat righting itself in the air, she faced the situation. - -"Why--Paul!" she said, and felt that the old name struck the wrong -note. "How you startled me. But of course I'm very glad to see you -again. Do sit down." - -In his face she saw clearly his chagrin, his rage at himself for -blundering into this awkwardness, his resolve to see it through. He put -himself firmly into the chair and though his face and even his neck -were red, there was the remembered determination in the set of his lips -and the lift of his chin. - -"I'm certainly surprised to see you," he said. "From all I've been -hearing about you I had a notion you never ate in places like this any -more. They tell me you're getting along fine. I'm mighty glad to hear -it." With deliberation he dipped two level spoonfuls of sugar into his -coffee and attacked the triangle of pie. - -"Oh, I come in sometimes for a change," she said lightly. "Yes, -everything's fine with me. You're looking well, too." - -There was an undeniable air of prosperity about him. His suit was -tailor-made, and the hat on the hook above his head was a new gray felt -of the latest shape. His face had changed very slightly, grown perhaps -a bit fuller than she remembered, and the line of the jaw was squarer. -But he looked at her with the same candid, straight gaze. Of course, -she could not expect warmth in it. - -"Well, I can't complain," he said. "Things are going pretty well. Slow, -of course, but still they're coming." - -"I'm awfully glad to hear it. Your mother's well?" The situation was -fantastic and ghastly, but she would not escape from it until she could -do so gracefully. She formed the next question in her mind while he -answered that one. - -"Do you often get up to the city?" - -"Oh, now and then. I only come when I have to. It's too windy and too -noisy to suit me. I just came up this morning to see a real-estate firm -here about a house they've got in Ripley. I'm going back to-night." - -"You're buying a house?" she cried in the tone of a child who sees a -toy taken from it. Her anger at her lack of self-control was increased -when she saw that he had misinterpreted her feeling. - -"Just to rent," he said hastily. "I'm not thinking of--moving. Mother -and I are satisfied where we are, and I expect it'll be some time -before I get that place paid for. This other house--" It seemed to her -unbearable that he should have two houses. But he went on doggedly, -determined, she saw, to give no impression of a prosperity that was -not his. "I expect you wouldn't think much of it. But there's a big -real-estate firm up here that's going to boom Ripley, and I wanted to -get in on as much of it as I could. They're buying up half the land in -the county, and I had an option on a little piece they wanted, so I -traded it in for this house. I figure I can fix it up some and make a -good thing renting it pretty soon." - -She saw that her momentary envy had been absurd. He might have two -houses, but he was only one of the unnumbered customers of a big -real-estate firm. At that moment her husband was dealing as an equal -with the heads of such a firm. There was, of course, no comparison -between the two men, and she made none. The stirring of remembered -affection that she felt for Paul registered in her mind only a pensive -realization of the decay of everything under the erosion of time. - -She felt that she was managing the interview very well, and when -she saw Paul resugaring his coffee from time to time, with the same -deliberate measuring of two level spoonfuls, she felt a complex -gratification. She told herself that she did not want Paul to be still -in love with her and unhappy, but there was a pleasure in seeing this -evidence that his agitation was greater than hers. Being ashamed of the -emotion did not kill it. - -He told her, with an attempt to control his pride, that he was no -longer with the railroad company. The man who "just about owned Ripley" -had given him a better job. He was in charge of the ice-plant and -lumber-yard now, and he was getting a hundred and fifty a month. He -mentioned the figures diffidently, as one who does not desire to be -boastful. - -"That's fine!" she said, and thought that they paid nearly half that -sum for rent, and that the very clothes she was wearing had cost more -than his month's salary. She would have liked him to know these things, -so that he might see how wonderful Bert was, though they did not have -a house, and the cruelty of even thinking this made her hate herself. -"Why, you're doing splendidly," she said. "I'm so glad!" - -Paul, though conscientiously modest, agreed with her, and was deeply -pleased by her applause. After an evident struggle between two opposing -impulses, he began to ask questions about her. She found there was very -little to tell him. Yes, she was having a very good time. Yes, she was -very well. His admiration of her rosy color threw her into a strangling -whirlpool of emotions, from which she rescued herself by the sardonic -thought that her technic with rouge had improved since their last -meeting. She told him vaguely that business was fine, and that they had -a lovely apartment on Bush Street. - -There was nothing else to tell about herself, and both of them avoided -directly mentioning her husband. She had never more keenly realized the -emptiness of her life, except for Bert, than when she saw Paul's mind -circling about it in an effort to find something there. - -He turned at last, baffled, to the book beside her plate. - -"Still keeping on reading, I see. I re--" he stopped short. They both -remembered the small book-case with the glass doors that had stood in -his mother's parlor in Masonville, and how they had lingered before -it on the pretext that she was borrowing a book. "Something good?" -he asked hastily. When she showed him the title, he repeated it -doubtfully: "Pragmatism? Well, it's all right, I suppose. I don't go -much for these Oriental notions about religion, myself." - -"It isn't a religion, exactly," she said uncertainly. "It's a new way -of looking at things. It's about truth--sort of. I mean, it says there -isn't any, really--not absolutely, you know," she floundered on before -the puzzled question in his eyes. "It says there isn't _absolute_ -truth--truth, you know, like a separate thing. Truth's only a sort -of quality, like--well, like beauty, and it belongs to a thing if -the thing works out right. I've got it clear in my head, but I don't -express it very well, I know." - -"I don't see any sense to it, myself," he commented. "Truth is just -simply truth, that's all, and it's up to us to tell it all the time." - -She knew that an attempt to explain further would fail, and she felt -that her mind had a wider range than his; but she had an impression -of his standing sure-footed and firm on the rock of his simple -convictions, and she saw that his whole life was as secure and stable -as hers was insecure and precarious. She felt about that as she did -about his house, envying him something which she knew was not as -valuable as her own possessions. - -A strange pang--a pain she could not understand--struck her when he -stopped at the cashier's grating and paid her check with his own in the -most matter-of-fact way. - -They parted at the door of the lunch-room; for seeing his hesitation -she said brightly: "Well, good-by. I'm going the other way." She held -out her hand, and when he took it she added quickly, "I'm so glad to -have seen you looking so well and happy." - -"I'm not so blamed happy," he retorted gruffly, as if her words jarred -the exclamation from him. He covered it instantly with a heavy, "So'm -I--I'm glad you are. Good-by." - -That exclamation remained in her mind, repeating itself at intervals -like an echo. She had been more deeply stirred than she had realized. -Fragments of old emotions, unrealized hopes, unsatisfied longings, rose -in her, to be replaced by others, to sink, and come back again. "I'm -not so blamed happy." It might have meant anything or nothing. She -wondered what her life would be if she were living in a little house in -Ripley with him, and rejected the picture, and considered it again. - -Looking back, she saw all the turnings that had taken her from the -road to a life like that--the road that she had once unquestioningly -supposed that she would take. If she had stayed at home in Masonville, -if she had given up the struggle in Sacramento; if she had been able -to live in San Francisco with nothing to fill her days but work and -loneliness--she saw as a series of merest chances the steps which had -brought her at last to Bert. - -One could not have everything. She had him. He was not a man who would -work slowly, day by day, toward a petty job and a small house bought -on the instalment plan. He was brilliant, clever, daring. He would one -day do great things, and she must help him by giving him all her love -and faith and trust. Suddenly it appeared monstrous that she should be -struggling against him, troubling him with her commonplace desires for -a commonplace thing like a home, at the very moment when he needed all -his wit and skill to handle a big deal. She was ashamed of the thoughts -with which she had been playing; they seemed to her an infidelity of -the spirit. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - -Bert was not in the apartment when she reached it; she knew her -disappointment was irrational, for she had told herself he would -not be there. However, he might telephone. She curled up in the big -chair by the window, the book in her lap, and read with a continual -consciousness of waiting. She felt that his coming or the sound of his -voice would rescue her from something within herself. - -At six o'clock she told herself that he would telephone within an -hour. Experience had taught her that this way of measuring time helped -it to pass more quickly. With determined effort she concentrated -her attention upon her book, shutting out voices that clamored -heart-shaking things to her. At seven o'clock she was walking up and -down the living-room, despising herself, telling herself that nothing -had happened, that he did these things only to show her his hold on -her, that at any moment now his message would come. - -For another hour she thought of many things she might have done -differently. She might have walked past the office of Clark & Hayward, -meeting him as if by accident when he came out. But that might have -annoyed him. She might have gone to some of the cafés for tea on the -chance of meeting him there. But there were so many cafés! He must be -dining in one of them now, and she could not know which one. She could -not know who might be dining with him. - -"Helen Davies Kennedy, stop it! Stop it!" she said aloud. She was a -little quieter then, walking to the window, and standing there, gazing -down at the street. Her heart beat suffocatingly at the sight of each -machine that passed; she thought, until it went by, that he might be in -it. - -It was the old agony again, and weariness and contempt for herself were -mingled with her pain. So many times she had waited, as she was waiting -now, and always he had come back to her, laughing at her hysteria. Why -could she not learn to bear it more easily? She might have to wait -until midnight, until later than midnight. She set her teeth. - -The sudden peal of the telephone-bell in the dark room startled a -smothered cry from her. She ran, stumbling against the table, and the -receiver shook at her ear; but her voice was steady and pleasant. - -"Yes?" - -"Helen? Bert. I'm going south to-night on the Lark. Pack my suitcases -and ship 'em express to Bakersfield, will you?" - -"What? Yes, yes. Right away. Are you--will you--be gone long?" - -His voice was going on, jubilant: - -"Trust your Uncle Dudley to put it over! D'you know what I got from the -tightest firm in town? Unlimited letter of credit! Get that 'unlimited'? - -"Oh Bert!" - -"It's the biggest land proposition ever put out in the West! Ripley -Farmland Acres I'm going to put them on the map in letters a mile high! -Believe me, I'm going to wake things up! There's half a million in it -for me if it's handled right, and, believe me, I'm some little handler!" - -"I know you are! O Bert, how splendid!" - -"All right. Get the suitcases off early--here's my train. Bye-bye." - -"Wait a minute--when're you coming back? Can't I come, too?" - -"Not yet. I'll let you know. Oh, d'you want some money?" - -"Well--I haven't got much--but that isn't--" - -"Send you a check. From now on I'm made of money--so long--" - -"Bert dear--" she cried, against the click of a closed receiver. Then -with a long, relaxing sigh she slowly put down the telephone. After a -moment she went into the bedroom, switched on the lights, and began -to pack shirts and collars into his bags. She was smiling, because -happiness and hope had come back to her; but her hands shook, for she -was exhausted. - -It was thirty-two days before she heard from him again. A post-dated -check for a hundred dollars, crushed into an envelope and mailed on the -train, had come back to her, and that was all. But she assured herself -that he was too busy to write. The month went by slowly, but it was not -unbearably dreary, for she was able to keep uneasy doubts in check, -and to live over in her memory many happy hours with him. She planned, -too, the details of the house they would have if this time he really -did make a great deal of money. He would give her a house, she knew, -whenever he could do it easily and carelessly. - -When the telephone awakened her one night at midnight her first -thought was that he had come back. She was struggling into a negligée -and snatching a fresh lace cap from a drawer when it rang again and -undeceived her. - -Long distance from Coalinga had a call for her and wished her to -reverse charges. She repeated the name uncertainly, and the voice -repeated: "Call from Mr. Kennedy in Coalinga--" - -"Oh, yes, yes! Yes. I'll pay for it. Yes, it's O.K." She waited -nervously in the darkness until his voice came faintly to her. - -"Hello, Helen! Bert. Listen. Have you got any money?" - -"About thirty dollars." - -"Well, listen, Helen. Wire me twenty, will you? I've got to have it -right away." - -"Of course. Very first thing in the morning. Are you all right?" - -"Am I all right? Good God, Helen! do you think anybody's all right when -he hasn't got any money? We've just got into this rotten burg; been -driving all day long and half the night across a desert hotter than the -hinges of the main gate, and not a drink for a hundred and forty--" His -voice blurred into a buzzing on the wire, and she caught disconnected -words: "Skinflints--over on me--they've got another guess--piker -stunt--" - -She reiterated loudly that she would send the money, and heard central -relaying the words Nothing more came over the wire, though she rattled -the receiver. At last she went back to bed, to lie awake till dawn came. - -She was waiting at the telegraph-office when the money-order department -opened. After she had sent the twenty dollars she tried to drink a cup -of coffee, and walked quickly back to the apartment. She felt that -she should be able to think of something to do, some action she could -take which would help Bert, and many wild schemes rushed through her -feverish brain. But she knew that she could do nothing but wait. - -The telephone-bell was ringing when she reached her door. It seemed -an eternity before she could reach it. Again she assured central that -she would pay the charges, and heard his voice. He wanted to know why -she had not sent the money, then when she had sent it, then why it had -not arrived. He talked a great deal, impatiently, and she saw that his -high-strung temperament had been excited to a frenzy by disasters which -in her ignorance of business she could not know. Her heart ached with a -passion of sympathy and love; she was torn by her inability to help him. - -Half an hour later he called again, and demanded the same explanations. -Then suddenly he interrupted her, and told her to come to Coalinga. It -was a rotten hole, he repeated, and he wanted her. - -That he should want her was almost too much happiness, but she tried to -be cool and reasonable about it. She pointed out that she had just paid -a month's rent, that she had only ten dollars, that it might be wiser, -she might be less a burden to him, if she stayed in San Francisco. -She would make the ten dollars last a month, and that would give him -time--He interrupted her savagely. He wanted her. Was she coming or was -she throwing him down? Thought he couldn't support her, did she? He -always had done it, hadn't he? Where she'd get this sudden notion he -was no good? He could tell her Gilbert Kennedy wasn't done for yet, not -by a damned sight. Was she coming or-- - -"Oh, yes! yes! yes! I'll come right away!" she cried. - -While she was packing, she wished that she had something to pawn She -would have braved a pawnbroker's shop herself. But the diamond ring had -gone when the Guatemala rubber plantation failed; her other jewels were -paste or semi-precious stones; her furs were too old to bring anything. -She could take Bert nothing but her courage and her faith. - -She found that her ticket cost nine dollars and ninety cents. When -she reached Coalinga, after a long restless night on the train and a -two-hours' careful toilet in the swaying dressing-room, she gave the -porter the remaining dime. It was a gesture of confidence in Bert and -in the future. She was going to him with a high spirit, matching his -reckless daring with her own. - -He was not on the platform. When the train had gone she still waited a -few minutes, looking at a row of one-story ramshackle buildings which -paralleled the single track. Obviously they were all saloons. A few -loungers stared at her from the sagging board sidewalk. She turned her -head, to see on either side the far level stretches of a desert broken -only by dirty splashes of sage-brush. The whole scene seemed curiously -small under a high gray sky quivering with blinding heat. - -She picked up her bags and walked across the street in a white glare -of sunlight. A heavy, sickening smell rose in hot waves from the oiled -road. She felt ill. But she knew that it would be a simple matter to -find Bert in a town so small. He would be at the best hotel. - -She found it easily, a two-story building of cream plaster which rose -conspicuously on the one main street. There was coolness and shade in -the wide clean lobby, and the clerk told her at once that Bert was -there. He told her where to find the room on the second floor. - -Her heart fluttered when she tapped on the panels and heard Bert call, -"Come in!" She dropped her bags and rushed into a dimness thick with -the smoke of cigars. The room seemed full of men, but when the first -flurry of greetings and introductions were over and she was sitting on -the edge of the bed beside Bert, she saw that there were only five. - -They were all young and appeared at the moment very gloomy. Depression -was in the air as thickly as the cigar smoke. She gathered from -their bitter talk that they were land salesmen, that a campaign in -Bakersfield had ended in some sudden disaster,--"blown up," they -said,--and that they found a miserable pleasure in repeating that -Coalinga was a "rotten territory." - -Bert, lounging against the heaped-up pillows on the bed, with a cigar -in his hand and whisky and ice-water at his elbow, let them talk -until it seemed that despondency could not be more blacker, then -suddenly sitting up, he poured upon them a flood of tingling words. -His eyes glowed, his face was vividly keen and alive, and his magnetic -charm played upon them like a tangible force. Helen, sitting silent, -listening to phrases which meant nothing to her, thrilled with pride -while she watched him handle these men, awakening sparks in the dead -ashes of their enthusiasm, firing them, giving them something of his -own irresistible confidence in himself. - -"I tell you fellows this thing's going to go. It's going to go big. -There's thousands of dollars in it, and every man that sticks is going -to be rolling in velvet. Get out if you want to; if you're pikers, beat -it. I don't need you. I'm going to bring into this territory the livest -bunch of salesmen that ever came home with the bacon. But I don't want -any pikers in my game. If you're going to lay down on me, do it now, -and get out." - -They assured him that they were with him. The most reluctant wanted to -know something about details, there was some talk of percentage and -agreements. Bert slashed at him with cutting words, and the others -bore him down with their aroused enthusiasm. Then Bert offered to buy -drinks, and they all went out together in a jovial crowd. - -Helen was left alone, to realize afresh her husband's power, and to -reflect on her own smallness and stupidity. She stifled a nagging -little worry about Bert's drinking. She always wished he would not do -it, but she knew it was a masculine habit which she did not understand -because she was a woman. After all, men accomplished the big things, -and they must be allowed to do them in their own way. - -She opened the windows, but letting out the smoke let in a stifling -heat and the sickening smell of crude oil. She closed them again and -reduced the confusion of the room to orderliness, smoothing the bed, -gathering up armfuls of scattered papers and unpacking her bags. When -Bert came back a few hours later she was reading with interest a pile -of literature about Ripley Farmland Acres. - -He came in exuberantly, and as she ran toward him he tossed into -the air a handful of clinking gold coins. They fell around her and -scattered rolling on the floor. "Trust your Uncle Dudley to put one -over!" he cried. "Pick 'em up! They're yours!" - -"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she gasped, between laughter and the tears that -now she could no longer control. Her arms were around his neck, and she -did not mind his laughing at her, though she controlled herself quickly -before his amusement could change to annoyance. "I knew you'd do it!" -she said. - -It was a long time before she remembered the money. Then, gathering it -up, she was astonished to find nearly a hundred dollars. He laughed -at her again when she asked him how he had got it. It was all right. -He'd got it, hadn't he? But he told her not to pay for her meals in the -dining-room, to sign the checks instead, and from this she deduced that -his business difficulties were not yet entirely overcome. She put the -money in her purse, resolving to save it. - -She discovered that he now owned a large green automobile. Apparently -he had bought it in Bakersfield, for it had been some months since -he had sold the gray one. In the afternoon they drove out to the oil -leases, and she sat in the machine while the salesmen scattered to look -for land-buyers. - -The novelty of the scene was sufficient occupation for her. Low hills -of yellow sand, shimmering in glassy heat-waves, were covered with -innumerable derricks, which in the distance looked like a weird forest -without leaf or shade and near at hand suggested to her grotesque -creatures animated by unnatural life, their long necks moving up and -down with a chugging sound. There were huddles of little houses, -patchworks of boards and canvas, and now and then she saw faded women -in calico dresses, or a child sitting half naked and gasping in the hot -shadows. She felt that she was in a foreign land, and the far level -desert stretching into a haze of blue on the eastern sky-line seemed -like a sea between her and all that she had known. - -The salesmen were morose when they returned to the machine, and Bert's -enthusiasm was forced. "There's millions of dollars a year pouring out -of these wells," he declared. "We're going to get ours, boys, believe -me!" But they did not respond, and Helen felt an increasing tension -while they drove back to town through a blue twilight. She thought with -relief of the gold pieces in her purse. - -After supper Bert sent her to their room, and she lay in her nightgown -on sheets that were hot to the touch, and panted while she read of -Ripley Farmland Acres. The literature was reassuring; it seemed to -her that any one would buy land so good on such astonishingly low -terms. But her uneasiness increased like an intolerable tightening of -the nerves, and her enforced inaction in this crisis that she did not -understand tortured her. It occurred to her that she was still able to -telegraph, and until she dismissed the thought as unfair to Bert she -was tantalized by a wild idea of once more having some control of her -fate. - -It was nearly midnight when he came in, and she saw that any questions -would drive him into a fury of irritated nerves. In the morning, she -thought, he would be in a more approachable mood. But when she awakened -in the dawn he was gone. - -She did not see him until nearly noon. After sitting for some time in -the lobby and exploring as much of the sleepy town as she could without -losing sight of the hotel entrance to which he might come, she had -returned to the row of chairs beside it and was sitting there when he -appeared in the green automobile. - -She ran to the curb. He was flushed, his eyes were very bright, and -while he introduced her to a man and woman in the tonneau, she heard in -his voice the note she had learned to meet with instant alertness. He -told her smoothly that Mr. and Mrs. Andrews were interested in Ripley -Farmland Acres; he was driving them over to look at the proposition. -She leaned across a pile of luggage to shake hands with them and talked -engagingly to the woman, but she did not miss Bert's slightest movement -or change of expression. - -When he asked her to get his driving gloves she knew that he would -follow her, and on the stairs she gripped the banister with a hand -whose quivering she could not stop. She was not afraid of Bert in this -mood, but she knew that it threatened an explosion of nervous temper as -sufficient atmospheric tension threatens lightening. He was at the door -of their room before she had closed it. - -"Where's that money?" - -"Right here." She hesitated, opening her purse. "Bert--it's all we -have, isn't it?" - -"What difference does that make? It isn't all I'm going to have." - -"Listen just a minute. Did that woman tell you she was going to buy -land?" - -"Good Lord, do I have to stand here and talk? They're waiting. Give me -that money." - -"But Bert. She's taking another hat with her. She's got it in a bag, -and she's got two suitcases, and she--the way she looks--I believe -she's just going somewhere and getting you to take her in the machine. -And--please let me finish--if it's all the money we have don't you -think--" - -She knew that his outburst of anger was her own fault. He was nervous -and over-wrought; she should have soothed him, agreed with him in -anything, in everything. But there had been no time. Shaken as she was -by his words, she clung to her opinion, even tried to express it again. -She felt that their last hold on security was the money in her purse, -and she saw him losing it in a hopeless effort. Against his experience -and authority she could offer only an impression, and the absurdity of -talking about a hatsack in a woman's hand. The futility of such weapons -increased her desperation. His scorn ended in rage. "Are you going to -give me that money?" - -Tears she would not shed blinded her. Her fingers fumbled with the -fastening of the purse. The coins slid out and scattered on the floor. -He picked them up, and the slamming of the door told her he was gone. - -She no longer tried to hold her self-control. When it came back to her -it came slowly, as skies clear after a storm. Her body was exhausted -with sobs and her face was swollen and sodden, but she felt a great -relief. The glare of sunlight on the drawn shades and the stifling heat -told her that it was late in the afternoon. She undressed wearily, -bathed her face with cool water and, lying down again, was engulfed in -the pleasant darkness of sleep. - -The next day and the next passed with a slowness that was like a -deliberate refinement of cruelty. She felt that time itself was -malicious, prolonging her suspense. The young salesmen shared it with -her. They had telegraphed friends and families and were awaiting money -with which to get out of town. One by one they were released and -departed joyfully. Five days passed. Six. Seven. - -She would have telegraphed to Clark & Hayward, but she had no money -for the telegram. She would have found work if there had been any that -she could do. The manager of the small telegraph-office was the only -operator. In the little town there were a few stores, already supplied -with clerks, a couple of boarding-houses on Whiskey Row, and scores -of pretty little houses in which obviously no servants were employed. -The local paper carried half a dozen "help wanted" advertisements -for stenographers and cooks on the oil-leases. She did not know -stenography, and she did not have the ability to cook for twenty or -forty hungry men. - -A bill in her box at the end of the week told her that her room was -costing three dollars a day, and she dared not precipitate inquiry -by asking for a cheaper one. She was appalled by the prices of the -bill-of-fare, and ate sparingly, signing the checks, however, with a -careless scrawl and a confident smile at the waitress. - -She was coming from the dining-room on the evening of the seventh day -when the manager of the hotel, somewhat embarrassed, asked her not to -sign any more checks for meals. It was a new rule of the house, he -said. She smiled at him, too, and agreed easily. "Why, certainly!" -Altering her intention of going up-stairs, she walked into the lobby -and sat relaxed in a chair, glancing with an appearance of interest at -a newspaper. - -So it happened that she saw the item in the middle of the column, which -at last gave her news of Bert. - - BERT KENNEDY SOUGHT ON BAD CHECK CHARGE - - Charging Gilbert H. Kennedy, well-known along the city's joy - zones, with cashing a bogus check for a hundred dollars on the - Metropolitan National Bank, Judge C. K. Washburne yesterday issued - a warrant for the arrest of the young man on a felony charge. The - police search for Kennedy and his young wife, a former candy-store - girl, has so far proved fruitless. Interviewed at his residence - in Los Angeles last night, former Judge G. H. Kennedy, father of - the missing man, controller of the Central Trust Company until - his indictment some years ago for mishandling its funds, denied - knowledge of his son's whereabouts, saying that he had not been on - good terms with his son for several years. - -After some time she was able to rise and walk quite steadily across the -lobby. Her hand on the banister kept her from stumbling very much while -she went up-stairs. There was darkness in her room, and it covered her -like a shield. She stood straight and still, one hand pressing against -the wall. - -It was Saturday night, and in the happy custom of the oil fields a -block of the oiled street had been roped off for dancing. Already -the musicians were tuning their instruments. Impatient drillers and -tool-dressers, with their best girls, were cheering their efforts with -bantering applause. The ropes were giving way before the pressure of -the holiday crowd in a tumult of shouts and laughter. - -Suddenly, with a rollicking swing, the band began to play. The tune -rose gaily through the hot, still night, and beneath it ran a rustling -undertone, the shuffling of many dancing feet. Below her window the -pavement was a swirl of movement and color. Her body relaxed slowly, -letting her down into a crumpled heap, and she lay against the -window-sill with her face hidden in the circle of her arms. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - -Morning came like a change in an interminable delirium. Light poured -in through the open window, and the smothering heat of the night gave -way to the burning heat of the day. Helen sat up on the tumbled bed, -pressing her palms against her forehead, and tried to think. - -The realization of her own position did not rouse any emotion. Her -mind stated the situation baldly and she looked at it with impersonal -detachment. It seemed a curious fact that she should be in a hotel in -the oil fields, without money, with no way of getting food, with no -means of leaving the place, owing bills that she could not pay. - -"Odd I'm not more excited," she said, and in the same instant forgot -about it. - -The thought of Bert did not hurt her any more, either. She felt it as a -blow on a spot numbed by an anesthetic. But slowly, out of the chaos in -her brain, there emerged one thought. She must do something to help him. - -She did not need to tell herself that he had not meant to break -the law; she knew that. She understood that he had meant to cover -the check, that he was in danger because of some accident or -miscalculation. In the saner daylight the succession of events that -had led to this monstrous catastrophe became clear to her. Bert's -over-wrought self-confidence when he brought her the gold, his -feverish insistence that this was a good territory for land sales, his -excitement when he rushed away, believing that he could sell a farm -to that shifty-eyed woman with the hat-box, should have told her the -situation. - -Just because Bert had made that tiny mistake in judgment--A frenzy of -protest rose in Helen, beating itself against the inexorable fact. It -could not be true! It could not be true that so small an incident had -brought such calamity. It was a nightmare. She would not believe it. - -"O Bert! It isn't true! It isn't--it isn't--O Bert!" She stopped that -in harsh self-contempt. It was true "Get up and face it, you coward, -you coward!" - -She made herself rise, bathed her face and shoulders with cool water. -The mirror showed her dull eyes and a mass of frowsy hair stuck through -with hairpins. She took out the pins and began tugging at the snarls -with a comb. Everything had become unreal; the solid walls about her, -the voices coming up from the street below, impalpable things; she -herself was least real of all, a shadow moving among shadows. But she -must go on; she must do something. - -Money. Bert needed money. It was the only thing that stood between him -and unthinkable horrors of suffering and disgrace. His father would not -help him. Her people could not. Somehow she must get money, a great -deal of money. - -She did not think out the idea; it was suddenly there in her mind. It -was a chance, the only one. She stood at the window, looking out over -the low roofs of Coalinga to the sand hills covered with derricks. -There was money there. "Millions of dollars a year." She would take -Bert's vacant place, sell the farm he had failed to sell, save him. - -Her normal self was as lifeless as if it were in a trance, but beneath -its dull weight a small clear brain worked as steadily as the ticking -of a clock. It knew Ripley Farmland Acres; it recalled scraps of talk -with the salesmen; it reminded her of photographs and blank forms and -price lists. She dressed quickly, twisting her hair into a tidy knot, -dashing talcum powder on her perspiring face and neck. From Bert's -suitcase she hurriedly gathered a bunch of Ripley Farmland Acres -literature and tucked it into a salesman's leather wallet. At the door -she turned back to get a pencil. - -The hotel was an empty place to her. If the idlers looked at her -curiously over their waving fans when she went through the lobby she -did not know it. It was like opening the door of an oven to meet the -white glare of the street, but she walked briskly into it. She knew -where to find the livery-stable, and to the man who lounged from its -hay-scented dimness to meet her she said crisply: - -"I want a horse and buggy right away, please." - -She waited on the worn boards of the driveway while he brought out a -horse and backed it between the shafts. He remarked that it was a hot -day; he inquired casually if she was going far. To the oil fields, -she said. East or west? "East," she replied at a venture. "Oh, the -Limited?" Yes, the Limited, she agreed. When she had climbed into the -buggy and picked up the reins, it occurred to her to ask him what road -to take. - -When she had passed Whiskey Row the road ran straight before her, -a black line of oiled sand drawn to a vanishing-point on the level -desert. The horse trotted on with patient perseverance, the parched -buggy rattled behind him, and she sat motionless with the reins in her -hands. Around her the air quivered in great waves above the hot yellow -sand; it rippled above the black road like the colorless vibrations on -the lid of a stove. Far ahead she saw a small dot, which she supposed -was the Limited. She would arouse herself when she reached it. Her -brain was as motionless as her body, waiting. - -Centuries went past her. She reached the dot, and found a -watering-trough and an empty house. She unchecked the horse, who -plunged his nose eagerly into the water. His sides were rimed with -dried sweat, and with the drinking can she poured over him water, which -almost instantly evaporated. She was sorry for him. - -When she was in the buggy again and he was once more trotting patiently -down the long road she found that she was looking at herself and him -from some far distance, and finding it fantastic that one little animal -should be sitting upright in a contrivance of wood and leather, while -another little animal drew it industriously across a minute portion -of the earth's surface. Her mind became motionless again, as though -suspended in the quivering intensity of heat. - -Hours later she saw that the road was winding over hills of sand. -A few derricks were scattered upon them. She stopped at another -watering-trough, and in the house beside it a faded woman, keeping the -screen door hooked between them, told her that the Limited was four -miles farther on. It did not occur to her to ask anything more. Her -mind was set, like an alarm clock, for the Limited. - -She drove into it at last. It was like a small part of a city, hacked -off and set freakishly in a hollow of the sand hills. A dozen huge -factory buildings faced a row of two-story bunkhouses. Loaded wagons -clattered down the street between them, and electric power wires -crisscrossed overhead. On the hillside was a group of small cottages, -their porches curtained with wilting vines. When she had tied the -horse in the shade she stood for a moment, feeling all her courage and -strength gathering within her. Then she went up the hill. - -The screen doors of the cottages opened to her. She heard herself -talking pleasantly, knew that she was smiling, and saw answering -smiles. Tired women with lines in their sallow faces tipped the -earthern ollas to give her a cool drink, pushed forward chairs for her. -Brown-skinned children came shyly to her and touched her dress with -sticky little fingers, laughing when she patted their cheeks and asked -their names. Mothers showed her white little babies gasping in the -heat, and she smiled over them, saying how pretty they were. Beneath it -all she felt trapped and desperate. - -It seemed to her that these women should have started at the sight of -her as at a death's-head. There was nothing but friendly interest in -their eyes, and their obliviousness gave her the comfort that darkness -gives to a tortured animal. The hours were going by, relentlessly -taking her one hope. - -"Do you own any California land?" - -"Yes." There would be a flicker of pride in tired eyes. "My husband -just bought forty acres last week, near Merced. We're going to pay for -it out of his wages, and have it to go to some day!" - -"Isn't that fine! Oh yes, the land near Merced is very good land. Your -husband's probably done very well. Do you know any one else who's -looking for a ranch?" No one did. - -She kept on doggedly. When she left each cottage desperation clutched -at her throat, and for an instant her breath stopped. But she was so -hopeless that she could do nothing but clench her teeth and go on. -At the next door she smiled again and her voice was pleasant. "Good -afternoon! Might I ask you for a drink of water? Oh, thank you! Yes, -isn't it hot? I'm selling farm land. Do you own a California ranch?" - -It was when she approached the sixteenth cottage that the steps, the -wilted vine, the little porch went out in blackness before her eyes. -But she escaped the catastrophe, and almost at once saw them clearly -again and felt the gate-post under her tight fingers. The taste in her -mouth was blood. She had bitten her lips quite badly, but wiping her -mouth with her handkerchief she found that it did not show. She was -past caring for anything but finding some one who would buy land. All -her powers of thinking had narrowed to that and were concentrated upon -it like a strong light on a tiny spot. - -In the twentieth cottage a woman said that she had heard that Mr. -MacAdams, who worked in the boiler factory, had been to Fresno to buy -land and had not bought it. Helen thanked her, and went to the boiler -factory. - -It was a large building, set high above the ground. Circling it, she -saw a man in overalls and undershirt lounging in a wide doorway above -her. The roar and bang and whir of machinery behind him drowned her -voice, and he stared at her as at an apparition. When he leaped down -beside her and understood her demand to see Mr. MacAdams his expression -of perplexity changed to a broad grin. MacAdams was in a boiler, he -said, and still grinning, he climbed back to the door-step and drew her -up by one arm into a huge room shaking with noise. He led her through -crashing confusion and with his pipe-stem pointed out MacAdams. - -MacAdams was crouching in a big cylinder of steel. In his hand he held -a jerking riveter, and the boiler vibrated with its racket. His ears -were stuffed with cotton, his eyes intent on his work. In mute show -Helen thanked the man beside her and, going down on her hands and -knees, crawled into the boiler. When she touched MacAdams's shoulder -the riveter stopped. - -"I beg your pardon," she said. "I heard you were interested in buying a -ranch." - -MacAdams's astonishment was profound. Mechanically he put a cold pipe -in his mouth and took it out again. She saw that his mind was passive -under the shock. Sitting back on her heels she opened the wallet and -took out the pictures. Her voice sounded thin in her ears. - -"There's lots of good land in California. I wouldn't try to tell -you, Mr. MacAdams, that ours is the only land a man can make money by -buying. But what do you think of that alfalfa?" - -She knew that it was alfalfa because the picture was so marked on the -back. While he looked at it she studied him, and her life was blank -except for his square Scotch face, the deliberate mind behind it, and -her intensity of purpose. - -She saw that she must not talk too much. His mind worked slowly, -standing firmly at each point it reached. He must think he was making -his own decisions. She must guide them by questions, not statements. He -would be obstinate before definite statements. He was interested. He -handed back the picture and asked a question. She answered it from the -information in the advertising, and while she let him reach for another -picture she thought quickly that she must not let him catch her in a -lie. If he asked a question, the answer to which she did not know, she -must say so. She was ready when it came. - -"I don't know about that," she answered. "We can find out on the land -if you want to go and look at it." - -He was noncommittal. She let the point go. She felt that her life -itself hung on his decisions, and she could do nothing to hasten them. -Her hands were shaking, and she forced her body to relax. She unfolded -a map of Ripley Farmland Acres and pointed out the proposed railroad, -the highway, the irrigation canals. She made him ask why part of the -map was painted red, and then told him that those farms were sold. -He was impressed. She folded the map a second too soon, leaving his -interest unsatisfied. - -He said he thought the proposition was worth looking into. She did not -reply because she feared her voice would not be steady. In the pause he -added that he would go over and look at it next Tuesday. She unfolded -the map again. Her fingers were cold and stiff paper rattled between -them, but the moment had come to test her success, and she would not -deceive herself with false hopes. - -She told him that she wanted to reserve a certain farm for him to see. -She pointed it out at random. It was a very good piece, she said, the -best piece unsold. She feared it would be sold before Tuesday. It could -not be held unless he would pay a deposit on it. If he did not buy it -the deposit would be returned. - -"You don't want to waste your time, Mr. MacAdams, and neither do I." -She felt the foundations of her self-control shaking, but she went on, -looking at him squarely. "If this piece suits you, you will buy it, -won't you?" - -He would. If it suited him. - -"Then please let me hold it until I can show it to you." - -She waited while time ticked by slowly. Then he leaned sidewise, -putting his hand in his pocket. "How much will I have to put up?" - -When she backed out of the boiler five minutes later she had a -twenty-dollar gold piece in her hand, and in her wallet was the yellow -slip of paper with his signature on the dotted line. She stumbled down -a lane between whirring machinery and dropped over a door-sill into -the hot dust of the road. Her grip on herself was being shaken loose -by unconquerable forces. She ran blindly to the buggy, and when she -had somehow got into it she heard herself laughing through sobs in her -throat. The horse trotted gladly toward Coalinga. - -During the long drive across the desert she sat relaxed, too weary to -be troubled or pleased by anything. The sun sank slowly beyond cool -blue hills, and darkness crept down from them across the level miles -of sand. A crescent of twinkling lights appeared on the lower slopes, -where the western oil fields lay. Their lower rim was Coalinga, and -she thought of bed and sleep. Clutching the gold piece, she reminded -herself that she must eat. She must keep up her strength until she -had sold that piece of land. She was too tired to face that effort -now. The horse took her quickly past Whiskey Row and dashed to the -livery-stable. She climbed down stiffly. - -"Charge it." Her voice was stiff, too. "Clark & Hayward, San -Francisco. I'm representing them. H. D. Kennedy--I'm at the hotel." - -Her body lagged as she drove it to the telegraph-office. She had -written a telegram to Clark & Hayward before she realized that she -dared not face any inquiry until after Tuesday. It occurred to her then -that she had committed a crime. She was not certain what it was, but -she thought it was obtaining money under false pretenses. She destroyed -the telegram. - -Later, when she laid the twenty-dollar gold piece on the check for her -supper, it seemed to her that she was embezzling. A discrepancy vaguely -irritated her. Could one obtain money under false pretenses and then -embezzle it, too? She was too tired to be deeply concerned, but as an -abstract question it annoyed her. The waitress looked at her sharply, -and she wondered if she had said something about it. In a haze she got -up the stairs and into bed. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - -Very early Tuesday morning she drove to the Limited lease and got -MacAdams. He looked formidable in his good clothes, and now that he had -shaved the scrubby gray beard his chin had an even more obstinate line. -She talked to him in an easy and friendly manner, without mentioning -land. She must not waste her strength. There was a struggle before her -and a menace behind. She had opened a livery-stable account against -Clark & Hayward, who had never heard of her. The hotel, she knew, had -let her go only because she took no baggage and had told the clerk -casually that she would return to-morrow. The ticket to Ripley left -five dollars of the twenty that belonged to MacAdams. And every moment -that the sale was delayed might make it impossible to save Bert. - -She sat smiling, listening to a tale of MacAdams' youth, when he was a -sea-faring man. - -The train reached Fresno, and MacAdams's gaze rested with joy on leafy -orchards and vineyards and the cool green of alfalfa fields. She -perceived the effect upon him of that refreshing contrast with the -arid desert. Before they reached Ripley his mind would be adjusted to -a green land and ditches filled with running water. She had lost one -point. - -Her attention concentrated upon the thoughts slowly forming in -his mind. Each word he spoke was an indication which she seized, -considered, turned this way and that, searching for the roots of it, -the implications growing from it. - -The train was now running across a level plain covered with dry grass. -Desolation was written upon it, and small unpainted houses stood here -and there like periods at the end of sentences expressing the futility -of human hope. She smiled above a sinking heart. They alighted at -Ripley. - -She had never seen the town before, and she saw now, with MacAdams's -eyes, a yellow station, several big warehouses, a wide dusty road into -which a street of two-story buildings ran at right angles. It was not -much larger than Coalinga. She looked anxiously for the agent from -Ripley Farmland Acres. That morning she had telegraphed him to meet her. - -He came toward them and shook MacAdams' hand heartily. His name was -Nichols. He had a consciously frank eye, and a smooth manner. He -hustled them toward a dusty automobile whose sides were covered with -canvas advertisements of the tract, and put MacAdams into the front -seat beside him. - -The machine, stirring a cloud of dust behind it, rattled down the -road between fields of dry stubble. She was ignored in the back seat. -Nichols had taken the situation out of her hands, and she did not -trust him. However, she could not trust herself, in the midst of her -uncertainties and ignorance. - -Nichols talked too much and too enthusiastically. She was astounded by -his blindness. To her it seemed obvious that his words were of little -importance. It was what MacAdams said that mattered. He gave MacAdams -no silences in which to speak, and he appeared oblivious to the fact -that MacAdams, gazing contemplatively at the sky-line, said nothing. - -They drove beneath an elaborate plaster gateway into the tract. Seventy -thousand acres of scorched dry grass lay before them, stretching -unbroken to a misty level horizon. Over it was the great arch of a hot -sky. - -The machine carried them out into the waves of dry grass like the -smallest of boats putting out into an ocean of aridity. When it stopped -the sun poured its heat upon them and dust settled on perspiring hands -and faces. Nichols unrolled a map and talked with galvanic enthusiasm. -He talked incessantly and his phrases seemed worn threadbare by -previous repetition. MacAdams said nothing, and Helen tried to devise a -way to ask Nichols to stop talking. - -His manner had dropped her outside of consideration, save as a woman -for whom automobile-doors must be opened. She saw that he felt her -presence as a handicap in this affair between men; he apologized for -saying "damn," and his apology conveyed resentment. He was losing her -the sale, and she could not interfere. Her only hope of saving Bert -rested on this sale. She controlled a rising desperation, and smiled at -him. - -They got out of the machine and waded through dusty grass, searching -for surveyor's posts. Nichols pointed out the luxuriant growth of wild -hay, asked MacAdams what he thought of that, continued without a pause -to pour facts and figures upon him, heedless that he received no reply. -They got into the car again and Nichols, pulling a pad of blanks from -his pocket, tried to make MacAdams buy a certain piece of land then -and there. He attacked obliquely, as if expecting to trap MacAdams -into signing his name, and MacAdams answered as warily. "Well, I have -seen worse. And I have seen better." He lighted his pipe and listened -equably. He did not sign his name. - -They drove further down the road and got out again. Helen caught -Nichols' sleeve, and though he shook his arm impatiently she held him -until MacAdams had walked some distance away and picked up a lump of -soil. - -"Leave him to me, please," she said. - -"What do you know about the tract?" - -"Just the same, I wish you'd give me a chance, please." - -"Do you want to sell him or don't you? I know how to handle prospects." - -They spoke quickly. Already MacAdams was turning his head. - -"He's my prospect. And, by God! I'm going to sell him or lose him -myself!" Her words shocked her like a thunderclap, but the shock -steadied her. And Nichols' overthrow was complete. He said hardly a -word when they reached MacAdams. - -Almost in silence they examined that piece of land. MacAdams walked -to each of its corners; he looked at the map for some time; he asked -questions that Nichols answered briefly. He pulled up clumps of grass -and looked at the earth on their roots. At last he walked back to the -machine and leaned against it, lighting his pipe leisurely and looking -out across the tract. The silence was palpitant. When she saw that he -did not mean to break it, Helen asked, "Shall we look at another piece?" - -"No. I've seen enough." - -They got into the machine, and this time Nichols was alone on the front -seat. They drove back toward the tract office. The sun was sinking, and -a gray light lay over the empty fields. Helen felt herself part of it. -She had lost, and nothing mattered any more. She had no more to lose. -She kept up the hopeless effort, but the approaching end was like the -thought of rest to a struggling man who is drowning. - -"What do you think of it, Mr. MacAdams?" - -"Well--I have seen worse." - -"Were you satisfied with the soil?" - -"I wouldn't say anything against it." - -"Would you like us to show you anything more of the water system?" What -did she care about water systems! - -"No." - -The machine stopped before the tract office. They got out. - -"Your man's no good. He's a looker, not a buyer," Nichols said to her -in an aside. - -"He has money and he wants land," she answered wearily. - -"We'll have another go at him. But it's no use." - -They went into the office. A smoky lamp stood on a desk littered with -papers. MacAdams asked when the train left Ripley. Nichols told him -that they had half an hour. They sat down, and Nichols, drawing his -chair briskly to the desk, began. - -"Now, Mr. MacAdams, in buying land you have to consider four things; -land, water, climate, and markets. Our land--" - -She could not go back to Coalinga with him. Probably there would be a -warrant out for her arrest. Oh, Bert! She had done her best, her very -best. There were five dollars left, MacAdams's money. The whole thing -was unreal. She was dreaming it. - -Nichols was leading him up to the decision. MacAdams evaded it. Nichols -began again. The blank form was out now and the fountain-pen ready. - -"You like the piece, don't you? You're satisfied with it. You've found -everything exactly as we represented it. It's the best buy on the -tract. Well, now we'll just close it up." - -MacAdams put his hands in his pockets and gazed at the map on the wall. -"I'm not saying it isn't a good proposition." - -Nichols began again. Was forty acres more than MacAdams wanted to -carry? MacAdams would not exactly say that. Would a change in the terms -be more convenient for him? MacAdams had no fault to find with the -terms. Did the question of getting the land into crop trouble him? No. -Well, then they'd get down to the point. The payments on this piece -would be--"I'll not be missing my train, Mr. Nichols?" - -Patiently Nichols went back to the beginning. Land, water, -transportation, and cli--Helen could endure it no longer. One straight -question would end it, would leave her facing certainty. She leaned -forward and heard her own voice. - -"Mr. MacAdams, you came to look at this land. You've looked at it. Do -you want it?" - -There was one startled, arrested gesture from Nichols. Then they -remained motionless. The clock ticked loudly. Slowly MacAdams leaned -back in his chair, straightened one leg, put his hand into his trouser -pocket. He pulled out a grimy canvas bag. - -"Yes. How much is the first payment?" - -Deliberately he poured out on the desk a heap of golden coins. His -stubby fingers extracted from the sack a wad of banknotes. Nichols was -figuring madly. "Twelve hundred and seventy-three dollars and ninety -cents," he announced in a shaking voice. MacAdams counted it out with -exactness. He signed the contract. Nichols recounted the money and -sealed it in an envelope. They rose. - -Helen found herself stumbling against the side of the automobile, and -felt Nichols squeezing her arm exultantly while he helped her into it. -They had reached Ripley before she was able to think. Then she said -that she would not return to Coalinga with MacAdams. They put him on -the train. - -She told Nichols that she wanted the money and the contract. She was -going to take the next train to San Francisco. He objected. She argued -through a haze, and her greatest difficulty was keeping her voice -clear. But she held tenaciously to her purpose. Later she was on the -train with the contract and Nichols' check drawn to Clark & Hayward. -She slept then and she slept in the taxi-cab on the way to a San -Francisco hotel. She felt that she was asleep while she wrote her name -on a register She shut a door somehow behind a bell-boy, and at last -could sleep undisturbed. - -At nine o'clock the next morning she sat facing Mr. Clark across a big -flat-topped desk. The contract and Nichols' check lay upon it. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Clark was a lean, shrewd-looking man about forty-five years old. -He gave the impression of having kept his nerves at high tension for -so many years that now he must strain them still tighter or relax -altogether. This catastrophe he would have described as "losing his -grip," and Helen felt that he lived in dread of it as the ultimate -calamity. They had been talking for some time. Mr. Clark did not know -where Bert was. - -"My dear young lady, if we had known--" he said, and he stopped because -it would be useless cruelty to complete the sentence. She thought that -he would not be cruel unless there were some purpose to be achieved by -it. There was even a kindly expression in his eyes at times. - -He had explained clearly the situation in which her husband stood. Bert -had persuaded the firm to give him an unlimited letter of credit. "That -young man has a truly remarkable personality as a salesman. He had us -completely up in the air." He had proposed a gigantic selling campaign -in the oil fields, and had so filled Clark & Hayward with his own -enthusiasm that they had given him free rein. - -The campaign had begun with every promise of astounding success. He -had brought huge crowds to hear speakers sent down from the city; had -gathered the names of thousands of "leads"; had imported fifty salesmen -to canvass these names and bring in prospective buyers. Scores of these -had been taken to the land and hundreds more were promised. Clark & -Hayward contemplated hiring special trains for them. - -But expenses were running into disquieting amounts for the actual -results produced. Bert's checks poured in, and there began to be -annoying rumors. The firm had begun a quiet investigation and had -decided that he was spending too much of their money for personal -expenses. Mr. Clark need not go into details. They had withdrawn the -letter of credit and advised creditors in Bakersfield that the firm -would no longer pay Mr. Kennedy's bills. - -Mr. Kennedy had been informed of this. He had taken one of the firm's -automobiles and disappeared. Later his check had come in. Clark & -Hayward could not make that good, in addition to their other losses. -The matter was now entirely out of their hands. Mr. Clark's gesture -placed it in the hands of inscrutable fate. He was more interested in -the MacAdams sale and the unexpected appearance of Helen. - -However, under her insistence he admitted that if the check were made -good, Clark & Hayward could persuade the bank not to press the charge. -Of course the warrant was out, but there were ways. He undertook to -employ them for her, thoughtfully fingering Nichols' check. As to -finding Bert--well, if the police had failed-- - -Helen asked how much Bert owed the firm. Mr. Clark told her that the -sum was roughly five thousand dollars. - -"In thirty days! Why--but--how is it possible?" - -The amount included the cost of the automobile. The balance was Mr. -Kennedy's personal expenses, not included in his arrangement with -the firm. "Wine--ah--" Mr. Clark did not complete the triology. "Mr. -Kennedy's--recreations were expensive?" He would have the account -itemized? - -"Oh, no. It isn't necessary," said Helen. She would like to know only -the exact sum. Mr. Clark pressed a button and asked the girl who -answered it to look up the amount. "And, by the way, have this sale -entered on the books, and a check made out to--?" - -"H. D. Kennedy," said Helen. - -"To H. D. Kennedy for the commissions. Seven and a half per cent." - -"You were paying the other salesmen fifteen per cent.," said Helen. - -That was by special arrangement. The ordinary salesmen in the field -were paid seven and a half percent. Helen accepted the statement, being -unable to refute it. She proposed that she should continue working for -the firm on twelve and a half per cent., five per cent. to apply on -the amount Bert owed them. Mr. Clark countered by offering her ten per -cent. with the same arrangement. She was stubborn, and he yielded. - -Helen came out of the office with three hundred dollars in her -purse. She saw that the sun was shining, and as she walked through -the crowded, familiar streets, passing flower-stands gay with color, -feeling the cool breeze on her face, and seeing white clouds sailing -over Twin Peaks, she felt that the bright day was mocking her. She -understood why most suicides occur on days of sunshine. - -Her life was beginning again, in a new way, among strange surroundings. -She thought that it would be pleasant to be dead. One would be then as -she was, numb, with no emotion, no interest, no concern for anything, -and one would not have to move or think. "Cheer up! What's the use of -wishing you were dead? You will be some day!" she said to herself, -with an effort to be humorous about it. - -She thought that she would go out to the old apartment, pack the things -she had left there, and take them with her. There was a hard bitterness -in the thought that seemed almost sweet to her. To stand unmoved in -that place where she had loved and suffered, to handle with uncaring -hands those objects saturated with memories, would be a desecration of -the past that would prove how utterly dead it was. - -But she did not do it. She telephoned from the station, giving up the -apartment and abandoning the personal belongings in it, leaving her -address for the forwarding of mail. Then she shut her mind against -memories and went back to the oil fields. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - -During the weeks that followed she felt that she was moving in a dream, -a shadow among unrealities. She drove across endless yellow plains that -wavered in the heat. The lines were lax in her hands, her thoughts -hardly moved. Again she had the sensation of gazing upon herself -from an infinite distance, and she saw her whole life very small and -far-away and unimportant. - -It was odd that she should be where she was.--They would reach the -watering-trough soon, and then the horse could drink.--The lake -she saw rippling upon the burning sand was a mirage.--The horse -was not interested in it. Horses must recognize water by smelling -it.--The sunlight struck her hands, and they were turning browner. -Complexions.--How strange that women cared about them.--How strange -that any one cared about anything. - -She reached an oil lease, and part of her brain awoke. It worked so -smoothly that she felt an impersonal pride in it. It was concerned -only with Ripley Farmland Acres. It was intent upon selling them. She -tapped at screen doors, and knew she was being charming to tired women -exhausted by heat and babies. She skirted black pools of oil, climbed -into derricks,--she had learned to call them "rigs,"--and heard herself -talking easily to grimy men beside a swaying steel cable that went -eternally up and down, up and down, in the well-shaft. - -Selling land, she found, was not the difficult and intricate business -she had supposed it to be. California's great estates, the huge Mexican -grants of land now passed to the second and third generations, were -breaking up under the pressure of growing population and increased land -taxes; for the first time in the State's history the land-hunger of the -poor man could be satisfied. Deep in the heart of every man imprisoned -by those burning wastes of desert was the longing for a small bit of -green earth, a home embowered in trees and vines. Her task was to find -the workman who had saved enough money for the first payment, the ten -or twenty per cent. of the purchase price asked by the subdividing -land companies, and having found him to play upon his longing and his -imagination until the pictures she painted meant more to him than his -hoarded savings. - -Half of his first payment was hers; one sale meant to her five hundred -or even a thousand dollars. But while she talked she forgot this; -she thought only of cool water flowing through fields of alfalfa, of -cows knee-deep in grass beneath the shade of oaks, of the fertile -earth blooming in harvests. The skill in handling another's thoughts -before they took form, teamed in her life with Bert, enabled her to -impress these pictures upon her hearer's mind so that they seemed his -own, and grimy men in oil-soaked overalls, listening to her without -combativeness because she was a woman and not to be taken seriously in -business, felt that they must buy this land so temptingly described. - -"I'm not really a land-salesman," she said, believing it. "I know I -can't _sell_ you this land. I can only tell you about it. And then if -you want to buy it, you will. Won't you?" She found that she need only -talk to a sufficient number of men to find one who would buy, and each -sale brought her enough money to give her weeks in which to trudge -from derrick to derrick searching for another buyer. All her life had -narrowed to that search. - -She accumulated a store of facts. Drillers were the best prospects -because they earned good salaries and had steady, straight-thinking -brains. Tool-dressers were younger men, inclined to smartness, harder -to handle. Pumpers were lonely and liked to talk; one must not waste -too much time on them; they made small wages, but would give her -"leads" to good prospects. A superintendent of a wild-cat lease was a -good prospect; approach him with talk of a safe investment. Shallow -fields were poor territory to work; jobs were longer and wages surer -among the deeper wells. At a house ask for a drink of water; on a rig -begin conversation by remarking, "Getting pretty deep, isn't she?" She -was known throughout the fields as the Real-Estate Lady. - -At twilight she drove back to the hotel. Her khaki skirt was spattered -with crude oil; her pongee waist showed streaks of grime where dust had -dried in perspiration. There was sand in its folds, sand in her shoes, -sand in her hair. Her body seemed as lifeless as her emotions, and her -brain had stopped again. She would not dream to-night. - -She smiled again at the hotel clerk. Yes, thank you, business was -fine! There were letters, no word of Bert. Her mother wrote puzzled -and anxious inquiries. What was Helen doing in Coalinga? Was something -wrong? What was her husband doing? Mrs. Updike was telling that she had -seen in the paper--Helen folded the pages. There were a couple of thin -envelopes from Clark & Hayward, announcements of sales, Farm 406--J. D. -Hutchinson; Farms 915-917--H. D. Kennedy. - -It was good to be in bed, feeling unconsciousness creeping over her -like dark, cool water, lapping higher and higher. - -On her third trip to the land with buyers she met Paul's mother -on the main street in Ripley. Mrs. Masters appeared competent and -self-assured, walking briskly from a butcher-shop with some packages on -her arm. She was bare-headed, carrying a parasol above her smooth, gray -hair. Small as she was, there was something formidable in the lines of -her stocky figure and in the crispness of her stiff white shirt-waist. -She looked at Helen with shrewd, interested eyes, and Helen realized -that her hair was untidy, that there was dust on her shoes and on her -blue serge suit. It was dust from the tract where she had just made -another sale. Helen supposed there was dust on her face, too, when she -perceived Mrs. Masters' eyes fixed so intently upon it. - -They shook hands and spoke of the heat. Helen explained that she was -selling land. She had just put one buyer on the Coalinga train and was -waiting in Ripley for another man to meet her next day. - -Mrs. Masters asked her to supper. A realization that meeting her might -be embarrassing to Paul flickered through Helen's mind. She made some -excuse, which Mrs. Masters overruled briskly. The strain of making a -sale had left Helen without energy for resistance. She found they were -walking down the street together, and she tried to rouse herself, as -one struggles under an anesthetic. Mrs. Masters was the first person to -whom she had tried to talk of anything but land, and the effort made -her realize that she had been living in something like delirium. - -They came to the cottage of which Paul had written her long ago. There -was the little white-picket fence, the yard with rose-bushes in it, and -the peach-tree. The graveled walk led to a tiny porch ornamented with -wooden lace work, and through a screen door they went into the parlor. -The shades were drawn to keep the afternoon sun from the flowered -Brussels carpet; the room was cool and dim and rose-scented. There was -a crocheted mat on the oak center-table; cushions stood stiff and plump -on the sofa; in one corner on an easel was an enlarged crayon portrait -of Paul as a little boy. - -There was not a detail of the room that Helen would not have changed, -but as she looked at it tears came unexpectedly into her eyes. -Something was here that she wanted, something that she had always -missed. Currents of indefinable emotion rose in her. Her heart ached, -and suddenly she was shaken by a sense of irretrievable loss. - -"I--I'm very tired. You must forgive me--a very hard day. If I -could--lie down a minute?" She could not stop the quivering of her -lips. Mrs. Masters looked at her curiously, leading her to the bedroom -and folding back an immaculate white spread. Helen, hating herself for -her weakness, took off her hat and lay down. She would be all right in -a minute; she was sorry to make so much trouble; Mrs. Masters must not -bother; she was just a little tired. - -She lay still, hearing the rattling of pans and sizzling of meat -from the kitchen where Mrs. Masters was getting supper. Voices went -by in the street; a dog barked joyously; a shrill whistling passed, -accompanied by the rattle of a stick along the picket fence. The sharp -shadows of vine-leaves on the shade blurred into the twilight. Mrs. -Masters was singing throatily, "Rock of Ages, cleft for me-e-e," while -she set the table. - -It was peace and security and rest. It was all that Helen did not have. -The crudely papered walls enclosed a haven warmed by innumerable homely -satisfactions. How sweet to have no care but the crispness of curtains, -the folding away of linen, the baking of bread! She was an alien spirit -here, with her aching head and heart, her disheveled hair and dusty -shoes. A tear slipped down her cheek and spread into a damp splash on -the white pillow. - -She rose quickly, knowing that she must be stronger than the longing -that shook her. The towel lying across the water pitcher was -embroidered. She had always wanted embroidered towels, and she had made -dozens of them. They had been left in the apartment. She bathed her -face for a long time, dashing cool water on her eyelids. - -The gate clicked, and Paul came whistling up the path. She stood -clutching the towel, shivering with panic. Had she been mad that she -had come to his house? Oh, for anything, anything, that would erase the -past hour, and let her be anywhere but here! She heard his step on the -porch, the bang of the screen door, his voice. "Hello, Mother? Supper -ready?" And at the same time she saw unrolling in her mind the picture -of herself and Mrs. Masters on the sidewalk, heard the definite, polite -excuse she might have made, saw herself going back to the hotel. -She might easily have done that. Why was her life nothing but one -blundering stupidity? She waited until his mother had time to tell him -she was there. Then she went out, smiling, and met him. - -His hand was warm and strong, closing around her cold fingers. He could -not conceal the shock her whiteness and thinness gave him. He stammered -something about it, and reddened. She saw that he felt he had referred -to Bert and hurt her. Yes, she said lightly, the heat in the oil fields -was better than banting. She rather liked it, though, really. And -selling land was fascinating work. She found that she was clinging to -his hand, drawing strength from it, as though she could not let go. She -released her fingers quickly, hoping he had not noticed that second's -delay, which meant nothing, nothing except that she was tired. - -Mrs. Masters sat opposite her at the supper table, and with those -polite, neutral eyes upon her it was hard to make conversation. She -told the story of the MacAdams sale, making it humorous instead of -tragic, trying to keep the talk away from Masonville and the people -there. Paul spoke only to offer her food, to advise a small glass of -his mother's blackberry cordial, and urge her to drink it, to suggest -a cushion for her back. Tears threatened her eyes again, and she -conquered them with a laugh. - -He went with her to the hotel. They walked in silence through -moon-light and shadow, on the tree-bordered graveled sidewalk. Through -lighted cottage windows Helen saw women clearing supper-tables, men -leaning back in easychairs, with cigar and newspaper. They passed -groups of girls, bare-headed, bare-armed, chattering in the moon-light -They spoke to Paul, and Helen felt their curious eyes upon her. -Children were playing in the street; somewhere a baby wailed thinly, -and farther away a piano tinkled. - -"It's very lovely--all this," she said. - -"It suits me," Paul replied. A little later he cleared his throat and -said, "Helen--I--I'm sorry." - -"I'm all right," she said quickly. It was almost as if she had slammed -a door in his face, and she did not want to be rude to him. "I -mean--it's good of you to care. I'd rather not talk about it." - -"I--sometimes I think I could--I could commit murder!" he said thickly. -"When I get to thinking--" - -"Don't," she said. It was some time before he spoke again. - -"Well, if there is ever any chance for me to do anything--I guess you -know I'd be glad to." - -She thanked him. When he left her at the door of the hotel she thanked -him again, and he asked her not to forget. If he could help her with -her sales or the bank people or anything--She said she would surely let -him know. - -It was necessary to sleep, because she had another sale, a hard sale, -to make next day. But she was unable to do it. Long after midnight she -was lying awake, beating the pillows with clenched hands and biting her -lips to keep from sobbing aloud. It seemed to her that all of life was -torture and that she could no longer bear it. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - -Returning to Coalinga after the meeting with Paul, Helen ached -with weariness. But she was alive again. The haze in which she had -been existing was gone. She had risen early that morning, met her -prospective land-buyer at the train, and made the sale. It had been -doubly difficult, because the salesman for Alfalfa Tracts had met the -train, too, and had almost taken the prospect from her, thinking it -would be easy to do because she was only a woman. There was a hard -triumph in her victory. The sale had reduced Bert's debt by another -four hundred dollars, for she could afford now to turn in the entire -commission against it. - -The jolting of the train shock her relaxed body. Her cheek lay against -the rough plush of the chairback, for she was too tired to sit upright. -Against the black square of the window her life arranged itself before -her. How many times she had seen her life lying before her like a -straight road, and had determined what its course and end would be! But -she was older now, and wiser, and able to control her destiny. - -She was a land-salesman; she was a good salesman. This was the only -thing she had saved from wreckage. At least she would succeed in this. -She would make money; she would clear Bert's name, which was hers; she -would buy a little house and make it beautiful. Perhaps Bert would want -to come to it some day and she would have it waiting for him. She knew -that she would never love him as she had loved him, for she saw him -too clearly now, but she felt that their lives were inextricably bound -together and that the tie between them was stronger because he needed -her. - -A letter from Clark & Hayward was in her box at the hotel. She tore it -open quickly. As always, she had a wild thought that it contained news -of Bert. - -It said that the firm had given the oil fields territory to two other -salesmen, Hutchinson and Monroe. The oil fields had proved a good -territory, and it was too large for her to handle alone. She would -turn over to Hutchinson and Monroe any leads she had not followed up. -Doubtless she could make arrangements with them as to commissions; the -firm hoped she would continue to work in the fields; Hutchinson and -Monroe would expect an overage on her sales. Mr. Clark trusted they -would work in harmony, and congratulated her on her success. - -Her first astonishment changed quickly to a cold rage. Did they think -they could take her territory from her? Her territory, that she had -developed herself, alone? After her days and weeks of hard, exhausting -work, after her hours of talking, of distributing advertising, of -making sales that would lead to more sales, they were coming in and -taking the fruits of it away from her? Oh, she would fight! - -The clerk told her that Hutchinson and Monroe had arrived that -afternoon. She asked him to tell them that she would see them in the -parlor at nine o'clock. There would be some slight advantage in making -them come to her. - -She was sitting in the small, stuffy room, her eyes fixed on a -newspaper, when they came in. She felt hard, like a machine of steel, -when she rose smiling to meet them. - -Hutchinson was a tall, angular man, who moved in an easy-going way as -if his body had nothing to do with the loose-fitting, gray clothes he -wore. His eyes were frank, with a humorous expression in them, but -though his face was lean there were deep lines from his nostrils to the -corners of his mouth, and when he smiled, which he did easily, two more -deep lines appeared in his cheeks. - -Monroe was older, shorter, and stout. There was a smooth suavity in -the effect of his neat, dapper person, his heavy gold watch-chain, his -eye-glasses. He removed the glasses at intervals, as if from habit, -wiping them with a silk handkerchief, and at such moments his blandly -paternal manner was accentuated. His eyes were set too close to the -thin bridge of a nose that grew heavy at the tip, but his gray hair, -the kindly patronage of his smile, and his soft, heavy voice were -impressive. - -Helen perceived that both of these men were good salesmen, and that -their working together made a happy combination of opposite abilities. -She saw herself opposing them, an inexperienced girl, and felt that the -odds were overwhelmingly against her. But her determination to fight -was not lessened. - -Upright on a hard red davenport, she argued. The territory was hers. -She had come into it first. She had developed it. She conceded their -right to work there, but not the justice of their demanding part of the -commissions she earned. The stale little room, filled with smells of -heat-blistered varnish and dusty plush, became a battle-ground, and the -high back of the davenport was a wall against which she stood at bay, -confronting these men who had come to rob her. - -But she was a woman. They did not let her forget it. They asked -her permission to smoke, but not her consent to their business -arrangements. They smiled at her arguments. After all, she was of -the sex that must be humored. "My dear Mrs. Kennedy," said Monroe, -gallantly. "Do let us be--ah--reasonable." Their courtesy was perfect. -They would let her talk, since it pleased her to do so. They would -pick up her handkerchief when it slid from her lap. If it was her whim -to work in the oil fields they would even indulge her in it. But she -struck rock when she spoke of commissions. They would take two and a -half per cent. from any sales she made. - -It bored Hutchinson to point out the situation to her, but he did -it, courteously. The firm had given them the territory. They were -experienced salesmen. Naturally, Clark would not leave the territory in -the hands of a young saleswoman, however charming personally. This was -business, he gently explained. They would take two and a half per cent. - -But she was a woman, and a charming one. Their tone implied that some -slight sentimentality existed even in business. On sales they made from -the leads she gave them, they would be generous. They would give her -two and a half per cent. on those. - -At this there was an interval when she sat smiling, speechless with -rage. But she saw that the situation was hopeless. And every one of -those names on her lists was a potential sale that would have paid her -twelve and a half per cent. Anger surged up in her, almost beyond her -control. However, there was no value in fighting when she was beaten. - -They parted on the best of terms; she yielded every point; she would -give them the leads in the morning. She left them satisfied, thinking -that women, while annoying, were not hard to handle. - -In her room she stood shaken by her anger, by resentment and disgust. -"Oh, beastly, beastly!" she said through clenched teeth. Striking her -hand furiously against the edge of the dresser, she felt a physical -pain that was a relief. She was able even to smile, ironically and -wearily. This was the game she had to play, was it? Well--she had to -play it. - -She sat down and from her note-book copied a list of names and -addresses. She chose only those of men to whom she had talked until -convinced they were not land-buyers. In the morning she met Hutchinson -in the lobby and gave him the list. She also insisted on a written -agreement promising her two and a half per cent. commission on sales -made to any of those men. Hutchinson gave it to her in patronizing -good-humor. - -Her buggy was waiting as usual in the shade of the hotel building. She -felt grim satisfaction while she climbed into it and drove away, toward -the Limited lease. Hutchinson and Monroe would work industriously for -some time before they perceived her duplicity, and she did not care -for their opinion when they did discover it. Her own conscience was -harder to handle, but she reflected that she would have to revise -her standards of honesty. "My dear Mrs. Kennedy--ah--really--this is -business." She hoped viciously that Monroe would see that she had -quite understood his words. She made another good sale before they -stopped working on the worthless leads. Their attitude toward her -changed abruptly. - -"You certainly put one over on us," Hutchinson said without malice, and -from that time they regarded her more as an equal than as a woman. - -She was surprised to discover the bitterness developing in her. - - * * * * * - -Often in the evenings she walked in the quiet streets of little houses. -Women were watering the lawns. A cool, sweet odor rose from refreshened -grass and clumps of dripping flowers. Here and there a man leaned -on the handle of a lawnmower, pipe in hand, talking to a neighbor. -Children were playing in the twilight. Their young voices rose in -happy shouts, and their feet pattered on the pavement. Hardness and -bitterness vanished then, and Helen felt only an ache of wistfulness. - -Later, lights bloomed through the deepening night, and the houses -became dark masses framing squares of brightness. Vaguely beyond lace -curtains Helen saw a woman swaying in a rocking-chair, a group of girls -gathered at a piano. From dim porches mothers called the children to -bed, and at an up-stairs window a shade came down like an eyelid. Helen -felt alone and very lonely. She realized that she had been walking for -a long time on tired feet. But she did not want to go back to the -hotel. She must remind herself that to-morrow would be another hard day. - -In the hotel lobby she encountered Hutchinson or Monroe. Sharpness and -hardness came back then. Monroe was able to handle the smart young -tool-dressers; his bland paternal manner crushed them into a paralyzing -sense of their youth and crudeness. He had got hold of a tool-dresser -she had canvassed and hoped to sell. That meant a fight about the -commissions, in which, of course, Hutchinson backed Monroe. She was -still alone, but now she was among enemies. - -"You've got to fight!" she told herself. "Are you going to let them -put it over on you because you're a woman?" She lay awake thinking of -selling arguments, talking points, ways of handling this prospect and -that. Every sale brought her nearer to freedom. Some day she would have -a house, with a big gray living-room, rose curtains, dozens of fine -embroidered towels and tablecloths. She jerked her thoughts back to her -work, angry at herself for letting them stray. But when, triumphantly, -she closed the biggest sale yet,--sixty acres!--she celebrated by -buying a linen lunch cloth stamped in a pattern of wild roses. She sat -in her room in the evenings and embroidered it beautifully with fine -even stitches. - -When it was finished and laundered, she folded it in tissue-paper -and put it carefully away in one of the cheap, warped drawers of her -bureau. Often she took it out, spreading the shining folds over the -foot of her bed and looking at it with joy. It lay in her thoughts like -a nucleus of a future contentment. But when her sister Mabel wrote from -Masonville that she was going to marry the most wonderful man in the -world, Bob Mason, "Old Man" Mason's grandson, who was head clerk of -Robertson's store, the rose lunch cloth became something Helen could -not keep. It was too keenly a symbol of all that she had missed, all -that she wanted her little sister to have. - -It went to Mabel in a rose-lined white box, with a letter and a check. -Mabel's letter, palpitating with happiness and awkwardly triumphant -over the splendid match,--"though of course it makes no difference, -because I would marry him if he was the poorest man on earth, because -money isn't everything, is it?"--had suggested that Helen come home -for the wedding. But this would mean facing curiosity and sympathy and -whispered discussion of her own tragedy, unforgotten, she knew, in -Masonville. She replied that she could not get away from her work, and -read Mabel's relief in the light regrets sprinkled through her radiant -thanks for the check. "And the table-cloth is beautiful, too, one of -the loveliest ones I have." - -"After all, it is good to think that it matters so little to her," -Helen thought quickly. But the letters had shown her the deep gulf time -had dug between her and her girlhood, and the realization increased her -loneliness. Her life went by. Business filled it, and it was empty. - -One day late in the fall she came in early from the oil fields. Over -the level yellow plains a sense of autumn had come, an indefinable -change in the air. She felt another change, too, a vague foreboding, -something altered and restless in the spirit of the men with whom she -had talked. For a week she had not found a new prospect, and two sales -had slipped through her fingers. She stopped at the hotel to get a -newspaper and read the financial news. Then she walked down Main Street -to the little office Hutchinson and Monroe had rented. - -Hutchinson was there, leaning back in a chair, his feet crossed on the -desk. He did not move when she came in, save to lift his eyes from the -sporting page and knock the ashes from his cigar. He accepted her now -as an equal in his own game, and there was respect in his voice. "Well, -how's it coming?" - -"I'm going to get out of the fields," she said. She pushed back her hat -with a tired gesture and dropped into a chair. - -"The hell you say! What's wrong?" Hutchinson set up, dropping the -paper, and leaned forward on the desk. His interest was almost alarmed. -She was making him money. - -"Territory's gone bum. K. T. O. 25 will close down in another two -weeks. The Limited's going to stop drilling. I'm going somewhere else." - -"What! Who told you?" - -"Nobody. I just doped it out." - -He was relieved. He cajoled her. She was tired, he said. She was -working in a streak of bad luck. Every salesman struck it sometime. -Look at him; he hadn't made a sale in four weeks, and he hadn't lost -his nerve. Cheer up! - -She had been considering a plan, and she had chosen the moment -to present it to him. The obliqueness of real-estate methods had -astounded her. She had always supposed that men thought and acted in -straight lines, logical lines. That, she had thought, gave them their -superiority over irrational womankind. But the waste and blindness -of business as she had seen it had altered her opinion of them. Her -plan was logical, but she did not count upon its logic to impress -Hutchinson. She reckoned on the emotional effect that would be produced -by the truth of her prophecy. Letting that prophecy stand, she began to -unfold her plan. - -The big point in making a land sale was getting hold of a good -prospect. That should not be done by personal canvassing. It was too -wasteful of time and energy. It should be done by advertising. Now -Clark & Hayward's advertising was all "Whoop'er up! Come on!" stuff. It -made a bid for suckers. Hutchinson smiled, but she went on. - -Men who would fall for that advertising were not of the class that had -bank accounts. Hutchinson had lost a lot of money trying to sell the -type of men who answered those advertisements. She mentioned incidents, -and Hutchinson's smile faded. - -She proposed a new kind of real-estate advertising; small type, reading -matter, sensible, straight-forward arguments. She was going into a -settled farming community, where land values were high, and she was -going to try out an advertising campaign for farmers. It had been a -good farming year; farmers had money, and they had brains. She was -going to offer them cheap land, and she was going to sell them. - -She had the money to pay for the advertising, but she needed some one -to work with her. She proposed that Hutchinson come in with her on a -fifty-fifty basis. He could have his name on the door; he could make -arrangements with the firm for the territory. They would hesitate to -give it to her. But he knew she could sell land. Together they could -make money. - -Hutchinson did not take the proposition very seriously. She had not -expected that he would. He thought about it, and grinned. - -"I'd have to be mighty careful my wife didn't get wise!" he remarked. - -"Cut that out!" she said in a voice that slashed. She unloosened her -fury at him, at all men, and looked at him with blazing eyes. He -stammered--he didn't mean--"When I talk business to you, don't forget -that it's business," she said. She picked up her wallet of maps and -left the office. As she did so she reflected that the scheme would work -out. - -Ten days later word ran through the oil fields that all the K. T. O. -leases were letting out men. Hutchinson's inquiries showed that the -Limited was not starting any new wells. Monroe, who had saved his -money, announced that he would stop work for the winter. Hutchinson, -remembering that Mrs. Kennedy had funds for an advertising campaign, -decided that her proposition offered a shelter in time of storm. - -They talked it over again, considering the details, and Hutchinson went -to the city to see Clark. He got a small advance on commission, and the -Santa Clara Valley territory. - -On the train, leaving the oil fields for the last time, Helen looked -back at the little station, the sand hills covered with black derricks, -the wide, level desert, and felt that she was leaving behind her the -chrysalis of the woman she had become. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - -On a hot July afternoon three years later she drove a dusty car through -the traffic on Santa Clara Street in San José, and stopped it at the -curb. When she had jumped to the sidewalk she walked around the car and -thoughtfully kicked a ragged tire with a stubby boot. The tire had gone -flat on the Cupertino road, and it was on her mind that she had put too -much air into the patched tube. For two miles she had been expecting to -hear the explosion of another blow-out, and had been too weary to stop -the car and unscrew the air valve. - -"Darn thing's rim-cut, anyway," she said under her breath. "I'll have -to get a new one." She dug her note-book and wallet from the mass of -dusty literature in the tonneau and walked into the building. - -Hutchinson was telephoning when she entered their office on the fourth -floor. A curl of smoke rose from his cigar-end on the flat-topped desk -and drifted through the big open window. There were dusty footprints on -the ingrain rug, and the helter-skelter position of the chairs showed -that prospects had come in during her absence. Hutchinson chuckled when -he hung up the receiver. - -"Ted's going to catch it when he gets home!" he remarked, picking up -the cigar. - -"Stalling his wife again?" Helen was running through her mail. "I -suppose there isn't a man on earth who won't joyfully lie to another -man's wife for him," she added, ripping an envelope. - -"Well, Holy Mike! What would you tell her?" - -Helen looked up quickly from the letter. - -"I'd tell her the--" she began hotly, and stopped. "Oh, I don't know. -I suppose he's got that red-headed girl out in the machine again? He -makes me tired. If you ask me, I think we'd better get rid of him. That -sort of thing doesn't make us any sales." - -There was silence while she ripped open the other letters and glanced -through them. Her momentary anger subsided. She reflected that there -were men on whom one could rely. Her thoughts returned to Paul as to a -point of security. His appearance in San José a few months earlier had -been like the sight of a cool spring in a desert. She had not realized -the scorn for all men that had grown in her until she met him again and -could not feel it for him. - -She glanced from the window at the clock in the tower of the Bank of -San José building. Half-past four. He would still be at the ice-plant. -This thought, popping unexpectedly into her mind, startled her with the -realization that all day she had been subconsciously dwelling on the -fact that it was the day on which he usually came to San José since -his firm had acquired its interests there. - -The clock suggested simultaneously another thought, and she snatched -the telephone-receiver from its hook. "Am I too late for the afternoon -delivery?" she anxiously asked the groceryman who answered the call. -"Oh, thank you. Two heads of lettuce, a dozen eggs, half a pound of -butter. How much are tomatoes? Well, send me a pound. Yes, H. D. -Kennedy, 560 South Green Street. Thank you!" As the receiver clicked -into place, she asked, "Any live ones to-day?" - -"Six callers. Two good prospects and a couple that may work up into -something," Hutchinson answered. "Say, the Seals are certainly handing -it to the Tigers. Won in the fifth inning." - -"That's good," she said absently. "Closed the Haas sale yet?" - -"Oh, he's all right. Tied up solid." Hutchinson yawned. "How's your -man?" - -"Dated him for the land next Wednesday. He's live, but hard to handle. -Taking him down in the machine." - -"Machine all right?" - -"Engine needs overhauling, and we've got to get a new rear tire and -some tubes. Two blow-outs to-day. Time's too valuable to spend it -jacking up cars in this heat. I'm all in. But I can nurse the engine -along till I get back from this trip." She felt that each sentence was -a load she must lift with her voice. "I'm all in," she repeated. "Guess -I'll call it a day." - -However, she still sat relaxed in her chair, looking out at the quaint -old red-brick buildings across the street. San José, she thought -whimsically, was like a sturdy old geranium plant, woody-stemmed, whose -roots were thick in every foot of the Santa Clara Valley. She felt an -affection for the town, for the miles of orchard around it, interlaced -with trolley-lines, for the thousands of bungalows on ranches no larger -than gardens. Some day she would like to handle a sub-division of acre -tracts, she thought, and build a hundred bungalows herself. - -She brought her thoughts back to the Haas sale, and spoke of it -tentatively. It was all right, Hutchinson assured her with some -annoyance. The old man was tied up solid. He'd sign the final contract -as soon as he got his money, and he had written for it. What did Helen -want to crab about it for? - -"I don't mean to be a crab," she smiled. "But--do you know the -definition of a pessimist? He's a man who's lived too long with an -optimist." - -Hutchinson covered his bewilderment with a laugh. - -"You know, I've often thought I'd look up that word. I see it every -once in a while. Pessimist. But what's the use? You don't need words -like that to sell land." - -She had been stupid again, aiming over his head. He was right. You -didn't need words like that to sell land. You didn't need any of the -things she liked, to sell land. She was a fool. She was tired. But she -returned to the Haas sale. The subject must be handled carefully, for -Hutchinson was too good a salesman to offend, though he was lazy. Where -was Haas's money? Hutchinson replied that it was banked in the old -country, Germany. - -"Germany! And he's written for it? For the love of--! You grab the -machine and chase out there and make him cable. Pay for the cable. Send -it yourself. Tell 'em to cable the money. Haven't you seen the papers?" - -Hutchinson, surrounded by scattered sporting sheets, stared up at her -in amazement. - -"Don't you know Austria sent an ultimatum to Servia? Haven't you ever -heard of the Balkan Wars? Don't you know if Russia--Good Lord, man! -And you're letting that money lie in Germany waiting for a letter? -Beat it out there. Make him cable. I'll pay for it myself. Good Lord, -Hutchinson--a fifty acre sale! Don't stop to talk. The cable-office -closes at six. Hurry! And look out for that rear left tire!" she opened -the door to call after him. - -The brief flurry of excitement had raised in her an exhilaration that -vanished in a sense of futility and shame. "I'm getting so I swear -like--like a land-salesman!" she said to herself, straightening her -hat before the mirror. There was a streak of dust on her nose, and she -wiped it off with a towel, and tucked up straggling locks of hair. In -the dark strand over one temple a few white lines shone like silver. -"I'm wearing out," she said, looking at them and at her skin, tanned to -a smooth brown. Nobody cared. Why should she carefully save herself? -She shut the closet door on her mirrored reflection, locked the office -door, and went home. - -The small, brown bungalow looked at her with empty eyes. The locked -front door and the dry leaves scattered from the rose-vines over the -porch gave the place a deserted appearance. At all the other houses on -the street the doors were open; children played on the lawns, wicker -tables and rocking-chairs and carelessly dropped magazines made the -porches homelike. There was pity in her rush of affection for the -little house; she felt toward it as she might have felt toward an -animal she loved, waiting in loneliness for her coming to make it happy. - -The door opened wide into the small square hall, and in the stirred -air a few rose petals drifted downward from the bowl of roses on the -walnut table. She unlatched and swung back the casement windows in the -living-room. Then she dropped her hat and purse among the cushions -on the window-seat, and straightening her body to its full height, -relaxed again in a long, contented sigh. A weight slipped from her -spirit. She was at home. - -Her lingering glance caressed the rose-colored curtains rustling softly -in the faint breeze, the flat cream walls, the brown rugs, the brick -hearth on which piled sticks waited for a match. There was her wicker -sewing-basket, and beyond it the crowded book shelves. Here was the -quaint, walnut desk she had found at a second-hand store, and the -big, mannish chair with the brown leather cushions. It was all hers, -her very own. She had made it. She was at home, and free. The silence -around her was like cool water on a hot face. - -In the white-tiled bathroom, with its yellow curtains, yellow bath -rug, yellow-bordered fluffy bath-towels, she washed the last memory -of the office from her. She reveled in the daintiness of sheer, -hand-embroidered underwear, in the crispness of the white dress she -slipped over her head. She put on her feet the most frivolous of -slippers, with beaded toes and high heels. - -"You're a sybarite, that's what you are! You're a beastly sensualist!" -she laughed at herself in the mirror. "And you're leading a double -life. 'Out, damned spot!'" she added, to the brown triangle of tan on -her neck. - -For an hour she was happy. Aproned in blue gingham she watered the -lawn and hosed the last swirling leaf from the front porch. She said -a word or two about roses to the woman next door. They were not very -friendly; all the women on that street looked at her across the gulf of -uncomprehension between quiet, homekeeping women and the vague world -of business. They did not quite know how to take her; they thought her -odd. She felt that their lives were cozy and safe, but very small. - -Then she went into the kitchen. She made a salad, broke the eggs for an -omelet, debated with finger at her lip whether to make popovers. They -were fun to make, because of the uncertainty about their popping, but -somehow they were difficult to eat while one read. One could manage -bread-and-butter sandwiches without lifting eyes from the page Odd, -that she should be lonely only while she ate. The moment she laid down -her book at the table the silence of the house closed around her coldly. - -She would not have said that she was waiting for anything, but an -obscure suspense prolonged her hesitation over the trivial question. -When the telephone-bell pealed startlingly through the stillness it -was like an awaited summons, and she ran to answer it without doubting -whose voice she would hear. - -As always, there was some excuse for Paul's telephoning,--a message -from his mother, a bit of news from Ripley Farmland Acres,--some -negligible matter which she heard without listening, knowing that to -both of them it was unimportant. The nickel mouthpiece reflected an -amused dimple in her cheek, and there was a lilt in her voice when she -thanked him. She asked him to come to supper. His hesitation was a -struggle with longing. She insisted, and when she hung up the receiver -the house had suddenly become warmed and glowing. - -She felt a new zest while she took her prettiest lunch cloth from its -lavender-scented drawer and brought in a bunch of roses, stopping to -tuck one in her belt. She felt, too, that she was pushing back into the -depths of her mind many thoughts and emotions that struggled to emerge. -She shut her eyes to them, and resisted blindly. It was better to see -only the placid surface of the moment. She concentrated her attention -upon the popovers, and the egg-beater was humming in her hands when she -heard his step on the porch. - -It was a quick, heavy step, masculine and determined, but always there -was something boyishly eager in it. - -She called to him through the open doors, and when he came in she gave -him a floury hand, pushing a lock of hair back from her eyes with the -back of it before she went on beating the popovers. He stood awkwardly -about while she poured the mixture into the hot tins and quickly slid -it into the oven, but she knew he enjoyed being there. - -The table was set on the screened side porch. White passion flowers -fluttered like moths among the green leaves that curtained it, and in -an open space a great, yellow rose tapped gently against the screen. -The twilight was filled with a soft, orange glow; above the gray roofs -half the sky was yellow and the small clouds were like flakes of -shining gold. - -There came over Helen the strange, uncanny sensation that sometime, -somewhere, she had lived through this moment once before. She ignored -it, smiling across the white cloth at Paul. She liked to see him -sitting there, his square shoulders sturdy in the gray business suit, -his lips firm, tight at the corners, his eyes a little stern, but -straight-forward and honest. He gave an impression of solidity and -permanence; one would always know where to find him. - -"You're certainly some cook, Helen!" he said. The omelet was delicious, -and the popovers a triumph. She ate only one, that he might have the -others, and his enjoyment of them gave her a deep delight. - -Across the little table a subtle current vibrated between them, -intoxicating her, making her a little dizzy with emotions she would not -analyze. - -"I certainly am!" she laughed. "The cook-stove lost a genius when -I became a real-estate lady." She was not blind to the shadow that -crossed his face, but part of her intoxication was a perverseness that -did not mind annoying him just a little bit. - -"I hate to think about it," he said. His gravity shattered the -iridescent glamor, making her grave, too, and the prosaic atmosphere of -the office and its problems surrounded her. - -"Well, you may not have it to think about much longer. What do you -think? Is there going to be real trouble in Europe?" - -"How do you mean?" - -"War?" - -"Oh, I doubt it. Not in this day and age. We've got beyond that, I -hope." His casual dismissal of the possibility was a relief to her, but -not quite an assurance. - -"I hope so." She stirred her coffee, thoughtfully watching the glimmer -of the spoon in the golden-brown depths. "I'll be glad when it blows -over. That Balkan situation--If Austria stands by her ultimatum, and -Servia does pull Russia into it, there's Germany. I don't know much -about world politics, but one thing's certain. If there is war, the -bottom'll drop out of my business." - -He was startled. - -"I don't know what it's got to do with us over here." - -"It hasn't anything to do with you or your affairs. But farmers are the -most cautious class on earth. The minute there is a real storm cloud in -Europe every one of 'em'll draw in his money and sit on it. The land -game's entirely a matter of psychology. Let the papers begin yelling, -'War!' though it's eight thousand miles away, and every prospect I -have will figure that good hard cash in hand is better than a mortgage -with him on the wrong side of it. That means thumbs down for me. It's -hard enough to keep up the office expenses and pay garage bills as it -is." - -Alarm was driven from his face by a chaos of emotions. He flushed -darkly, his eyes on his plate. "You oughtn't to have to be worrying -about such things." - -"Oh, I won't mind if it does happen," she said quickly. "In a way, I'd -be glad. I'd be out of business anyway; I'd find something else to do. -Nobody knows how I hate business--nothing but an exploiting of stupid -people by people just a little less stupid." - -She caught at the impersonality of the subject, trying to control -the intoxication that rose in her again, fed by his silence, by the -currents it set vibrating between them once more. She threw her words -into it as if their hard-matter-of-factness would break a growing spell. - -"Six-tenths of our business can be wiped out without doing any harm. -A real-estate salesman hasn't any real reason for existing. We're -just a barrier between the land and the people who want it. We aren't -needed a bit. The people would simply take the land if they weren't -like horses, too stupid to know their own strength, letting us grow -fat on their labor. Hoffman, owning the land and making a hundred per -cent. on its sale; Clark & Hayward, with their fifty per cent. expenses -and commissions; me, with my fifteen per cent, and the salesman under -me--we're just a lot of parasites living off the land without giving -anything in return. Oh, don't think I don't know how useless these last -three years--" - -She knew he was not listening. Nothing she was saying set his cup -chattering against the saucer as he put it down. The twilight was -prolonged by the first radiance of a rising moon, and in the strange, -silver-gray light the white passion flowers, the green spray of the -pepper-tree on the lawn, took on an unearthly quality, like beauty in -a dream. Her voice wavered into silence. Through a haze she became -aware that he was about to speak. Her own words forestalled him, still -pleasantly commonplace. - -"It's getting dark, isn't it? Let's go in and light the lamps." - -His footsteps followed her through the ghostly dimness of the house. -The floor seemed far beneath her feet, and through her quivering -emotions shot a gleam of amusement. She was feeling like a girl in -her teens! Her hand sought the electric light-switch as it might have -clutched at a life-line. - -"Helen, wait a minute!" She started, stopped, her arm out-stretched -toward the wall "I've got to say something." - -The tortured determination of his voice told her that the coming moment -could not be evaded. A cool, accustomed steadiness of nerves and -brain rose to meet it. She crossed the room, and switched on the tiny -desk-lamp, the golden-shaded light of which only warmed the dusk. But -her opened lips made no sound; she indicated the big, leather chair -only with a gesture, settling herself on the cushioned window-seat. -He remained standing, his hands in his coat-pockets, his gaze on the -fingers interlaced on her knees. - -"You're a married woman." - -A shock ran through her. She had worn those old bonds so long without -feeling them that she had forgotten they were there. Why--why, she was -herself, H. D. Kennedy, salesman, office-manager, householder. - -His voice went on stubbornly, hoarse. - -"I haven't got any right to talk this way. But, Helen, what are you -going to do? Don't you see I've got to know? Don't you see I can't go -on? It isn't fair." He faltered, dragging out the words as though by -muscular effort. "It isn't fair to--him. Or me or you. Helen, if--if -things do go to pieces, as you said--can't you see I'll--just have to -be in a position to _do_ something?" - -The tremulous intoxication was gone. Her composed self-possession of -the moment before seemed a cheap, smug attitude. She saw a naked, -tortured soul, and the stillness of the room was reflected in the -stillness within her. - -"What do you want me to do?" she said at last. - -He walked to the cold hearth and stood looking down at the piled -sticks. His voice, coming from the shadows, sounded as though muffled -by them. "Tell me--do you still care about him?" - -All the wasted love and broken hopes, the muddied, miserable tangle -of living, swept over her, the suffering that had been buried by many -days, the memories she had locked away and smothered, Bert, and all -that he had been to her. And now she could not remember his face. She -could not see him clearly in her mind; she did not know where he was. -When had she thought of him last? - -"No," she said. - -"Then--can't you?" - -"Divorce, you mean?" - -Paul came back to her, and she saw that he was even more shaken than -she. He spoke thickly, painfully. He had never thought that he would do -such a thing. God knew, he said without irreverence, that he did not -believe in divorce. Not usually. But in this case--He had never thought -he could love another man's wife. He had tried not to. But she was so -alone. And he had loved her long ago. She had not forgotten that? It -hadn't been easy to keep on all these years without her. And then when -she had been treated so, and he couldn't do anything. - -But it wasn't altogether that. Not all unselfish, "I--I've wanted -you so! You don't know how I've wanted you. Nobody ever seems to -think that a man wants to be loved and have somebody caring just -about him, somebody that's glad when he comes home, and that--that -cares when he's blue. We--we aren't supposed to feel like that. But -we do. I do--terribly. Not just 'somebody.' It's always been you I -wanted. Nobody else. Oh, there were girls. I even tried to think that -maybe--but somehow, none of them were you. I couldn't help coming back." - -"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she said, with tears on her cheeks. - -Perhaps, after all, forgetting the past and the things that had been -between them, they could come together again and be happy. But he was -tortured by a dread of being unfair to Bert. If she did still care for -him, if he had any rights.--"Of course he has rights. He's your--I -never thought that I could talk like this to a woman who hadn't any -right to listen to me." - -"Hush! Of course I have a right to listen to you. I have every right to -do as I please with myself." - -The tragedy that shook her was that it was true, that all the passion -and beauty of her old love for Bert was dead, lying like a corpse in -her heart, never to be awakened and never utterly forgotten. "I will -be free," she promised, knowing that she never would be. But in her -deepest tenderness toward Paul she could shut her eyes to that. - -The promise made him happy. Despite his doubts, his restless conscience -not quite silenced, he was happy, and his happiness was reflected in -her. Something of magic revived, making the moment glamorous. She need -not think of the future; she need made no promises beyond that one. "I -will be free." A year, a year at least. Then they would plan. - -For the moment her tenderness enfolded him, who loved her so much, so -much that she could never give him enough to repay him. It came to her -in a clear flash of thought through one of their silences that the -maternal quality in a woman's love is not so much due to the mother in -the woman as to the child in the man. - -"You dear!" she said. - -He had to go at last. The morning train for Ripley, but he would write -her every day. "And you'll see--about it--right away?" - -"Yes, right away." The leaves of the rose-vines over the porch rustled -softly; a scented petal floated down through the moon-light. "Good-by, -dear." - -"Good-by." He hesitated, holding her hand. "Oh, Helen,-- -_sweetheart_--" Then, quickly, he went without kissing her. - -She entered a house filled with a silence that turned to her many -faces, and switching out the little lamp she sat a long time in the -darkness, looking out at the moonlit lawn. She was tired. It was good -to be alone in the stillness, not to think, but to feel herself slowly -growing quiet and composed again around a quietly happy heart. - -Something of the glow went with her to the office next morning, -stayed with her all day, while she talked sub-soils, water-depths, -prices, terms, while she answered her letters, wrote her next week's -advertising, corrected proofs. The news in the papers was disquieting; -it appeared that the cloud over Europe was growing blacker. How long -would it be if war did come before its effects reached her territory, -slowly cut off her sales? Ted Collin's bill for gasoline was out of all -reason; there was a heated discussion in the office, telephone messages -to Clark in San Francisco. Business details engulfed her. - -On Wednesday she took her difficult prospect to the Sacramento lands -in the machine. He was hard to handle; salesmen for other tracts had -clouded the clear issue. She fell back on the old expedient of showing -him all those other tracts herself, with a fair-seeming impartiality -that damned them by indirection. There was no time for dreaming during -those hard three days; toiling over dusty fields with a soil-augur, -skilfully countering objections before they took form, nursing an -engine that coughed on three cylinders, dragging the man at last by -sheer force of will power to the point of signing on the dotted line. -She came exhausted into the Sacramento hotel late the third night, with -no thought in her mind but a bath and bed. - -Stopping at the telegraph counter to wire the firm that the sale was -closed, she heard a remembered voice at her elbow, and turned. - -"Mr. Monroe! You're up here too! How's it going?" She gave him a -dust-grimed hand. - -"Well, I'm not complaining, Mrs. Kennedy--not complaining. Just closed -thirty-five acres. And how are you? Fortune smiling, I hope?" - -"Just got in from the tract. Sold a couple of twenty-acre pieces." - -"Well, well, is that so? Fine work, fine work! Keep it up. It's a -pleasure to see a young lady doing so well. Well, well, and so you've -been out on the tract! I wonder if you've seen Gilbert yet?" His shrewd -old gossip-loving eyes were upon her. She turned to her message on the -counter, and after a pause of gazing blindly at it, she scrawled, "H. -D. Kennedy," clearly below it. "Send collect," she said to the girl, -and over her shoulder, "Gilbert who? Not my husband?" - -Yes. Monroe had run across him in San Francisco, and he was looking -well, very well indeed. Had asked about her; Monroe had told him she -was in San José. "But if you were on the tract, no doubt he failed to -find you?" - -"Yes," she said. "I've been lost to the world for three days. Showed my -prospect every inch of land between here and Patterson. You know how it -is. I'm all in. Well, good-by. Good luck." As she crossed the lobby to -the elevator she heard her heels clicking on the mosaic floor, and knew -she was walking with her usual quick, firm step. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - -Sleep was impossible. Helen's exhausted nerves reacted in feverish -tenseness to the shock of this unexpected news of Bert. From long -experience she knew that in this half-delirious state she could not -trust her reasoning, must not accept seriously its conclusions, but she -could not stop her thoughts. They scurried uncontrolled through her -brain as if driven by a life of their own. She could only endure them -until her over-taxed body crushed them with its tired weight. To-morrow -she would be able to think. - -In the square hotel room, under the garish light that emphasized the -ugliness of red carpet and varnished mahogany furniture, she moved -about as usual, opening the windows, hanging up her hat and coat, -unfastening her bag. She did not forget the customary pleasant word to -the bell-boy who brought ice-water, and he saw nothing unusual in her -white face and bright eyes. This hotel saw her only on her return trips -from the tract, and she was always exhausted after making or losing a -sale. She locked the door behind him, and began to undress. - -Paul must pot be involved. She must manage to shield him. A sensation -of nausea swept over her. The vulgarity, the cheap coarseness of it! -But she must not think. She was too tired. Why had she blundered into -such a situation? What change had the years made in Bert? Her thoughts, -touching him, recoiled. She would not think of Paul. To have the -two in her mind together was intolerable, it was the essence of her -humiliation. Married to one man, bound to him by a thousand memories -that rushed upon her, and loving another, engaged to him! No fine, -self-respecting woman could be in such a position. But she was. She -must face that fact. No, she must not face it Not until she was rested, -in command of herself. - -She bathed, scrubbing her skin until it glowed painfully. Cold-cream -was not enough for her face and hands. She rubbed them with soap, with -harsh towels. At midnight she was washing her hair. If only she could -slip out of her body, run away from herself into a new personality, -forget completely all that she was or had been! - -This was hysteria, she told herself. "Only hold on, have patience, -wait. The days will go past you. Life clears itself, like running -water. It will be all right somehow. Don't try to think. You're too -tired." - -At dawn her eyelids were weary at last, and she fell asleep. She -prolonged the sleep consciously, half waking at intervals as the day -grew brighter, pulling oblivion over her head again to shield herself -from living, as a child hides beneath a quilt to keep away darkness. - -Outside the world had awakened, going busily about its affairs -while the day passed over it. The noise of the streets, voices, -automobile-horns, rumbling wheels, came through the open windows with -the hot sunshine, running like the sound of a river through her sleep. -She awoke in the late afternoon, heavy-lidded, with creased cheeks, but -once more quietly self-controlled. - -Refreshed by a cold plunge, crisply dressed, composed, she ate dinner -in the big, softly lighted dining-room, nodding across white tables -to the business men she knew. Then, led by an impulse she did net -question, she went out into the crowded streets. With her walked -the ghost of the girl who had come down from Masonville, dazzled, -wide-eyed, so pitifully sure of herself, to learn to telegraph. - -Sacramento had changed. It had been a big town; it was now a city, -radiating interurban lines, thrusting tall buildings toward the sky, -smudging that sky with the smoke of factories and canneries. Its -streets were sluggishly moving floods of automobiles; its wharves were -crowded with boats; across the wide, yellow river spans of new bridges -were reaching toward each other. - -All the statistics of the city's growth, of the great reclamation -projects, of the rich farms spreading over the old grain lands, were -at Helen's finger-tips. A hundred times she had gone over them, drawn -conclusions from them, pounded home-selling arguments with them, since -she had added Sacramento valley lands to the San Joaquin properties she -handled. But more eloquently her reviving memories showed her the gulf -between the old days and the new. - -Mrs. Brown's little restaurant and the room where Helen had lived, -were gone. In their place stood a six-story office building of raw new -brick. That imposing street down which she had stumbled awkwardly after -Mrs. Campbell was now a row of dingy boarding-houses. Mrs. Campbell's -house itself, once so awe-inspiring, had become a disconsolate building -with peeling paint, standing in a ragged lawn, and across the porch -where she and Paul had said good-by in the dawn there was now a black -and gold sign, "Ah Wong, Chinese Herb Doctor." She went quickly past it. - -For the first time in the hurried years her thoughts turned inward, -self-questioning, and she tried to follow step by step the changes that -had taken place in her. But she could not see them clearly for the -memory of the girl that she had been, a girl she saw now as a piteous -young thing quite outside herself, a lovely, emotional, valiant young -struggler against unknown odds. She felt an aching compassion, a -longing to shield that girl from the life she had faced with such blind -courage, to save her youth and sweetness. But the girl, of course, -was gone, like the room from which she had looked so eagerly at the -automobile. - -It was eleven o'clock when she walked briskly through the groups in the -hotel lobby, took her key from the room clerk and left a call for the -early San Francisco train. She would reach the city in time to get the -final contracts for the sale she had made yesterday, to take them to -San José and get them signed the same day. The thought of Bert lay like -a menace in the back of her mind, but she kept it there. She could not -foresee what would happen; she would meet it when it occurred. Meantime -she would go about her work as usual. Her attitude toward the future, -her attitude toward even herself, was one of waiting. She fell quietly -asleep. - -On the train next morning she bought the San Francisco papers. The -headlines screamed the news at her. It was war. She missed one train -to San José in order to talk to Mr. Clark. The news had made no change -in the atmosphere of Clark & Hayward's wide, clean-looking office, -where salesmen lounged against the counters, their elbows resting on -plate glass that covered surveyor's maps and photographs of alfalfa -fields. The talk, as she stopped to speak to one and another, was the -usual news of sales made and lost, quarrels over commissions, personal -gossip. She waited her turn to enter Mr. Clark's office, and when it -came she looked at him with a keenness hidden under the friendliness of -her eyes. - -She liked to talk to Mr. Clark. Three years of working with him had -brought her an understanding of this nervous, quick-witted, harassed -man. There was comradeship between them, a sympathy tempered by -wariness on both sides. Neither would have lost the slightest business -advantage for the other, but beyond that necessary antagonism they -were friends. She watched with pleasure the quick play of his mind, -managing hers as he would have handled the thoughts of a buyer; she was -conscious that he saw the motives behind her method of counter-attack; -a business interview between them was like a friendly bout between -fencers. But he spoke to her sometimes of the wife and children whose -pictures were on his desk; she knew how deeply he was devoted to them. -And once, during an idle evening in a Stockton hotel, he had held her -breathless with the whole story of his business career, talking to her -as he might have talked to himself. - -To-day there seemed to her an added shade of effort in his briskly -cheerful manner. The lines around his shrewd eyes had deepened since -she first knew him, and it struck her, as she settled into the chair -facing his across the flat desk, that his hair was quite gray. With -the alert, keen expression taken from his face he would appear an old -man. - -This expression was intensified when she spoke of the war, questioned -its effect on the business. It would have no effect, he assured her. -The future had never been brighter; Sacramento lands were booming; -fifty new settlers were going into Ripley Farmland Acres that fall. -Chaos on the stock market would make the solid investment values of -land even more apparent. If the war lasted a year or longer the prices -of American crops would rise. - -"I was wondering about the psychological effect," she murmured. Mr. -Clark ran a nervous hand through his hair. - -"Oh, that's all right. High prices will take care of the buyer's -psychology." - -She laughed. - -"While you take care of the salesman's." A twinkle in his eyes answered -the smile in hers, but she spoke again before he replied. "Mr. Clark, -I'd like to ask you something--rather personal. What do you really get -out of business?" - -A quizzical smile deepened the lines around his mouth. - -"Well, I got two million dollars out of it in the Portland boom! It's -a game," he said after a moment. "Just a game. That's all. I've made -two fortunes--you know that--and lost them. And now I'm climbing up -again. Oh, if I had it to do over again, I--" He changed the words on -his lips,--"I'd do the same thing. No doubt about it. We all think we -wouldn't, but we would. We don't make our lives. They make us." - -"Fatalist?" - -"Fatalist." They smiled at each other again as she rose and held out -her hand. He kept it a moment in a steadying grasp. "By the way, have -you heard that your husband's around?" - -"Yes." She thanked him with her eyes. "Good-by." - -She was oppressed by a sense of futility, of the hopeless muddle of -living, while the train carried her down the peninsula toward San José. -To escape from it she concentrated her attention on the afternoon -papers. - -They were filled with wild rumors, with names of strange towns in -Belgium, a mass of clamoring bulletins, confusing, yet somehow making -clear a picture of gray hordes moving, irresistible as a monstrous -machine, toward France, toward Paris. She was surprised by her passion -of resistance. Intolerable, that the Germans should march into Paris! -Why should she care so fiercely, she who knew nothing of Paris, nothing -but chance scraps of facts about Europe? - -"I must learn French," she said to herself, and was appalled by the -multitude of things she did not know, both without and within herself. - -The unsigned contracts in their long manila envelope were like an -anchor in a tossing sea. She must get them signed that night. It was -something to do, a definite action. She telephoned from the station, -making an appointment with the buyer, and felt the familiar routine -closing around her again while the street-car carried her down First -Street to her office. - -Bert was sitting in her chair, smoking and talking enthusiastically to -Hutchinson, when she opened the door. The shock petrified them all. -The two men stared at her, Hutchinson's expression of easy good humor -frozen on his face; Bert's hand, extended in the old, flashing gesture, -suspended in the air. The door closed behind her. - -Later she remembered Hutchinson's blood-red face, his awkward, even -comical, efforts to stammer that he hadn't expected her, that he must -be going, his blind search for his hat, his confused departure. At the -moment she seemed to be advancing to meet Bert in an otherwise empty -room, and though she felt herself trembling from head to foot her hands -and her voice were quite steady. - -"How do you do?" she said, beginning to unbutton her gloves: - -Though she had not been able to remember his face, it was as familiar -as if she had seen it every day; the low white forehead with the lock -of fair hair across it, the bright eyes, the aquiline nose, the rather -shapeless mouth--No, she had not remembered that his mouth was like -that. Her experienced eye saw self-indulgence and dissipation in the -soft flesh of his cheeks, the faint puffiness of the eyelids. Her -trembling was increasing, but it did not affect her. She was quite cool -and controlled. - -She heard unmoved his cajoling, confident expostulation. That was a -nice way to meet a man when he'd come--she brushed aside his embracing -arm with a movement of her shoulder. "We'd better sit down. Pardon -me." She took the chair he had left, her own chair, from which she had -handled so many land-buyers. - -"God, but you're hard!" His accusation held an unwilling admiration. -She saw that the way to lose this man was to cling to him; he wanted -her now, because she had no need of him. Memories of all the wasted -love, the self-surrender and faith she had given him, for which he had -not cared at all, which he had never seen or known how to value, came -back to her in a flood of pain. Her lips tightened, and looking at him -across the desk, she said: - -"Do you think so? I'm sorry. But--just what do you want?" - -He met her eyes for a moment, and she saw his effort to adjust himself, -his falling back upon his old self-confidence in bending other minds -to his desires. He could not believe that any one would successfully -resist him, that any woman was impervious to his charm. And suddenly -she felt hard, hard through and through. She wanted to hurt him -cruelly; she wanted to tear and wound his self-centered egotism, to -reach somewhere a sensitive spot in him and stab it. - -He wanted her, he said. He wanted his wife. She heard in his voice a -note she knew, the deep, caressing tone he kept for women, and she saw -that he used it skilfully, aware of its effect. - -He had gone through hell. "Through _hell_," he repeated vibrantly. -He did not expect her to understand. She was a woman. She could not -realize the tortures of remorse, the agonies of soul, the miseries -of those years without her. He sketched them for her, with voice and -gestures appealing to her pity. He had been a brute to her; he had been -a yellow cur to leave her so. He admitted it, magnificently humble. - -He had promised himself that he would not come back to her until he was -on his feet again. He had reformed. He was going to work. He was going -to cut out the booze. Already he had the most glittering prospects. -Fer de Leon, the king of patent-medicine men, was going to put on a -tremendous campaign in Australia. Fer de Leon had absolute confidence -in him; he could sign a contract at any time for fifteen thousand a -year. - -He wanted her to come with him. He needed her. With her beside him he -could resist all temptations. She was an angel; she was the only woman -he had ever really loved and respected. With her he could do anything. -Without her he would be hopeless, heartsick. God only knew what would -happen. "You'll forgive me, won't you? You won't turn me down. You'll -give me another chance?" - -She was looking down at her hands, unable any longer to read what her -eyes saw in him. Her hands lay folded on the edge of the desk, composed -and quiet, not moved at all by the sick trembling that was shaking her. -The desire to hurt him was gone. His appeal to her pity had dissolved -it in contempt. - -"I'm sorry," she said with effort. "I hope you--you will go on -and--succeed in everything. I know you will, of course." She said it in -a tone of strong conviction, trying now to save his egotism. She did -not want to hurt him. "I know you have done the best you could. It's -all right. It isn't anything you've done. I don't blame you for that. -But it seems to me--" - -"Good God! How can you be so cold?" he cried. - -Even her hands were shaking now, and she quieted them by clasping -them together. "Perhaps I am cold," she said. "You see already that -we couldn't--make a success of it. It isn't your fault. We just -don't--suit each other. We never did really. It was all a mistake." Her -throat contracted. - -"So it's another man!" he said. "I might have known it." - -"No." She was quiet even under the sneer. "It isn't that. But there -was never anything to build on between you and me. You think you want -me now only because you can't have me. So it will not really hurt -you if I get a divorce. And I'd rather do that. Then we can both -start again--with clean slates. And I hope you will succeed. And have -everything you want." She rose, one hand heavily on the desk, and held -out the other. "Good-by." - -Her attempt to end the scene with frankness and dignity failed. He -could not believe that he had lost this object he had attempted to -gain. His wounded vanity demanded that he conquer her resistance. He -recalled their memories of happiness, tried to sway her with pictures -of the future he would give her, appealed to generosity, to pity, to -admiration. He played upon every chord of the feminine heart that he -knew. - -She stood immovable, sick with misery, and saw behind his words -the motives that prompted them, self-love, self-assurance, baffled -antagonism. She felt again, as something outside herself, the -magnetism, the force like an electric current, that had conquered her -once. - -"I really wish you would go," she said. "All this gains nothing for -either of us." At last he went. - -"You women are all alike. Don't think you've fooled me. It's another -man with more money. If I were not a gentleman you wouldn't get away so -easily with this divorce talk. But I am. Go get it!" The door crashed -behind him. - -She did not move for a long moment. Then she went into the inner -office, locked the door behind her, and sat down. Her glance fell on -her clenched hands. She had not worn her wedding-ring for some time, -but the finger was still narrowed a little, and on the inner side a -smooth, white mark showed where it had been. Quietly she folded her -arms on the desk and hid her face against them. After a little while -she began to sob, rough, hard sobs that tore her throat and forced a -few burning tears from her eyes. - -An hour went by, and another. She was roused, then, by the sound of -steps in the outer office. Doubtless a prospect had come in. She lifted -her head, and waited, without moving, until the steps went out again. -The noise of the streets came up to her as usual; street-cars clanged -past, a newsboy cried an extra. Across the corner the hands of the -clock in the Bank of San José building marked off the minutes with -little jerks. - -It was six o'clock. An urgent summons knocked at a closed door in her -mind. Six o'clock. She looked at her wrist-watch, and memory awoke. She -had an appointment at six-thirty, to close the final contracts on the -forty-acre sale. Hutchinson was depending on her to handle it. Below -the window the newsboy cried "War!" again. - -Wearily she bathed her face with cold water, combed her hair, adjusted -her hat. Contracts in hand, she locked the office door behind her, -and her face wore its necessary pleasant, untroubled expression. The -buyer's wife was charmed by her smile, and although the man was already -somewhat disturbed by the war news, Helen was able to persuade them to -sign the contracts. - - * * * * * - -A week later she announced to Hutchinson that she was going to stop -selling land. She could give him no reasons that satisfied his startled -curiosity. She was simply quitting; that was all. He could manage the -office himself or get another partner; her leaving would make little -difference. - -He protested, trying half-heartedly to shake her determination. The -shattering of accustomed and pleasant routine shocked him; he was like -a man thrown suddenly from a boat into the unstable water. - -"But what do you want to do it for? What's the idea? Aren't we getting -along all right?" He was longing to ask if she were going to Bert, -whose arrival and immediate departure had not been explained to him. -The whole organization, she knew, was discussing it, and Hutchinson, on -the very scene of their meeting, was in the unhappy position of being -unable to give the interesting details. But he did not quite venture -to break through her reserve with a direct question. He scouted her -suggestion that the war would affect business. "Why, things have never -looked better! Here we've just made a forty-acre sale. Sacramento's -booming, and so is the San Joaquin. Fifty new settlers are going into -Farmland Acres this fall. There's going to be a boom in land. Folk -are going to see what a solid investment it is, the way stocks are -tumbling. And the farmers are going to make money hand over fist if the -war lasts a couple of years." - -"Oh, well, maybe you're right," she conceded, remembering the twinkle -in Mr. Clark's eye when she had accused him of taking care of the -salesman's psychology. She still believed that spring would see a slump -in real-estate business. She had learned too well that men did not -handle their affairs on a basis of cool logic; too often in her own -work she had taken advantage of the gusts of impulse and unreasoning -emotion that swayed them. There would be a period when they would be -afraid; no facts or arguments would persuade them to exchange solid -cash for heavily mortgaged land. But the point no longer interested her. - -She felt a profound weariness, an unease of spirit that was like the -ache of a body too long held motionless. Business had rested on her -like a weight for nearly four years. She could bear it no longer. She -must relax the self-control that held her own impulses and emotions in -its tight grip. The need was too strong to be longer resisted, too deep -in herself to be clearly understood. "I'm tired," she said. "I'm going -to quit." - -An agreement dividing their deferred commissions must be drawn up -and filed with the San Francisco office. Hutchinson took over her -half-interest in the automobile she had left to be repaired in -Sacramento. Already his mind was busy with new plans. Since she would -no longer write the advertising he would cut it out. "Want ads'll be -cheaper and good enough," he said. - -Thus simply the bonds were cut between her and all that had filled her -days and thoughts. She went home to the little bungalow, put the files -of her land advertisements out of sight, hung her hat and coat in the -closet. - -The house seemed strange, with early-afternoon sunlight streaming -through the living-room windows. It was delightfully silent and empty. -Long hours, weeks, months, stretched before her like blank pages on -which she might write anything she chose. - -She went through the rooms, straightening a picture, moving a chair, -taking up a vase of withering flowers. The curtains stirred in a cool -breeze that poured through the open windows and ruffled her hair. It -seemed to blow through her thoughts, too; she felt clean and cool and -refreshed. With a deep, simple joy she began to think of little things. -She would discharge the woman who came to clean; she would polish the -windows and dust the furniture and wash the dishes herself. To-morrow -she would get some gingham and make aprons. Perhaps Mabel and the baby -would come down for a visit; she would write and ask them. - -She was cutting roses to fill the emptied vase when she thought of -Paul. He came into her thoughts quite simply, as he had come before -Bert's return. She thought, with a warmth at her heart and a dimple in -her cheek, that she would telephone him to come next Sunday, and she -would make a peach shortcake for him. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - -The shortcake was a triumph when she set it, steaming hot and oozing -amber juice, on the table between them. "You certainly are a wonder, -Helen!" Paul said, struck by its crumbling perfection. "Here we haven't -been in the house an hour, and with a simple twist of the wrist you -give a fellow a dinner like this! Lucky we aren't living a couple of -centuries ago. You'd been burned for a witch." His eyes, resting on -her, were filled with warm light. - -Already he seemed to irradiate a glow of contentment; the hint of -sternness in his face had melted in a joy that was almost boyish, and -all day there had been a touch of possessive pride in his contemplation -of her. It intoxicated her; she felt the exhilaration of victory in her -submission to it, and a sense of her power over him gave sparkle to her -delight in his nearness. - -Her bubbling spirits had been irrepressible: she had flashed into -whimsicalities, laughed at him, teased him, melted into sudden -tendernesses. Together they had played with light-hearted absurdities, -chattering nonsense while they explored a rocky canyon in Alumn Rock -Park, a canyon peopled only with bright-eyed furtive creatures of the -forest whisking through tangled underbrush and over fallen logs. They -had looked at each other with dancing eyes, smothering bursts of mirth -like children hiding some riotous joke, when they came down into the -holiday crowd around the hot-dog counters at the park gate, and side by -side with Portuguese and Italians, they had bought ice-cream cones from -a hurdy-gurdy and listened to the band. - -Now she looked at him across her own dinner-table, and felt that the -last touch of perfection had been given a happy day. She laughed -delightedly. - -"It's a funny thing when you think of it," he went on, pouring -cream over the fruity slices. "Here you're working all week in an -office--just about as good a little business woman as they make 'em, I -guess--and then on top of it you come home and cook like mother never -did. It beats me." - -"Well--you see I like to cook," she said. "It's recreation. Lots of -successful business men are pretty good golf players. Besides I'm not a -business woman any more. I've left the office. Shall I pour your coffee -now?" - -"Left the office!" he exclaimed. "What for? When?" - -"The other day. I don't know why. I felt--oh, I don't know. I just -quit. Why, Paul!" She was startled by his expression. - -"Well--it would rather surprise anybody," he said. "A sudden change -like this. You didn't give me any idea--" There was a shade of reproach -in his tone, which shifted quickly to pugnacity. "That partner of -yours--what's-his-name? He hasn't been putting anything over on you?" - -"Why, no, of course not! I just made up my mind to stop selling land. -I'm tired of it. Besides, it looks as though there'd be a slump in the -business." - -"Well, you can't tell. However, you may be right," he conceded. He -smiled ruefully. "It's going to be pretty hard on me, though--your -quitting. It's a long way to Masonville." - -"To Masonville?" she repeated in surprise. - -"Aren't you going there?" - -"Why on earth should I go to Masonville?" She caught at the words, not -quite quickly enough to stop them. "Oh, I know--my mother. Of course. -But, to tell the truth, Paul, I'm fond of her and all that, you know -I've been up to see her a good many times,--but after all we've been -apart a long time, and my life's been so different. She doesn't exactly -know what to make of me. I honestly don't think either of us would be -very happy if I were to go back there now. She has Mabel, you know, -and the baby. It isn't as though--" Floundering in her explanations, -she broke through them, with a smile, to frankness. "As a matter of -fact, I never even thought of going back there." - -There was bewilderment in his eyes, but he repressed a question. - -"Just as you like, of course. Naturally I supposed,--but I'm glad you -aren't going. Two lumps, please." - -"As though I wouldn't remember!" she laughed. But as she dropped the -sugar into his cup and tilted the percolator, a memory flashed across -her mind. She saw him sitting at a little table in a dairy lunch-room, -struggling to hide his embarrassment, carefully dipping two spoonsful -of sugar from the chipped white bowl, and the memory brought with it -many others. - -The iridescent mood of the afternoon was gone, and reaching for the -deeper and more firm basis of emotion between them, she braced herself -to speak of another thing she had not told him. - -Constraint had fallen upon them; they were separated by their diverging -thoughts, and uneasily, with effort, they broke the silence with -disconnected scraps of talk. Time was going by; already twilight crept -into the room, and looking at his watch, Paul spoke of his train. -Helen led the way to the porch, where the shade of climbing rose-vines -softened the last clear gray light of the day. There was sadness in -this wan reflection of the departed sunlight; the air was still, and -the creaking of the wicker chair, when Helen settled into it, the sharp -crackle of Paul's match as he lighted his after-dinner cigar, seemed -irreverently loud. With a sudden keen need to be nearer him, Helen drew -a deep breath, preparing to speak and to clear away forever the last -barrier between them. - -But his words met hers before they were uttered. - -"What are you going to do, then, Helen?--If you aren't going home?" he -added, before her uncomprehension. - -"Oh, that! Why--I haven't thought exactly. I'd like to stay at home, -stay here in my own house. There's so much to do in a house," she -said, vaguely. "I've never had time to do it before." - -His voice was indulgent. - -"That'll be fine! It's just what you ought to have a chance to do. But, -see here, Helen, of course it's none of my business yet, in a way, but -naturally I'd worry about it. It takes an income to keep up a house, -you know. I'd like--you know everything I've got is--is just the same -as yours, already." - -"Paul, you dear! Don't worry about that at all. If I needed any help -I'd ask you, truly. But I don't." - -"Well, we might as well look at it practically," he persisted. "It's -going to figure up maybe more than you think to keep this house going. -Not that I want you to give it up if you'd rather stay here," he -parenthesized, quickly. "I'd rather have you here than in Masonville, -and I'd rather have you in Ripley than here, for that matter. Say, why -couldn't you come down there? I could fix up that little bungalow on -Harper Street. And every one knows you're an old friend of mother's." - -"I might do something like that," she said at random. She was troubled -by the knowledge that their hour was slipping past and the conversation -going in the wrong direction. - -"It would cost you hardly anything to live there. And we could--" - -"Yes," she said. "I'd love that part of it. You know how I'd like to -see you every minute. But there's plenty of time. I'll think about it, -dear." - -"That's just the point. There is so much time. A whole year and more -before I can--and it would be just like you to half starve yourself and -never say a word to me about it." - -"O Paul!" she laughed, "you are so funny! And I love you for it. Well, -then, listen. I have a little over twelve hundred dollars in the bank. -Not much, is it, to show for all the years I've been working? But it -will keep me from growing gaunt and hollow-eyed for lack of food, quite -a little while. And if I really did need more there's a whole world -full of money all around me, you know. So please don't worry. I promise -to eat and eat. I promise never to stop eating as long as I live. -Regularly, three times a day, every single day!" - -"All right," he said. His cigar-end glowed red for a minute through the -gathering dusk. She put her hand on his sleeve, and it moved beneath -her fingers until its firm, warm grip closed over them. Palm against -palm and fingers interlaced, they sat in silence. "It's going to be a -long time," he said. After a long moment he added gruffly, "I suppose -you've--begun the thing--seen a lawyer?" - -"I'm going to, this week. I--hate to--somehow. It's so--" - -"You poor dear! I wish to heaven you didn't have to go through it. But -I suppose it won't be--there won't be any trouble. Tell me, Helen, -honestly. You do want to do it? You aren't keeping--anything from me?" - -"No. I do want to. But there's something I've got to tell you. He's -come back." He was instantly so still that his immobility was more -startling than a cry. At the faint relaxing of his hand, her own fled, -and clenched on the arm of her chair. Quietly, in a voice that was -stiff from being held steady, she told him something of her interview -with Bert. "I thought you ought to know. I didn't want you to hear it -from some one else." - -"I'm glad you told me. But--don't let's ever speak of him again." His -gesture of repugnance flung the cigar in a glowing arc over the porch -railing, and it lay a red coal in the grass. - -"I don't want to." She rose to face him, putting her hands on his -shoulders. "But, Paul, I want you to understand. He never was anything -to me, really. Nothing real, I mean. It was just because I was a -foolish girl and lonely and tired of working--and I didn't understand. -We never were really _married_." She stumbled among inadequate words, -trying to make him feel what she felt. "There wasn't any reality -between us, any real love, nothing solid to build a marriage on. And I -think there is between you and me." - -"The only thing I want," he said, his arms around her, "the only thing -I want in the world is just to take you home and take care of you." - -She kissed him, a hushed solemnity in her heart. He was so good, so -fine and strong. With all her soul she longed to be worthy of him, to -make him happy, to be able to build with him a serene and beautiful -life. - - * * * * * - -The days went by with surprising slowness. In the mornings, waking -with the first twittering of the birds in the vines over the sleeping -porch, she started upright, to relax again on the pillows and stretch -luxuriously between the cool sheets, with delicious realization that -the whole, long day was hers. But her body, filled with energy, -rebelled at inaction. She rose, busying her mind with small plans while -she dressed and breakfasted. At ten o'clock she could think of nothing -more to do to the house or the garden, and still time stretched before -her, prolonged indefinitely, empty. - -The house, lamentably failing as an occupation, became a prison. She -escaped from it to the streets. She shopped leisurely, comparing colors -and fabrics and prices, seeking the bargains she had been obliged to -forego while she was working. An afternoon spent in this way might -save her a dollar, and her business sense grinned at her sardonically. -She might meet an acquaintance, a woman who lived near her, and over -ices elaborately disguised with syrups and nuts they could talk of the -movies, the weather, the stupidities of servants. Time had become an -adversary to be destroyed as pleasantly as possible. In the long, lazy -afternoons she sat on a neighboring porch, listening to talk about -details, magnified, distorted, handled over and over again, and while -her fingers were busy at an embroidery hoop, stitching bits of thread -back and forth through bits of cloth, her mind yawned with boredom. - -At night, letting down her hair, she looked back at a day gone from her -life, a day spent in sweeping and dusting and making pleasant a house -that must be swept and dusted and made pleasant on the morrow, a day -that had accomplished several inches of scalloping on a table-cloth, -and she was overwhelmed with a sense of futility. "After all, I've -rather enjoyed it," she said. "To enjoy a day--what more can one do -with it?" The argument rang hollow in her mind, answered only by an -uneasy silence. - -If she were with Paul the days would mean more, she told herself. But -it seemed best to remain in San José until the first legal formalities -were done. The case, her lawyer told her, would come on the court -calendar in four or five weeks. She would have no difficulty in getting -a decree. "But can't you charge something to make it more impressive? -No violence? He never hit you or threw anything at you?" The lawyer's -eyes filled with a certain eagerness. Wincing, she told him with cold -fury that she would charge nothing but desertion. No, she wanted no -alimony. When, disappointed, he had jotted these details on a pad and -tried with professional jocularity to make her smile, she escaped, -shrinking with loathing. - -Something like this she must endure again, upon a witness-stand in open -court. Better to face it alone, to finish it and push it behind her -into the past before she went to Ripley to meet the shrewd interest -of Mrs. Masters and the warmth of Paul's sympathy. Meantime her life -seemed motionless as a treadmill is motionless, and a vague irritation -nagged at her nerves. - -She began to frequent the public library. In a locked room, to which -the librarian gave her the key after an embarrassed scrutiny, she -found on forbidden shelves a history of marriage, and curled among -the cushions on her window-seat, she spent an afternoon absorbed in -tracing that institution from the first faint appreciation of the -property value of women into the labyrinth of custom and morality to -which it led. She became interested in marriage laws, and discovered -with amazement the contracts so blithely entered upon by men and -women who would not so unquestioningly subscribe to any other legal -agreement. When she wearied of this subject, she turned to others -and, with an interest sharpened by the European news, she devoured -history and floundered beyond her depths in economics. She bought a -French dictionary and grammar and, finding them but palely alluring -in themselves, she boldly attacked _La Livre de Mon Ami_, digging the -meaning from its charming pages eagerly as a miner washing gold. But -the nights found her still haunted by a restlessness as miserable and -vague as that of unused muscles. "I wish I were doing something!" she -cried. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - -Two weeks after she left the office her feet took her back to it, as if -by volition of their own. The familiar walls, covered with photographs -of alfalfa fields and tract maps painted with red ink, closed around -her like the walls of home. Hutchinson sat smoking at his desk; nothing -had changed. She said that she had only dropped in for a moment. How -was business? Her eye automatically noted the squares of red on the -maps. "Hello! That three-cornered piece by Sycamore Slough's gone! Who -sold it?" - -"Watson," said Hutchinson. "He's uncovered a gold mine in the -Healdsburg country, selling the farmers hand over fist. Last week he -brought down a prospect who--" She heard the story to its end, capped -it with one of her own, and two hours had passed before she realized it. - -In another week it had become her habit to drop in at the office every -time she came down town, to discuss Hutchinson's difficulties with him, -even on occasion to help him handle a sale. Business prospects were -not brightening; the prune market was disrupted by the European War, -orchardists were panic stricken; already a formless, darkening shadow -hung over men's minds. In any case she had no intention of going back -into business; she told herself that she detested it. And she continued -to go to the office. - -Hutchinson awaited her one day with a bit of news. A man named MacAdams -had been telephoning; he was coming to the office; he wanted to see -her. "MacAdams?" she repeated. "Odd--I seem to remember the name." - -MacAdams came in five minutes later, and the sight of his square, -deeply lined face, the deep-sunken eyes under bushy gray brows, brought -back to her vividly all the details of her first sale. She met him with -an out-stretched hand, which MacAdams ignored. "I'd like a few words -with you, miss." - -She led him into the inner office, closed the door, made him sit down. -He sat upright, gnarled hands on his knees, and badly, in simple words, -laid his case before her. The land she had sold him was no good. It -was hard-pan land. After he bought it he had saved his money for a -year and moved to that land. "They told me I could make the payments -from the crops." He had leveled the forty acres, checked it, seeded it -to alfalfa. The alfalfa had begun to die the second year. That fall -he plowed it up and sowed grain. He made enough from that to pay for -seed and meet the water-tax. In the spring he and his boy had planted -beans. The boy had cultivated them, and he had worked out, making money -enough for food. The irrigation ditch broke; they could get no water -for the beans when they needed it. The beans had died. He was two years -behind in his payments; he could not meet the interest; he owed a -hundred dollars in grocery bills. - -"I put three thousand dollars into that land. I went to see your firm -about it. They said they would give me more time to pay the rest if I -would keep up the interest. But I want no more farming; I'm done. They -can have the land. It's no good on God's earth. I'm blaming nobody, -miss. A man that is a fool is a fool. But I want back some of the -money, so I can move my family to the city and live till I get a job. -It is no more than justice, and I come to ask you for it." - -She heard him to the end, one hand supporting her cheek, the other -drawing aimless pencil marks on the desk blotter. His request was -hopeless, she knew; even if Clark had wanted to return the money, it -had gone long ago in overhead and in payments to the owners of the -land. No one could be compelled to return any part of the payment -MacAdams had made on the contract he had signed. Clearly before her -eyes rose the picture of the little tract office, the smoky oil lamp, -Nichols in his chair, and she herself awaiting the word from MacAdams' -lips that would decide her fate and Bert's. Parrot-like words, repeated -many times, resaid themselves. "I'm sorry. Of course you know that -in any large tract of land there will be a few poor pieces. I acted -in perfectly good faith; you saw the land, examined it--" She met -MacAdams's eyes. "I'll give back all the money I made on it," she said. - -She wrote a check for six hundred dollars, blotted it carefully, handed -it to him. His stern face was as tremulous as water blown upon by the -wind, but he said nothing, shaking her hand with a force that hurt and -going away quickly with the check. After the door closed behind him -she remembered that she had got only three hundred dollars from the -sale. The remainder had gone to cover Bert's debts. At this, shaken by -emotions, she laughed aloud. - -"Well, anyway, now you'll have plenty to do!" she said to herself. "Now -you'll get out and scurry for money to live on!" She felt a momentary -chill of panic, but there was exhilaration in it. - -She would not return to selling land. Her determination was reinforced -by the possibility that if she did she would find herself penniless -before she had made a sale. No, she must earn money in some other way. -She walked slowly home, wrapped in abstraction, searching her mind -for an idea. It was like gazing at the blankness of a cloudless sky, -but her self-confidence did not waver. All about her men no wiser, no -better equipped than she, were making money. - -Sitting at the walnut desk in her sunny living-room she drew a sheet -of paper before her and prepared to take stock of her equipment. Her -thoughts became clearer when they were written. But after looking for -some time at the blank sheet, she began carefully to draw interlacing -circles upon it. There seemed nothing to write. - -She was twenty-six years old. She had been working for eight years. -Telegraphing was out of the question; she would not go back to that. -Her four years of selling land had brought her nothing but a knowledge -of human minds, a certain cleverness in handling them, and a distaste -for doing it. And advertising. She could write advertisements; she -had records in dollars and cents that proved it. What she needed was -an idea, something novel, striking and soundly valuable, with which -to attack an advertiser. Her mind remained quite blank. Against the -background of the swaying rose-colored curtains picture after picture -rose before her vague eyes. But no idea. - -Suddenly she thought of Paul, of her plan of going to Ripley, now -demolished. She could not work there; if Paul suspected her difficulty -he would insist upon helping her. He would be hurt by her refusal, -however carefully she tried not to hurt him. "Oh, you little idiot! -You have made a mess of things!" she said. - -Half-formed thoughts began to scamper frantically through her mind. -This was no way to face a problem, she knew. She would think no more -about it until to-morrow. Smiling a little, she began a letter to Paul, -a long, whimsical letter, warmed with tenderness, saying nothing and -saying it charmingly. An hour later, rereading it and finding it good, -she folded it into its envelope and put a tiny kiss upon the flap, -smiling at herself. - -Lest her perplexities come back to break the contentment of her -mood, she barricaded herself against the silence of the house with a -magazine. It was the "Pacific Coast," a San Francisco publication of -particular interest to her because of its articles on California land. -She had once wished to write a series of reading-matter advertisements -to be printed in it, but Clark had overruled her idea, favoring display -type. - -She was buried in a story of the western mining camps when from the -blank depths of her mind the idea she had wanted sprang with the -suddenness of an explosion. What chance contact of buried memories had -produced it she could not tell, but there it was. As she considered -it, it appeared now commonplace and worthless, now scintillating with -bright possibilities. In the end, composing herself to sleep on the -star-lit porch, she decided to test it. - -Early the next afternoon she arrived at the San Francisco offices of -the "Pacific Coast" and asked to speak to the circulation manager. - -She was impressed by the atmosphere of dignity and restraint in the -large, bland offices. Sunshine streamed through big windows over tidy -desks and filing-cabinets; girls moved about quietly, carrying sheaves -of typewritten matter in smooth, ringless hands; even the click of -typewriters was subdued, like the sound of well-bred voices. Her -experiences of newspaper offices had not prepared her for this, and her -pulses quickened at this glimpse of a strange, uncharted world. - -The circulation manager was a disappointment. He was young, and -desirous of concealing the fact. His manner, a shade too assertive, -betrayed suppressed self-distrust; being doubtful of his own ability -he sought to reassure himself by convincing others of it. Had she been -selling him land, she would have played upon this shaky egotism, but -here the weapon turned against her. He was prepared to demonstrate his -efficiency by swiftly dismissing her. - -Drawing upon all her resources of salesmanship, she presented her plan. -She wished to organize a crew of subscription solicitors and cover the -state, section by section. She would interview chambers of commerce, -boards of trade, business men, and farmers, gathering material for an -article on local conditions; she would get free publicity from the -newspapers; she would stimulate interest in the "Pacific Coast." - -"Every one likes to read about himself, and next he likes to read -about his town. I will see that every man and woman in the territory -knows that the "Pacific Coast" will run articles about his own -local interests. Then the solicitors will come along and take his -subscription. The solicitors will work on commission; the only -expense will be my salary and the cost of writing the articles. And -the articles will be good magazine features, in addition to their -circulation value." - -His smile was pityingly superior. - -"My dear young lady, if I used our columns for schemes like that!" -She perceived that she had encountered a system of ethics unknown -to her. "We are not running a cheap booster's magazine, angling for -subscriptions." And he pointed out that every article must interest a -hundred thousand subscribers, while an article on one section of the -state appealed only to the local interest. The talk became an argument -on this point. - -"But towns have characters, like people. Every town in California is -full of stories, atmosphere, romance, color. Why, you couldn't write -the character of one of them without interesting every reader of your -magazine!" - -He ended the interview with a challenge. - -"Well, you bring me one article that will pass one of our readers and -I may consider the scheme." He turned to a pile of letters, and his -gesture indicated his satisfaction in dismissing her so neatly and -finally. - -It left a sting that pricked her pride and made her nerves tingle. -She was passed outward through the suave atmosphere of the offices, -and every shining wood surface affected her like a smile of conscious -superiority. - -She went to see Mr. Clark, who welcomed her with regrets that she had -left the organization, and at her suggestion readily promised her a -place in his office at a moderate salary. But to take it seemed a -self-confession of failure. Mr. Clark's offer was left open, and she -returned to San José smarting with resentful humiliation. - -The sun was low when she alighted at the station. Amber-colored light -lay over the green of St. James Park, and the long street beyond -glowed with the dull, warm tone of weathered brick. The tall windows -and gabled roofs of the old business blocks threw back the flames of -the level sun-rays. In the gray light below them the bell of El Camino -Real stood voiceless at the corner of the old Alameda beside a red -fire-alarm box, and around it scores of farmers' automobiles fringed -the wide cement sidewalks. - -Here, within the memory of men yet living, fields of wild mustard had -hidden hundreds of grazing cattle and vaqueros, riding down to them -from the foot-hills, had vanished in seas of yellow bloom; here the -padres had trudged patiently on the road from Santa Clara to Mission -San José; here pioneers had broken the raw soil and lined the cup of -the valley with golden wheat fields, and Blaine had come in the heyday -of his popularity, counseling orchards. - -Now, mile after mile to the edge of the blue hills, prune-trees and -apricots and cherries stood in trim rows, smooth boulevards hummed with -the passing of motor-cars, and where the vaqueros had broken the wild -mustard, San José stood, the throbbing heart of all these arteries -reaching into past and present and future. - -"And he says there's nothing of interest here!" she cried. "Oh, if only -I could write it! If I could write one tenth of it!" - -Midnight found her sitting before her typewriter, disheveled, hot-eyed, -surrounded by crumpled sheets of paper, pondering over sentences, -discarding paragraphs, by turns glowing with satisfaction and chilled -by hopelessness. "I could write an advertisement about it," she -thought. "I could interest a buyer. Magazine articles are different. -But human beings are all alike. Interest them. I've got to interest -them. If I can just make it human, make them see--Oh, what an idiot -that man was!" Absorbed in her attempt to express the spirit of San -José, she still felt burning within her a rage against him. "I'll show -him, anyway, that there are some things he doesn't see!" - -Next morning she read her work and found it worthless. - -"I'll write it like a letter," she thought, and pages poured easily -from the typewriter. She spent the next day slashing black pencil-marks -through paragraphs, shifting sentences, altering words. The intricacy -of the work fascinated her; it allured like an embroidery pattern, -challenged like a land sale, roused all her energies. - -When she could do no more, she read and re-read the finished article. -She thought it hopelessly stupid; she thought it as good as some she -had read; a sentence glinted at her like a ray of light, and again it -faded into insignificance. She did not know what she thought about it. -The memory of that irritating young man decided her. "It may be done -absurdly, but it will prove my point. There is something here to write -about." She sent it to him. - -After five empty days, during which she struggled in a chaos of -indecisions, she tore open an envelope with the "Pacific Coast" -imprint. "Perhaps that plan will go through, after all," she thought. -She read a note asking her to call, a note signed "A. C. Hayden, -Editor." - -The next afternoon she was in his office. It was a quiet room, lined -with filled bookcases, furnished with comfortable chairs and a huge -table loaded with proofs and manuscripts piled in orderly disorder. Mr. -Hayden himself gave the same impression of leisurely efficiency; Helen -felt that he accomplished a great deal of work without haste, smiling. -He was not hurried; he was quite willing to discuss her circulation -scheme, listening sympathetically, pointing out the reasons why it -was not advisable. Her article lay on the desk. It had brought her a -pleasant interview. After all, there was no reason why she should not -accept Clark's offer. - -"Now this," Mr. Hayden said, unfolding her manuscript. "We can use -this, simply as a story, if you want to sell it to us. With the right -illustrations and a few changes it will make a very good feature. Our -rates, of course--" Helen had made no sound, but some quality in her -breathless silence interrupted him. He looked at her questioningly. - -"You don't mean--I can write?" - -He was amused. - -"People do, you know. In fact, most people do--or try. You'd realize -that if you were a magazine editor. Have you never written before?" - -"Well--reader advertisements and letters, of course. I haven't thought -of really writing, not since I was a school girl." She was dazzled. - -"Advertisement! That accounts for it. You cramp your style here and -there. But you can write. You have an original viewpoint; you write -with a sense of direction, and you pack in human interest--human -interest's always good. And you know the values of words." - -"When you're paying three dollars and eighty cents an inch for -space you do think about them!" she laughed. His words revealed the -unmeasured stretches of her ignorance in this new field, but the blood -throbbed in her temples. Her mind became a whirl of ideas; she saw -the world as a gold mine, crammed with things to write about. Eagerly -attentive, she listened to Mr. Hayden's criticisms of the manuscript. - -Her lead was too long. "You spar around before you get to the point. -The story really begins here." His pencil hovered over the page. "If -you don't object to our making changes?" - -"Oh, please dot I want to learn." - -An hour went by, and another. Mr. Hayden was interested in her opinions -on all subjects; he led her to talk of land selling, of advertising, of -the many parts of California that she knew. He suggested a series of -articles similar to the one he held in his hand. He would be glad to -consider them if she would write them. If she had other ideas, would -she submit them? - -She left the office with a check in her purse, and her mind was filled -with rainbow visions. She saw a story in every newsboy she met, ideas -clothed with romance and color jostled each other for place in her -mind, and the world seemed a whirling ball beneath her feet. For the -first time since the interview with MacAdams she longed to rush to -Paul, to share with him her glittering visions. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - -Paul was aggrieved. He stood in the dismantled living-room of the -little bungalow, struggling between forbearance and a sense of the -justice of his grievance. "But look here!" he said for the hundredth -time, "why couldn't you let a fellow know? If I'd had a chance to show -you how unreasonable, how unnecessary--" He thrust his hands deep into -his coat-pockets and walked moodily up and down between the big trunk -and the two bulging suitcases that stood on the bare floor. - -Helen, drooping wearily on one of the suitcases, contritely searched -her mind for a reply. It was bewildering not to find one. On all other -points of the discussion her reasons were clear and to her convincing. -But surely she should have informed him of her plans. He had never for -a moment been forgotten; the knowledge of him continually glowed in her -heart, warming her even when her thoughts were furthest from him. - -She could not understand the disassociation of ideas that had caused -this apparent neglect of him. There was no defense against her -self-accusation. - -"I'm terribly sorry," she murmured inadequately. He had already passed -over the point, beginning again the circling argument that had occupied -them since his unexpected arrival. - -"Can't you see, dear, there's no reason under the sun for a move -like this? You'll no more than get settled in the city before--" His -moodiness vanished. "Oh, come on, sweetheart! Chuck the whole thing. -Come on down to Ripley. It's only for a little while. Why should you -care so much about a little money? You'll have to get used to my paying -the bills some time, you know; it might as well be now. No? Yes!" His -arm was around her shoulders, and she smiled up into his coaxing, -humorous eyes. - -"You're a dear! No, but seriously, Paul, not yet. It's all -arranged--the 'Pacific Coast' is counting on me, and I've got the new -series started in the 'Post.' Just think of all the working girls you'd -rob of oodles of good advice that they won't follow! Please don't feel -so badly, dear." Her voice deepened. "I'll tell you the real reason I -want to go. If I can get really started, if I can get my name pretty -well known--A name in this writing game, you know, is just like a -trade-mark. It's established by advertising. Well, if I can do that, I -can keep on writing wherever I am, even in Ripley. And then I'll have -something to do and a little income. I--I would like that. Don't you -see how beautiful it would be?" - -"It may be your idea of beautifulness, but I can't say I'm crazy about -it," he replied. He sat on the suitcase, his hands clasped between his -knees, and stared glumly at his boots. "Why do you want an income? I -can take care of you." - -"Of course!" she assured him, hastily. "I didn't mean--" - -"And when it comes to something to do--you're going to have me on your -hands, you know!" he continued, with a troubled smile. - -"I do believe he's jealous!" She laughed coaxingly, slipping a hand -through the crook of his unyielding arm. "Are you jealous? Just as -jealous as you can be? Jealous of my typewriter?" She bent upon him a -horrific frown. "Answer to me, sir! Do you love that electric plant? -How dare you look at dynamos!" - -He surrendered, laughing with her. - -"You little idiot! Just the same--oh, well, what's the use? Just so -you're happy." - -It was the first time there had been a sense of reservations behind -their kiss. But he seemed not to know it, radiating content. - -"All right, run along and play in San Francisco. I don't care. I do -care. I do care like the devil. But it won't be long. Only I warn you, -I'm not going to be called Mr. Helen Davies!" - -She laughed too, rising and tucking up her hair. - -"As if I wanted you to be! I'll never be so well-known as that, don't -fear! Now if I were a real writer--" The trace of wistfulness in her -voice was quickly repressed. "Then, young man, you'd have reason to -worry! But I'm not. I wonder if that expressman's never coming!" - -"You oughtn't to be trying to manage all this yourself," he said. "I -wish I'd known in time. I could have come up and done it for you." - -She was touched by his whole-hearted acceptance of her plans, and she -felt a twinge of regret, a longing to acquiesce in his. But some strong -force within herself would not yield. She could not be dependent upon -him, not yet. Later--later she would feel differently. - -There were six months between her and final legal freedom. The -miserable half hour that had given her an interlocutory decree of -divorce had been buried by the rush of new events; routine completion -of the court's action had no vital meaning for her. She had in reality -been long divorced from the past she wished to forget. The date six -months in the future meant only the point at which she would face the -details of a new life. Until that time she need not consider them too -closely. It was enough to know that she and Paul loved each other. All -difficulties when she reached them would be conquered by that love. - -She turned a bright face to him. - -"Let's go out and walk in the sunshine. An empty house is so sorrowful. -And I have heaps of things to tell you." - -They walked slowly up and down the pleasant tree-shaded street, passing -the homelike porches at which she no longer looked wistfully. Her mind -was filled with the immediate, intoxicating future, and she tumbled out -for Paul's inspection all her anticipations. - -Mr. Hayden had refused her last story, about immigration conditions -on Angel Island, and she had sent it to an Eastern weekly. Wouldn't -it be splendid if they took it! And wasn't it a bit of luck, getting -the "Post's" city editor to take her idea of a department for -working-girls' problems? - -And the new series--the series that was taking her to San Francisco. -"O Paul, if I can only do it half as well as I want to! I'm just sure -Mr. Hayden would take it. 'San Francisco Nights.' Bagdad-y stuff, you -know, Arabian Nights. You've no idea how fascinating San Francisco is -at night. The fishing fleet, going out from Fisherman's Wharf over the -black water, with Alcatraz Light flashing across the colored boats, and -the fishermen singing 'Il Trovatore.' Honestly, Paul, they do. And the -vegetable markets, down in the still, ghostly, wholesale district at -three o'clock in the morning, masses of color and light, the Italian -farmers with their blue jackets and red caps, and the huge, sleepy -horses, and the Chinese peddlers pawing over the vegetables, with their -long, yellow fingers." - -"At three o'clock in the morning! You don't mean you're dreaming of -going down there?" - -"I've already been," she said guiltily. "With one of the girls, Marian -Marcy. I told you about her last week. The girl on the 'Post,' you -know?" - -"Well, I hope at least you had a policeman with you." - -"Naturally one would have," she replied diplomatically. Absorbed in -the interest of these new experiences, she had not thought of being -fearful; without considering the question, she had felt quite capable -of meeting any probable situation. But she perceived that she was -alarming Paul. - -It seemed safer to discuss the little house she had rented, the -little house that hung like a swallow's nest on the steep slopes of -Russian Hill, overlooking the islands of the bay and the blue Marin -hills. Eager to take Paul's imagination with her, she described it -minutely, its wood-paneled walls, its great windows, the fireplace, the -kitchenette where they would cook supper together when he came to see -her. - -"And you'll come often? Every week?" she urged. - -"You'll see me spending the new parlor wall-paper for railroad fares!" -he promised. - -"Just as well. I don't want wall-paper there, anyway!" - -When the expressman had come and gone, she locked the door of the -bungalow for the last time, with a sense of efficient accomplishment. - -"Now!" she said, "We'll play until time for the very latest train for -San Francisco." - -Their delight in each other seemed all the brighter for the temporary -disagreement, like sunshine after a foggy morning. Her heart ached when -the evening ended and he had to put her on the train. - -"I'll be glad when I'm not saying good-by to you all the time!" he told -her almost fiercely. - -"Oh, so will I!" - -She sprang lightly up the car steps, seeing too late his effort to help -her, and regret increased the warmth of her thanks while he settled her -bags in the rack, hung up her coat, adjusted the footstool for her. -These unaccustomed services embarrassed her a little. She was aware of -awkwardness in accepting them, but for a little while longer they kept -him near her. - -He lingered until the last minute, leaning over the red plush seat, -jostled by incoming passengers, gazing at her with eyes that said more -than lips or hands dared express under the harsh lights and glances of -passengers. - -"Well--good-by." - -"Good-by. And you'll come to see the new house soon?" - -She watched his sturdy back disappear through the car-door. Her fancy -saw the sure, quick motion with which he would fling himself from the -moving train, and with her face close against the jarring pane, she -caught a last glimpse of his eager face and waving hat beneath the -station lights. - -Smiling, she saw the street lamps flash past, vanish. Against rushing -blackness the shining window reflected her own firm mouth, the strong -curve of her cheek, the crisp line of the small hat. The swaying motion -of a train always delighted her; she liked the sensation of departure, -and the innumerable small creakings, the quickening click-click-click -of the wheels, gave her the feeling of being flung through space toward -an unknown future. Her cheek against the cool pane, she shut out the -shimmering lights and gazed into vague darkness. - -Her heart was warm with contentment; her love for Paul lay in it like a -hidden warmth. She thought of the articles she meant to write, of the -brown cottage on Russian Hill, of the little group of women she might -gather there, Marian Marcy's friends. With something of wistful envy -she thought of the affection that held them together; she hoped they -would like her, too. The friendship of women was a new thing to her, -and the bond she had glimpsed among these girls appeared to her special -and beautiful. - -Wondering, she considered them one by one, so widely differing in -temperament and character, and yet so harmonious beneath their heated -arguments. One would say they quarreled at the luncheon table where -they met daily, flinging pointed epigrams and sharp retorts at each -other, growing excited over most incongruous subjects,--the war, poems, -biology, hairdressers,--arguing, laughing, teasing each other all in -a breath. But their good humor never failed, and affection for each -other burned like an unflickering candle flame in all their gusts of -controversy. - -"It's a wonderful crowd," Marian Marcy had said inclusively, and Helen -knew that her invitation to lunch with them indicated genuine liking. A -stranger among them, she felt herself on trial, and a hope of gathering -them all at her fireside and perhaps becoming one of their warm circle -had been her strongest motive in taking the cottage. - -Her days were full of work. With a kind of fury she threw herself into -the task of conquering the strange world before her. There was so much -to learn and so very little time. Her six months became a small hoard -of hours, every minute precious. In the earliest dawn, while the sky -over the Berkeley hills blushed faintly and long silver lines lay -on the gray waters of the bay, she was plunging into her cold tub, -lighting the gas beneath the coffee-pot, tidying the little house. The -morning papers gave her ideas for stories,--already she had learned -to call everything written "a story"--and she rode down the hill on -the early cable-car with stenographers and shopgirls, thinking of -interviews. - -Her business sense, sharply turned upon magazine pages and Sunday -papers, showed her an ever-widening market. She saw scores of stories -on innumerable subjects; they came into her mind dressed in all the -colors of fancy, perfect, clear-cut, alive with interest. Then at her -typewriter she set herself to make them live in words, and through long -afternoons she toiled, struggling, despairing, seeing fruitless hours -go by, knowing at last that she had produced a maimed, limping thing. -Her bookcases now filled her with awe. All those volumes so easily -read, apparently produced so effortlessly, appeared in this new light -tremendous, almost miraculous achievements. - -"I can never write real books," she said. "I am not an artist." - -She was not embarking upon an artistic career; she was learning a -trade. But seeing about her so many newspapers, so many magazines, -carloads of volumes in the department stores, she reflected that it was -a useful trade. These miles of printing brought refreshment and wider -viewpoint to millions. "If I can be only a good workman, producing -sound, wholesome, true things, I will be doing something of value," she -consoled herself. - -Mr. Hayden accepted the first story in the "San Francisco Nights," -series, refused the second. She began on a third, and when her article -on immigration was returned from the East she sent it out again. She -had better fortune with a story on California farming conditions, which -sold to a national farm paper. Establishing a market for her work was -her hope for the future; if she succeeded she could still work in -Ripley, and the work would be something entirely her own. - -She did not analyze this need to keep a fragment of life apart for -herself, but quite plainly she saw the value of having her own small -income. Her relation to Paul had nothing to do with money; in their -love they were equal, and when Paul added the fruit of his work to the -scale the balance would be uneven. She knew too well the difference -between earning money and caring for a house to believe that her tasks -would earn what he must give her. - -Working against time, she poured her energies into building an -acquaintance with editors, into learning their requirements. Meantime -her department in the "Post" gave her the tiny income that met her -expenses. Late at night she sat opening letters and typing prudent -replies for its columns. - -"And the unions are striking for an eight-hour day!" she said to -Marian, encountering her amid clattering typewriters in the "Post's" -local room. "Me, I'd strike for forty-eight hours between sun and sun!" - -"'The best of all ways to lengthen your days is to steal a few -hours from the night, my dear'!" Marian quoted gaily. Her piquant, -kitten-like face, with its pointed chin and wide gray eyes beneath a -tangle of black hair, was white with fatigue. She straightened her hat, -and dabbed at her nose with a powder puff. "The crowd's going over to -the beach at Tiburon for a picnic supper. Come along?" - -"I'd love to!" - -"Then run out and get some pickles and things while I finish this -story. Mother-of-Pearl! If those club women knew what I really think of -most of 'em!" The typewriter keys clacked viciously under her flying -fingers. - -Smiling, Helen obeyed, and while she explored a delicatessen and loaded -her arms with packages, she felt a flutter of pleased anticipation. It -would be good to lie on the beach under the stars and listen to more of -the curious talk of these girls. "But I must contribute something," she -thought. "I must make them like me if I can." - -When they assembled at the ferry, however, she found that they were -not inclined to talk. Almost silently they waited for the big gates to -open, surged with the crowd across the gang-plank and found outside -seats where the salt winds swept upon them. - -"Tired, Marian?" said Anne Lester. - -"Dead!" Marian answered. She rearranged the packages, took off her -coat, put it on again, and began to walk restlessly up and down the -deck. - -"She lives on sheer nerve," Anne remarked. "Never relaxes." Her own -long, thoroughbred body was a picture of reposeful lines. She said -nothing more. - -"How beautifully they let each other alone!" Helen thought, and in -the restful silence she too relaxed, idly studying the others. They -all worked. Beyond that she could see nothing in common; even their -occupations differed widely. She checked them off, startled a little at -the incongruity. - -Anne, high-bred, imperious, with something of untamed freedom in every -gesture--Anne was a teacher of economics! Beside her Willetta, demure, -brown-eyed, brown-haired, knitting busily, had come from unknown labors -in social service work. Across the aisle Sara and Mrs. Austin--they -called her Dodo--were discussing samples of silk. And Sara was a -miniature painter, Dodo executive secretary of an important California -commission. - -"I give it up!" Helen said to herself, marvelling again at the obvious -affection that held them together. Turning her face to the keen cool -wind blowing in through the Golden Gate she watched the thousand -white-capped waves upon the bay and the flight of silvery-gray seagulls -against a glowing sunset sky, drinking in the beauty of it all without -thinking, letting the day's burden of effort slip from her. - -Around the camp-fire on the white half-moon of beach beyond the -fisherman's village of Tiburon the talk awoke again, idle talk, -flippant, serious, bantering, dropping now and then into silence. - -Sara sat on a bit of driftwood, her long, sensitive hands clasped -around her knees, her eyes full of dreams. "How beautiful it is!" she -said at intervals, lifting her face to the dark sky full of stars, or -indicating with a nod the lights flung over the Berkeley hills like -handfuls of jewels. Anne, stretched on the sand, spoke with passion -of labor unions and I. W. W.'s, of strikes and lockouts, and the red -glimmer of her cigarette sketched her gestures upon the darkness. -Argument raged between her and Dodo, cross-legged like a boy, her fine, -soft hair let down upon her shoulders. Hot words were exchanged. "Oh, -you don't know what you're--" "If you'd read the reports of your own -commission!" "Let me tell you, Anne Lester,--where are the matches?" -The twinkling flame lighted Dodo's calm, unruffled brow as a thin -curl of smoke came from her serious lips. "Just let me tell you, Anne -Lester--" In the circle of fire-light Marian was busily gathering up -paper napkins, bits of string, wrapping paper. "Marian's got to tidy -the whole sea-shore!" they laughed, reaching lazily to help her. After -a long silence they spoke of the war. - -"It didn't get me so much at first--it was like an earthquake shock. -But lately--" "One feels like doing something. I know. What is a little -Red Cross work here at home, when you think--" - -"Oh, it's all too horrible!" Sara cried. - -"Yes. But lots of things are horrible. War isn't the worst one. One has -to--" "Yes, get up and face them. And do something. As much as you can." - -The words echoed Helen's own feeling. In the folds of her coat, curled -against a drift log, she listened, quiet, adding a word occasionally. -She felt now the charm of this companionship, demanding nothing, -unconstrained, full of understanding. It was freedom, relaxation, -without loneliness. Like a plant kept too long in constricting soil -and now transplanted to friendlier earth, she felt stirring within her -innumerable impulses reaching out for nourishment. - -"You know," said Dodo suddenly, putting a warm hand over Helen's. "I -like you." - -Helen flushed with delight. - -"I like you too." - -She remembered the words for long months, remembered the glow of -fire-light, the white, curving line of foam on the sand, the far lights -scattered on a dozen hills, and the cool darkness over the bay. That -evening had made her one of the group, given her the freedom of the -luncheon table reserved for them in the quiet little restaurant, opened -for her the door of a new and satisfying relationship. - -She could always find one or two of the girls at the table, rarely all -of them. They dropped in when they pleased, sure of finding a friend -and sympathetic talk. When she had an idle half hour after luncheon -she might go shopping with Willetta, always hunting bargains in dainty -things for the little daughter in a convent. She learned the tragedy -that had shattered Willetta's home, and the reason for the cynicism -that sometimes sharpened Dodo's tongue. If they wondered about her own -life they asked no questions, and they accepted Paul's Sunday visits -without comment. - -Any other evening in the week might see Willetta running up the steps, -knitting in hand, to spend an hour curled among the cushions on the -hearth or to depart blithely if Helen were busy. Dodo's voice might -come over the telephone. "Tickets for the concert! Want to come down?" -The crackling fire might blaze upon them all, gathered by chance, -chattering like school-girls while Marian speared marshmallows with a -hat-pin, toasting them and her tired, sparkling face at the same time. -But Sunday found Helen tacitly left to Paul. - -His unexpected coming upon the whole group broke ever so slightly the -charm of their companionship. She had felt the same thing in entering -her office when all the salesmen were there. Some intangible current -of sympathy was cut, an alien element introduced. One thought before -speaking, as if to a stranger who did not perfectly comprehend the -language. - -"There is a subtle division between men and women," she thought, -talking brightly to Paul while they climbed Tamalpais together or -wandered in Golden Gate park. "Each of us has his own world." After a -silence, passing some odd figure on the trail or struck breathless by -a vista of heart-stopping beauty, she sought his eyes for the flash -of intimate understanding she expected, and found only adoration or -surprise. - -She felt that the shortening summer was rushing her toward a fate -against which some blind impulse in her struggled. Paul's eager -happiness, his plans, his confident hand upon her life, were -compulsions she tried to accept gladly. She should be happy, she told -herself; she was happy. Searching her heart she knew that she loved -Paul. His coming was like sunshine to her; she loved his sincerity, his -sweet, clean soul, the light in his eyes, the touch of his hand. When -he went away her heart flew after him like a bird, and at the same time -some almost imperceptible strain upon her was gone. Alone in her silent -house she felt herself become whole again and free. - -"You're feeling like a girl again!" she told herself. The watch on her -wrist ticked off the night hours while she sat motionless, staring at -the red embers of the fire crumbling to ashes. She saw the twilight -of a long-dead summer's day and a girl swept by tides of emotion, -struggling blindly against them. - -But it was not Paul's kisses that she shrank from now. She wanted them. -She was no longer a girl caught unawares by love's terrible power and -beauty. She was a woman, clear-eyed, deliberately choosing. Why, then, -did she feel that she was compelling herself to do this thing that she -wanted to do? "It's late, and I'm tired. I'm getting all sorts of wild -fancies," she said, rising wearily, chilled. - -With passionate intensity she wrung all the joy from every moment of -these happy days. She loved the changing colors of the bay, the keen, -cool dawns when she breakfasted alone on her balcony with the morning -papers spread beside her plate and an unknown day stretching before -her. She loved her encounters with many sides of life; the talk of the -Italian waiter in a quaint Latin Quarter café; her curious friendship -with a tiny Chinese mother who lived in the Wong "family house," the -shadowy corridors of which were filled with a constant whispering -shuffle of sandaled feet; the hordes of ragged, adorable Spanish -children who ran to her for cakes when she climbed the crazy stairs -that were the streets of Telegraph Hill. - -And there were evenings at the Radical Club, where she heard strange, -stimulating theories contending with stranger ones, and met Russian -revolutionists, single-taxers, stand-pat Marxian socialists, and -sensation seekers of many curious varieties, while next day at a -decorous luncheon table she might listen to a staid and prosperous -business man seriously declaring, "All these folks that talk -violence--all those anarchists and labor men and highwaymen--ought to -be strung up by a good old-fashioned vigilance committee! I'm not a -believer in violence and never was, and hanging's too good for those -that do." The romance of life enthralled her, and she felt that she -could never see enough of it. - -Best of all she loved the girls, that "wonderful crowd" that never -failed her when she wanted companionship, and never intruded when she -wished to be alone. In the evenings when they gathered around her -fireplace, relaxing from the strain of the day, among her cushions -in the soft light of the purring flames, talking a little, silent -sometimes, she was so happy that her heart ached. - -Sitting on a cushion, she sewed quietly by the light of a candle at -her shoulder. Willetta's knitting needles clicked rhythmically while -she told a story of the department-store girls' picnic; Anne, flung -gracefully on the hearth-rug, kept her finger between the pages of a -"History of the Warfare of Science and Religion in Christendom," while -she listened, and on the other side of the candle Dodo, chin propped -on hands, and feet in the air, obliviously read Dowson, reaching out a -hand at intervals for a piece of orange Sara was peeling with slender, -fastidious fingers. - -"Orange, Helen?" She shook her head. - -"Girls, just look what Helen's doing! Isn't it gorgeous?" - -"Too stunning for anything but a trousseau," Marian commented. "One -of us'll have to get married. I tell you, Helen, put it up as a -consolation prize! The first one of us--" - -"No fair. You've decided on your Russian," remarked Dodo, turning a -page. - -"Mother-of-pearl! I should say not! I don't know why I never seem to -find a man I want to marry--" she went on, plaintively. "One comes -along, and I think,--well, maybe this one,--and then--" - -They laughed. - -"No, really, I mean it." She sat up, the fire-light on her pretty, -serious face and fluffy hair. "I'd like to get married. I want a lovely -home and children, as much as anybody. And there've been--well, you -girls know. But always there's something I can't stand about them. -Nicolai, now--he has just the kind of mind I like. He's brilliant and -witty, and he's radical. But I couldn't live with his table manners! -Oh, I know I ought to be above that. But when I think,--three times a -day, hearing him eat his soup--Oh, why don't radical men ever have good -table manners? _I_'m radical, and _I_ have." - -"Oh, Marian, you're too funny!" - -"The real reason you don't marry is the reason none of us'll marry, -except perhaps Sara," said Anne. - -Sara's defensive cry was covered by Helen's, "What's that, Anne?" - -"Well, what's the use? We don't need husbands. We need wives. Some one -to stay at home and do the dishes and fluff up the pillows and hold our -hands when we come home tired. And you wouldn't marry a man who'd do -it, so there you are." - -"Oh, rats, Anne!" - -"All right, Dodo-dear. But I don't see you marrying Jim." - -Dodo sat up, sweeping her long, fine hair backward over her shoulders. - -"Of course not. Jim's all right to play around with--" - -"But when it comes to marrying him--exactly. There are only two kinds -of men, strong and weak. You despise the weak ones, and you won't marry -the strong ones." - -"Now wait a minute!" she demanded, in a chorus of expostulation. "The -one thing a real man wants to do is to shelter his wife; they're rabid -about it. And what use have we for a shelter? Any qualities in us that -needed to be shielded we've got rid of long ago. You can't fight life -when you give hostages to it. We've been fighting in the open so long -we're used to it--we like it. We--" - -"Like it!" cried Willetta. "Oh, just lead me to a nice, protective -millionaire and give me a chance to be a parasite. Just give me a -chance!" - -"Willetta's right, just the same," Dodo declared through their -laughter. "It's the money that's at the root of it. You don't want to -marry a man you'll have to support--not that you'd mind doing it, but -his self-respect would go all to pieces if you did. And yet you can't -find a man who makes as much money as you do, who cares about music and -poetry and things. I'm putting money in the bank and reading Masefield. -I don't see why a man can't. But somehow I've never run across a man -who does." - -"Well, that's exactly what I'm driving at, only another angle on it." -Anne persisted. "The trouble is that we're rounded out, we've got both -sides of us more or less developed. It all comes down to the point that -we're self-reliant. We give ourselves all we want." - -"You aren't flattering us a bit, are you?" said Marian. "I only wish I -did give myself all I want." - -"I don't know what you're all talking about," Sara ventured softly. "I -should think--love--would be all that mattered." - -"We aren't talking about love, honey. We're talking about marriage." - -"But aren't they the same things--in a way?" - -"You won't say that when you've been married three years, child," said -Dodo, with the bitterness that recalled her eight-years'-old divorce. - -"Not exactly the same things, I suppose," Helen said quickly. -"Marriage, I'd say, is a partnership. It's almost that legally in -California. You couldn't build it on nothing but emotion--love. You'd -have to have more. But Anne, why can't you make a marriage of two -'rounded out' personalities?" - -"Because you can't make any complete whole of two smaller ones. They -don't fit into--Look here. When I was a youngster down in Santa Clara -we had two little pine-trees growing in our yard. I was madly in love -then--with the music-teacher! Well, I used to look at those trees. They -grew closer together, not an inch between their little stems, and their -branches together made one perfect pinetree. I was a poetic fool kid. -These trees were my idea of a perfect marriage. I fell out of love -with the music-teacher because he was so unreasonable about scales, -I remember! But that's still my notion of marriage, the ideal of the -old, close, conventional married life. And--well, it can't be done -with two complete and separate full-grown trees, not by any kind of -transplanting." - -"Well, maybe--" The fire crackled cheerfully in the silence. - -"But if you break it up--free love and so on,--what are you going to do -about children?" said Marian. - -"Good Lord, I'm not going to do anything about anything! I'm only -telling you--" - -"Any one of us would make a splendid mother, really. We have so much to -give--" - -"Going to waste. When you think of the thousands of women--" - -"Simply murdering their babies!" cried Willetta. "Not to mention giving -them nothing in inspiration or proper environment." - -"I'm not so sure we'd make good mothers. Just loving children and -wanting them doesn't do it. There were six of us at home, and I know. I -tell you, it's a question of sinking yourself in another individuality, -first the husband and then the child. There's something in us that -resists. We've been ourselves too long. We want to keep ourselves to -ourselves. No, not want to, exactly--it's more that we can't help it." - -"If you're right, Anne, it's a poor outlook for the race. Think of all -the women like us--thousands more every year--who don't have children. -We're really the best type of women. We're the women that ought to have -them." - -"We are not!" said Dodo. "We're freaks. We don't represent the mass of -women. We go around and around in our little circles and think we're -modern women because we make a lot of noise. But we aren't. We're of no -importance at all, with our charity boards and our social surveys and -our offices. It's the girls who marry in their teens--millions of 'em, -in millions of the little homes all over America--that really count." - -"In America!" Anne retorted. "You won't find them in their homes any -more in France or England. The girls aren't marrying in their teens -over there, not since the war. They're going to work--just as we did. -They're going into business. Already French women are increasing the -exports of France--_increasing_ them! We may be freaks, Dodo, but we're -going to have lots of company." - -"It's interesting--what the war will do to marriage." They were silent -again, gazing with abstracted eyes at the opaque wall of the future. - -"Just the same," Sara insisted softly, "you leave out everything -that's important when you leave out love." - -Anne's small exclamation was half fond and half weary. - -"We'll always have love. Every one of us has some one around in the -background, sending us flowers. A woman without a man who loves her -feels like a promissory note without an endorsement. But marriage!" - -"And there's always the question--what _is_ love?" Helen roused at the -little flutter of merriment, and after a moment she joined it with her -clear laugh. - -"Why, love is just love," said Sara, bewildered. - -"Of course. There's only one definition. It's something that isn't -there when you're trying to analyze it. And every one of us would," -said Dodo. "Give me an orange, Sara darling, and tell us about the new -pictures." - -It was their last evening together in the little house. Precious as -each moment of it was to Helen, with the coming change in her own life -hanging over it, she had no more premonition than the others of the -events that would so soon whirl them apart. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - -Marian rushed in upon them at luncheon next day, glowing with -excitement, to announce that she would leave that night for New York on -her way to France. - -"I'm going as a correspondent, of course. I never dreamed that I could -pull it off. But the United Press has come through with credentials. -Girls, when I get over there, stories or no stories, I'm going to do -something to help. I'm going to find a place where I'll be useful." - -"Wait till to-morrow," said Dodo, quietly. "I'll go with you as far -as Washington." Smiling at their stunned faces, she explained, still -unruffled: "I've been thinking about it for some time. My assistants -can keep things going here till I can arrange to put in some one else. -I don't know whether this country's going into the war or not, but if -it does, I want to be in the heart of things. I'd be no good in France, -but I can do something in our own Department of Labor." - -Two days later they were gone. Helen's own wistfulness was echoed in -Willetta's mournful exclamation: "Lucky dogs! What wouldn't I give! But -there's no use. The East is no place to bring up children, even if -I could afford to take a chance, with the infant to think about. Oh, -well, you girls'll come back twenty years from now to find me in the -same old grind." - -"Never mind, Willie dear. I'll be right here the rest of my life, -too," said Helen, and for a moment Paul's name was on her lips. She -felt that speaking of him would be a defense against her own illogical -depression, and these girls would understand. It would not even occur -to them that legally she was still another man's wife. But Willetta's -"Oh, you! You're going to leave all the rest of us a million miles -behind!" silenced her. - -"None of us have developed the way you have in this one year," said -Willetta. "If you knew what I hear everywhere about your work!" Though -she knew in her heart that she would never be a great writer, praise -for her work always gave Helen a throb of deep delight. - -Two weeks later she sat in Mr. Hayden's office listening to a -suggestion that left her breathless. - -"Why don't you go to the Orient?" Mr. Hayden's eyes, usually faintly -humorous, were quite serious. "There's a big field there right now. The -undercurrents in Shanghai, Japan's place in the war, the developments -in Mesopotamia or Russia. France is done to death already. Every one's -writing from there. But the East is still almost untouched. There's a -big opportunity there for some one." - -"Do you think I could handle it?" - -"Of course you could. It's a matter of being on the ground and -reporting. All it needs is the ability to see things clearly and tell -them graphically. You have that. It would take money, of course. I -don't know how you're fixed for that." - -She thought quickly, her pulses leaping. - -"With these last two checks--and I have a little coming in from -deferred land commissions--I'd have not quite a thousand dollars." - -"Hm--well, it's not much, of course. It would be something of a gamble. -If you want to try it, we'll give you transportation and letters and -take a story a month. And I don't think you'd have any difficulty -finding other markets in the East." - -For a moment she tried to consider the question coolly, while pictures -of Chinese pagodas, paper-walled houses of Japan, Siberian prairies, -raced dizzily before her eyes. Then, with a shock of self-accusation, -she remembered. - -"I couldn't go. Other arrangements." - -"Don't decide too quickly. Think it over. There's a great opportunity -there, and I believe you could handle it. It would make you, as a -magazine writer. If you make up your mind to go, let me know right -away? There's a boat on the twentieth. If you sailed on that, it would -give us time to announce the series for the winter, when our renewals -are coming in." - -"I'll think about it," she promised. "But I'm quite sure I can't go." - -She walked quickly down the windy street toward Market. The whirling -dust-eddies over the cobbles, the blown scraps of paper, the flapping -of her skirts, seemed part of the miserable confusion in her own mind. - -How could she have forgotten Paul even for a moment? She had been -heartless, head-strong, foolish to stay on in San Francisco, trifling -so with the most precious thing in her life. Paul had been superhumanly -patient and kind and unselfish to let her do it. She had never loved -him more deeply than at that moment when with a dim sense of fleeing -to him for refuge she hurried toward a telephone. Her voice trembled -unmanageably when at last his came thin and faint across the wires. She -had to speak twice to make him hear. - -"Paul? Oh, Paul! It's Helen.--No, nothing's the matter. Only--I want -to see you. Listen--I want to get away--Can you hear me? I say, I -want to come down there for a while. Would your mother have room -for me?--Right away. I could take the next train.--No, nothing, -only I want to see you." The joy in his voice hurt her. "Why, don't -you know I've always wanted that? You dear!--To-morrow morning, -then.--I'll be glad, too,--so glad! Of course.--Truly, honest and -true.--Foolish!--Good-by--till to-morrow." - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - -At the end of a long, warm summer day Helen lay in a hammock swung -between two apricot-trees. From time to time, with a light push of a -slippered foot on the grass, she set the hammock swaying, and above -her head the pale, translucent leaves and ruddy fruit shifted into new -patterns against a steel-gray sky. - -The mysterious, erie hush of twilight was upon her spirit. Murmuring -voices came vaguely through it; across the street two women were -sitting on the porch of a bungalow, and on its lawn a little girl -played with a dog. The colors of their dresses, of the dog's tawny fur, -of geraniums against brown shingles, were sharp and vivid in the cold -light. - -"Mother seems to be staying quite a while at Mrs. Chester's," said -Paul. He moved slightly in the wicker chair, dislodging the ashes from -his cigar with a tap of his finger, and she felt his caressing eyes -upon her. She did not turn her head, saying nothing, holding to the -quietness within her as one clings to a happy dream when something -threatens sleep. A puff of smoke drifted between her and the leaves. - -"It _is_ pleasant outdoors, this time of day," he persisted after a -moment. Her low murmur, hardly audible, left him unsatisfied. - -"Well, did you have a good time this afternoon?" His voice was brisker -now, full of affectionate interest. She felt his demand for her -response as if he had been tugging at her with his hands. - -"Pretty good. Oh, yes, a very good time." - -"What did you do?" She might have said, "Please let me alone. Let's be -quiet." But Paul would be worried, hurt; he would not understand; he -would ask questions. She turned a bright face to him. - -"Oh, your mother and I went down town, and then we came home, and Mrs. -Lamson came in." - -"She's a fine little woman, Mrs. Lamson." - -"Yes? Oh, I suppose so. I don't care much for her." - -"You will. You'll like her when you know her better." The definiteness -of his tone left her no reply. She felt that it was proper to like Mrs. -Lamson, that he expected her to like Mrs. Lamson, that she must like -Mrs. Lamson. A flash of foolish, little-girl anger rose in her; she -would have liked to stamp her foot and howl that she would _not_ like -Mrs. Lamson. The absurdity of it made her smile. - -"What are you smiling at, dear?" - -She sat up, setting the hammock swinging. - -"Oh, I don't know. Let's go somewhere," she said restlessly. "Let's -take a long walk." - -"All right." He was eager to please her. "I'll tell you something -better than that I'll get the car, and we'll ride down to Merced and -get a sundae. Run put on your coat. You'll need it, with that thin -dress." - -His pride in the new car was deep and boyish. It was quite the most -costly, luxurious car in town; it was at once the symbol of his -commanding place in the community, and a toy to be endlessly examined -and discussed. She would not think of telling him that at the moment -she would rather walk than ride in it. Like an obedient child she went -for her coat. - -The house was dim and quiet. She closed the door of her room behind -her with a little quick gesture, and stood for a moment with her back -against it. She thought that it would be pleasant to stay there. Then -she thought of a long, silent walk under the stars, all alone, quiet, -in the darkness. Then she realized quite clearly that she did not -like Mrs. Lamson, and she thought of the reasons why that amiable, -empty-headed little woman bored her. At that moment the automobile-horn -squawked. Paul was waiting. Hastily she seized her coat and ran out to -the curb. - -When the purring machine turned into the brilliantly lighted business -district and the arched sign, "WELCOME TO RIPLEY," twinkled upon them, -tawdry against the pale sky, she felt that she could not bear to go to -Merced. "Let's just run up the boulevard, where it's cool and quiet, -away from people," she said coaxingly. - -"Well, if you want to." The car ran smoothly up the long gray highway -hedged with ragged eucalyptus trees. Between their gaunt trunks she -caught glimpses of level alfalfa fields, and whiffs of sun-warmed -perfume swept across her face with the rushing air. In the brimming -irrigation canals, shimmering like silver mirrors across the green -fields, bright-colored caps bobbed and white arms splashed. Beside her -Paul talked with enthusiasm of the car. - -"Isn't she a beauty? She'd make eighty miles easy if I wanted to let -her out. And see how flexible! Watch, now." - -"Yes, dear. Wonderful!" She was not accustomed to being with people -all day, that was the trouble. Those hours of making conversation with -women who did not interest her seemed to have drained her of some vital -force. When she had her own house she could be alone as much as she -liked. Poor boy, he had been working all day; of course he wanted her -companionship now. "You must let me take it out some day soon, will -you?" - -"Why, it's a pretty big car, Helen. I'd rather you'd let me drive it." - -She laughed. - -"All right, piggy-wig, keep your old car! Some day I'll get a little -Blix roadster and show you how I drive!" - -She was astonished at the shadow that crossed his face. His smile was a -bit forced. - -"I only meant it would be pretty heavy for a woman to handle. Of course -you can drive it if you want to." - -They ran past the gateway of Ripley Farmland Acres, and gazing at the -little town, the thriving farms, and the twinkling lights scattered -over the land that had been a desolate plain, she forgot his words in a -thrill of pride. She had helped build these homes. When he spoke again -she groped blindly for his allusion. - -"I don't think you realize, Helen. I wish you wouldn't say things like -that." - -"Like what?" - -"About the roadster. I wish you would say 'we' sometimes. Last night at -the minister's you said, 'I think I'll buy a little farm and see what I -can do with apricots.' I know you didn't realize how funny it sounded. -It sort of hurts, you know." - -"Oh, my dear!" Her cry of pain, her words of miserable apology, made -even more clear to her the chasm between them. How could she apologize -for this, a thing she had done without knowing she was doing it? Gray -desolation choked her like a fog. - -"All right. It's all right. I know you didn't mean to," he said -cheerfully. He took one hand from the wheel to put an arm around her -shoulders. "Never mind. You'll learn." His tone confidently took -possession of her, and in a heartsickening flash she saw his hope of -making her what he wanted his wife to be. She felt his hand upon her -tastes, her thoughts, her self, trying to reshape them to his ideal of -her. "You suit me, sweetheart. I know what you are, my wonderful girl!" - -Her heart stopped, and she felt that her lips were cold under his -forgiving kiss. He talked happily while they swept on through the -gathering darkness, and she responded in tones that sounded strange -to her. Mysterious darkness covered the wide level land, farm-house -windows glowed warmly yellow through it, and a great moon, rising -slowly over the far hills, flooded the sky with pale light and put out -the stars. At last they rode into Ripley, past the piles of raw lumber -and stone that were to be their bungalow, and down the quiet street. -The wheels crunched the gravel of the driveway. Paul's warm hand -clasped hers, and she stumbled from the running-board into his arms. -His lips were close against his cheek. - -"Love me, sweetheart? Tell me. It's been a long, long time since you -said it." She stood rigid, voiceless. "Please?" - -In a passion of pity and wild pain she held him close, lifting her face -to his kiss in the darkness. She felt that her heart was breaking. - -"You do," he said in deep content. "My dear, my dear!" - -When she could reach her room she turned on the full glare of the -electric lights and went softly to the mirror. She stood for a long -time, her hands tight against her breast, looking into the eyes that -stared back at her. "He doesn't love you," she said to them. "He -doesn't want you. It's some one else he wants--the girl you used to -be. O Paul, how can I hurt him so! You'll hurt him more cruelly if you -marry him. You can't be what he wants. You can't. You're some one else. -You couldn't stand it. You can't make yourself over. After all these -years. O Paul, my dear, my dear, I didn't mean to hurt you!" - -Some hours later she remembered that a boat sailed for the Orient on -the twentieth. She would have to act quickly, and it was good that -there was so much to do. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - -Early on the morning of the nineteenth she climbed the steps to the -little brown house on Russian Hill. She had traveled all night from -Masonville, awake in her berth, and she was very tired. She was so -tired that it seemed impossible to feel any more emotion, and she -looked indifferently at the sunny, redwood-paneled room so full of -memories. A score of disconnected thoughts worried her mind; her -mother's tearful face, the telegram to Washington for her passports, -the steamer-trunk she must buy, Mabel looking at her enviously over the -baby's head. - -Brushing a hand across her blurry eyes, she sat down at her desk. She -must write to Paul. She must tell him that she was going away; make him -understand that their smiling farewell at the Ripley station was her -good-by. She must try to show him that it was best, so that he would -not hold her memory too long. - -When she had finished, she folded the sheet carefully, slipped it into -its envelope, and sealed the flap. It was done. She felt that she had -torn away a part of herself, leaving a bleeding emptiness. Her brain, -wise with experience of suffering, told her that the wound would heal, -would even in time be forgotten, but her wisdom did not dull the pain. - -A thousand memories rushed upon her, torturing, unbearable. She rose, -trying to push them from her, reaching in agony for the anodyne of -work. Her trunks must be packed; there were shelves of books to give -away; she must telephone the tailor and the expressman. A horde of such -details stretched saving hands to her, and a self-control strengthened -by long use took her through them, with her chin up and a smile on her -lips. - -The luncheon table had never seen her gayer, amid the excited -congratulations of the girls, and she rushed through an afternoon of -shopping to meet them all for tea, and to spend a last intimate, warm, -half-tearful evening with them around the fire. - -"The old crowd's breaking up," they said. "Marian in France, and Dodo -in Washington, and now Helen's going. Nothing's going to be the same -any more." - -"Nothing ever is," she answered soberly. "We can't keep anything in the -world, no matter how good it is. And hasn't it been good--all this! The -way we've cared for each other, and our happy times together, and all -you've meant to me--I can't tell you. I don't think there's anything in -the world more beautiful than the friendship of women. It's been the -happiest year of my whole life." - -"It's been lovely, all of it," Sara murmured, curled in a heap of -cushions on the floor by Helen's low chair. She laid her long, -beautiful artist's hand on Helen's. "It's terrible to see things end." - -The fire settled together with a soft, snuggling sound. In the dusk -Willetta's face was dimly white, and the little spark of red on Anne's -cigarette-tip glowed and faded. They sat about the dying fire in a -last communion of understanding that seemed threatened by the darkness -around them. Already the room had taken on something of the forlornness -of all abandoned places, a coldness and strangeness shared in Helen's -mind by the lands to which she was going, the unknown days before her. - -The dull ache at her heart became pain at a sudden memory of Paul's -face. She straightened in her chair, closing her fingers more warmly -around Sara's. - -"I'm sure of one thing," she said earnestly. "It hurts to--to let go -of anything beautiful. But something will come to take its place, -something different, of course, but better. The future's always better -than we can possibly think it will be. We ought to know that--really -_know_ it. We ought to be so sure of it that we'd let go of things more -easily, strike out toward the next thing. Like swimming, you know. -Confidently. We ought to live _confidently_. Because whatever's ahead, -it's going to be better than we've had. I tell you, girls, I know it -is." - - * * * * * - -She arrived breathlessly at the docks next day, rushing down at the -last minute in a taxi-cab jammed with bundles. Sara and Willetta were -part of the mad whirl of the morning, dashing with her to straighten -out a last unexpected difficulty with the passports, hounding a -delaying express company, telephoning finally for a taxi-cab to carry -the trunks to the docks. Willetta had gone with it to see that the -trunks got aboard; Sara had made coffee and toast and pressed them upon -Helen while she was dressing. The telephone had rung every moment. - -It was ringing again when Helen, clutching her bag, her purse, her -gloves, slammed the door of the little house and ran down the stairs -of Jones Street to the waiting cab. Bumping over the cobbles, with -Sara beside her, and the bags, the hat-box, an armful of roses, the -shawl-strapped steamer-rug, jostled in confusion about her, she looked -through the plate-glass panes at San Francisco's hilly streets, -Chinatown's colorful vegetable markets and glittering shops, Grant -Avenue's suave buildings, and felt nothing but a sense of unreality. -Incredible that these would still be here when she was gone! Incredible -that she was going, actually going! - -"You have the keys, Helen dear?" Sara's lips quivered. - -"Yes--I think so." She dug them from her purse. "Give them to Willetta -for me, will you? I'm afraid I'll forget. I hope she'll be happy in the -little house." For the hundredth time she glanced at her wrist-watch. -"If you hear who it was that was telephoning, explain to them that I -simply had to run or I'd miss the boat, won't you dear? And you'll -write." How inadequate, these commonplace little remarks! Yet what else -could one say? - -The taxi-cab stopped in the throng of automobiles about the wharves, -the man must be paid, bags and steamer-rug and flowers pulled out. -Willetta was there, laughing with tears in her eyes. The little Chinese -woman was there and Anne and Mr. Hayden. She was surrounded, laughing, -shaking hands, saying something, anything. - -They were at the gang-plank, across it, on the deck of the steamer now, -in the packed crowd. All around them were tears and laughter, kisses, -farewells. She was shaking hands again. Miss Peterson, the stenographer -from the "Post," was pressing a white package into her hands; two -little girls from Telegraph Hill had come down to bring a hot, wilted -bunch of weed-flowers; Mary O'Brien, from the settlement house she had -written about, and others, acquaintances she had hardly remembered, -men with whom she had danced at the Press Club--"Oh, Mr. Clark! How -good of you to come--! Good-by!--Good-by!" "Hope you have a fine trip." -"Oh, thank you!--Thank you!--Good-by!" - -The whistle blew; the crowd eddied about her. A last hug from Sara, -tremulous kisses, Willetta's damp cheek pressed against hers, a sob in -her throat. The last visitors were being hurried from the ship. Some -one threw a bright paper ribbon, curling downward to the wharf. Another -and another, scores of them, hundreds, sped through the sunshine, -interlacing, caught by the crowd below, while others rose in long -curves to the deck, till the steamer was bound to the shore by their -rainbow colors. - -Another whistle. Slowly, with a faint quivering of its great hulk, the -ship awoke, became a living thing beneath her feet. The futile, bright -strands parted, one by one, curled, fell into the water. The crowd -below was a blur of white faces. Brushing her hand across her eyes, -she found her own little group, Willetta, Anne, Sara, close together, -waving handkerchiefs. Across the widening strip of water she waved her -roses, waved and waved them till the docks were blots of gray and she -could no longer see the answering flutter of white. The ship was slowly -turning in the stream, heading out through the Golden Gate. - -When the last sight of the dear gray city was lost, when the Ferry -Tower, the high cliffs of Telegraph, the castle-like height of Russian -Hill, the Presidio, Cliff House, the beach, had sunk into grayness -on the horizon, she went down to her stateroom. It was piled with -gifts, long striped boxes that held flowers, baskets of fruit, square -silver-corded packages that spoke of bonbons, others large and small -She had not known that so many people cared. - -A blind impulse had brought her into this little place where she could -lock a door behind her and be alone. She had felt that she could give -way there to all the tears she had not shed. But she felt only a sense -of peace. She laughed a little, wiping away the few tears that did brim -over her lashes, thinking of the girls who still loved her and would -love her wherever she was. - -Deliberately she thought of Paul, and already the deep hurt was gone. -He would be reading her letter now; she felt a pang of sharp pain -because she had made him suffer. But he would forget her now. In time -there would be another girl, such a girl as she had been,--the girl he -had loved and that no longer lived in her. - -"That's why it hurt me so!" she thought, with sudden illumination. "Not -because I wanted him, but because I wanted to be all that I had been, -and to have all that I have missed and never will have. Marriage and -home and children. No, I can't ever fit into it now. But--there's all -the world, all the world, outside, waiting for me!" - -Her thoughts turned forward to it. - - - THE END - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74612 *** diff --git a/old/74612-h/74612-h.htm b/old/74612-h/74612-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index bda5b86..0000000 --- a/old/74612-h/74612-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9339 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8"> - <title> - Diverging Roads | Project Gutenberg - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } -hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap { font-variant:small-caps; } - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } -table.autotable td, -table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } - -.tdl {text-align: left;} -.tdr {text-align: right;} -.tdc {text-align: center;} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph1 { font-size: x-large; margin: .83em auto; } - -.ph2 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - -.ph3 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph3 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - - </style> -</head> -<body> -<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74612 ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>DIVERGING ROADS</h1> - -<p class="ph1">BY ROSE WILDER LANE</p> - -<p>NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1919</p> - -<p>Copyright, 1919, by <span class="smcap">The Century Co.</span></p> - -<p><i>Published, March, 1919</i></p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<h2>Contents</h2> - -<table> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#PROLOGUE">PROLOGUE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PROLOGUE">PROLOGUE</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The tale of California's early days is an epic, an immortal song of -daring, of hope, of the urge of youth to unknown trails, of struggle, -and of heartbreak. Across the great American plains the adventurers -came, scrawling the story of their passing in lines of blood; they came -around the Horn in wind-jammers, beating their way northward in the -strange Pacific; they forced their way into the wilderness, awakening -California's hills from centuries-long sleep, and they pitched their -tents and built their cabins by thousands in Cherokee Valley.</p> - -<p>Those were the great days of Cherokee, days of feverish activity, -of hard, fierce living, of marvelous event. The tales came down to -Masonville, where the stage stopped to change horses, and drivers, -express-messengers, and prospectors gathered in Mason's bar. The -Chinese laundryman had found beside his cabin a nugget worth sixteen -hundred dollars; the stage to Honey Creek had been held up just north -of Cherokee Hill; Jim Thane had struck it rich on North Branch.</p> - -<p>Mason, prospering, ordered a billiard-table sent up from San -Francisco, built a dance-hall. Richardson came in with his family and -put up a general store. Cherokee was booming; Cherokee miners came down -with their sacks of gold-dust, and Masonville thrived.</p> - -<p>But the great days passed. The time came when placer mining no longer -paid in Cherokee, and the camp moved on across the mountains. Cherokee -Valley was left behind, a desolate little hollow among the hills, -denuded of its trees, disfigured here and there by the scars of shallow -tunnels where hope still fought against defeat. A handful of dogged -miners remained, and a few Portuguese families living in little cabins, -harvesting a bare subsistence from the unwilling soil.</p> - -<p>A few discouraged men came down to Masonville and took up homestead -claims, clearing the chaparral from their rolling acres, sowing grain -or setting out fruit-trees. They had wives and children; in time they -built a school-house. Later the railroad came through, and there was a -station and a small bank.</p> - -<p>But the stirring times of enterprise and daring were gone forever. The -epic had ended in bad verse. Masonville slipped quietly to sleep, like -an old man sitting in the sun with his memories. And youth, taking -up its old immortal song of courage and of hope, went on to farther -unknown trails and different adventure.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2> -</div> - - -<p>There is a peculiar quality in the somnolence of an old town in which -little has occurred for many years. It is the unease of relaxation -without repose, the unease of one who lies too late in bed, aware that -he should be getting up. The men who lounge aimlessly about the street -corners cannot be wholly idle. Their hands, at least, must be busy. The -scarred posts and notched edges of the board sidewalks show it; the -paint on the little stations is sanded shoulder-high to prevent their -whittling there. Energy struggles feebly under the weight of the slow, -uneventful days; but its pressure is always there, an urge that becomes -an irritation in young blood.</p> - -<p>Helen Davies, pausing in the doorway of Richardson's store on a warm -spring afternoon, said to herself that she would be glad never to see -Masonville again. The familiar sight of its one drowsy street, the -rickety wooden awnings over the sidewalks, the boys pitching horseshoes -in the shade of the blacksmith-shop, was almost insupportable.</p> - -<p>She did not want to stand there looking at it. She did not want to -follow the old stale road home to the old farm-house, which had not -changed since she could remember. She felt that she should be doing -something, she did not know what.</p> - -<p>A long purple curl of smoke unrolling over the crest of Cherokee Hill -was the plume of Number Five coming in. Two short, quick puffs of white -above the bronze mist of bare apricot orchards mutely announced the -whistle for the grade.</p> - -<p>Men sauntered past, going toward the station. The postmaster appeared -in his shirt-sleeves, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with mail sacks down -the middle of the street. The afternoon hack from Cherokee rattled by, -bringing a couple of tired, dust-grimed drummers. And the Masonville -girls, bare-headed, laughing, talking in high, gay voices, came -hurrying from the post-office, from the drug-store, from one of their -Embroidery Club meetings, to see Number Five come in. Helen shifted the -weight of the package on her arm, pulled her sunbonnet farther over her -face, and started home.</p> - -<p>Depression and revolt struggled in her mind. She passed the wide, -empty doorway of Harner's livery-stable, the glowing forge of the -blacksmith-shop, without seeing them, absorbed in the turmoil of her -thoughts. But at the corner where the gravel walk began, and the -street frankly became a country road slipping down a little slope -between scattered white cottages, her self-absorption vanished.</p> - -<p>A boy was walking slowly down the path. The elaborate unconcern of his -attitude, the stiffness of his self-conscious back, told her that he -had been waiting for her, and a rush of dizzying emotion swept away all -but the immediate moment. The sunshine was warm on her shoulders, the -grass of the lawns was green, every lace-curtained window behind the -rose-bushes seemed to conceal watching eyes, and the sound of her feet -on the gravel was loud in her ears. She overtook him at last, trying -not to walk too fast. They smiled at each other.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Paul," she said shyly.</p> - -<p>He was a stocky, dark-haired boy, with blue eyes. His father was dead, -killed in a mine over at Cherokee. He had come down to the Masonville -school, and they were in the same class, the class that would graduate -that spring. He was studying hard, trying to get as much education as -possible before he would have to go to work. He lived with his mother -in a little house near the edge of town, on the road to the farm.</p> - -<p>"Hello," he replied. He cleared his throat. "I had to go to the -post-office to mail a letter," he said.</p> - -<p>"Did you?" she answered. She tried to think of something else to say. -"Will you be glad when school's over?" she asked.</p> - -<p>Paul and she stood at the head of the class. He was better in -arithmetic, but she beat him in spelling. For a long time they had -exchanged glances of mutual respect across the school-room. Some one -had told her that Paul said she was all right. He had beat her in -arithmetic that day. "She takes a licking as well as a boy," was what -he had said. But she had gone home and looked in the mirror.</p> - -<p>The flutter at her heart had stopped then. No, she was not pretty. Her -features were too large, her forehead too high. She despised the face -that looked back at her. She longed for tiny, pretty features, large -brown eyes, a low forehead with curling hair. The eyes in the mirror -were gray and the hair was straight and brown. Not even a pretty, light -brown. It was almost black. For the first time she had desperately -wanted to be pretty. But now she did not care. He had waited for her, -anyway.</p> - -<p>They walked slowly along the country road, under the arch of the trees, -through the branches of which the sun sent long, slanting rays of -light. There was a colored haze over the leafless orchards, and the -hills were freshly green from the rains.</p> - -<p>"Well, I've got a job promised as soon as school is over," said Paul.</p> - -<p>"What kind of job?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Working at the depot. It pays fifteen a month to start," he replied. -It was as if they were uttering poetry. The words did not matter. What -they said did not matter.</p> - -<p>"That's fine," she said. "I wish I had a job."</p> - -<p>"Gee, I hate to see a girl go to work," said Paul.</p> - -<p>His lips were full and very firm. When he set them tightly, as he did -then, he looked determined. There was something obstinate about the -line of his chin and the slight frown between his heavy black brows. -Her whole nature seemed to melt and flow toward him.</p> - -<p>"I don't see why!" she flashed. "A girl like me has to work if she's -going to get anywhere. I bet I could do as well as a boy if I had a -chance."</p> - -<p>The words were like a defensive armor between her and her real desire. -She did not want to work. She wanted to be soft and pretty, tempting -and teasing and sweet. She wanted to win the things she desired by -tears and smiles and coaxing. But she did not know how.</p> - -<p>Paul looked at her admiringly. He said, "I guess you could, all right. -You're pretty smart for a girl."</p> - -<p>She glowed with pleasure.</p> - -<p>They had often walked along this road as far as his house, when -accident brought them home from school at the same time. But their talk -had never had this indefinable quality, as vague and beautiful as the -misty color over the orchards.</p> - -<p>Sometimes she had stopped at his house for a few minutes. His mother -was a little woman with brisk, bustling manner. She always stood at -the door to see that they wiped their feet before they went in. The -house was very neat. There was an ingrain carpet on the front-room -floor, swept till every thread showed. The center-table had a crocheted -tidy on it and a Bible and a polished sea-shell. This room rose like a -picture in her mind as they neared the gate. She did not want to leave -Paul, but she did not want to go into that room with him now.</p> - -<p>"Look here—wait a minute—" he said, stopping in the gateway. "I -wanted to tell you—" He turned red and looked down at one toe, boring -into the soft ground. "About this being valedictorian—"</p> - -<p>"Oh!" she said. There had been a fierce rivalry between them for the -honor of being valedictorian at the graduating exercises. There was -nothing to choose between them in scholarship, but Paul had won. She -knew the teachers had decided she did not dress well enough to take -such a prominent part.</p> - -<p>"I hope you don't feel bad about it, Helen," he went on awkwardly. "I -told them I'd give it up, because you're a girl, and anyway you ought -to have it, I guess. I don't feel right about taking it, some way."</p> - -<p>"That's all right," she answered. "I don't care."</p> - -<p>"Well, it's awfully good of you." She could see that he was very much -relieved. She was glad she had lied about it. "Come in and look at -what I've got in the shed," he said, getting away from the subject as -quickly as possible.</p> - -<p>She followed him around the house, under the old palm-tree that stood -there. He had cleared out the woodshed and put in a table and a chair. -On the table stood a telegraphic-sounder and key and a round, red, dry -battery.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to learn to be an operator," he said. "I've got most of the -alphabet already. Listen." He made the instrument click. "I'm going to -practise receiving, listening to the wires in the depot. Morrison says -I can after I get through work. Telegraph-operators make as much as -seventy dollars a month, and some of them, on the fast wires, make a -hundred. I guess the train-dispatcher makes more than that."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Paul, really?" She was all enthusiasm. He let her try the key. "I -could do it. I know I could," she said.</p> - -<p>He was encouraging.</p> - -<p>"Sure you could." But there was a faint condescension in his tone, and -she felt that he was entering a life into which she could not follow -him.</p> - -<p>"That's the trouble with this rotten old world," she said resentfully. -"You can get out and do things like that. A girl hasn't any chance at -all."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, she has," he answered. "There's lots of girl operators. -There's one down the line. Her father's station agent. And up at Rollo -there's a man and his wife that handle the station between them. He -works nights, and she works daytimes. They live over the depot, and if -anything goes wrong she can call him."</p> - -<p>"That must be nice," she said.</p> - -<p>"He's pretty lucky, all right," Paul agreed. "It isn't exactly like -having her working, of course—right together like that. I guess maybe -they couldn't—been married, unless she did. He didn't have much, I -guess. He isn't so awful much older than—But anyway, I'd hate to -see—anybody I cared about going to work," he finished desperately. -He opened and shut the telegraph-key, and the metallic clacks of the -sounder were loud in the stillness. Unsaid things hung between them. -Dazzled, tremulous, shaken by the beating of her heart, Helen could not -speak.</p> - -<p>The palpitant moment was ended by the sound of his mother's voice. -"Paul! Paul, I want some wood." They laughed shakily.</p> - -<p>"I—I guess I better be going," she said. He made no protest. But when -they stood in the woodshed doorway he said all in a rush:</p> - -<p>"Look here, if I get a buggy next Sunday, what do you say we go driving -somewhere?"</p> - -<p>She carried those words home with her, singing as she went.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2> -</div> - - -<p>He came early that Sunday afternoon, but she had been ready, waiting, -long before she saw the buggy coming down the road.</p> - -<p>She had tried to do her hair in a new way, putting it up in rag curlers -the night before, working with it for hours that morning in the stuffy -attic bedroom before the wavy mirror, combing it, putting it up, taking -it down again, with a nervous fluttering in her wrists. In the end she -gave it up. She rolled the long braid into its usual mass at the nape -of her neck, and pinned on it a black ribbon bow.</p> - -<p>She longed for a new white dress to wear that day. Her pink gingham, -whose blue-and-white-plaid pattern had faded to blurred lines of mauve -and pale pink, was hideous to her as she contemplated it stretched in -all its freshly ironed stiffness on the bed. But it was the best she -could do.</p> - -<p>While she dressed, the sounds of the warm, lazy, spring morning -floated in to her through the half-open window. The whinnying of the -long-legged colt in the barnyard, the troubled, answering neigh of -his mother from the pasture, the cackling of the hens, blended like -the notes of a pastoral orchestra with the rising and falling whirr of -steel on the grindstone. Under the stunted live-oak in the side-yard -her father was sharpening an ax, while her little sister Mabel turned -the crank and poured water on the whirling stone. The murmur of their -talk came up to her, Mabel's shrill, continuous chatter, her father's -occasional monosyllables. She heard without listening, and the sounds -ran like an undercurrent of contentment in her thoughts.</p> - -<p>When she had pinned her collar and put on her straw sailor she stood -for a long time gazing into the eyes that looked back at her from the -mirror, lost in a formless reverie.</p> - -<p>"My land!" her mother said when she appeared in the kitchen. "What're -you all dressed up like that for, this time of day?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going driving," she answered, constrained. She had dreaded the -moment. Her mother stopped, the oven door half open, a fork poised in -her hand.</p> - -<p>"Who with?"</p> - -<p>"Paul." She tried to say the name casually, making an effort to meet -her mother's eyes as usual. It was as if they looked at each other -across a wide empty space. Her mother seemed suddenly to see in her a -stranger.</p> - -<p>"But—good gracious, Helen! You're only a little girl!" The words -were cut across by Tommy's derisive chant from the table, where he sat -licking a mixing-spoon.</p> - -<p>"Helen's got a feller! Helen's got a feller!"</p> - -<p>"Shut up!" she cried. "If you don't shut up—!"</p> - -<p>But he got away from her and, slamming the screen door, yelled from the -safe distance of the woodpile:</p> - -<p>"Helen's mad, and I'm glad, an' I know what will please her—!"</p> - -<p>She went into the other room, shutting the door with a shaking hand. -She felt that she hated the whole world. Yes, even Paul. Her mother -called to her that even if she was going out with a beau, that was no -reason she shouldn't eat something. Dinner wouldn't be ready till two -o'clock, but she ought to drink some milk anyway. She answered that she -was not hungry.</p> - -<p>Paul would come by one o'clock, she thought. His mother had only a cold -lunch on Sundays, because they went to church. He came ten minutes -late, and she had forgotten everything else in the strain of waiting.</p> - -<p>She met him at the gate, and he got out to help her into the -buggy-seat. He was wearing his Sunday clothes, the blue suit, carefully -brushed and pressed, and a stiff white collar. He looked strange and -formal.</p> - -<p>"It isn't much of a rig," he said apologetically, clearing his throat. -She recognized the bony sorrel and the rattling buggy, the cheapest in -Harner's livery-stable. But even that, she knew, was an extravagance -for Paul.</p> - -<p>"It's hard to get a rig on Sunday," she said, "Everybody takes them all -out in the morning. I think you were awfully lucky to get such a good -one. Isn't it a lovely day?"</p> - -<p>"It looks like the rains are about over," he replied in a polite voice. -After the first radiant glance they had not looked at each other. He -chirped to the sorrel, and they drove away together.</p> - -<p>Enveloped in the hood of the buggy-top, they saw before them the yellow -road, winding on among the trees, disappearing, appearing again like -a ribbon looped about the curves of the hills. There was gold in the -green of the fields, gold in the poppies beside the road, gold in the -ruddiness of young apricot twigs. The clear air itself was filled with -vibrant, golden sunshine. They drove in a golden haze. What did they -say? It did not matter. They looked at each other.</p> - -<p>His arm lay along the back of the buggy-seat. Its being there was -like a secret shared between them, a knowledge held in common, to be -cherished and to be kept unspoken. When the increasing consciousness of -it grew too poignant to be borne any longer in silence they escaped -from it in sudden mutual panic, breathless. They left the buggy, tying -the patient sorrel in the shade beneath a tree, and clambered up the -hillside.</p> - -<p>They went, they said, to gather wild flowers. He took her hand to help -her up the trail, and she permitted it, stumbling, when unaided she -could have climbed more easily, glad to feel that he was the leader, -eager that he should think himself the stronger. At the top of the -hill they came to a low-spreading live-oak with a patch of young grass -beneath it, and here, forgetting the ungathered flowers, they sat down.</p> - -<p>They sat there a long time, talking very seriously on grave subjects; -life and the meaning of it, the bigness of the universe, and how it -makes a fellow feel funny, somehow, when he looks at the stars at night -and thinks about things. She understood. She felt that way herself -sometimes. It was amazing to learn how many things they had felt in -common. Neither of them had ever expected to find any one else who felt -them, too.</p> - -<p>Then there was the question of what to do with your life. It was a -pretty important thing to decide. You didn't want to make mistakes, -like so many men did. You had to start right. That was the point, the -start. When you get to be eighteen or so, almost twenty, you realize -that, and you look back over your life and see how you've wasted a lot -of time already. You realize you better begin to do something.</p> - -<p>Now here was the idea of learning telegraphy. That looked pretty good. -If a fellow really went at that and worked hard, there was no telling -what it might lead to. You might get to be a train-dispatcher or even a -railroad superintendent. There were lots of big men who didn't have any -better start than he had. Look at Edison.</p> - -<p>She agreed. She was sure there was nothing he could not do. Somehow, -then, they began to talk as if she would be with him. She might be a -telegrapher, too. Wouldn't it be fun if she was, so they could be in -the same town? He'd help her with the train orders, and if he worked -nights she could fix his lunch for him.</p> - -<p>They made a sort of play of it, laughing about it. They were only -supposing, of course. They carefully refrained from voicing the thought -that clamored behind everything they said, that set her heart racing -and kept her eyes from meeting his, the thought of that young couple at -Rollo.</p> - -<p>And at the last, when they could no longer ignore the incredible fact -that the afternoon was gone, that only a golden western sky behind the -flat, blue mass of the hills remained to tell of the vanished sunlight, -they rose reluctantly, hesitant. He had taken her two hands to help her -to her feet. In the grayness of the twilight they looked at each other, -and she felt the approach of a moment tremendous, irrevocable.</p> - -<p>He was drawing her closer. She felt, with the pull of his hands, an -urging within herself, a compulsion like a strong current, sweeping her -away, merging her with something unknown, vast, beautifully terrible. -Suddenly, in a panic, pushing him blindly away, she heard herself -saying, "No—no! Please—" The tension of his arms relaxed.</p> - -<p>"All right—if you don't want—I didn't mean—" he stammered. Their -hands clung for a moment, uncertainly, then dropped apart. They -stumbled down the dusky trail and drove home almost in silence.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Spring came capriciously that next year. She smiled unexpectedly -upon the hills through long days of golden sunshine, coaxing wild -flowers from the damp earth and swelling buds with her warm promise. -She retreated again behind cold skies, abandoning eager petals and -sap-filled twigs to the chill desolation of rain and the bitterness of -frost.</p> - -<p>Farmers trudging behind their plows felt her coming in the stir of the -scented air, in the responsiveness of the springy soil and, looking up -at the sparkling skies, felt a warmth in their own veins even while -they shook their heads doubtfully. And rising in the dawns they tramped -the orchard rows, bending tips of branches between anxious fingers, -pausing to cut open a few buds on their calloused palms.</p> - -<p>But to Helen the days were like notes in a melody. Linnet's songs and -sunshine streaming through the attic windows or gray panes and rain -on the roof were one to her. She woke to either as to a holiday. She -slipped from beneath the patchwork quilt into a cold room and dressed -with shivering fingers, hardly hearing Mabel's drowsy protests at being -waked so early. Life was too good to be wasted in sleep. She seemed -made of energy as she ran down the steep stairs to the kitchen. It -swelled in her veins as a river frets against its banks in the spring -floods.</p> - -<p>Every sight and sound struck upon her senses with a new freshness. -There was exhilaration in the bite of cold water on her skin when she -washed in the tin basin on the bench by the door, and the smell of -coffee and frying salt pork was good. She sang while she spread the red -table-cloth on the kitchen table and set out the cracked plates.</p> - -<p>She sang:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">"You're as welcome as the flowers in Ma-a-ay,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And I—love you in the same o-o-old way."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It seemed to her that she was caroling aloud poetry so exquisite that -all its meaning escaped the dull ears about her. She walked among them, -alone, wrapped in a glory they could not perceive.</p> - -<p>Even her mother's tight-lipped anxiety did not quite break through her -happy absorption. Her mother worked silently, stepping heavily about -the kitchen, now and then glancing through the window toward the barn. -When her husband came clumping up the path and stopped at the back -steps to scrape the mud from his boots, she went to the door and opened -it, saying almost harshly, "Well?"</p> - -<p>He said nothing, continuing for a moment to knock a boot heel against -the edge of the step. Then he came slowly in, and began to dip water -from the water pail into the wash-basin. The slump of his body in the -sweat-stained overalls expressed nothing but weariness.</p> - -<p>"I guess last night settled it," he said. "We won't get enough of a -crop to pay to pick it. Outa twenty buds I cut on the south slope only -four of 'em wasn't black."</p> - -<p>His wife went back to the stove and turned the salt pork, holding -her head back from the spatters. "What're we going to do about the -mortgage?" The question filled a long silence. Helen's song was hushed, -though the echoes of it still went on in some secret place within her, -safe there even from this calamity.</p> - -<p>"Same as we've always done, I guess," her father answered at last, -lifting a dripping face and reaching for the roller towel. "See if I -can get young Mason to renew it."</p> - -<p>"Well, he will. Surely he will," Helen said. Her tone of cheerfulness -was like a slender shaft splintering against a stone wall. "And there -must be <i>some</i> fruit left. If there isn't much of a crop what we do get -ought to bring pretty good prices, too."</p> - -<p>"You're right it ought to," her father replied bitterly. "A good crop -never brings 'em."</p> - -<p>"Well, anyway, I'm through school now, and I'll be doing something," -Helen said. She had no clear idea what it would be, but suddenly she -felt in her youth and happiness a strength that her discouraged father -and mother did not have. For the first time they seemed to her old and -worn, exhausted by an unequal struggle, and she felt that she could -take them up in her arms and carry them triumphantly to comfort and -peace.</p> - -<p>"Eat your breakfast and don't talk nonsense," her father said.</p> - -<p>But her victorious mood revived while she washed the dishes. She felt -older, stronger, and more confident than she had ever been. The news of -the killing frost, which depressed her mother and quieted even Mabel's -usual rebellion at having to help with the kitchen work, was to Helen -a call to action. She splashed the dishes through the soapy water so -swiftly that Mabel was aggrieved.</p> - -<p>"You know I can't keep up," she complained. "It's bad enough to have -the frost and never be able to get anything decent, and stick here in -this old kitchen all the time, without having you act mean, too."</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't start whining!" Helen began. They always quarreled about -the dishes. "I'd like to know who did every smitch of work yesterday, -while you went chasing off." But looking down at Mabel's sullen little -face, she felt a wave of compassion. Poor little Mabel, whose whole -heart had been set on a new dress this summer, who didn't have anything -else to make her happy! "I don't mean to be mean to you, Mabel," she -said. She put an arm around the thin, angular shoulders. "Never mind, -everything'll be all right, somehow."</p> - -<p>That afternoon when the ironing was finished she dressed in her pink -gingham and best shoes. She was going to town for the mail, she -explained to her mother, and when her sister said, "Why, you went day -before yesterday!" she replied, "Well, I guess I'll just go to town, -anyway. I feel like walking somewhere."</p> - -<p>Her mother apparently accepted the explanation without further thought. -The blindness of other people astonished Helen. It seemed to her that -every blade of grass in the fields, every scrap of white cloud in the -sky, knew that she was going to see Paul. The roadside cried it aloud -to her.</p> - -<p>She let her hand rest a moment on the gate as she went through. It -was the gate on which they leaned when he brought her home from church -on Sunday nights. She could feel his presence there still; she could -almost see the dark mass of his shoulders against the starry sky, and -the white blur of his face.</p> - -<p>The long lane by Peterson's meadow was crowded with memories of him. -Here they had stopped to gather poppies; there, just beside the gray -stone, he had knelt one day to tie her shoe. On the little bridge -shaded by the oak-trees they always stopped to lean on the rail and -watch their reflections shot across by ripples of light in the stream -below. She was dazzled by the beauty of the world as she went by all -these places. The sky was blue. It was a revelation to her. She had -never known that skies were blue with that heart-shaking blueness or -that hills held golden lights and violet shadows on their green slopes. -She had never seen that shadows in the late afternoon were purple as -grapes, and that the very air held a faint tinge of orange light. It -seemed to her that she had been blind all her life.</p> - -<p>She stood some time on the little bridge, looking at all this -loveliness, and she said his name to herself, under her breath "Paul." -A quiver ran along her nerves at the sound of it.</p> - -<p>He would be busy handling baggage at the station when Number Five came -in. She thought of his sturdy shoulders in the blue work-shirt, the -smooth forehead under his ragged cap, the straight-looking blue eyes -and firm lips. She would stand a little apart, by the window where the -telegraph-keys were clicking, and he would pass, pushing a hand-truck -through the crowd on the platform. Their eyes would meet, and the look -would be like a bond subtly uniting them in an intimacy unperceived by -the oblivious people who jostled them. Then she would go away, walking -slowly through the town, and he would overtake her on his way home to -supper. She could tell him, then, about the frost. Her thoughts went no -further than that. They stopped with Paul.</p> - -<p>But before she reached his house she saw Sammy Harner frolicking in -the road, hilarious in the first spring freedom of going barefoot. He -skipped from side to side, his wide straw hat flapping; he shied a -stone at a bird; he whistled shrilly between his teeth. When he saw -her he sobered quickly and came trotting down the road, reaching her, -panting.</p> - -<p>"I was coming out to your house just 's fast as I could," he said. "I -got a note for you." He sought anxiously in his pockets, found it in -the crown of his hat. "He gave me a nickel, and said to wait if they's -an answer."</p> - -<p>She saw that his eyes were fixed curiously on her hands, which shook -so with excitement that she could hardly tear the railway company's -yellow envelope. She read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>Dear Friend Helen</i>:</p> - -<p>I have got a new job and I have to go to Ripley to-night where I am -going to work. I would like to see you before I go, as I do not know -when I can come back, but probably not for a long time. I did not know -I was going till this afternoon and I have to go on the Cannonball. -Can you meet me about eight o'clock by the bridge? I have to pack yet -and I am afraid I cannot get time to come out to your house and I want -to see you very much. Please answer by Sammy.</p> - -<p class="ph3"><span class="smcap">Your Friend, Paul.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>Sammy's interested gaze had shifted from her hands to her face. It -rested on her like an unbearable light. She could not think with those -calm observant eyes upon her. She must think. What must she think -about? Oh, yes, an answer. A pencil. She did not have a pencil.</p> - -<p>"Tell him I didn't have a pencil," she said. "Tell him I said, 'Yes.'" -And as Sammy still lingered, watching her with unashamed curiosity, she -added sharply, "Hurry! Hurry up now!"</p> - -<p>It was a relief to sit down, when at last Sammy had disappeared around -the bend in the road. The whirling world seemed to settle somewhat into -place then. She had never thought of Paul's going away. She wondered -dully if it were a good job, and if he were glad to go.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2> -</div> - - -<p>She came down the road again a little after seven o'clock. It was -another cold night, and the stars glittered frostily in a sky almost as -black as the hills. The road lost itself in darkness before her, and -the fields stretched out into a darkness that seemed illimitable, as -endless as the sky. She felt herself part of the night and the cold.</p> - -<p>For an eternity she walked up and down the road, waiting. Once she -went as far as the top of the hill beyond the bridge, and saw shining -against the blackness the yellow lights of his house. She looked at -them for a long time. She thought that she would watch them until he -came out. But she was driven to walking up and down, up and down, -stumbling in the ruts of the road. At last she saw him coming, and -stood still in the pool of darkness under the oaks until he reached her.</p> - -<p>"Helen?" he said uncertainly. "Is it you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she answered. Her throat ached.</p> - -<p>"I came as quick as I could," he said. Somehow she knew that his throat -ached, too. They moved to the little railing of the bridge and stood -trying to see each other's faces in the gloom. "Are you cold?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"No," she said. She saw then that the shawl had slipped from her -shoulders and was dragging over one arm. The wind fluttered it, and her -hands were clumsy, trying to pull it back into place.</p> - -<p>"Here," he was taking off his coat. "No," she said again. But she let -him wrap half the coat around her. They stood close together in the -folds of it. The chilly wind flowed around them like water, and the -warmth of their trembling bodies made a little island of cosiness in a -sea of cold.</p> - -<p>"I got to go," he said. "It's a good job. Fifty dollars a month. I got -to support mother, you know. Her money's pretty nearly gone already, -and she spent a lot putting me through school. I just got to go. I -wish—I wish I didn't have to."</p> - -<p>She tried to hold her lips steady.</p> - -<p>"It's all right," she said. "I'm glad you got a good job."</p> - -<p>"You mean you aren't going to miss me when I'm gone?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I'll miss you."</p> - -<p>"I'm going to miss you an awful lot," he said huskily. "You going to -write to me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I'll write if you will."</p> - -<p>"You aren't going to forget me—you aren't going to get to going with -anybody else—are you?"</p> - -<p>She could not answer. The trembling that shook them carried them beyond -speech. Wind and darkness melted together in a rushing flood around -them. The ache in her throat dissolved into tears, and they clung -together, cheek against hot cheek, in voiceless misery.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Helen! Oh, Helen!" She was crushed against the beating of his -heart, his arms hurt her. She wanted them to hurt her. "You're -so—you're so—sweet!" he stammered, and gropingly they found each -other's lips.</p> - -<p>Words came back to her after a time.</p> - -<p>"I don't want you to go away," she sobbed.</p> - -<p>His arms tightened around her, then slowly relaxed. His chin lifted, -and she knew that his mouth was setting into its firm lines again.</p> - -<p>"I got to," he said. The finality of the words was like something solid -beneath their feet once more.</p> - -<p>"Of course—I didn't mean—" She moved a little away from him, -smoothing her hair with a shaking hand. A new solemnity had descended -upon them both. They felt dimly that life had changed for them, that it -would never be the same again.</p> - -<p>"I got to think about things," he said.</p> - -<p>"Yes—I know."</p> - -<p>"There's mother. Fifty dollars a month. We just can't—"</p> - -<p>Tears were welling slowly from her eyes and running down her cheeks. -She was not able to stop them.</p> - -<p>"No," she said. "I've got to do something to help at home, too." She -groped for the shawl at her feet. He picked it up and wrapped it -carefully around her.</p> - -<p>They walked up and down in the starlight, trying to talk soberly, -feeling very old and sad, a weight on their hearts. Ripley was a -station in the San Joaquin valley, he told her. He was going to be -night operator there. He could not keep a shade of self-importance -from his voice, but he explained conscientiously that there would not -be much telegraphing. Very few train orders were sent there at night. -But it was a good job for a beginner and pretty soon maybe he would -be able to get a better one. Say, when he was twenty or twenty-one -seventy-five dollars a month perhaps. It wouldn't be long to wait. They -were clinging together again.</p> - -<p>"You—we mustn't," she said.</p> - -<p>"It's all right—just one—when you're engaged." She sobbed on his -shoulder, and their kisses were salty with tears.</p> - -<p>He left her at her gate. The memory of all the times they had stood -there was the last unbearable pain. They held each other tight, without -speaking.</p> - -<p>"You—haven't said—tell me you—love me," he stammered after a long -time.</p> - -<p>"I love you," she said, as though it were a sacrament. He was silent -for another moment, and in the dim starlight she felt rather than saw -a strange, half-terrifying expression on his face.</p> - -<p>"Will you go away with me—right now—and marry me—if I ask you to?" -His voice was hoarse.</p> - -<p>She felt that she was taking all she was or could be in her cupped -hands and offering it to him.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said.</p> - -<p>His whole body shook with a long sob. He tried to say something, -choking, tearing himself roughly away from her. She saw him going down -the road, almost running, and then the darkness hid him.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>In the days that followed it seemed to her that she could have borne -the separation better if she had not been left behind. He had gone down -the shining lines of track beyond Cherokee Hill into a vague big world -that baffled her thoughts. He wrote that he had been in San Francisco -and taken a ride on a sight-seeing car. It was a splendid place, he -said; he wished she could see the things he saw. He had seen Chinatown, -the Presidio, the beach, and Seal Rocks. Then he had gone on to Ripley, -which wasn't much like Masonville. He was well, and hoped she was, and -he thought of her every day and was hers lovingly. Paul. But she felt -that she was losing touch with him, and when she contemplated two or -three long years of waiting she felt that she would lose him entirely. -She thought again of that young couple at Rollo, and pangs of envy -were added to the misery in which she was living.</p> - -<p>He had been gone two weeks when she announced to her mother that she -was going to be a telegraph-operator. She held to the determination -with a tenacity that surprised even herself. She argued, she pleaded, -she pointed out the wages she would earn, the money she could send -home. There was a notice in the Masonville weekly paper, advertising a -school of telegraphy in Sacramento, saying: "Operators in great demand. -Graduates earn $75 to $100 a month up." She wrote to that school, and -immediately a reply came, assuring her that she could learn in three -months, that railroad and telegraph companies were clamoring for -operators, that the school guaranteed all its graduates good positions. -The tuition was fifty dollars.</p> - -<p>Her father said he guessed that settled it.</p> - -<p>But in the end she won. When he renewed the mortgage he borrowed -another hundred dollars from the bank. Fifty dollars seemed a fortune -on which to live for three months. Her mother and she went over her -clothes together, and her mother gave her the telescope-bag in which to -pack them.</p> - -<p>An awkward intimacy grew up between the two while they worked. Her -mother said it was just as well for her to have a good job for a while. -Maybe she wouldn't make a fool of herself, getting married before she -knew her own mind. Helen said nothing. She felt that it was not easy to -talk with one's mother about things like getting married.</p> - -<p>Her mother said one other thing that stayed in her mind, perhaps -because of its indefiniteness, perhaps because of her mother's -embarrassment when she said it, an embarrassment that made them both -constrained.</p> - -<p>"There's something I got to say to you, Helen," she said, keeping her -eyes on the waist she was ironing and flushing hotly. "Your father's -still against this idea of your going away. He says first thing we know -we'll have you back on our hands, in trouble. Now I want you should -promise me if anything comes up that looks like it wasn't just right, -you let me know right away, and I'll come straight down to Trenton and -get you. I'm going to be worried about you, off alone in a city like -that."</p> - -<p>She promised quickly, uncertainly, and her mother began in a hurry to -talk of something else. Mrs. Updike, who lived on the next farm, was -going down to San Francisco to visit her sister. She would take Helen -as far as Sacramento and see her settled there. Helen must be sure to -eat her meals regularly and keep her clothes mended and write every -week and study hard. She promised all those things.</p> - -<p>There was a flurry on the last morning. Between tears and excitement, -Mabel was half hysterical, Tommy kept getting in the way, her mother -unpacked the bag a dozen times to be sure that nothing was left out. -They all drove to town, crowded into the two-seated light wagon, and -there was another flurry at the station when the train came in. She -hugged them all awkwardly, smiling with tears in her eyes. She felt for -the first time how much she loved them.</p> - -<p>Until the train rounded the curve south of town she gazed back at -Masonville and the little yellow station where Paul had worked. Then -she settled back against red velvet cushions to watch unfamiliar trees -and hills flashing backward past the windows. She had an excited sense -of adventure, wondering what the school would be like, promising -herself again to study hard. She and Mrs. Updike worried at intervals, -fearing lest by some mischance Mr. Weeks, the manager of the school, -would fail to meet them at the Sacramento station. They wore bits of -red yarn in their buttonholes so that he would recognize them.</p> - -<p>He was waiting when the train stopped. He was a thin, well-dressed -man, with a young face that seemed oddly old, like a half-ripe apple -withered. He hurried them through noisy, bustling streets, on and off -street-cars, up a stairway at last to the school.</p> - -<p>There were two rooms, a small one, which was the office, and a larger -one, bare and not very clean, lighted by two high windows looking out -on an alley. In the large room were half a dozen tables, each with -a telegraph-sounder and key upon it. There was no one there at the -moment, Mr. Weeks explained, because it was Saturday afternoon. The -school usually did no business on Saturday afternoons, but he would -make an exception for Helen. If she liked, he said briskly, she could -pay him the tuition now, and begin her studies early Monday morning. -He was sure she would be a good operator, and he guaranteed her a -good position when she graduated. He would even give her a written -guarantee, if she wished. But she did not ask for that. It would have -seemed to imply a doubt of Mr. Weeks' good faith.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Updike, panting from climbing the stairs and nervous with anxiety -about catching her train, asked him about rooms. Providentially, he -knew a very good one and cheap, next door to the school. He was kind -enough to take them to see it.</p> - -<p>There were a number of rooms in a row, all opening on a long hallway -reached by stairs from the street. They were kept by Mrs. Brown, who -managed the restaurant down-stairs. She was a sallow little woman, with -very bright brown eyes and yellow hair. She talked continuously in a -light, mechanically gay voice, making quick movements with her hands -and moving about the room with a whisking of silk petticoats, driven, -it seemed, by an intensity of energy almost feverish.</p> - -<p>The room rented for six dollars a month. It had a large bow-window -overlooking the street, gaily flowered wall-paper, a red carpet, a big -wooden bed, a wash-stand with pitcher and bowl, and two rocking-chairs. -At the end of the long hall was a bathroom with a white tub in it, the -first Helen had seen. There was something metropolitan about that tub; -a bath in it would be an event far different from the Saturday night -scrubs in the tin wash-tub at home. And she could eat in the restaurant -below; very good meals for twenty cents, or even for less if she wanted -to buy a meal-ticket.</p> - -<p>"I guess it's as good as you can do," said Mrs. Updike.</p> - -<p>"I think it's lovely," Helen said.</p> - -<p>So it was settled. Helen gave Mrs. Brown six dollars, and she whisked -away after saying: "I'm sure I hope you'll like it, dearie, and if -there's anything you want, you let me know. I sleep right in the next -room, so nothing's going to bother you, and if you get lonesome, just -come and knock on my door."</p> - -<p>Then Mrs. Updike, with a hasty farewell peck at her cheek, hurried -away to catch her train, Mr. Weeks going with her to take her to the -station, and Helen was left alone.</p> - -<p>She locked her door first, and counted her money, feeling very -businesslike. Then she unpacked her bag and put away her things, -pausing now and then to look around the room that was hers. It seemed -very large and luxurious. She felt a pleasant sense of responsibility -when everything was neatly in order and she stood at the window, -looking down the street to the corner where at intervals she saw -street-cars passing. She promised herself to work very hard, and to pay -back soon the money her father had lent her, with interest.</p> - -<p>Then she thought, smiling, that in a little while she would go -down-stairs and eat supper in a restaurant, and then she would buy a -tablet and pencil and, coming back to this beautiful room, she would -sit down all alone and write a letter to Paul.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The thought of Paul was the one clear reality in Helen's life while she -blundered through the bewilderments of the first months in Sacramento. -It was the only thing that warmed her in the midst of the strangeness -that surrounded her like a thin, cold fog.</p> - -<p>There was the school. She did not know what she had expected, but she -felt vaguely that she had not found it. Faithfully every morning at -eight o'clock she was at her table in the dingy back room, struggling -to translate the dots and dashes of the Morse alphabet into crisp, even -clicks of the sounder. There were three other pupils, farm boys who -moved their necks uncomfortably in stiff collars and reddened when they -looked at her.</p> - -<p>There was a wire from that room into the front office. Sometimes its -sounder opened, and they knew that Mr. Weeks was going to send them -something to copy. They moved to that table eagerly. There were days -when the sounder did not click again, and after a while one of the boys -would tiptoe to the office and report that Mr. Weeks was asleep. On -other days the sounder would tap for a long time meaninglessly, while -they looked at each other in bewilderment. Then it would make a few -shaky letters and stop and make a few more.</p> - -<p>Then for several days Mr. Weeks would not come to the school at all. -They sank into a kind of stupor, sitting in the close, warm room, while -flies buzzed on the window-pane. Helen's moist finger-tips stuck to the -hard rubber of the key; it was an effort to remember the alphabet. But -she kept at work doggedly, knowing how much depended upon her success. -Always before her was the vision of the station where she would work -with Paul, a little yellow station with housekeeping rooms up-stairs. -She thought, too, of the debt she owed her father, and the help she -could give him later when she was earning money.</p> - -<p>Bit by bit she learned a little about the other pupils. Two of them had -come down from Mendocino County together. They had worked two summers -to earn the money, and yet they had been able to save only seventy-five -dollars for the tuition. However, they had been sharp enough to -persuade Mr. Weeks to take them for that sum. They lived together in -one room, and cooked their meals over the gas-jet. It was one of them -who asked Helen if she knew that gas would kill a person.</p> - -<p>"If you turned it on for a long time and set fire to it, I suppose it -would burn you up," she said doubtfully.</p> - -<p>"I don't mean that way," he informed her, excited. "It kills you if -you just breathe it long enough. It's poison." After that she looked -with terrified respect at the gas-jet in her room, and was always very -careful to turn it off tightly.</p> - -<p>The other boy had a more knowing air and smoked cigarettes. He -swaggered a little, giving them to understand that he was a man of -the world and knew all the wickedness of the city. He looked at Helen -with eyes she did not like, and once asked her to go to a show with -him. Although she was very lonely and had never seen a show in a real -theater, she refused. She felt that Paul would not like her to go. At -the end of three months in Sacramento these were the only people she -knew, except Mrs. Brown.</p> - -<p>She felt that she would like Mrs. Brown if she knew her better. Her -shyness kept her from saying more than "Good evening," when she handed -her meal-ticket over the restaurant counter to be punched, and for some -inexplicable reason Mrs. Brown seemed shy with her. It was her own -fault, Helen thought; Mrs. Brown laughed and talked gaily with the men -customers, cajoling them into buying cigars and chewing-gum from her -little stock.</p> - -<p>Helen speculated about Mr. Brown. She never saw him; she felt quite -definitely that he was not alive. Yet Mrs. Brown often looked at her -wide wedding-ring, turning it on her finger as if she were not quite -accustomed to wearing it. A widow, and so young! Helen's heart ached at -the thought of that brief romance. Mrs. Brown's thin figure and bright -yellow hair were those of a girl; only her eyes were old. It must be -grief that had given them that hard, weary look. Helen smiled at her -wistfully over the counter, longing to express her friendliness and -sympathy. But Mrs. Brown's manner always baffled her.</p> - -<p>These meetings were not frequent. Helen tried to make her three-dollar -meal ticket last a month, and that meant that only five times a week -she could sit in state, eating warm food in an atmosphere thick with -smells of coffee and stew and hamburger steak. She had learned that -cinnamon rolls could be bought for half price on Saturday nights, and -she kept a bag of them in her room, and some fruit. This made her a -little uneasy when she saw Mrs. Brown's anxious eye on the vacant -tables; she felt that she was defrauding Mrs. Brown by eating in her -room.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown worked very hard, Helen knew. It was she who swept the hall -and kept the rooms in order. She did not do it very well, but Helen -saw her sometimes in the evenings working at it. She swept with quick, -feverish strokes. Her yellow hair straggled over her face; her high -heels clicked on the floor; her petticoats made a whisking sound. There -was something piteous about her, as there is about a little trained -animal on the stage, set to do tasks for which it is not fitted. Helen -stole down the hallway at night, taking the broom from its corner as if -she was committing a theft, and surreptitiously swept and dusted her -own room, so that Mrs. Brown would not have to do it.</p> - -<p>She wished that it took more time. When she had finished there was -nothing to do but sit at her window and look down at the street. People -went up and down, strolling leisurely in the warm summer evening. She -saw girls in dainty dresses, walking about in groups, and the sight -increased her loneliness. Buggies went by; a man with his wife and -children out driving, a girl and her sweetheart. At the corner there -was the clanging of street-cars, and she watched to see them passing, -brightly lighted, filled with people. Once in a while she saw an -automobile, and her breath quickened, she leaned from the window until -it was out of sight. She felt then the charm of the city, with its -crowds, its glitter, its strange, hurried life.</p> - -<p>Two young men passed often down that street in an automobile. They -looked up at her window when they went by and slowed the machine. If -she were leaning on the sill, they waved to her and shouted gaily. She -always pretended that she had not seen them, and drew back, but she -watched for the machine to pass again. It seemed to be a link between -her and all that exciting life from which she was shut out. She would -have liked to know those young men.</p> - -<p>She sat at the window one evening near the end of the three months -that she had planned to spend in the telegraph school. Paul's picture -was in her hand. He had had it taken for her in Ripley. It was a -beautiful, shiny picture, cabinet size, showing him against a tropical -background of palms and ferns. He had taken off a derby hat, which he -held self-consciously; his stocky figure wore an air of prosperity in -an unfamiliar suit.</p> - -<p>She brooded upon the firm line of his chin, the clean-cut lips, the -smooth forehead from which the hair was brushed back slickly. His neck -was turned so that his eyes did not quite meet hers. It was baffling, -that aloof gaze; it hurt a little. She wished that he would look at -her. She felt that the picture would help her more if he would, and she -needed help.</p> - -<p>Mr. Weeks had returned from one of his long absences that day, and -she had taken courage to ask him about a job. He had listened while -she stood beside his desk, stammering out her worry and her need. Her -money was almost gone; she thought she telegraphed pretty well, she -had studied hard. She watched his shaking hand fumbling with some -papers on his desk, and felt pityingly that she should not bother him -when he was sick. But desperation drove her on. She did not suspect -the truth until he looked up at her with reddened eyes and answered -incoherently. Then she saw that he was drunk.</p> - -<p>Her shock of loathing came upon her in a wave of nausea. She trembled -so that she could hardly get down the stairs, and she had walked a long -time in the clean sunshine before the full realization of what it meant -chilled her. She sat now confronting that realization.</p> - -<p>She had only two dollars, a half-used meal-ticket, and a week's rent -paid in advance. She saw clearly that she could hope for nothing from -the telegraph school. It did not occur to her to blame anybody. Her -mind ran desperately from thought to thought, like a caged creature -seeking escape between iron bars.</p> - -<p>She could not go home. She could not live there again, defeated, -knowing day by day that she had added a hundred dollars to the -mortgage. She had told Paul so confidently that she could do as well as -a boy if she had the chance, and she had had the chance. He could not -help her. The street below was full of happy people going by, absorbed -in their own concerns, careless of hers.</p> - -<p>She had not seen the automobile with the two young men in it until it -stopped across the street. Even then she saw it dimly with dull eyes. -But the two young men were looking up at her window, talking together, -looking up again. They were getting out. They crossed the street. She -heard their voices below, and a moment later her heart began to thump. -They were coming up the stairs.</p> - -<p>Something was going to happen. At last something was going to break the -terrible loneliness and deadness. She stood listening, one hand at her -throat, alert, breathless.</p> - -<p>They were standing half-way up the stairs, talking. She felt indecision -in the sound of their voices. One of them ran down again. There was -an aching silence. Then she heard footsteps and the high, gay voice -of Mrs. Brown. They were laughing together. "Oh, you Kittie!" one of -the young men said. The three came up the stairs, and she heard their -clattering steps and caught a word or two as they went past her room. -Then the scratch of a match, and light gleamed through the crack of -Mrs. Brown's door.</p> - -<p>They went on talking. It appeared that they were arguing, coaxing, -urging something. Mrs. Brown's voice put them off. There was a crash -and laughter. She gathered that they were scuffing playfully. Later she -heard Mrs. Brown's voice at the head of the back stairs, calling down -to some one to send up some beer.</p> - -<p>Her tenseness relaxed. She felt herself falling into bottomless depths -of depression. The bantering argument was going on again. Meaningless -scraps of it came to her while she undressed in the dark and crept into -bed.</p> - -<p>"Aw, come on, Kittie, be a sport! A stunning looker like that! What're -you after anyhow—money?"</p> - -<p>"Cut that out. No, I tell you. What's it to you why I won't?"</p> - -<p>She crushed her face into the pillow and wept silently. It seemed the -last unkindness of fate that Mrs. Brown should give a party and not ask -her.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The next day she dressed very carefully in a fresh white waist and her -Indianhead skirt and went down to the telegraph-office to ask for a -job. She knew where to find the office; she had often looked at its -plate-glass front lettered in blue during her lonely walks on the -crowded street. Her heart thumped loudly and her knees were weak when -she went through the open door.</p> - -<p>The big room was cut across by a long counter, on which a young man -lounged in his shirt-sleeves, a green eye-shade pushed back on his -head. Behind him telegraph instruments clattered loudly, disturbing -the stifling quiet of the hot morning. The young man looked at her -curiously.</p> - -<p>"Manager? Won't I do?" he asked.</p> - -<p>She heard her voice quavering:</p> - -<p>"I'd rather see him—if he's busy—I could—wait."</p> - -<p>The manager rose from the desk where he had been sitting. He was a -tall, thin man, with thin hair combed carefully over the top of his -head. His lips were thin, too, and there were deep creases on either -side of his mouth, like parentheses. His eyes looked her over, -interested. He was sorry, he said. He didn't need another operator. She -had experience?</p> - -<p>She was a graduate of Weeks' School of Telegraphy, she told him -breathlessly. She could send perfectly, she wasn't so sure of her -receiving, but she would be awfully careful not to make mistakes. She -had to have a job, she just had to have a job; it didn't matter how -much it paid, anything. She felt that she could not walk out of that -office. She clung to the edge of the counter as if she were drowning -and it were a life-line.</p> - -<p>"Well—come in. I'll see what you can do," he said. He swung open a -door in the counter, and she followed him between the tables. There was -a dusty instrument on a battered desk, back by the big switchboard. The -manager took a message from a hook and gave it to her. "Let's hear you -send that."</p> - -<p>She began painstakingly. The young man with the eye-shade had wandered -over. He stood leaning against a table, listening, and after she had -made a few letters she felt that a glance passed between him and the -manager, over her head. She finished the message, even adding a careful -period. She thought she had done very well. When she looked up the -manager said kindly:</p> - -<p>"Not so bad! You'll be an operator some day."</p> - -<p>"If you'll only give me a chance," she pleaded.</p> - -<p>He said that he would take her address and let her know. She felt that -the young man was slightly amused. She gave the manager her name and -the street number. He repeated it in surprise.</p> - -<p>"You're staying with Kittie Brown?" Again a glance passed over her -head. Both of them looked at her with intensified interest, for which -she saw no reason. "Yes," she replied. She felt keenly that it was an -awkward moment, and bewilderment added to her confusion. The young -man turned away and, sitting down, began to send a pile of messages, -working very busily, sending with his right hand and marking off the -messages with his left. But she felt that his attention was still upon -her and the manager.</p> - -<p>"Well! And you want to work here?" The manager rubbed one hand over his -chin, smiling. "I don't know. I might."</p> - -<p>"Oh, if you would!"</p> - -<p>He hesitated for an agonizing moment.</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll think about it. Come and see me again." He held her fingers -warmly when they shook hands, and she returned the pressure gratefully. -She felt that he was very kind. She felt, too, that she had conducted -the interview very well, and returning hope warmed her while she went -back to her room.</p> - -<p>That afternoon she had a visitor. She had written her weekly letter -to her mother, saying that she had almost finished school and was -expecting to get a job, hesitating a long time, miserably, before she -added that she did not have much money left and would like to borrow -another five dollars. She had eaten a stale roll and an apple and was -considering how long she could make the meal-ticket last when she heard -the knock on her door.</p> - -<p>She opened it in surprise, thinking there had been a mistake. A -stout, determined-looking woman stood there, a well-dressed woman who -wore black gloves and a veil. Immediately Helen felt herself young, -inexperienced, a child in firm hands.</p> - -<p>"You're Helen Davies? I'm Mrs. Campbell." She stepped into the room, -Helen giving way before her assured advance. She swept the place with -one look. "What on earth was your mother thinking of, leaving you in a -place like this? Did you know what you were getting into?"</p> - -<p>"I don't—what—w-won't you take a chair?" said Helen.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Campbell sat down gingerly, very erect. They looked at each other.</p> - -<p>"I might as well talk straight out to you," Mrs. Campbell said, as if -it were a customary phrase. "I met Mrs. Morris, Mrs. Updike's sister, -at the lodge convention in Oakland last week, and she told me about -you, and I promised to look you up. Well, when I found out! I told Mr. -Campbell I was coming straight down here to talk to you. If you want -to stay in a place like this, well and good, it's your affair. Though -I should feel it my duty to write to your mother. I wouldn't want my -own girl left in a strange town, at your age, and nobody taking any -interest in her."</p> - -<p>"I'm sure it's very kind." Helen murmured in bewilderment.</p> - -<p>"Well,"—Mrs. Campbell drew a long breath and plunged,—"I suppose you -know the sort of person this Kittie Brown, she calls herself, is? I -suppose you know she's a bad woman?"</p> - -<p>A wave of blackness went through the girl's mind.</p> - -<p>"Everybody in town knows what <i>she</i> is," Mrs. Campbell continued. -"Everybody knows—" She went on, her voice growing more bitter. Helen, -half hearing the words, choked back a sick impulse to ask her to stop -talking. She felt that everything about her was poisoned; she wanted to -escape, to hide, to feel that she would never be seen again by any one. -When the hard voice had stopped it was an effort to speak.</p> - -<p>"But—what will I do?"</p> - -<p>"Do? I should think you'd want to get out of here just as quick as you -could."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I do want to. But where can I go? I—my rent's paid. I haven't any -money."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Campbell considered.</p> - -<p>"Well, you will have money, won't you? Your folks don't expect you to -live here on nothing, do they? If it's only a day or two, I could -take you in myself rather than leave you in a place like this. There's -plenty of decent places in town." She became practical. "The first -thing to do's to pack your things right away. How long is your rent -paid? Can't you get some of it back?"</p> - -<p>She waited while Helen packed. She did not stop talking, and Helen -tried to answer her coherently and gratefully. She felt that she should -be grateful. They went down the stairs, and Mrs. Campbell waited -outside the restaurant while Helen went in to ask Mrs. Brown to refund -the week's rent.</p> - -<p>It was noon, but there were only one or two people in the restaurant. -Mrs. Brown's smile faded when Helen stammered that she was leaving.</p> - -<p>"You are? What's wrong? Anybody been bothering you?" Her glance fell -upon the waiting Mrs. Campbell, and her sallow face whitened. "Oh, -that's it, is it?"</p> - -<p>"No," Helen said hastily. "That is, it's been very nice here, and I -liked it, but a friend of mine—she wants me to stay with her. I'm -sorry to leave, but I haven't much money." She struggled against -feeling pity for Mrs. Brown. She choked over asking her to refund the -rent.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown said she could not do it. She offered, however, to give -Helen something in trade, two dollars' worth. They both tried to make -the transaction commonplace and dignified.</p> - -<p>Helen, at a loss, pointed out a heap of peanut candy in the glass -counter. She had often looked at it and wished she could afford to buy -some. Mrs. Brown's thin hands shook, but she was piling the candy on -the scale when Mrs. Campbell came in.</p> - -<p>"What's she doing?" Mrs. Campbell asked Helen. "You buying candy?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what business it is of yours, coming interfering with -me!" Mrs. Brown broke out. "I never did her any harm. I never even -talked to her. You ask her if I ever bothered her. You ask her if -I didn't leave her alone. You ask her if I ain't keeping a decent, -respectable, quiet place and doing the best I can and minding my own -business and trying to make a square living. You ask her what I ever -did to her all the time she's been here." Her voice was high and -shrill. Tears were rolling down her face. Mechanically she went on -breaking up the candy and piling it on the scales. "I don't know what I -ever did to you that you don't leave me alone, coming poking around."</p> - -<p>"I didn't come here to talk to you," said Mrs. Campbell. "Come on out -of here," she commanded Helen.</p> - -<p>"I wish to God you'd mind your own business!" Mrs. Brown cried after -them. "If you'd only tend to your own affairs, you <i>good</i> people!" She -hurled the words after them like a curse, her voice breaking with -sobs. The door slammed under Mrs. Campbell's angry hand.</p> - -<p>Helen, shaking and quivering, tried not to be sorry for Mrs. Brown. -She was ashamed of the feeling. She knew that Mrs. Campbell did not -have it. Hurrying to keep pace with that furious lady's haste down the -street, she was overwhelmed with shame and confusion. The whole affair -was like a splash of mud upon her. Her cheeks were red, and she could -not make herself meet Mrs. Campbell's eyes.</p> - -<p>Even when they were on the street-car, safely away from it all, her -awkwardness increased. Mrs. Campbell herself was a little disconcerted -then. She looked at Helen, at the bulging telescope-bag, the shabby -shoes, and the faded sailor hat, and Helen felt the gaze like a burn. -She knew that Mrs. Campbell was wondering what on earth to do with her.</p> - -<p>Pride and helplessness and shame choked her. She tried to respond to -Mrs. Campbell's efforts at conversation, but she could not, though -she knew that her failure made Mrs. Campbell think her sullen. Her -rescuer's impatient tone was cutting her like the lash of a whip before -they got off the car.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Campbell lived in splendor in a two-story white house on a -complacent street. The smoothness of the well-kept lawns, the -immaculate propriety of the swept cement walks, cried out against -Helen's shabbiness. She had never been so aware of it. When she was -seated in Mrs. Campbell's parlor, oppressed by the velvet carpet and -the piano and the bead portieres, she tried to hide her feet beneath -the chair and did not know what to do with her hands.</p> - -<p>She answered Mrs. Campbell's questions because she must, but she felt -that her last coverings of reticence and self-respect were being torn -from her. Mrs. Campbell offered only one word of advice.</p> - -<p>"The thing for you to do is to go home."</p> - -<p>"No," Helen said. "I—I can't—do that."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Campbell looked at her curiously, and again the red flamed in -Helen's cheeks. She said nothing about the mortgage. Mrs. Campbell had -not asked about that.</p> - -<p>"Well, you can stay here a few days."</p> - -<p>She lugged the telescope-bag up the stairs, the wooden steps of which -shone like glass. Mrs. Campbell showed her a room at the end of the -hall. A mass of things filled it; children's toys, old baskets, a -broken chair. It was like the closets at home, but larger. It was large -enough to hold a narrow white iron bed, a wash-stand, and a chair, and -still leave room to swing the door open. These things appeared when -Mrs. Campbell had dragged out the others.</p> - -<p>Watching her swift, efficient motions in silence, Helen tried again to -feel gratitude. But the fact that Mrs. Campbell expected it made it -impossible. She could only stand awkwardly, longing for the moment -when she would be alone. When at last Mrs. Campbell went down-stairs -she shut the door quickly and softly. She wanted to fling herself on -the sagging bed and cry, but she did not. She stood with clenched -hands, looking into the small, blurred mirror over the wash-stand. -A white, tense face looked back at her with burning eyes. She said -to it, "You're going to do something, do you hear? You're going to -do something quick!" Although she did not know what she could do, -she could keep her self-control by telling herself that she would do -something.</p> - -<p>Some time later she heard the shouts of children and the clatter of -pans in the kitchen below. It was almost supper-time. She took a -cinnamon roll from the paper sack in her bag, but she could not eat it. -She was looking at it when Mrs. Campbell called up the back stairs, -"Miss Davies! Come to supper."</p> - -<p>She braced herself and went down. It was a good supper, but she -could not eat very much. Mr. Campbell sat at the head of the table, -a stern-looking man who said little except to speak sharply to the -children when they were too noisy. There were two children, a girl -of nine and a younger boy in a sailor suit. They looked curiously at -Helen and did not reply when she tried to talk to them. She perceived -that they had been told to leave her alone, and she felt that her -association with a woman like Mrs. Brown was still visible upon her -like a splash of mud.</p> - -<p>When she timidly offered to help with the dishes after supper Mrs. -Campbell told her that she did not need any help. Her tone was not -unkind, but Helen felt the rebuff, and fearing she would cry, she went -quickly up-stairs.</p> - -<p>She looked at Paul's picture for some time before she put it back -into her bag where she thought Mrs. Campbell would not see it. Then, -sitting on the edge of the bed under a flickering gas-jet, she wrote -him a long letter. She told him that she had moved, and in describing -the street, the beautiful house, the furniture in the parlor, she drew -such a picture of comfort and happiness that its reflection warmed -her somewhat. It was a beautiful letter, she thought, reading it over -several times before she carefully turned out the gas and went to bed.</p> - -<p>Early in the morning she went to the telegraph-office and pleaded again -for a job. Mr. Roberts, the manager, was very friendly, talking to -her for some time and patting her hand in a manner which she thought -fatherly and found comforting. He told her to come back. He might do -something.</p> - -<p>She went back every morning for a week, and often in the afternoons. -The rest of the time she wandered in the streets or sat on a bench in -the park. She felt under such obligations when she ate Mrs. Campbell's -food that several times she did not return to the house until after -dark, when supper would be finished. She had to ring the door-bell, for -the front door was kept locked, and each time Mrs. Campbell asked her -sharply where she had been. She always answered truthfully.</p> - -<p>At the end of the week she received a letter from her mother, telling -her to come home at once and sending her five dollars for the fare. -Mrs. Campbell had written to her, and she was horrified and alarmed.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Your father says we might have known it and saved our money, and I -blame myself for ever letting you go. I don't say it will be easy for -you here, short as we are this winter, but you ought to be glad you -have a good home to come to even if it isn't very fine, and don't -worry about the money, for your father won't say a word. Just you come -home right away. Lovingly,</p> - -<p class="ph3"><span class="smcap">Your Mother</span></p> -</div> - -<p>Helen hated Mrs. Campbell. What right had that woman to worry her -mother? Helen could get along all right by herself, and she wrote her -mother that she could. She had a job at last. Mr. Roberts had made a -place for her in the office, as a clerk at five dollars a week. She did -not mention the wages to her mother; she said only that she had a job, -and her mother was not to worry. She would be making more money soon -and could send some home.</p> - -<p>The letter had been waiting for her, propped on the hall table, -when she hurried in, eager to tell Mrs. Campbell the glad news. Her -anger when she read it was obscurely a relief. The compulsion to feel -gratitude toward Mrs. Campbell was lifted from her. She wrote her -answer and hastened to drop it in the corner mail-box.</p> - -<p>Running back to the house, she met Mrs. Campbell returning from a -sewing-circle meeting. Mrs. Campbell was neatly hatted and gloved, and -the expression in her pale blue eyes behind the dotted veil suddenly -made Helen realize how blow-away she looked, bare-headed, her loosened -hair ruffled by the breeze, her blouse sagging under the arms. She -stood awkwardly self-conscious while Mrs. Campbell unlocked the front -door.</p> - -<p>"Did you get your mother's letter?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I got it."</p> - -<p>"Well, what did she say?"</p> - -<p>Helen did not answer that.</p> - -<p>"I got a job," she said. Her breath came quickly.</p> - -<p>"You have? What kind of job?"</p> - -<p>Helen told her. They were in the hall now, standing by the golden-oak -hat-rack at the foot of the stairs. The children watched, wide-eyed, in -the parlor door.</p> - -<p>Perplexity and disgust struggled on Mrs. Campbell's face.</p> - -<p>"You think you're going to live in Sacramento on five dollars a week?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to. I got to. I'll manage somehow. I won't go home!" Helen -cried, confronting Mrs. Campbell like an antagonist.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't doubt you'll <i>manage</i>!" Mrs. Campbell said cuttingly. She -went down the hall, and the slam of the dining-room door shouted that -she washed her hands of the whole affair.</p> - -<p>She came up the back stairs half an hour later. Helen was sitting on -the bed, her bag packed, trying to plan what to do. She had only the -five dollars. It would be two weeks before she could get more money -from the office. Mrs. Campbell opened the door without knocking.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to talk this over with you," she said, patient firmness in -her tone. "Don't you realize you can't get a decent room and anything -to eat for five dollars a week? Do you think it's right to expect your -folks to support you, poor as they are? It isn't—"</p> - -<p>"I don't expect them to!" Helen cried.</p> - -<p>"As though you didn't have a good home to go back to," Mrs. Campbell -conveyed subtly that a well-bred girl did not interrupt while an older -woman was speaking. "Now be reasonable about this, my—"</p> - -<p>"I won't go back," Helen said. She lifted miserable eyes to Mrs. -Campbell's, and the expression she saw there reminded her of a horse -with his ears laid back.</p> - -<p>"Then you've decided, I suppose, where you <i>are</i> going?"</p> - -<p>"No—I don't know. Where could I begin to look for a—nice room that I -can live in on my wages?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Campbell exclaimed impatiently. Her almost ruthless capability -in dealing with situations did not prepare her to meet gracefully one -that she could not handle. Her voice grew colder, and the smooth cheeks -beneath the smooth, fair hair reddened while she continued to talk. Her -arguments, her grudging attempts at persuasion, her final outburst of -unconcealed anger, were futile. Helen would not go home. She meant to -keep her job and to live on the wages.</p> - -<p>"Well, then I guess you'll have to stay here. I can't turn you out on -the streets."</p> - -<p>"How much would you charge for the room?" said Helen.</p> - -<p>"Charge!" Helen flushed again at the scorn in the word.</p> - -<p>"I couldn't stay unless I paid you something. I'd have to do that."</p> - -<p>"Well, of all the ungrateful—!"</p> - -<p>Tears came into Helen's eyes. She knew Mrs. Campbell meant well, and -though she did not like her, she wished to thank her. But she did not -know how to do it without yielding somewhat to the implacable force of -the older woman. She could only repeat doggedly that she must pay for -the room.</p> - -<p>She was left shaken, but with a sense of victory emphasized by Mrs. -Campbell's inarticulate exclamation as she went out. It was arranged -that Helen should pay five dollars a month for the room.</p> - -<p>But the bitterness of living in that house, on terms which she felt -were charity, increased daily. She tried to make as little trouble as -possible, stealing in at the back door so that no one would have to -answer her ring, making her bed neatly, and slipping out early so that -she would not meet any of the family. She spent her evenings at the -office or at the library, where she could forget herself in books and -in writing long letters. For some inexplicable reason this seemed to -exasperate Mrs. Campbell, who inquired where she had been and did not -hide a belief that her replies were lies. Helen felt like a suspected -criminal. She would have left the house if she could have found another -room that she could afford.</p> - -<p>It was only at the office that she could breathe freely. She worked -from eight in the morning to six at night, and then until the office -closed at nine o'clock she could practise on the telegraph instrument -behind the tables where the real wires came in. She worked hard at it, -for at last she was on the road to the little station where she would -work with Paul. She felt that she could never be grateful enough to -Mr. Roberts for giving her the chance.</p> - -<p>He was very kind. Often he came behind the screen where she was -studying and talked to her for a long time. He was surprised at first -by her working so hard. He seemed to think she had not meant to do -it. But his manner was so warmly friendly that one day when he took -her hand, saying, "What's the big idea, little girl—keeping me off -like this?" she told him about everything but Paul. She told him about -the farm and the mortgage and the failure of the fruit crop, even, -shamefaced, about Mr. Weeks' drinking, and that she did not know what -she would have done if she had not got the job. She was very grateful -to him and tried to tell him so.</p> - -<p>He said drily not to bother about that, and she felt that she had -offended him. Perhaps her story had sounded as if she were begging -for more money, she thought with burning cheeks. For several days he -gave her a great deal of hard work to do and was cross when she made -mistakes. She did her best, trying hard to please him, and he was soon -very friendly again.</p> - -<p>His was the only friendliness she found to warm her shivering spirit, -and she became daily more grateful to him for it. Though she was -puzzled by his displays of affectionate interest in her and his sudden -cold withdrawals when she eagerly thanked him, this was only part -of the bewildering atmosphere of the office, in which she felt many -undercurrents that she could not understand.</p> - -<p>The young operator with the green eye-shade, for instance, always -regarded her with a cynical and slightly amused eye, which she resented -without knowing why. When she laid messages beside his key, he covered -her hand with his if he could, and sometimes when she sat working he -came and put his hand on her shoulder. She was always angry, for she -felt contempt in his attitude toward her, but she did not know how to -show her resentment without making too much of the incidents.</p> - -<p>"Mr. McCormick, leave me alone!" she said impatiently. "I want to work."</p> - -<p>"Just what <i>is</i> the game?" he drawled.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" she asked, reddening under that cool, satirical -gaze. He looked at her, grinning until she felt only that she hated -him. Or sometimes he said something like: "Oh, well, I'm not butting -in. It's up to you and the boss," and strolled away, whistling.</p> - -<p>Much looking at life from the back-door keyhole of the -telegraph-operator's point of view had made him blasé and wearily -worldly-wise at twenty-two. He knew that every pretty face was moulded -on a skeleton, and was convinced that all lives contained one. Only -virtue could have surprised him, and he could not have been convinced -that it existed. When he was on duty in the long, slow evenings, -Helen, practising diligently behind her screen, heard him singing -thoughtfully:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">"Life's a funny proposition after all;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Just why we're here and what it's all about,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">It's a problem that has driven many brainy men to drink,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">It's a problem that they've never figured out."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Life seemed simple enough to Helen. She would be a telegraph-operator -soon, earning as much as fifty dollars a month. She could repay the -hundred dollars then, buy some new clothes, and have plenty to eat. -She would try to get a job at the Ripley station,—always in the back -of her mind was the thought of Paul,—and she planned the furnishing -of housekeeping rooms, and thought of making curtains and embroidering -centerpieces.</p> - -<p>It was spring when he wrote that he was coming to spend a day in -Sacramento. He was going to Masonville to help his mother move to -Ripley. On the way he would stop and see Helen.</p> - -<p>Helen, in happy excitement, thought of her clothes. She must have -something new to wear when they met. Paul must see in the first glance -how much she had changed, how much she had improved. She had not -been able to save anything, but she must, she must have new clothes. -Two days of worried planning brought her courage to the point of -approaching Mr. Roberts and asking him for her next month's salary -in advance. Next month's food was a problem she could meet later. Mr. -Roberts was very kind about it.</p> - -<p>"Money? Of course!" he said. He took a bill from his own pocket-book. -"We'll have to see about your getting more pretty soon." Her heart -leaped. He put the bill in her palm, closing his hand around hers. -"Going to be good to me if I do?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'd do anything in the world I could for you," she said, looking -at him gratefully. "You're so good! Thank you ever so much." His look -struck her as odd, but a customer came in at that moment, and in taking -the message she forgot about it.</p> - -<p>She went out at noon and bought a white, pleated, voile skirt for five -dollars, a China-silk waist for three-ninety-five, and a white, straw -sailor. And that afternoon McCormick, with his cynical smile, handed -her a note that had come over the wire for her. "Arrive eight ten -Sunday morning. Meet me. <span class="smcap">Paul.</span>"</p> - -<p>She was so radiantly self-absorbed all the afternoon that she hardly -saw the thundercloud gathering in Mr. Roberts' eyes, and she went -back to her room that evening so confidently happy that she rang the -door-bell without her usual qualm. Mrs. Campbell's lips were drawn into -a tight, thin line.</p> - -<p>"There's some packages for you," she said.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know. I bought some clothes. Thank you for taking them in," -said Helen. She felt friendly even toward Mrs. Campbell. "A white, -voile skirt, and a silk waist, and a hat. Would—would you like to see -them?"</p> - -<p>"No, <i>thank</i> you!" said Mrs. Campbell, icily. Going up the stairs, -Helen heard her speaking to her husband. "'I bought some clothes,' she -says, bold as brass. Clothes!"</p> - -<p>Helen wondered, hurt, how people could be so unkind. She knew that the -clothes were an extravagance, but she did want them so badly, for Paul, -and it seemed to her that she had worked hard enough to deserve them. -Besides, Mr. Roberts had said that she might get a raise.</p> - -<p>She was dressed and creeping noiselessly out of the house at seven -o'clock the next morning. The spring dawn was coming rosily into the -city after a night of rain; the odor of the freshly washed lawns and -flower-beds was delicious, and birds sang in the trees. The flavor of -the cool, sweet air and the warmth of the sunshine mingled with her -joyful sense of youth and coming happiness. She looked very well, she -thought, watching her slim white reflection in the shop-windows.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>When the train pulled into the big, dingy station Helen had been -waiting for some time, her pulses fluttering with excitement. But her -self-confidence deserted her when she saw the crowds pouring from the -cars. She shrank back into the wailing-room doorway; and she saw Paul -before his eager eyes found her.</p> - -<p>It was a shock to find that he had changed, too. Something boyish -was gone from his face, and his self-confident walk, his prosperous -appearance in a new suit, gave her the chill sensation that she was -about to meet a stranger. She braced herself for the effort, and when -they shook hands she felt that hers was cold.</p> - -<p>"You're looking well," she said shyly.</p> - -<p>"Well, so are you," he answered. They walked down the platform -together, and she saw that he carried a new suitcase, and that even his -shoes were new and shining. However, these details were somewhat offset -by her perception that he was feeling awkward, too.</p> - -<p>"Where shall we go?" They hesitated, looking at each other, and in -their smile the strangeness vanished.</p> - -<p>"I don't care. Anywhere, if you're along," he said. "Oh, Helen, it sure -is great to see you again! You look like a million dollars, too." His -approving eye was upon her new clothes.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you like them," she said, radiant. "That's an awfully nice -suit, Paul." Happiness came back to her in a flood and putting out her -hand, she picked a bit of thread from his dear sleeve. "Well, where -shall we go?"</p> - -<p>"We'll get something to eat first," he said practically. "I'm about -starved, aren't you?" She had not thought of eating.</p> - -<p>They breakfasted in a little restaurant on waffles and sausages and -coffee. The hot food was delicious, and the waiter in the soiled white -apron grinned understandingly while he served them. Paul gave him -fifteen cents, in an off-hand manner, and she thrilled at his careless -prodigality and his air of knowing his way about.</p> - -<p>The whole long day lay before them, bright with limitless -possibilities. They left the suitcase with the cashier of the -restaurant and walked slowly down the street, embarrassed by the riches -of time that were theirs. Helen suggested that they walk awhile in the -capitol grounds; she had supposed they would do that, and perhaps in -the afternoon enjoy a car-ride to Oak Park. But Paul dismissed these -simple pleasures with a word.</p> - -<p>"Nothing like that," he said. "I want a real celebration, a regular -blow-out. I've been saving up for it a long time." He struggled with -this conscience. "It won't do any harm to miss church one Sunday. Let's -take a boat down the river."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Paul!" She was dazzled. "But—I don't know—won't it be awfully -expensive?"</p> - -<p>"I don't care how much it costs," he replied recklessly. "Come on. -It'll be fun."</p> - -<p>They went down the shabby streets toward the river, and even the dingy -tenements and broken sidewalks of the Japanese quarter seemed to them -to have a holiday air. They laughed about the queer little shops and -the restaurant windows, where electric lights still burned in the -clear daylight over pallid pies and strange-looking cakes. Helen must -stop to speak to the straight-haired, flat-faced Japanese babies who -sat stolidly on the curbs, looking at her with enigmatic, slant eyes, -and she saw romance in the groups of tall Hindoo laborers, with their -bearded, black faces and gaily colored turbans.</p> - -<p>It was like going into a foreign land together, she said, and even Paul -was momentarily caught by the enchantment she saw in it all, though he -did not conceal his detestation of these foreigners. "We're going to -see to it we don't have them in our town," he said, already with the -air of a proprietor in Ripley.</p> - -<p>"Now this is something like!" he exclaimed when he had helped Helen -across the gang-plank and deposited her safely on the deck of the -steamer. Helen, pressing his arm with her fingers, was too happy to -speak. The boat was filling with people in holiday clothes; everywhere -about her was the exciting stir of departure, calls, commands, the -thump of boxes being loaded on the deck below. A whistle sounded -hoarsely, the engines were starting, sending a thrill through the very -planks beneath her feet.</p> - -<p>"We'd better get a good place up in front," said Paul. He took her -through the magnificence of a large room furnished with velvet chairs, -past a glimpse of shining white tables and white-clad waiters, to a -seat whence they could gaze down the yellow river. She was appalled by -his ease and assurance. She looked at him with an admiration which she -would not allow to lessen even when the boat edged out into the stream -and, turning, revealed that he had led her to the stern deck.</p> - -<p>Her enthusiastic suggestion that they explore the boat aided Paul's -attempt to conceal his chagrin, and she listened enthralled to his -explanations of all they saw. He estimated the price of the crates -of vegetables and chickens piled on the lower deck, on their way to -the city from the upper river farms. It was his elaborate description -of the engines that caught the attention of a grimy engineer who had -emerged from the noisy depths for a breath of air, and the engineer, -turning on them a quizzically friendly gaze, was easily persuaded to -take them into the engine-room.</p> - -<p>Helen could not understand his explanations, but she was interested -because Paul was, and found her own thrill in the discovery of a dim -tank half filled with flopping fish, scooped from the river and flung -there by the paddle wheel. "We take 'em home and eat 'em, miss," said -the engineer, and she pictured their cool lives in the green river, and -the city supper-tables at which they would be eaten. She was fascinated -by the multitudinous intricacies of life, even on that one small boat.</p> - -<p>It was a disappointment to find, when they returned again to the upper -decks, that they could see nothing but green levee banks on each -side of the river. But this led to an even more exciting discovery, -for venturesomely climbing a slender iron ladder they saw beyond the -western levee an astounding and incredible stretch of water where land -should be. Their amazement emboldened Paul to tap on the glass wall -of a small room beside them, in which they saw an old man peacefully -smoking his pipe. He proved to be the pilot, who explained that it was -flood water they saw, and who let them squeeze into his tiny quarters -and stay while he told long tales of early days on the river, of -floods in which whole settlements were swept away at night, of women -and children rescued from floating roofs, of cows found drowned in -tree-tops, and droves of hogs that cut their own throats with their -hoofs while swimming. Listening to him while the boat slowly chugged -down the curves of the sunlit river, Helen felt the romance of living, -the color of all the millions of obscure lives in the world.</p> - -<p>"Isn't everything interesting!" she cried, giving Paul's arm an excited -little squeeze as they walked along the main deck again. "Oh, I'd like -to live all the lives that ever were lived! Think of those women and -the miners and people in cities and everything!"</p> - -<p>"I expect you'd find it pretty inconvenient before you got through," -Paul said. "Gee, but you're awfully pretty, Helen," he added -irrelevantly, and they forgot everything except that they were together.</p> - -<p>They had to get off at Lancaster in order to catch the afternoon boat -back to Sacramento. There was just time to eat on board, Paul said, -and overruling her flurried protests he led her into the white-painted -dining-room. The smooth linen, the shining silver, and the imposing -waiters confused her; she was able to see nothing but the prices on -the elaborate menu-cards, and they were terrifying. Paul himself -was startled by them, and she could see worried calculation in his -eyes. She felt that she should pay her share; she was working, too, -and earning money. The memory of the office, the advance she had -drawn on her wages, her uncomfortable existence in Mrs. Campbell's -house, passed through her mind like a shadow. But it was gone in an -instant, and she sat happily at the white table, eating small delicious -sandwiches and drinking milk, smiling across immaculate linen at Paul. -For a moment she played with the fancy that it was a honeymoon trip, -and a thrill ran along her nerves.</p> - -<p>They were at Lancaster before they knew it. There was a moment of -flurried haste, and they stood on the levee, watching the boat push off -and disappear beyond a wall of willows. A few lounging Japanese looked -at them with expressionless, slant eyes, pretending not to understand -Paul's inquiries until his increasing impatience brought from them in -clear English the information that the afternoon boat was late. It -might be along about five o'clock, they thought.</p> - -<p>"Well, that'll get us back in time for my train," Paul decided. "Let's -look around a little."</p> - -<p>The levee road was a tunnel of willow-boughs, floored with soft sand in -which their feet made no sound. They walked in an enchanted stillness, -through pale light, green as sea-water, drowsy, warm, and scented with -the breath of unseen flowers. Through the thin wall of leaves they -caught glimpses of the broad river, the yellow waves of which gave -back the color of the sky in flashes of metallic blue. And suddenly, -stepping out of the perfumed shadow, they saw the orchards. A sea of -petals, fragile, translucent, unearthly as waves of pure rosy light, -rippled at their feet.</p> - -<p>The loveliness of it filled Helen's eyes with tears. "Oh!" she said, -softly. "Oh—Paul!" Her hand went out blindly toward him. One more -breath of magic would make the moment perfect. She did not know what -she wanted, but her whole being was a longing for it. "Oh, Paul!"</p> - -<p>"Pears, by Jove!" he cried. "Hundreds of acres, Helen! They're the tops -of trees! We're looking down at 'em! Look at the river. Why, the land's -fifteen feet below water-level. Did you ever see anything like it?" -Excitement shook his voice. "There must be a way to get down there. I -want to see it!" He almost ran along the edge of the levee, Helen had -to hurry to keep beside him. She did not know why she should be hurt -because Paul was interested in the orchards. She was the first to laugh -about going down-stairs to farm when they found the wooden steps on the -side of the levee.</p> - -<p>But she felt rebuffed and almost resentful. She listened abstractedly -to Paul's talk about irrigation and the soil. He crumbled handfuls of -it between his fingers while they walked between the orchard rows, -and his opinion led to a monologue on the soil around Ripley and the -fight the farmers were making to get water on it. He was conservative -about the project; it might pay, and it might not. But if it did, a -man who bought some cheap land now would make a good thing out of it. -It occurred to her suddenly to wonder about the girls in Ripley. There -must be some; Paul had never written about them. She thought about it -for some time before she was able to bring the talk to the point where -she could ask about them.</p> - -<p>"Girls?" Paul said. "Sure, there are. I don't pay much attention to -them, though. I see them in church, and they're at the Aid Society -suppers, of course. They seem pretty foolish to me. Why, I never -noticed whether they were pretty, or not." Enlightenment dawned upon -him. "I'll tell you; they don't seem to talk about anything much. -You're the only girl I ever struck that I could really talk to. I—I've -been awfully lonesome, thinking about you."</p> - -<p>"Really truly?" she said, looking up at him. The sunlight fell across -her white dress, and stray pink petals fluttered slowly downward around -her. "Have you really been lonesome for me, too?" She swayed toward -him, ever so little, and he put his arms around her.</p> - -<p>He did love her. A great contentment flowed through her. To be in his -arms again was to be safe and rested and warm after ages of racking -effort in the cold. He was thinking only of her now. His arms crushed -her against him; she felt the roughness of his coat under her cheek. -He was stammering love-words, kissing her hair, her cheeks, her lips.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Paul, I love you, I love you, I love you!" she said, her arms -around his neck.</p> - -<p>Much later they found a little nook under the willows on the levee bank -and sat there with the river rippling at their feet, his arm around -her, her head on his shoulder. They talked a little then. Paul told her -again all about Ripley, but she did not mind. "When we're married—" -said Paul, and the rest of the sentence did not matter.</p> - -<p>"And I'm going to help you," she said. "Because I'm telegraphing now, -too. I'll be earning as much—almost as much, as you do. We can live -over the depot—"</p> - -<p>"We will not!" said Paul. "We'll have a house. I don't know that I'm -crazy about my wife working."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but I do want to help! A house would be nice. Oh, Paul, with -rose-bushes in the yard!"</p> - -<p>"And a horse and buggy, so we can go riding Sunday afternoons."</p> - -<p>"Besides, if I'm making money—"</p> - -<p>"I know. We wouldn't have to wait so long."</p> - -<p>She flushed. It was what she meant, but she did not want to think so. -"I didn't—I don't—"</p> - -<p>"Of course there's mother. And I want to feel that I can support—"</p> - -<p>She felt the magic departing.</p> - -<p>"Never mind!" The tiniest of cuddling movements brought his arms tight -around her again.</p> - -<p>"Oh, sweetheart, sweetheart, you're worth it!" he cried. "I'd wait for -you!"</p> - -<p>They were startled when they noticed the shadows under the trees. They -had not dreamed it was so late. She smoothed her hair and pinned on her -hat with trembling fingers, and they raced for the landing. The river -was an empty stretch of dirty gray lapping dusky banks. There was no -one at the landing.</p> - -<p>"It must be way after five o'clock. I wish I had a watch. The boat -couldn't have gone by without our seeing it?" The suggestion drained -the color from their cheeks. They looked at each other with wide eyes. -"It couldn't have possibly! Let's ask."</p> - -<p>The little town was no more than half a dozen old wooden buildings -facing the levee. A store, unlighted and locked, a harness shop, also -locked, two dark warehouses, a saloon. She waited in the shadow of it -while he went in to inquire. He came out almost immediately.</p> - -<p>"No, the boat hasn't gone. They don't know when it'll get here. No one -there but a few Japanese."</p> - -<p>They walked uncertainly back to the landing and stood gazing at the -darkening river. "I suppose there's no knowing when it will get here? -There's no other way of getting back?"</p> - -<p>"No, there's no railroad. I <i>have</i> got you into a scrape!"</p> - -<p>"It's all right. It wasn't your fault," she hastened to say.</p> - -<p>They walked up and down, waiting. Darkness came slowly down upon them. -The river breeze grew colder. Stars appeared.</p> - -<p>"Chilly?"</p> - -<p>"A little," she said through chattering teeth.</p> - -<p>He took off his coat and wrapped it around her, despite her protests. -They found a sheltered place on the bank and huddled together, -shivering. A delicious sleepiness stole over her, and the lap-lap of -the water, the whispering of the leaves, the warmth of Paul's shoulder -under her cheek, all became like a dream.</p> - -<p>"Comfortable, dear?"</p> - -<p>"Mmmmhuh," she murmured. "You?"</p> - -<p>"You bet your life!" She roused a little to meet his kiss. The night -became dreamlike again.</p> - -<p>"Helen?"</p> - -<p>"What!"</p> - -<p>"Seems to me we've been here a long time. What'll we do? We can't stay -here till morning."</p> - -<p>"I don't—know—why not. All night—under the stars—"</p> - -<p>"But listen. What if the boat comes by and doesn't stop? There isn't -any light."</p> - -<p>She sat up then, rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes.</p> - -<p>"Well, let's make a fire. Got any matches?"</p> - -<p>He always carried them, to light the switch-lamps in Ripley. They -hunted dry branches and driftwood and coaxed a flickering blaze alive. -"It's like being stranded on a desert island!" she laughed. His eyes -adored her, crouching with disheveled hair in the leaping yellow light. -"You're certainly game," he said. "I—I think you're the pluckiest girl -in the world. And when I think what a fool I am to get you into this!"</p> - -<p>There came like an echo down the river the hoarse whistle of the boat. -A moment later it was upon them, looming white and gigantic, its -lights cutting swaths in the darkness as it edged in to the landing. -Struggling to straighten her hat, to tuck up her hair, to brush the -sand from her skirt, Helen stumbled aboard with Paul's hand steadying -her.</p> - -<p>The blaze of the salon lights hurt their eyes, but warmth and security -relaxed tired muscles. The room was empty, its carpet swept, the velvet -chairs neatly in place.</p> - -<p>"Funny, I thought there'd be a lot of passengers," Paul wondered aloud. -He found a cushion, tucked it behind Helen's head, and sat down beside -her. "Well, we're all right now. We'll be in Sacramento pretty soon."</p> - -<p>"Don't let's think about it," she said with quivering lips. "I hate to -have it all end, such a lovely day. It'll be such a long time—"</p> - -<p>He held her hand tightly.</p> - -<p>"Not so awfully long. I'm not going to stand for it." He spoke firmly, -but his eyes were troubled. She did not answer, and they sat looking at -the future while the boat jolted on toward the moment of their parting.</p> - -<p>"Damn being poor!" The word startled her as a blow would have done. -Paul, so sincerely and humbly a church member—Paul swearing! He went -on without a pause. "If I had a little money, if I only had a little -money! What right has it got to make such a difference? Oh, Helen, you -don't know how I want you!"</p> - -<p>"Paul, Paul dear, you mustn't!" Her hand was crushed against his face, -his shoulders shook. She drew his dear, tousled head against her -shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Don't, dear, don't! Please."</p> - -<p>He pushed away from her and got up. She let him go, shielding his -embarrassment even from her own eyes. "I seem to be making a fool of -myself generally," he said shakily. He walked about the room, looking -with an appearance of interest at the pictures on the walls. "It's -funny there aren't more people on board," he said conversationally -after a while. "Well, I guess I'll go see what time we get in." He came -back five minutes later, an odd expression on his face.</p> - -<p>"Look here, Helen," he said gruffly. "We won't get in for hours. -Something wrong with the engines. They're only making half time. -I—ah—I don't know why I didn't think of it before. You've got to work -to-morrow and all. The man suggested—"</p> - -<p>"Well, for goodness' sake, suggested what?"</p> - -<p>"Everybody else has berths," he said. "You better let me get you one, -because there's no sense in your sitting up all night. There's no -knowing when we'll get in."</p> - -<p>"But, Paul, I hate to have you spend so much. I could sleep a little -right here." A vision of the office went through her mind, and she -saw herself, sleepy-eyed, struggling to get messages into the right -envelopes and trying to manage the unmanageable messenger-boys. She was -tired. But it would be awfully expensive, no doubt. "And besides, I'd -rather stay here with you," she said.</p> - -<p>"So would I. But we might as well be sensible. You've got to work, -and I'd probably go to sleep, too. Come on, let's see how much it is, -anyhow."</p> - -<p>They found the right place after wandering twice around the boat. A -weary man sat behind the half-door, adding up a column of figures. -"Berths? Sure. Outside, of course. One left. Dollar and a half." His -expectation brought the money, as if automatically, from Paul's pocket. -He came out, yawning, a key with a dangling tag in his hand. "This way."</p> - -<p>They followed him down the corridor. Matters seemed to be taken from -their hands. He stepped out on the dark deck.</p> - -<p>"Careful there, better give your wife a hand over those ropes," he -cautioned over his shoulder, and they heard the sound of a key in a -lock. An oblong of light appeared; he stepped out again to let them -pass him. They went in. "There's towels. Everything all right, I -guess," he said cheerfully. "Good-night."</p> - -<p>Their eyes met for one horrified second. Embarrassment covered -them both like a flame. "I—Helen! You don't think—?" They swayed -uncertainly in the narrow space between berths and wash-stand. Did the -boat jolt so or was it the beating of her heart?</p> - -<p>"Paul, did you hear? How could—?"</p> - -<p>"I guess I better go now," he said. He fumbled with the door. -"Good-night."</p> - -<p>"Good-night." She felt suddenly forlorn. But he was not gone. "Helen? -It might be true. We might be married!"</p> - -<p>She clung to him.</p> - -<p>"We can't! We couldn't! Oh, Paul, I love you so!"</p> - -<p>"We can be married—we will be—just as soon as we get to Sacramento." -His kisses smothered her. "The very first thing in the morning! We'll -manage somehow. I'll always love you just as much. Helen, what's the -matter? Look at me. Darling!"</p> - -<p>"We can't," she gasped. "I'd be spoiling everything for you. Your -mother and me and everything on your hands, and you're just getting -started. You'd hate me after a while. No, no, no!"</p> - -<p>They stumbled apart.</p> - -<p>"What am I saying?" he said hoarsely, and she turned away from him, -hiding her face.</p> - -<p>A rush of cold moist air blew in upon her from the open doorway. He was -gone. She got the door shut, and sat down on the edge of the berth. A -cool breeze flowed in like water through the shutters of the windows; -she felt the throbbing of the engines. Even through her closed lids -she could not bear the light, and after a while she turned it out, -trembling, and lay open-eyed in the darkness.</p> - -<p>The stopping of the boat struck her aching nerves like a blow. She -sat up, neither asleep nor awake, pushing her hair back from a face -that seemed sodden and lifeless. A pale twilight filled the stateroom. -She smoothed her hair, straightened her crumpled dress as well as she -could, and went out on the deck. The boat lay at the Sacramento landing.</p> - -<p>A few feet away Paul was leaning upon the railing, his face pale and -haggard in the cold light As she went toward him the events of the -night danced fantastically through her brain, as grotesque and feverish -as images in a dream.</p> - -<p>"You don't hate me, do you, Helen?" he pleaded hopelessly.</p> - -<p>"Of course not," she said. Through her weariness she felt a stirring of -pity. For the first time in her life she told herself to smile, and did -it. "We'd better be getting off, hadn't we?"</p> - -<p>The grayness of dawn was in the air, paling the street-lights. A few -workmen passed them, plodding stolidly, carrying lunch-pails and tools; -a baker's wagon rattled by, awakening loud echoes. She tried to comfort -Paul, whose talk was one long self-reproach.</p> - -<p>He hoped she would not get into a row with the folks where she stayed. -If she did, she must let him know; he wouldn't stand for anything like -that. She could reach him in Masonville till Saturday; then he would -come down again on his way home. He hadn't thought he could stop on -the way back, but he would. He'd be worried about her until he saw her -again and was sure everything was all right. He had been an awful boob -not to be sure about the boat; he'd never forgive himself if—</p> - -<p>"What is it?" he broke off. She had turned to look after a young man -who passed them. The motion was almost automatic; she had hardly seen -the man and not until he was past did her tired mind register an -impression of a cynically smiling eye.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," she said. She had been right; it was McCormick. But it would -require too much effort to talk about him.</p> - -<p>The blinds of Mrs. Campbell's house were still down when they reached -it. The tight roll of the morning paper lay on the porch. She would -have to ring, of course, to get in. They faced each other on the damp -cement walk, the freshness of the dewy lawns about them.</p> - -<p>"Well, good-by."</p> - -<p>"Good-by." They felt constrained in the daylight, under the blank stare -of the windows. Their hands clung. "You really aren't mad at me, Helen, -about anything?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I'm not. Nothing's happened that wasn't as much my fault as -it was yours."</p> - -<p>"You'll let me know?"</p> - -<p>She promised, though she had no intention of troubling him with her -problems. It was not his fault that the boat was late, and she had gone -as gladly as he. "Don't bother about it. I'll be all right. Good-by."</p> - -<p>"Good-by." Still their fingers clung together. She felt a rush of -tenderness toward him.</p> - -<p>"Don't look so worried, you dear!" Quickly, daringly, she leaned toward -him and brushed a butterfly's wing of a kiss upon his sleeve. Then, -embarrassed, she ran up the steps.</p> - -<p>"See you Saturday," he called in a jubilant undertone. She watched his -stocky figure until it turned the corner. Then she rang the bell. There -was time for the momentary glow to depart, leaving her weak and chilly, -before Mrs. Campbell opened the door. She said nothing. Her eyes, her -tight lips, her manner of drawing her dressing-gown back from Helen's -approach, spoke her thoughts. Explanations would be met with scornful -unbelief.</p> - -<p>Helen held her head high and countered silence with silence. But before -she reached her room she heard Mrs. Campbell's voice, high-pitched and -cutting, speaking to her husband.</p> - -<p>"Brazen as you please! You're right. The only thing to do's to put her -out of this house before we have a scandal on our hands. That's what I -get for taking her in, out of charity!"</p> - -<p>Helen shut her door softly. She would leave the house that very day. -The battered alarm clock pointed to half-past five. Three hours before -she could do anything. She undressed mechanically, half-formed plans -rushing through her mind. No money, next month's wages spent for these -crumpled clothes. She could telegraph her mother, but she must not -alarm her. Why hadn't she thought of borrowing something from Paul? -There was Mr. Roberts, but she could never make up more money. Perhaps -he would advance the raise he had promised. Her brain was working with -hectic rapidity. She saw in flashes rooming-houses, the office, Mr. -Roberts. She thought out every detail of long conversations, heard her -own voice explaining, arguing, promising, thanking.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>She woke with a start at the sound of the alarm. Her sleep had not -refreshed her. Her body felt wooden, and there was a gritty sensation -behind her eyeballs. Dressing and hurrying to the office was like a -nightmare in which a tremendous effort accomplishes nothing. The office -routine steadied her. She booked the night messages, laying wet tissue -paper over them, running them through the copying-machine, addressing -their envelopes, sending out messenger-boys, settling their disputes -over long routes. Everything was as usual; the sunshine streamed in -through the plate-glass front of the office; customers came and went; -the telephone rang; the instruments clicked. Her holiday was gone as -if she had dreamed it. There remained only the recurring sting of Mrs. -Campbell's words, and a determination to leave her house.</p> - -<p>She tried several times to talk to Mr. Roberts. But he was in a black -mood. He walked past her without saying good-morning, and over the -question of a delayed message his voice snapped like a whip-lash. She -saw that some obscure fury was working in him and that he would grant -no favors until it had worn itself out. Perhaps he would be in a -better humor later. She must ask him for some money before night.</p> - -<p>In the lull just before noon she sat at her table behind the screen, -her head on her arms. She did not feel like working at the instrument. -Mr. McCormick was lounging against the front counter, talking to Mr. -Roberts, who sat at his desk. They would take care of any customers; -for a moment she could rest and try to think.</p> - -<p>"Miss Davies!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir!" She leaped to her feet. Mr. Roberts' tone was dangerous. -Had she forgotten a message?</p> - -<p>"I'd like to show you the batteries. Come with me."</p> - -<p>"Oh, thank you! I'd like to see them." She tried by the cheerfulness of -her voice to make his frown relax.</p> - -<p>She followed him gingerly down the stairway to the basement. The -batteries stood in great rows on racks of shelves, big glass jars -rimmed with poisonous-looking green and yellow stains, filled with -discolored water and pieces of rotting metal. A failing electric-light -bulb illuminated their dusty ranks, and dimly showed black beams and -cobwebs overhead.</p> - -<p>"It's awfully good of you to take so much trouble," she began -gratefully.</p> - -<p>"Cut that out! How long're you going to think you're making a damn fool -of me?" Mr. Roberts turned on her suddenly a face that terrified her. -Words choked in his throat. He caught her wrist, and she felt his whole -body shaking. "You—you—damned little—" The rows of glass jars spun -around her. She hardly understood the words he flung at her. "Coming -here with your big eyes, playing me for all you're worth, acting -innocence! D'you think you've fooled me a minute? D'you think I haven't -seen through your little game? How long d'you think I'm going to stand -for it—say?"</p> - -<p>"Let me go," she said, panting.</p> - -<p>She steadied herself against the end of a rack, where his furious -gesture flung her. They faced each other in the close space, breathing -hard. "I don't know—what you mean," she said. Her world was going to -pieces under her feet.</p> - -<p>"You know damn well what I mean. Don't keep on lying to me. You can't -put it over. I know where you were last night." His face was contorted -again. "Yes, and all the other nights, all the time you've been kidding -yourself you were making a fool of me. I know all about it. Get that? I -know what you were before I ever gave you a job. What d'you suppose I -gave it to you for? So you could run around on the outside, laughing at -me?"</p> - -<p>"Wait—oh, please—"</p> - -<p>"I've done all the listening to you I'm going to do. You're going to do -something besides talk from now on. I'm not a boy you can twist around -your finger. I don't care how cute you are."</p> - -<p>"I don't—want to. I only—want to get away," she said. She still faced -him, for she could not hide her face without taking her eyes from him, -and she was afraid to do that. When the silence continued she began -to drop into it small disjointed phrases. "I didn't know, I thought -you were so good to me. We couldn't help the boat being late. Please, -please, just let me go away. I was only trying to learn to telegraph. I -thought I was doing so well."</p> - -<p>She felt, then, that he was no longer angry, and turning against the -cobwebbed boards, she covered her face with her arms and cried. She -hated herself for doing it; but she could not help it. Every instant -she tried to stop, and very soon she was able to do so. When she lifted -her head Mr. Roberts was gone.</p> - -<p>She waited a while among the uncaring battery jars, steadying -herself, and wiping her face with her handkerchief. When she forced -herself to climb up into the daylight again there was no one in the -office but McCormick, who sat at the San Francisco wire, gazing into -space, whistling "Life's a funny proposition after all," while the -disregarded sounder clattered fretfully, calling him.</p> - -<p>Of course she would leave the office. She put on her hat and did so at -once, but when she was out in the sunlight, with the eyes of passers-by -upon her, she could do nothing but writhe among her thoughts like a -flayed thing among nettles. The side streets were better than the -others, for there fewer people could see her. If it were only night, so -she could crawl unobserved into some corner and die.</p> - -<p>It was a long time before she realized that her body was aching and -that she was limping on painful feet. She had reached a street in some -residence sub-division, where cement sidewalks ran through tangles -of last year's weeds, and little cottages stood forlornly at long -intervals. She stumbled over an expanse of dry stubble and green grass -and sat down. She could not suffer any more. It was good to sit in the -warm sunshine, to be alone. Life was vile. She shrank from it with sick -loathing. She had been so hurt that she no longer felt pain, but her -soul was nauseated.</p> - -<p>There was no refuge into which she could crawl. There was no time to -heal her bruises, no one to help her bear them. The afternoon was -almost gone. At the house there was Mrs. Campbell, at the office—she -could get more money from her mother and go home to stay. She owed her -mother a hundred dollars—months of privation and heartbreaking work. -She could not shudder away from the hideousness of life at such a cost -to others. Somehow she must find strength in herself to stand up, to go -on, to do something.</p> - -<p>Mr. Roberts' recommendation was necessary before she could get another -telegraph job. She did not know how to do anything else. She owed him -ten dollars, which must be paid. Paul—shamed blood rose in her cheeks -when her thoughts touched him. She must face this thing alone.</p> - -<p>In the depths of her mind she felt a hardness growing. All her finer -sensibilities, hurt beyond bearing, were concealing themselves beneath -a coarser hardihood. Her chin went up, her lips set, her eyes narrowed -unconsciously.</p> - -<p>After a long time she rose, brushing dead grass-stalks from her skirt, -and started back to town. A street-car carried her there quickly. On -the way she remembered that she should eat, and thought of Mrs. Brown. -The half-punched meal-ticket was still in her purse. She had shivered -at the thought of ever seeing Mrs. Brown again, and many times she had -intended to throw away the bit of paste-board, but she had not been -able to do so because it represented food.</p> - -<p>She got off the car at the corner nearest the little restaurant, and -forced herself to its doors. It was closed and empty, and a "For Rent" -sign was glued to the dirty window. Under her quick relief there was a -sense of triumph. She had made herself go there, at least.</p> - -<p>In a dairy-lunch she drank a cup of coffee and swallowed a sandwich. -Then she went back to the telegraph-office.</p> - -<p>She held her head high and walked steadily, as she might have gone to -her own execution. She felt that something within her was being crushed -to death, something clean and fine and sensitive, which must die before -she could make herself face Mr. Roberts again. She opened the office -door and went in.</p> - -<p>Mr. Roberts was at one of the wires. McCormick, frowning, was booking -messages at her high desk. She hung her hat in the cabinet and took the -pen from his hand.</p> - -<p>"Well, Little Bright-eyes, welcome to our city!" he exclaimed in his -usual manner, but she saw that he was nervous, disturbed by the sense -of tension in the air.</p> - -<p>"After this you're going to call me Miss Davies," she said, folding -a message into an envelope. She struck the bell for the next -messenger-boy. Well, she had been able to do that.</p> - -<p>It was harder to approach Mr. Roberts. She did not know whether she -most shrank from him, despised him, or feared him, but her heart -fluttered and she felt ill when he came through the railing into the -office and sat down at his desk. She went over the day's bookings, and -checked up the messenger books without seeing them, until her hatred of -her cowardice grew into a kind of courage. Then she went over to his -desk.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Roberts," she said clearly. "I'm not any of the things you called -me." Her cheeks, her forehead, even her neck, were burning painfully. -"I'm a perfectly decent girl."</p> - -<p>"Well, there's no use making such a fuss about it," he mumbled, -searching among his papers for one which apparently was not there.</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't stay, only I owe you ten dollars and I've got to have a -job. You know that. It was all the truth I told you, about having to -work. I got to stay here—"</p> - -<p>"How do you know I'm going to let you?" he said, stung.</p> - -<p>"I'm a good clerk. You can't get another as good any cheaper." She -found herself on the defensive and struck wildly. "You ought to anyway -let me keep the job, to make up—"</p> - -<p>"That'll do," he said harshly. Turning away from her he caught -McCormick's eye, which dropped quickly to the message he was sending. -"Go take those messages off the hook and get them out, if you want a -job so bad."</p> - -<p>She obeyed. It startled her to find she was meeting McCormick's grin -with a little twisted smile almost as cynical. What she wanted to do -was to scream.</p> - -<p>Late that afternoon she was leaning on the front counter, watching -people go by outside the plate-glass windows and wondering what was the -truth about them, when she felt McCormick's gaze upon her. He came a -step closer, putting his elbow on the counter beside hers, and spoke -confidentially.</p> - -<p>"Well, I guess you got the old man buffaloed, all right."</p> - -<p>"I wish you'd leave me alone," she said in a hard, clear voice.</p> - -<p>"Oh, what's the use of getting sore? You're a plucky little devil. I -like you." He spoke meditatively, as if considering impersonally his -sensations. "Made a killing at poker last night," he went on. When she -did not answer, "There's no string tied to a little loan."</p> - -<p>But this, even with the flash of hope it offered, was too much to be -borne.</p> - -<p>"Go away!" she cried. He strolled back to the wires, whistling.</p> - -<p>She was checking up the last undelivered message at six o'clock and -telling herself that she must go back to Mrs. Campbell's for the night, -when Mr. Roberts laid a telegram on the desk beside her. "I'll try to -keep the office going without your assistance," he said with an attempt -at sarcasm. "Don't bother about me. Just get out."</p> - -<p>The flowing operator's script danced before her eyes. She read it -twice. "See your service this afternoon. Can offer Miss Davies night -duty St. Francis hotel forty-five dollars a month report immediately. -<span class="smcap">Bryant, Mgr.</span>"</p> - -<p>"San Francisco?" she stammered, incredulous, gazing at the SF -date-line. Across the yellow sheet she looked at Mr. Roberts, seeing -in his eyes a dislike that was almost hatred. "I'll go to-night," she -said. "I think everything's in order. That Ramsey message was out -twice."</p> - -<p>When he had gone, she borrowed ten dollars from McCormick, promising to -return it at the end of the month. She hardly resented his elaborately -kissing the money good-by, and holding her hand when he gave it to -her. But she spent twenty-five cents of it to send a message from the -station to Paul, though McCormick would have sent it for her as a note, -costing nothing.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Cooped in a narrow space at the end of a long corridor, Helen sat -gazing at the life of a great San Francisco hotel. Every moment -the color and glitter shifted under the brilliant light of mammoth -chandeliers. Tall, gilded elevator-doors opened and closed; women -passed, wrapped in satins and velvets, airy feathers in their shining -hair; men in evening dress escorted them; bell-boys went by, carrying -silver trays and calling unintelligibly, their voices rising above the -continuous muffled stir and the faint sounds of music from the Blue -Room.</p> - -<p>Helen had choked the telegraph-sounder with a pencil, so that she might -hear the music. But the tones of the violins came to her blurred by -a low hum of voices, by the rustle of silks, by the soft movement of -many feet on velvet carpets. Nothing was clear, simple, or distinct in -the medley. Her ears were baffled, as her eyes were dazzled and her -thoughts confused, by a multiplicity of sensations. San Francisco was a -whirlpool, an endless roaring circle, stupendous and dizzying.</p> - -<p>This had been her sick impression of it on that first morning, when she -struggled through the eddying crowds at the ferry building, lugging -her telescope-bag with one hand and with the other trying to hold her -hat in place against gusts of wind. Beneath the uproar of street-car -gongs, of huge wagons rumbling over the cobbles, of innumerable -hurrying feet, whistles, bells, shouts, she had felt a great impersonal -current, terrifying in its heedlessness of all but its own mighty -swirl, and she had had the sensation of standing at the brink of a -maelstrom.</p> - -<p>After ten months the impression still remained. But now she seemed to -have been drawn into the motionless vertex. The city roared around her, -still incomprehensible, still driven by its own breathless speed, but -in the heart of it she was alien and untouched. She had found nothing -in it but loneliness.</p> - -<p>Her first terrors had vanished, leaving her with a frustrated sense -of having been ridiculous in having them. She had gathered her whole -strength for a great effort, and she had found nothing to do. Far -from lying in wait with nameless dangers and pitfalls for the unwary -stranger, the city apparently did not know she was there.</p> - -<p>At the main telegraph-office Mr. Bryant had received her indifferently. -He was a busy man; she was one detail of his routine work. He directed -her to the St. Francis, asked her to report there at five o'clock, -and, looking at her again, inquired whether she knew any one in San -Francisco or had arranged for a place to live. Three minutes later he -handed her over to a brisk young woman, who gave her an address and -told her what car to take to reach it.</p> - -<p>She had found a shabby two-story house on Gough Street, with a -discouraged palm in a tub on the front porch. A colorless woman showed -her the room. It was a small, neat place under the eaves, furnished -with an iron bed, a wash-stand, a chair, and a strip of rag carpet. The -bathroom was on the lower floor, and the rent was two dollars and a -half a week. Helen set down her bag with a sigh of relief.</p> - -<p>Thus simply she found herself established in San Francisco. Her -first venture into the St. Francis had been no more exciting. After -a panic-stricken plunge into its magnificence she was accepted -noncommittally by the day-operator, a pale girl with eye-glasses, who -was already putting on her hat. She turned over a few unsent messages, -gave Helen the cash-box and rate-book, and departed.</p> - -<p>Thereafter Helen met her daily, punctually at five o'clock, and saw her -leave. Helen rather looked forward to the moment. It was pleasant to -say, "Good evening," once a day to some one.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon she walked about, looking at the city, and learned to -know many of the streets by name. She discovered the public library -and read a great deal. The library was also a pleasant place to spend -Sundays, being less lonely than the crowded parks, and if the librarian -were not too busy one might sometimes talk to her about a book.</p> - -<p>The dragging of the days, as much as her need for more money, had -driven her to asking for extra work at the main office. But here, -too, she had been dropped into the machine and put down before her -telegraph-key, with barely a hurried human touch. A beginner, rated -at forty-five dollars, she replaced a seventy-five-dollar operator -on a heavy wire, and the days became a nerve-straining tension of -concentration on the clicking sounder at her ear, while the huge -room with its hundreds of instruments and operators faded from her -consciousness.</p> - -<p>Released at four o'clock, she ate forlornly in a dairy lunch-room and -hurried to the St. Francis. Here, at least, she could watch other -people's lives. Gazing out at the changing crowd in the hotel corridor -she let her imagination picture the romances, the adventures, at her -finger-tips. A man spoke cheerfully to the cigar-boy while he lighted -his cigarette at the swinging light over the news-stand counter. He was -the center of a scandal that had filled the afternoon papers, and under -her hand was the message he had sent to his wife, denying, appealing, -swearing loyalty and love. A little, soft-eyed woman in clinging laces, -stepping from the elevator to meet a plump man in evening dress, was -there to put through a big mining deal with him. The ends of the -intrigue stretched out into vagueness, but her telegrams revealed its -magnitude.</p> - -<p>Helen's cramped muscles stirred restlessly. There was barely room to -move in the tiny office, crowded with table and chair and wastebasket. -Spaciousness was on the other side of the counter.</p> - -<p>She snatched the pencil from the counter and began a letter to Paul. -Her imagination, at least, was released when she wrote letters.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>Dear Paul</i>:</p> - -<p>I wonder what you are doing now! It's eight o'clock and of course -you've had your supper. Your mother's probably finishing up the -kitchen work and putting the bread to rise, and you haven't anything -to do but sit on the porch and look at the stars and the lighted -windows here and there in the darkness, and listen to the breeze in -the trees. And here I am, sitting in a place that looks just like a -hothouse with all the flowers come to life. There's a ball up-stairs, -and a million girls have gone through the corridors, with flowers and -feathers and jewels in their hair, and dresses and evening cloaks as -beautiful as petals. How I wish you could see them all, and the men, -too, in evening dress. They're the funniest things when they're fat, -but some of the slim ones look like princes or counts or something.</p> - -<p>What kind of new furniture was it your mother got? You've never told -me a word about the place you're living since you moved, and I'm -awfully interested. Do please tell me what color the wall-paper is and -the carpets, and the woodwork, and what the kitchen is like, and if -there are rose-bushes in the yard. Did your mother get new curtains, -too? There is a lovely new material for curtains just out—sort of -silky, and rough, in the loveliest colors. I see it in the store -windows, and if your mother wants me to I'd love to price it, and get -samples for her.</p> - -<p>A little boy's just come in with a toy balloon, and it got away from -him and it's bumping up around on the gilded ceiling, and I wish you -could hear him howl. It must be fun for the balloon, though, after -being dragged around for hours, tugging all the time to get away, to -escape at last and go up and up and up—</p> - -<p>I felt just like that this morning. Just think, Paul, I sent the last -of the hundred dollars home, and another fifty besides! Isn't that -gorgeous? I'm making over ninety dollars a month now, with my extra -work at SF office, and my salary here—</p> -</div> - -<p>She paused, biting her pencil. That would give him a start, she -thought. He had been so self-satisfied when he got his raise to being -day-operator and station-agent. She had not quite got over the hurt of -his taking it without letting her know that the night-operator's place -would be vacant. He had explained that a girl couldn't handle the job, -but she knew that he did not want her to be working with him.</p> - -<p>In the spring, she thought, she would be able to get some beautiful new -clothes and go home for a visit. Paul would come, too, when he knew she -would be there. He would see then how well she could manage on a very -little money. In a few months more she would be able to save enough for -a trousseau, tablecloths, and embroidered towels—</p> - -<p>"Blank, please!" A customer leaned on the counter. She gave him the pad -and watched him while he wrote. His profile was handsome; a lock of -fair hair beneath the pushed-back hat, a straight forehead, an aquiline -nose, a thin, humorous mouth. He wrote nervously, dashing the pencil -across the paper, tearing off the sheet and crumpling it impatiently, -beginning again. When he finished, shoving the message toward her with -a quick movement, he looked at her and smiled, and she felt a charm in -the warm flash of his eyes. His nervous vitality was magnetic.</p> - -<p>She read the message. "'G. H. Kennedy, Central Trust Company, Los -Angeles. Drawing on you for five hundred. Must have it. Absolutely sure -thing this time. Full explanations follow by letter. <span class="smcap">Gilbert.</span>' -Sixty-seven cents, please," she said. She wished that she could think -of something more to say; she would have liked to talk to him. There -was about him an impression of something happening every instant. When, -turning away, he paused momentarily, she looked at him quickly. But he -was speaking to the rival operator.</p> - -<p>"Hello, kid!"</p> - -<p>"On your way," the girl replied imperturbably. Her eyes laughed and -challenged. But with an answering smile he went past, and only his hat -remained visible in glimpses through the crowd. Then it turned a corner -and was gone.</p> - -<p>"Fresh!" the girl murmured. "But gee, he can dance!"</p> - -<p>Helen looked at her with interest. She was a new girl, on relief duty. -The regular operator for her company was a sober, conscientious woman -of thirty, who studied German grammar in her leisure moments. This one -was not at all like her.</p> - -<p>"Do you know him?" said Helen, smiling shyly. This was an opening for -conversation, and she met it eagerly. The other girl had a friendly and -engaging manner, which obviously included all the world.</p> - -<p>"Sure I do," she answered, though there was uncertainty under the -round tones. She ran a slim forefinger through the blond curl that lay -against her neck, smiling at Helen with a display of even, white teeth. -Helen thought of pictures on magazine covers. It must be wonderful to -be as pretty as that, she thought wistfully. "Who's he wiring to?"</p> - -<p>Helen passed the message across the low railing that separated the -offices. She noticed the shining of the girl's fingernail as she ran it -along the lines.</p> - -<p>"Well, what do you know about that? He <i>was</i> giving me a song and dance -about being Judge Kennedy's son. You never can tell about men," she -commented sagely, returning the telegram. "Sometimes they tell you the -absolute truth."</p> - -<p>A childlike quality made her sophistication merely piquant. Her -comments on the passing guests fascinated Helen, and an occasional -phrase revealed glimpses of a world of gaiety in which she seemed to -flutter continually, like a butterfly in the sunshine. She worked, it -appeared, only at irregular intervals.</p> - -<p>"Momma supports me, of course on her alimony. Papa certainly treated -her rotten, but his money's perfectly good," she said artlessly. Her -frankness also was childlike, and her calm acceptance of the situation -made it necessary to regard it as commonplace. Helen, in self-defense, -could not be shocked.</p> - -<p>"She's lot of fun, momma is. Just loves a good time. She's out dancing -now. Gee! I wish I was! I'm just crazy about dancing, aren't you? -Listen to that music! All I want is just to dance all night long. -That's what I really love."</p> - -<p>"Do you ever—often, I mean—do it? Dance all night long?" Helen asked, -wide-eyed.</p> - -<p>"Only once a night." She laughed. "About five nights a week."</p> - -<p>Helen thought her entertaining, and warmed to her beauty and charm. -In an hour she was asking Helen to call her Louise, and although she -made no attempt to conceal her astonishment at the barrenness of -Helen's life, her generous desire to share her own good times took -the sting from her pity. Why, Helen didn't know the city at all, she -cried, and Helen could only assent. They must go out to some of the -cafés together; they must have tea at Techau's; Helen must come to -dinner and meet momma. Louise jumbled a dozen plans together in a rush -of friendliness. It was plain that she was genuinely touched in her -butterfly heart by Helen's loneliness.</p> - -<p>"And you're a brunette!" she cried. "We'll be stunning together. I'm so -blonde." The small circle of her thought returned always to herself. -Helen, dimly seeing this, felt an amused tolerance, which saved her -pride while she confessed to herself her inferiority in cleverness -to this sparkling small person. Louise would never have drifted into -dull stagnation; she would have found some way to fill her life with -realities instead of dreams.</p> - -<p>Midnight came before Helen realized it. Tidying her desk for the night, -she found the unfinished letter to Paul and tucked it into her purse. -She had not been forced to feed upon her imagination that evening.</p> - -<p>Louise walked to the car-line with her, and it was settled that the -next night Helen should come to dinner and meet momma. It meant cutting -short her extra work and paying the day-operator to stay late at the -St. Francis, but Helen did not regret the cost. This was the first -friend the city had offered her.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Three weeks later she was sharing the apartment on Leavenworth Street -with Louise and her momma.</p> - -<p>The change had come with startling suddenness. There had been the -dinner first. Helen approached it diffidently, doubtful of her -self-possession in a strange place, with strange people. She fortified -herself with a new hat and a veil with large velvet spots, yet at -the very door she had a moment of panic and thought of flight and -a telephone message of regrets. Only the thought of her desperate -loneliness gave her courage to ring the bell.</p> - -<p>The strain disappeared as soon as she met momma. Momma, slim in a silk -petticoat and a frilly dressing-sack, had taken her in affectionately. -Momma was much like Louise. Helen thought again of pictures on magazine -covers, though Louise suggested a new magazine, and her mother did -not. Even Helen could see that Momma's pearly complexion was liberally -helped by powder, and her hair was almost unnaturally golden. But the -eyes were the same, large and blue, fringed with black lashes, and both -profiles had the same clear, delicate outlines.</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear, most people do think we're sisters," Mrs. Latimer said -complacently, when Helen spoke of the resemblance.</p> - -<p>"We have awful good times together, don't we, Momma?" Louise added, her -arm around her mother's waist, and Helen felt a pang at the fondness of -the reply. "We certainly do, kiddie."</p> - -<p>It was a careless, happy-go-lucky household. Dinner was scrambled -together somehow, with much opening of cans, in a neglected, dingy -kitchen. Helen and Louise washed the dishes while momma stirred the -creamed chicken. It was fun to wash dishes again and to set the table, -and Helen could imagine herself one of the family while she listened -to their intimate chatter. They had had tea down town; there was -mention of some one's new car, somebody's diamonds; Louise had seen a -lavallière in a jeweler's shop; she teased her mother to buy it for -her, and her mother said fondly, "Well, honey-baby, we'll see."</p> - -<p>They had hardly begun to eat when the telephone-bell rang, and momma, -answering it, was gone for some time. They caught scraps of bantering -talk and Louise wondered, "Who's that she's jollying now?" She sprang -up with a cry of delight when momma came back to announce that the -crowd was going to the beach.</p> - -<p>There was a scramble to dress. Helen, hooking their gowns in the -cluttered bedroom, saw dresser drawers overflowing with sheer -underwear, silk stockings, bits of ribbon, crushed hat-trimmings, and -plumes. Louise brushed her eyebrows with a tiny brush, rubbed her nails -with a buffer, dabbed carefully at her lips with a lip-stick Helen -hoped that she did not show her surprise at these novel details of the -toilet. They had taken it for granted she was going to the beach with -them. Their surprise and regret were genuine when she said she must go -to work.</p> - -<p>"Oh, what do you want to do that for?" Louise pouted. "You look all -right." She said it doubtfully, then brightened. "I'll lend you some -of my things. You'd be perfectly stunning dressed up. Wouldn't she be -stunning, Momma? You've got lovely hair and that baby stare of yours. -All you need's a dress and a little—Isn't it, Momma?"</p> - -<p>Her mother agreed warmly. Helen glowed under their praise and was -deeply grateful for their interest in her. She wanted very much to go -with them, and when she stood on the sidewalk watching them depart in a -big red automobile, amidst a chorus of gay voices, she felt chilled and -lonely.</p> - -<p>They were lovely to be so friendly to her, she thought, while she -went soberly to work. She felt that she must in some way return their -kindness, and after discarding a number of plans she decided to take -them both to a matinée.</p> - -<p>It was Louise, at their third meeting, who suggested that she come to -live with them. "What do you know, Momma, Helen's living in some awful -hole all alone. Why couldn't she come in with us? There's loads of -room. She could sleep with me. Momma, why not?"</p> - -<p>Her mother, smiling lazily, said:</p> - -<p>"Well, if you kids want to, I don't care." Helen was delighted by -the prospect. It was arranged that she should pay one third of the -expenses, and Louise cried joyfully: "Now, Momma, you've got to get my -lavallière!"</p> - -<p>The next afternoon Helen packed her bag and left the room on Gough -Street. Her feet wanted to dance when she went down the narrow stairs -for the last time and let herself out into the windy sunshine.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It was maddening to find herself so tied down by her work. In the early -mornings, dragging herself from bed, she left Louise drowsy among the -pillows and saw while she dressed the tantalizing signs of last night's -gaiety in the dress flung over a chair, the scattered slippers and -silk stockings. She came home at midnight to a dark, silent apartment, -letting herself in with a latch-key to find the dinner dishes still -unwashed and spatterings of powder on the bedroom carpet, where street -shoes and a discarded petticoat were tangled together. She enjoyed -putting things in order, pretending the place was her own while she -did it, but she was lonely. Later she awoke to blink at Louise, -sitting half undressed on the edge of the bed, rubbing her face with -cold-cream, and to listen sleepily to her chatter.</p> - -<p>"You'll be a long time dead, kiddie," momma said affectionately. -"What's the use of being a dead one till you have to?" Helen's youth -cried that momma was right. But she knew too well the miseries of -being penniless; she dared not give up a job. A chance remark, flung -out on the endless flow of Louise's gossip, offered the solution. "What -do you know about that boob girl at MX office? She's picked a chauffeur -in a garden of millionaires, and she's going to quit work and <i>marry</i> -him!"</p> - -<p>Helen's heart leaped. It was her chance. When she confronted Mr. Bryant -across the main-office counter the next morning her hands trembled, but -her whole nature had hardened into a cold determination. She would get -that job. It paid sixty dollars a month; the hours were from eight to -four. Whether she could handle market reports or not did not matter; -she would handle them.</p> - -<p>She scored her first business triumph when she got this job, although -she did not realize until many years later what a triumph it had been. -She settled into her work at the Merchants' Exchange wires with only -one thought. Now she was free to live normally, to have a good time, -like other girls.</p> - -<p>The first day's work strained her nerves to the breaking point The -shouts of buyers and sellers on the floor, the impatient pounding on -the counter of customers with rush messages, the whole breathless haste -and excitement of the exchange, blurred into an indistinct clamor -through which she heard only the slow, heavy working of the Chicago -wire, tapping out a meaningless jumble of letters and fractions. She -concentrated upon it, with an effort which made her a blind machine. -The scrawled quotations she flung on the counter were wrought from an -agony of nerves and brain.</p> - -<p>But it was over at last, and she hurried home. The dim stillness of the -apartment was an invitation to rest, but she disregarded it, slipping -out of her shirt-waist and splashing her face and bare arms with cold -water. A new chiffon blouse was waiting in its box, and a thrill -of anticipation ran through her when she lifted it from its tissue -wrappings.</p> - -<p>She fastened the soft folds, pleased by the lines of her round arms -seen through the transparency, and her slender neck rising from white -frills. In the hand-glass she gazed at the oval of her face reflected -in the dressing-table mirror, and suddenly lifting her lids caught the -surprising effect of the sea-gray eyes beneath black lashes, an effect -she had never known until Louise spoke of it.</p> - -<p>She was pretty. She was almost—she caught her breath—beautiful. The -knowledge was more than beauty itself, for it brought self-assurance. -She felt equal to any situation the evening might offer, and she was -smiling at herself in the mirror when Louise burst in, a picture in -a dashing little serge suit and a hat whose black line was like the -stroke of an artist's pencil.</p> - -<p>"The alimony's come!" she cried. "We're going to have a regular time! -Momma'll meet us down town. Look, isn't it stunning?" She displayed -the longed-for lavallière twinkling against her smooth young neck. "I -knew I'd get it somehow Momma—the stingy thing!—she went and got her -new furs. But we met Bob, and he bought it for me." She sat down before -the mirror, throwing off her hat and letting down her hair. "I don't -know—it's only a chip diamond." Her moods veered as swiftly as light -summer breezes. "I wish momma'd get me a real one. It's nonsense, her -treating me like a baby. I'm seventeen."</p> - -<p>Helen felt her delight in the new waist evaporate. Louise's chatter -always made her feel at a disadvantage. There was a distance between -them that they seemed unable to bridge, and Helen realized that it was -her fault. Perhaps it was because she had been so long alone that she -often felt even more lonely when she was with Louise.</p> - -<p>The sensation returned, overpowering, when they joined the crowd in the -restaurant. She could only follow Louise's insouciant progress through -a bewildering medley of voices, music, brilliant lights, and stumble -into a chair at a table ringed with strange faces. Momma was there, -her hat dripping with plumes, white furs flung negligently over her -shoulders, her fingers a blaze of rings. There was another resplendent -woman, named Nell Allan; a bald-headed fat man called Bob; a younger -man, with a lean face and restless blue eyes, hailed by Louise as -Duddy. They were having a very gay time, but Helen, shrinking unnoticed -in her chair, was unaccountably isolated and lonely. She could think of -nothing to say. There was no thread in the rapid chatter at which she -could clutch. They were all talking, and every phrase seemed a flash of -wit, since they all laughed so much.</p> - -<p>"I love the cows and chickens, but this is the life!" Duddy cried at -intervals. "Oh, you chickens!" and "This is the life!" the others -responded in a chorus of merriment. Helen did not doubt that it all -meant something, but her wits were too slow to grasp it, and the talk -raced on unintelligibly. She could only sit silent eating delicate food -from plates that waiters whisked into place and whisked away again, and -laughing uncertainly when the others did.</p> - -<p>Color and light and music beat upon her brain. About her was a -confusion of movement, laughter, clinking glasses, glimpses of white -shoulders and red lips, perfumes, hurrying waiters, steaming dishes, -and over and through it all the quick, accented rhythm of the music, -swaying, dominating, blending all sensations into one quickening -vibration.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, from all sides, hidden in the artificial foliage that covered -the walls, silvery bells took up the melody. Helen, inarticulate and -motionless, felt her nerves tingle, alive, joyful, eager.</p> - -<p>There was a pushing back of chairs, and she started. But they were only -going to dance. Duddy and momma, Bob and Mrs. Allan, swept out into a -whirl of white arms and dark coats, tilted faces and swaying bodies. -"Isn't it lovely!" Helen murmured.</p> - -<p>But Louise was not listening. She sat mutinous, her fingers tapping -time to the music, her eyes beneath the long lashes searching the room. -"I can't help it. I just got to dance!" she muttered, and suddenly she -was gone. Some one met her among the tables, put his arms around her, -and whirled her away. Helen, watching for her black hat and happy face -to reappear, saw that she was dancing with the man whose telegram had -introduced them. Memory finally gave her his name. Gilbert Kennedy.</p> - -<p>Louise brought him to the table when the music ceased. There were gay -introductions, and Helen wished that she could say something. But momma -monopolized him, squeezing in an extra chair for him beside her, and -saying how glad she was to meet a friend of her little girl's.</p> - -<p>Helen could only be silent, listening to their incomprehensible -gaiety, and feeling an attraction for him as irresistible as an -electric current. She did not know what it was, but she thought him the -handsomest man she had ever seen, and she felt that he did whatever he -wanted to do with invariable success. He was not like the others. He -talked their jargon, but he did not seem of them, and she noticed that -his hazel eyes, set in a network of tiny wrinkles, were at once avid -and weary. Yet he could not be older than twenty-eight or so. He danced -with momma, when again the orchestra began a rag, but coming back to -the table with the others, he said restlessly:</p> - -<p>"Let's go somewhere else. My car's outside. How about the beach?"</p> - -<p>"Grand little idea!" Duddy declared amid an approving chorus. Helen, -following the others among the tables and through the swinging doors -to the curb where the big gray car stood waiting, told herself that -she must make an effort, must pay for this wonderful evening with some -contribution to the fun. But when they had all crowded into the machine -and she felt the rush of cool air against her face and saw the street -lights speeding past, she forgot everything but joy. She was having -a good time at last, and a picture of the Masonville girls flashed -briefly through her mind. How meager their picnics and hay rides -appeared beside this!</p> - -<p>She half formed the phrases in which she would describe to Paul their -racing down the long boulevard beside the beach, the salty air, and the -darkness, and the long white lines of foam upon the breakers. This, -she realized with exultation, was a joy-ride. She had read the word in -newspapers, but its aptness had never before struck her.</p> - -<p>It was astounding to find, after a rush through the darkness of the -park, that the car was stopping. Every one was getting out. Amazed and -trying to conceal her amazement, she went with them through a blaze of -light into another restaurant where another orchestra played the same -gay music and dancers whirled beyond a film of cigarette smoke. They -sat down at a round bare table, and Helen perceived that one must order -something to drink.</p> - -<p>She listened to the rapid orders, hesitating. "Blue moons" were -intriguing, and "slow gin fizz" was fascinating, with its suggestion -of fireworks. But beside her Mr. Kennedy said, "Scotch high-ball," -and the waiter took her hesitation for repetition. The glass appeared -before her, there was a cry of "Happy days!" and she swallowed a -queer-tasting, stinging mouthful. She set the glass down hastily.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with the high-ball?" Mr. Kennedy inquired. He had -paid the waiter, and she felt the obligation of a guest.</p> - -<p>"It's very good really. But I don't care much for drinks that are -fizzy," she said. She saw a faint amusement in his eyes, but he did not -smile, and his order to the waiter was peremptory. "Plain high-ball -here, no seltzer." The waiter hastened to bring it.</p> - -<p>Mr. Kennedy's attention was still upon her, and she saw no escape. She -smiled at him over the glass. "Happy days!" she said, and drank. She -set down the empty glass and the muscles of her throat choked back -a cough. "Thank you," she said, and was surprised to find that the -weariness was no longer in his eyes.</p> - -<p>"You're all right!" he said. His tone was that of the vanquished -greeting the victor, and his next words were equally enigmatic. "I hate -a bluffer that doesn't make good when he's called!" The orchestra had -swung into a new tune, and he half rose. "Dance?"</p> - -<p>It was hard to admit her deficiency and let him go.</p> - -<p>"I can't. I don't know how."</p> - -<p>He sat down.</p> - -<p>"You don't know how to dance?" His inflection said that this was -carrying a pretense too far, that in overshooting a mark she had missed -it. His keen look at her suddenly made clear a fact for which she had -been unconsciously groping while she watched these men and women, the -clue to their relations. Beneath their gaiety a ceaseless game was -being played, man against woman, and every word and glance was a move -in that game, the basis of which was enmity. He thought that she, too, -was playing it, and against him.</p> - -<p>"Why do you think I'm lying to you, Mr. Kennedy? I would like to dance -if I could—of course."</p> - -<p>"I don't get you," he replied with equal directness. "What do you come -out here for if you don't drink and don't dance?"</p> - -<p>It would be too humiliating to confess the extent of her inexperience, -her ignorance of the city in which she had lived for almost a year. "I -come because I like it," she said. "I've worked hard for a long time -and never had any fun. And I'm going to learn to dance. I don't know -about drinking. I don't like the taste of it much. Do people really -like to drink high-balls and things like that?"</p> - -<p>It startled a laugh from him.</p> - -<p>"Keep on drinking 'em, and you'll find out why people do it," he -answered. Over his shoulder he said to the waiter, "Couple of rye -high-balls, Ben."</p> - -<p>The others were dancing. They were alone at the table, and when, -resting an elbow on the edge of it, he concentrated his attention upon -her, the crowded room became a swirl of color and light about their -isolation. Her breath came faster, the toe of her slipper kept time -to the music, exhilaration mounted in her veins, and her success in -holding his interest was like wine to her. But a cold, keen inner self -took charge of her brain.</p> - -<p>The high-balls arrived. She felt that she must be rude, and did not -drink hers. When he urged she refused as politely as she could. He -insisted.</p> - -<p>"Drink it!" She felt the clash of an imperious, reckless will against -her impassive resistance. There was a second in which neither moved, -and their whole relation subtly changed. Then she laughed.</p> - -<p>"I'd really rather not," she said lightly.</p> - -<p>"Come on—be game," he said.</p> - -<p>"The season's closed," Louise's flippancies had not been without their -effect on her. It was easier to drop back into her own language. "No, -really—tell me, why do people drink things that taste like that?"</p> - -<p>He met her on her own ground. "You've got to drink, to let go, to have -a good time. It breaks down inhibitions." She noted the word. The -use of such words was one of the things that marked his difference -from the others. "God knows why," he added wearily. "But what's the -use of living if you don't hit the high spots? And there's a streak -of—perversity—depravity in me that's got to have this kind of thing."</p> - -<p>Their group swooped down about the table, and the general ordering of -more drinks ended their talk. There was a clamor when Helen said she -did not want anything. Duddy swept away her protests and ordered for -her, but momma came to the rescue.</p> - -<p>"Let the kid alone; she's not used to it. You stick to lemon sours, -baby. Don't let them kid you," she said. The chatter swept on, leaving -her once more unnoticed, but when the music called again Mr. Kennedy -took her out among the dancers.</p> - -<p>"You're all right," he said. "Just let yourself go and follow me. It's -only a walk to music." And unaccountably she found herself dancing, -felt the rhythm beat through blood and nerves, and stiffness and -awkwardness drop away from her. She felt like a butterfly bursting from -a chrysalis, like a bird singing in the dawn. She was so happy that Mr. -Kennedy laughed at the ecstacy in her face.</p> - -<p>"You look like a kid in a candy-shop," he said, swinging her past a jam -with a long, breathless swooping glide and picking up the step again.</p> - -<p>"I'm—per-fect-ly-happy!" she cried, in time to the tune. "It's -awfully good—of you-ou!"</p> - -<p>He laughed again.</p> - -<p>"Stick to me, and I'll teach you a lot of things," he said.</p> - -<p>She found, when she went reluctantly back to the table with him, -that the others were talking of leaving. It hurt to hear him -enthusiastically greeting the suggestion. But after they were in -the machine it appeared that they were not going home. There was -an interval of rushing through the cool darkness, and then another -restaurant just like the others, and more dancing.</p> - -<p>The hours blurred into a succession of those swift dashes through the -clean night air, and recurring plunges into light and heat and smoke -and music. Helen, faithfully sticking to lemon sours as momma had -advised, discovered that she could dance something called a rag, and -something else known as a Grizzly Bear; heard Duddy crying that she was -some chicken; felt herself a great success. Bob was growing strangely -sentimental and talked sorrowfully about his poor old mother; momma's -cheeks were flushed under the rouge, and she sang part of a song, -forgetting the rest of the words. The crowd shifted and separated; -somewhere they lost part of it, and a stranger appeared with Louise.</p> - -<p>Helen, forced at last to think of her work next morning, was horrified -to find that it was two o'clock. Momma agreed that the best of friends -must part. They sang while they sped through the sleeping city, the -stars overhead and the street-lights flashing by. Drowsily happy, Helen -thought it no harm to rest her head on Mr. Kennedy's shoulder, since -his other arm was around momma, and she wondered what it would be like -if a man so fascinating were in love with her. It would be frightfully -thrilling and exciting, she thought, playing daringly with the idea.</p> - -<p>"See you, again!" they all cried, when she alighted with momma and -Louise before the dark apartment-house. The others were going on -to more fun somewhere. She shook hands with Mr. Kennedy, feeling a -contraction of her heart. "Thank you for a very pleasant time." She -felt that he was amused by the stilted words.</p> - -<p>"Don't forget it isn't the last one!" he said.</p> - -<p>She did not forget. The words repeated themselves in her mind; she -heard his voice, and felt his arm around her waist and the music -throbbing in her blood for a long time. The sensations came back to -her in the pauses of her work next day, while she dragged through the -hours as if she were drugged, hearing the noise of the exchange and the -market quotations clicking off the Chicago wire, now very far and thin, -now close and sickeningly loud.</p> - -<p>She was white and faint when she got home, and Momma suggested a -bromo-seltzer and offered to lend her some rouge. But Mr. Kennedy had -not telephoned, and she went to bed instead of going out with them that -evening. It was eleven days before he did telephone.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>In the mornings Helen went to work. The first confusion of the -Merchants' Exchange had cleared a little. She began to see a pattern -in the fluctuations of the market quotations. January wheat, February -wheat, May corn, became a drama to her, and while she snatched the -figures from the wire and tossed them to the waiting boy, saw them -chalked up on the huge board, and heard the shouts of the brokers, she -caught glimpses of the world-wide gamble in lives and fortunes.</p> - -<p>But it was only another great spectacle in which she had no part. She -was merely a living mechanical attachment to the network of wires. She -wanted to tear herself away, to have a life of her own, a life that -went forward, instead of swinging like a pendulum between home and the -office.</p> - -<p>She did not want to work. She had never wanted to work. Working had -been only a means of reaching sooner her own life with Paul. The road -had run straight before her to that end. But now Paul would not let her -follow it; he did not want her to work with him at Ripley; she would -have to wait until he made money enough to support her. And she hated -work.</p> - -<p>Resting her chin on one palm, listening half consciously for her call -to interrupt the ceaseless clicking of the sounder, she gazed across -the marble counter and the vaulted room; the gesticulating brokers, -the scurrying messengers, faded into a background against which she -saw again the light and color and movement of the night when she had -met Mr. Kennedy. She heard his voice. "What's the use of living if you -don't hit the high spots?"</p> - -<p>She hurried home at night, expecting she knew not what. But it had not -happened. Restlessness took possession of her, and she turned for hours -on her pillow, dozing only to hear the clicking of telegraph-sounders, -and music, and to find herself dancing on the floor of the Merchants' -Exchange with a strange man who had Mr. Kennedy's eyes. On the eleventh -day she received a letter from Paul, which quieted the turmoil of her -thoughts like a dash of cold water. In his even neat handwriting he -wrote:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>I suppose the folks you write about are all right. They sound pretty -queer to me. I don't pretend to know anything about San Francisco, -though. But I don't see how you are going to hold down a job and keep -up with the way they seem to spend their time, though I will not say -anything about dancing. You know I could not do it and stay in the -church, but I do not mean to bring that up again in a letter. You were -mighty fine and straight and sincere about that, and if you do not -feel the call to join I would not urge you. But I do not think I would -like your new friends. I would rather a girl was not so pretty, but -used less slang when she talks.</p> -</div> - -<p>The words gained force by echoing a stifled opinion of her own. With -no other standard than her own instinct, she had had moments of -criticising Louise and momma. But she had quickly hidden the criticism -in the depths of her mind, because they were companions and she had not -been able to find any others. Now they stood revealed through Paul's -eyes as glaringly cheap and vulgar.</p> - -<p>Her longing for a good time, if she must have it with such people, -appeared weak and foolish to her. She felt older and steadier when she -went home that night. Then, just as she entered the door, the telephone -rang and Louise called that Gilbert Kennedy wanted to speak to her.</p> - -<p>It was impossible to analyze his fascination. Uncounted times she had -gone over all he had said, all she could conjecture about him, vainly -seeking an explanation of it. The mere sound of his voice revived the -spell like an incantation, and her half-hearted resistance succumbed to -it.</p> - -<p>Before the dressing-table, hurrying to make herself beautiful for an -evening with him, she leaned closer to the glass and tried to find the -answer in the gray eyes looking back at her. But they only grew eager, -and her reflection faded, to leave her brooding on the memory of his -face, half mocking and half serious, and the tired hunger of his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Have a heart, for the lovea Mike!" cried Louise. "Give me a chance. -You aren't using the mirror yourself, even!" She slipped into the chair -Helen left and, pushing back her mass of golden hair, gazed searchingly -at her face. "Got to get my lashes dyed again; they're growing out. -Say, you certainly did make a hit with Kennedy!"</p> - -<p>"Where's the nail polish?" Helen asked, searching in the hopeless -disorder of the bureau drawers. "Oh, here it is. What do you know about -him?"</p> - -<p>"Well, he's one of those Los Angeles Kennedys. You know, old man was -indicted for something awhile ago. Loads of money." Louise, dabbing on -cold-cream, spoke in jerks. "His brother was the one that ran off with -Cissy Leroy, and his wife shot her up. Don't you remember? It was in -all the papers. I used to know Cissy, too. She was an awful good sport, -really. Don't you love that big car of his?"</p> - -<p>Helen did not answer. In her revulsion she felt that she was not at all -interested in Gilbert Kennedy, and she had the sensation of being freed -from a weight.</p> - -<p>Momma, slipping a rustling gown over her head, spoke through the folds. -"He's a live wire," she praised. She settled the straps over her -shoulders, tossing a fond smile at Helen. "Hook me up, dearie? Yes, -he's a live wire all right, and you've certainly got him coming."</p> - -<p>A sudden thought chilled Helen to the finger-tips. She fumbled with the -hooks.</p> - -<p>"He isn't married, is he?"</p> - -<p>"Married! Well, I should say not! What do you think I am?" momma -demanded. "Do you think I'd steer you or Louise up against anything -like that?" Her voice softened. "I know too well what unhappiness comes -from some one taking another lady's husband away from his home and -family, though he does pay the alimony regular as the day comes around, -I will say that for him. I hope never to live to see the day my girl, -or you either, does a thing like that." There was genuine emotion in -her voice. Helen felt a rush of affectionate pity for her, and Louise, -springing up, threw her bare arms around her mother.</p> - -<p>"Don't you worry, angel momma! I see myself doing it!" she cried.</p> - -<p>At such moments of warm-hearted sincerity Helen was fond of them both. -She felt ashamed while she finished dressing. They were lovely to her, -she thought, and they accepted people as they were, without sneaking -little criticisms and feelings of superiority. She did not know what -she thought about anything.</p> - -<p>Her indecisions were cut short by the squawk of an automobile-horn -beneath the windows. With last hasty slaps of powder-puffs and a -snatching of gloves, they hurried down to meet Mr. Kennedy at the door, -and again Helen felt his charm like a tangible current between them. -Words choked in her throat, and she stood silent in a little whirlpool -of greetings.</p> - -<p>There were three indistinct figures already in the tonneau; a glowing -cigar-end lighted a fat, jolly face, and two feminine voices greeted -momma and Louise. Hesitating on the curb, Helen felt a warm, possessive -hand close on her arm.</p> - -<p>"Get out, Dick. Climb in back. This little girl's going in front with -me." The dominating voice made the words like an irresistible force. -Not until she was sitting beside him and a docile young man had wedged -himself into the crowded space behind, did it occur to her to question -it.</p> - -<p>"Do you always boss people like that?"</p> - -<p>They were racing smoothly down a slope, and his answer came through the -rushing of the wind past her ears. "Always." The gleam of a headlight -passed across his face and she saw it keen, alert, intensely alive. -"Ask, and you'll have to argue. Command, and people jump. It's the -man that orders what he wants that gets it. Philosophy taught in ten -lessons," he added in a contemptuous undertone. "Well, little girl, you -haven't been forgetting me, have you?"</p> - -<p>She disregarded the change of tone. His idea had struck her as -extraordinarily true. It had never occurred to her. She turned it over -in her mind.</p> - -<p>"A girl ought to be able to work it, too," she said.</p> - -<p>He laughed.</p> - -<p>"Maybe. She finds it easier to work a man."</p> - -<p>"I'm too polite to agree that all of you are soft things."</p> - -<p>"You're too clever to find any of us hard to handle."</p> - -<p>"Yes? Isn't it too bad putty is so uninteresting?"</p> - -<p>She was astounded at her own words. They came from her lips with no -volition of her own, leaping automatically in response to his. She felt -only the stimulation of his interest, of his electrical presence beside -her, of their swift rush through the darkness pierced by flashing -lights.</p> - -<p>"You don't, of course, compare me to putty?"</p> - -<p>"Well, of course, it does set and stay put, in the end. You can depend -on it."</p> - -<p>"You can count on me, all right. I'm crazy about you."</p> - -<p>"Crazy people are unaccountable."</p> - -<p>Her heart was racing. The speed of the car, the rush of the air, were -in her veins. She had never dreamed that she could talk like this. This -man aroused in her qualities she had never known she possessed, and -their discovery intoxicated her.</p> - -<p>He was silent a moment, turning the car into a quieter street. There -was laughter behind them, one of the others called: "We should worry -about the cops! Go to it, Bert!" He did not reply, and the leap of the -car swept their chatter backward again.</p> - -<p>"Going too fast for you?" She read a double meaning and a challenge in -the words.</p> - -<p>"I've never gone too fast!" she answered. "I love to ride like this. -Where are we going?"</p> - -<p>"Anywhere you want to go, as long as it's with me."</p> - -<p>"Then let's just keep going and never get there. Do you know what I -thought you meant the other night when you said we'd go to the beach?"</p> - -<p>"No, what?" He was interested.</p> - -<p>She told him. This was safer ground, and she enlarged her mental -picture of the still, moonlit beach, the white breakers foaming along -the shore, the salt wind, and the darkness, and the car plunging down a -long white boulevard.</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to tell me you'd never been to the beach resorts before?"</p> - -<p>"Isn't it funny?" she laughed.</p> - -<p>"You're a damn game little kid."</p> - -<p>She found that the words pleased her more than anything he had yet said.</p> - -<p>They sped on in silence. Helen found occupation enough in the sheer -delight of going so swiftly through a blur of light and darkness -toward an unknown end. She did not resist the fascination of the man -beside her; there was exhilaration in his being there, security in his -necessary attention to handling the big machine. They passed the park -gates, and the car leaped like a live thing at the touch of a whip, -plunging faster down the smooth road between dark masses of shrubbery. -A clean, moist odor of the forest mixed with a salt tang in the air, -and the headlights were like funnels of light cutting into the solid -night a space for them to pass.</p> - -<p>"Isn't it wonderful!" Helen sighed, and despised the inadequacy of the -word.</p> - -<p>"I like the bright lights better myself." After a pause, he added, -"Country bred, aren't you?" His inflection was not a question.</p> - -<p>She replied in the same tone.</p> - -<p>"College man, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"How did you dope that?"</p> - -<p>"'Inhibitions,'" she answered.</p> - -<p>"What? O-o-oh! So you haven't been forgetting me?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't forget the word," she said. "I looked it up."</p> - -<p>"Well, make up your mind to get rid of 'em?"</p> - -<p>"I'd get rid of anything I didn't want."</p> - -<p>"Going to get rid of me?"</p> - -<p>"No," she said coolly. "I'll just let you go."</p> - -<p>It struck her that she was utterly mad. She had never dreamed of -talking like that to any one. What was she doing and why?</p> - -<p>"Don't you believe it one minute!" His voice had the dominating ring -again, and suddenly she felt that she had started a force she was -powerless to control. The situation was out of her hands, running away -with her. Her only safety was silence, and she shrank into it.</p> - -<p>When the car stopped she jumped out of it quickly and attached herself -to momma. In the hot, smoky room they found a table at the edge of -the dancing floor, and she slipped into the chair farthest from him, -ordering lemonade. Exhilaration left her; again she could think of -nothing that seemed worth saying, and she felt his amused eyes upon her -while she sat looking at the red crepe-paper decorations overhead and -the maze of dancing couples. It was some time before the rhythm of the -music began to beat in her blood and the scene lost its tawdriness and -became gay.</p> - -<p>"Everybody's doing it now!" Louise hummed, looking at him under her -long lashes. The others were dancing, and the three sat alone at the -table. "Everybody's doing it, doing it, doing it. Everybody's doing it, -but you—and me."</p> - -<p>"Go and grab off somebody else," he answered good-humoredly. "I'm -dancing with Helen—when she gets over being afraid of me." He lighted -a cigarette casually.</p> - -<p>"Oh, really? I'd love to dance. Only I don't do it very well."</p> - -<p>His arms were around her and they were dancing before she perceived how -neatly she had risen to the bait. She stumbled and lost a step in her -fury.</p> - -<p>"No? Not afraid of me?" he laughed. "Well, don't be. What's the use?"</p> - -<p>"It isn't that," she said. "Only I don't know how to play your game. -And I don't want to play it. And I'm not going to. You're too clever."</p> - -<p>"Don't be afraid," he said, and his arm tightened. They missed step -again, and she lost the swing of the music. "Let yourself go, relax," -he ordered. "Let the music—that's better."</p> - -<p>They circled the floor again, but her feet were heavy, and the -knowledge that she was dancing badly added to her effort. Phrases -half formed themselves in her mind and escaped. She wanted to be able -to carry off the situation well, to make her meaning clear in some -graceful, indirect way, but she could not.</p> - -<p>"It's this way," she said. "I'm not your kind. Maybe I talked that way -for a while, but I'm not really. I—well—I'm not. I wish you'd leave -me alone. I really do."</p> - -<p>The music ended with a crash, and two thumps of many feet echoed the -last two notes. He still held her close, and she felt that inexplicable -charm like the attraction of a magnet for steel.</p> - -<p>"You really do?" His tone thrilled her with an intoxicating warmth. The -smile in his eyes was both caressing and confident. Consciously she -kept back the answering smile it commanded, looking at him gravely.</p> - -<p>"I really do."</p> - -<p>"All right." His quick acquiescence was exactly what she had wanted, -and it made her unhappy. They walked back to the table, and for hours -she was very gay, watching him dance with momma and Louise. She crowded -into the tonneau during their quick, restless dashes from one dancing -place to the next. She laughed a great deal, and when they met Duddy -and Bob somewhere a little after midnight she danced with each of them. -But she felt that having a good time was almost as hard work as earning -a living.</p> - -<p>It was nearly two weeks before she went out again with momma and -Louise, and this time she did not see him at all. Louise was astonished -by his failure to telephone.</p> - -<p>"What in the world did you do with that Kennedy man?" she wanted to -know. "You must have been an awful boob. Why, he was simply dippy about -you. Believe me, I'd have strung him along if I'd had your chance. And -a machine like a palace car, too!" she mourned.</p> - -<p>"Oh, well, baby, Helen doesn't know much about handling men," momma -comforted her. "She did the best she could. You never can tell about -'em, anyway. And maybe he's out of town."</p> - -<p>But this was not true, for Louise had seen him only that afternoon with -a stunning girl in a million dollars' worth of sables.</p> - -<p>Helen was swept by cross-currents of feeling. She told herself that -she did not care what he did. She repeated this until she saw that the -repetition proved its untruth. Then she let her imagination follow -him. But it could do this only blindly. She could picture his home -only by combining the magnificence of the St. Francis with scraps from -novels she had read, and while she could see him running up imposing -steps, passing through a great door and handing his coat to a dignified -man servant, either a butler or a footman, she could not follow him -further. She could see him with a beautiful girl at a table in a -private room of a café; there were no longer any veils between her and -that side of a man's life, and she no longer shrank from facing the -world as it exists. But she knew that this was only one of his many -interests and occupations. She would have liked to know the others.</p> - -<p>She turned to thoughts of Paul as one comes from a dark room into -clear light. At times she felt an affection for him that made her -present life seem like a feverish dream. She imagined herself living -in a pretty little house with him. There would be white curtains at -the windows and roses over the porch. When the housework was all -beautifully done she would sit on the porch, embroidering a centerpiece -or a dainty waist. The gate would click, and he would come up the -walk, his feet making a crunching sound on the gravel. She would run -to meet him. It had been so long since she had seen him that his -face was vague. When with an effort she brought from her memory the -straight-looking blue eyes, the full, firm lips, the cleft in his chin, -she saw how boyish he looked. He was a dear boy.</p> - -<p>The days went by, each like the day before. The rains had begun. Every -morning, in a ceaseless drizzle from gray skies, she rushed down a -sidewalk filmed with running water and crowded into a street-car jammed -with irritated people and dripping umbrellas. When she reached the -office her feet were wet and cold and the hems of her skirts flapped -damply at her ankles.</p> - -<p>She had a series of colds, and her head ached while she copied endless -quotations from relentlessly clicking sounders. At night she rode -wearily home, clinging to a strap, and crawled into bed. Her muscles -ached and her throat was sore. Momma, even in the scurry of dressing -for the evening, stopped to bring her a glass of hot whiskey-and-water, -and she drank it gratefully. When at last she was alone she read awhile -before going to sleep. One forgot the dreariness of living, swept away -into an artificial world of adventure and romance.</p> - -<p>Christmas came, and she recklessly spent all her money for gifts to -send home; socks and ties and a shaving cup for her father, a length -of black silk and a ten-dollar gold piece for her mother, hair ribbons -and a Carmen bracelet for Mabel, a knife and a pocket-book with a -two-dollar bill in it for Tommy. They made a large, exciting bundle, -and when she stood in line at the post-office she pictured happily the -delight there would be when it was opened. She hated work with a hatred -that increased daily, but there was a deep satisfaction in feeling that -she could do such things as this with money she herself had earned.</p> - -<p>The brokers at the Merchants' Exchange gave her twenty dollars at -Christmas, and with this she bought a gilt vanity-case for Louise, -gloves for momma, and Paul's present. She thought a long time about -that and at last chose a monogrammed stick-pin, with an old English "P" -deeply cut in the gold.</p> - -<p>He sent her a celluloid box lined with puffed pink sateen, holding a -comb and brush set. It made a poor showing among the flood of presents -that poured in for momma and Louise, but she would have been ashamed -of being ashamed of it. However, she let them think it came from her -mother. She had not told them about Paul, feeling a dim necessity of -shielding that part of her life from Louise's comments.</p> - -<p>There were parties every night Christmas week, but she did not go to -any of them. She was in the throes of grippe and though the work at the -office was light it took all her sick energy. Even on New Year's night -she stayed at home, resisting all the urgings of Louise and momma, who -told her she was missing the time of her life. She went resolutely -to bed, to lie in the darkness and realize that it was New Year's -night, that her life was going by and she was getting nothing she -wanted. "It's the man that orders what he wants that gets it." Gilbert -Kennedy's voice came back to her.</p> - -<p>Rain was beating on the window-panes, and through the sound of it she -heard the distant uproar of many voices and a constant staccato of -fireworks crackling through the dripping night in triumphant expression -of the inextinguishable gaiety of the city. She thought of Paul. So -much had happened since she saw him, so much had come between them. He -had been living and growing older, too. It was impossible to see what -his real life had been through his matter-of-fact letters, chronicle -of where he had been, how much money he was saving, on which Sundays -the minister had had dinner at his house. Only occasional phrases were -clear in her memory. "When we are married—" She could still thrill -over that. And he always signed his letters, "lovingly, Paul." And -once, speaking of a Sunday-school picnic, he had written, "I wish you -had been there. There was no girl that could touch you."</p> - -<p>There was comfort and warmth in the thought that he loved her. When -she saw him again everything would be all right. She went to sleep -resolving that she would work hard, save her money, go home for a visit -in March or April, and ask him to come. The hills would be green, the -orchards would be iridescent with the colors of spring, and she would -wear a thin white dress—</p> - -<p>In February her mother wrote and asked for more money.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Old Nell died last week. Tommy found her dead in the pasture when he -went to get the cows. We will have to have a new horse for the spring -plowing, and your father has found a good six-year-old, blind in one -eye, that we can get cheap. We will have to have sixty dollars, and if -you can spare it, it will come in very handy. We would pay you back -later. I would not ask you for it only you are making a good salary, -and I would rather get it from you than from the bank. It would be -only a loan, for I would not ask you to give it to us. If you can let -us have it, please let me know right away.</p> -</div> - -<p>She had saved thirty dollars and had just drawn her half-month's pay. -Momma would gladly wait for her share of the month's expenses. As -soon as she was through work she went to the post-office and got a -money-order for sixty dollars. She felt a fierce pride in being able to -do it, and she was glad to know that she was helping at home, but there -was rage in her heart.</p> - -<p>It seemed to her that fate was against her, that she would go on -working forever, and never get anything she wanted. She saw weeks and -months and years of work stretching ahead of her like the interminable -series of ties in a railroad track, vanishing in as barren a -perspective.</p> - -<p>For nearly three years her whole life had been work. Those few evenings -at the cafés had been her only gaiety. She had copied innumerable -market quotations, sent uncounted messages, been a mere machine, and -for what? She did not want to work, she wanted to live.</p> - -<p>That night she went to the beach with the crowd. Bob was there and -Duddy and a score of others she had met in cafés. There again was the -stir of shifting colors under brilliant lights, the eddy and swirl of -dancers, sparkling eyes, white hands, a glimmer of rings, perfume, -laughter, and through it all the music, throbbing, swaying, blending -all sensations into one quickening rhythm, one exhilarating vibration -of nerves and spirit. Helen felt weariness slip from her shoulders; she -felt that she was soaring like a lark; she could have burst into song.</p> - -<p>She danced. She danced eagerly, joyously, carried by the music as by -the crest of a wave. Repartee slipped from her lips as readily as from -Louise's; she found that it did not matter what one said, only that -one said it quickly; her sallies were met by applauding laughter. In -the automobile, dashing from place to place, she took off her hat and, -facing the rushing wind, sang aloud for pure joy.</p> - -<p>They encountered Gilbert Kennedy just after midnight. She turned a -flushed, radiant face to him when he came over to their table. She felt -sure of herself, ready for anything. He leaned past her to shake hands -with momma, who greeted him in chorus with Louise.</p> - -<p>"Back in our midst once more!" he said to Helen over his shoulder. He -brought up a chair beside hers, and she saw in his first glance that he -was tired and moody. She felt the lessening of his magnetic vitality; -it seemed to have drained away through some inner lesion. He ordered -straight Scotch and snapped his fingers impatiently until the waiter -brought it.</p> - -<p>"Who you with, Bert? Didn't see your car outside," said Duddy.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I was with some crowd. Don't know where they are. Haven't got the -car," he answered.</p> - -<p>"Stick around with us then." "I bet you've been hitting the high spots, -and smashed it!" Bob and Duddy said simultaneously. But the orchestra -was beginning another tune, and only Helen noticed that in the general -pushing back of chairs he did not reply.</p> - -<p>She shook her head at the question in his eyes, and he asked no one -else to dance. Of course, after that, she had to refuse the others, -too, and they were left sitting at the bare table ringed with the -imprints of wet glasses. An unaccountable depression was settling -on her; she felt sorry and full of pity, she did not know why, and -an impulse to put her hand on his smooth, fair hair surprised and -horrified her.</p> - -<p>"Rotten life, isn't it?" he said. It was a tone so new in him that she -did not know how to reply.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry," she answered.</p> - -<p>"Sorry? Good Lord, what for?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I just am. I'm sorry for—whatever it is that's -happened." She saw that she had made a mistake, and the remnant of her -exhilaration fluttered out like a spent candle. She sat looking at the -dancers in silence, and they appeared to her peculiar and curious, -going round and round with terrific energy, getting nowhere. The music -had become an external thing, too, and she observed the perspiring -musicians working wearily, with glances at the clock.</p> - -<p>"Funny," she said at length.</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"All these people—and me, too—doing this kind of thing. We don't get -anything out of it. What do we do it for?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, safety-valve. Watts discovered the steam-engine on the principle." -His voice was very tired.</p> - -<p>The more she considered the idea, the more her admiration for him grew. -She was not in the least afraid of him now; she was eager to talk to -him. Her hand went out detainingly when he rose, but he disregarded -it. "So long," he said carelessly, and she saw that, absorbed in some -preoccupation, he hardly knew that she was there. She let him go and -sat turning an empty glass between her fingers, lost in speculations -concerning him. Though she spent many of her evenings at the beach -during several weeks, she did not see him again, and she heard one -night that he had gone broke and left town.</p> - -<p>She could not believe that disaster had conquered him. That last -meeting and his disappearance had increased the charm he had for her. -Her mind recurred to him, drawn by an irresistible fascination. She -had only to brood on the memory of him for a moment and a thrill ran -through her body. It could not be that she loved him. Why, she did not -even know him.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2> -</div> - - -<p>In March Paul came to see her.</p> - -<p>It had been a hard day at the office. A mistake had been made in -a message, and a furious broker, asserting that it had cost him -thousands of dollars, that she was at fault, that he was going to -sue the telegraph company, had pounded the counter and refused to be -quieted. All day she was overwhelmed with a sense of disaster. It would -be months before the error was traced, and alternately she recalled -distinctly that she had sent the right word and remembered with equal -distinctness that she had sent the wrong one.</p> - -<p>Dots and dashes jumbled together in her mind. She was exhausted at four -o'clock, and thought eagerly of a hot bath and the soothing softness of -a pillow. Slumped in the corner of a street-car, she doggedly endured -its jerks and jolts, keeping a grip on herself with a kind of inner -tenseness until the moment when she could relax.</p> - -<p>Louise was hanging over the banister on the upper landing when she -entered the hall of the apartment-house. Her excited stage-whisper met -Helen on the stairs.</p> - -<p>"Sh-sh-sh! Somebody's here to see you."</p> - -<p>"Who?" The event was unusual, but Louise's manner was even more so. -Vague pictures of her family and accident and death flashed through -Helen's startled mind.</p> - -<p>He said his name was Masters. He was an awful stick. Momma'd sent -Louise out to give her the high sign. Louise's American Beauty man was -in town, and there was going to be a party at the Cliff House. They -could sneak in and dress and beat it out the back way. Momma had the -guy in the living-room. He'd simply spoil the party.</p> - -<p>"Aw, have a heart, Helen. Momma'll get rid of him somehow. You can fix -it up afterward."</p> - -<p>Helen's first thought was that Paul must not see her looking like -this, disheveled, her hair untidy, and her fingers ink-stained. Her -heart was beating fast, and there was a fluttering in her wrists. It -was incredible that he was really near, separated from her only by a -partition. The picture of him sitting there a victim of momma's efforts -to entertain him was ghastly and at the same time hysterically comic. -She tip-toed in breathless haste past the closed door and gained the -safety of the bedroom, Louise's kimono rustling behind her. The first -glance into the mirror was sickening. She tore off her hat and coat and -let down her hair with trembling fingers.</p> - -<p>"He's—an awful good friend. I must see him. Heavens! what a fright! -Be an angel and find me a clean waist," she whispered. The comb shook -in her hand; hairpins slipped through her fingers; the waist she found -lacked a button, and every pin in the room had disappeared. It was an -eternity before she was ready, and then, leaning for one last look in -the glass, she was dissatisfied. There was no color in her face; even -her lips were only palely pink. She bit them; she rubbed them with -stinging perfume till they reddened; then with a hurried resolve she -scrubbed her cheeks with Louise's rouge pad. That was better. Another -touch of powder!</p> - -<p>"Do I look all right?"</p> - -<p>"Stunning! Aw, Helen, come through. Who is he? You've never told me a -word." Louise was wild with curiosity.</p> - -<p>"Sh-sh!" Helen cautioned. She drew a deep breath at the living-room -door. Her little-girl shyness had come back upon her. Then she opened -the door and walked in.</p> - -<p>Momma, in her kimono, was sitting in the darkest corner of the room, -with her back toward the window. Only a beaded slipper toe and some -inches of silk stocking caught the light. She was obviously making -conversation with painful effort. Paul sat facing her, erect in a stiff -chair, his eyes fixed politely on a point over her shoulder. He rose -with evident relief to meet Helen.</p> - -<p>"Good afternoon, Mr. Masters," she said, embarrassed.</p> - -<p>"Good afternoon." They shook hands.</p> - -<p>"I'm very glad to see you. Won't you sit down?" she heard herself -saying inanely.</p> - -<p>Momma rose, clutching her kimono around her.</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll be going, as I have a very important engagement, and you'll -excuse me, Mr. Masters, I'm sure," she said archly. "So charmed to have -met you," she added with artificial sweetness.</p> - -<p>The closing of the door behind her left them facing each other with -nothing but awkwardness between them. He had changed indefinably, -though the square lines of his face, the honest blue eyes, the firm -lips were as she remembered them. Under the smooth-shaven skin of his -cheeks there was the blue shadow of a stubborn beard. He appeared -prosperous, but not quite sure of himself, in a well-made broadcloth -suit, and he held a new black derby hat in his left hand.</p> - -<p>"I'm awfully glad to see you," she managed to say. "I'm—so surprised. -I didn't know you were coming."</p> - -<p>"I sent you a note on the wires," he replied. "I wasn't sure till last -night I could get off."</p> - -<p>"I didn't get it," she said. Silence hung over them like a threat. "I'm -sorry I didn't know. I hope you didn't have to wait long. I'm glad -you're looking so well. How is your mother?"</p> - -<p>"She's all right. How is yours?"</p> - -<p>"She's very well, thank you." She caught her laugh on a hysterical -note. "Well—how do you like San Francisco weather?"</p> - -<p>His bewilderment faded slowly into a grin.</p> - -<p>"It is rather hard to get started," he admitted. "You look different -than I thought you would, somehow. But I guess we haven't changed much -really. Can't we go somewhere else?"</p> - -<p>She read his dislike of momma in the look he cast at her living-room. -It was natural, no doubt. But a quick impulse of loyalty to these -people who had been so kind to her illogically resisted it. This room, -with its close air, its film of dust over the table-tops, its general -air of neglect emphasized by the open candy box on the piano-stool and -the sooty papers in the gas grate, was nevertheless much pleasanter -than the place where she had been living when she met Louise.</p> - -<p>"I don't know just where," she replied. "Of course, I don't know the -city very well because I work all day. But we might take a walk."</p> - -<p>There was a scurry in the hallway when she opened the door; she caught -a glimpse of Louise in petticoat and corset-cover dashing from the -bathroom to the bedroom. She hoped that Paul had not seen it, but his -cheeks were red. It was really absurd; what was there so terrible about -a petticoat? He should have known better than to come to the house -without telephoning, anyway. She cast about quickly for something to -say.</p> - -<p>No, he answered, he could not stay in town long, only twenty-four -hours. He wanted to see the superintendent personally about the -proposition of putting in a spur-track at Ripley for the loading of -melons. There were—her thoughts did not follow his figures. She heard -vaguely something about irrigation districts and water-feet and sandy -loam soil. So he had not come to see her!</p> - -<p>Then she saw that he, too, was talking only to cover a sense of -strangeness and embarrassment as sickening as her own. She wished that -they were comfortably sitting down somewhere where they could talk. -It was hard to say anything interesting while they walked down bleak -streets with the wind snatching at them.</p> - -<p>"Whew! You certainly have some wind in this town!" he exclaimed. At the -top of Nob Hill its full force struck them, whipping her skirts and -tugging at her hat while she stood gazing down at the gray honeycomb of -the city and across it at masses of sea fog rolling over Twin Peaks. -"It gives me an appetite, I tell you! Where'll we go for supper?"</p> - -<p>She hesitated. She could not imagine his being comfortable in any of -the places she knew. Music and brilliant lights and cabaret singers -would be another barrier between them added to those she longed to -break down. She said that she did not know the restaurants very well, -and his surprise reminded her that she had written him pages about -them. She stammered over an explanation she could not make.</p> - -<p>There were so many small, unimportant things that were important -because they could not be explained, and that could not be explained -without making them more important than they were. It seemed to her -that the months since they had last met were full of them.</p> - -<p>She took refuge in talking about her work. But she saw that he did not -like that subject. He said briefly that it was a rotten shame she had -to do it, and obviously hoped to close the theme with that remark.</p> - -<p>They found a small restaurant down town, and after he had hung up his -hat and they had discussed the menu, she sat turning a fork over and -over and wondering what they could talk about. She managed to find -something to say, but it seemed to her that their conversation had no -more flavor than sawdust, and she was very unhappy.</p> - -<p>"Look here, Helen, why didn't you tell those folks where you live that -we're engaged?" There was nothing but inquiry in his tone, but the -words were a bombshell. She straightened in her chair.</p> - -<p>"Why—" How could she explain that vague feeling about keeping it from -Louise and momma? "Why—I don't know. What was the use?"</p> - -<p>"What was the use? Well, for one thing, it might have cleared things up -a little for some of these other fellows that know you."</p> - -<p>What had momma told him? "I don't know any men that would be -interested," she said.</p> - -<p>"Well, you never can tell about that," he answered reasonably. "I was -sort of surprised, that's all. I had an idea girls talked over such -things."</p> - -<p>She was tired, and in the dull little restaurant there was nothing -to stimulate her. The commonplace atmosphere, the warmth, and the -placidity of his voice lulled her to stupidity.</p> - -<p>"I suppose they do," she said. "They usually talk over their rings." -She was alert instantly, filled with rage at herself and horror. His -cheeks grew dully red. "I didn't mean—" she cried, and the words -clashed with his. "If that's it I'll get you a ring."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no! No! I don't want you to. I wouldn't think of taking it."</p> - -<p>"Of course you know I haven't had money enough to get you a good one. I -thought about it pretty often, but I didn't know you thought it was so -important. Seems to me you've changed an awful lot since I knew you."</p> - -<p>The protest, the explanation, was stopped on her lips. It was true. -She felt that they had both changed so much that they might be -strangers.</p> - -<p>"Do you really think so?" she asked miserably.</p> - -<p>"I don't know what to think," he answered honestly, pain in his voice. -"I've been—about crazy sometimes, thinking about—things, wanting to -see you again. And now—I don't know—you seem so different, sitting -there with paint on your face—" Her hand went to her cheek as if it -stung her—"and talking about rings. You didn't use to be like this -a bit, Helen," he went on earnestly. "It seems to me as if you'd -completely lost track of your better self somehow. I wish you'd—"</p> - -<p>This struck from her a spark of anger.</p> - -<p>"Please don't begin preaching at me! I'm perfectly able to take care -of myself. Really, Paul, you just don't understand. It isn't anything, -really, a little bit of rouge. I only put it on because I was tired -and didn't have any color. And I didn't mean it about the ring. I just -didn't think what I was saying. But I guess you're right. I guess -neither of us knows the other any more."</p> - -<p>She felt desolate, abandoned to dreariness. Everything seemed all -wrong with the world. She listened to Paul's assurances that he knew -she was all right, whatever she did, that he didn't care anyhow, that -she suited him. But they sounded hollow in her ears, for she knew that -beneath them was the same uncertainty she felt. When, flushing, he -said again that he would get her a ring, she answered that she did not -want one, and they said no more about it. The abyss between them was -left bridged only by the things they had not said, fearing to make it -forever impassable by saying them.</p> - -<p>He left her at her door promptly at the proper hour of ten. There was -a moment in which a blind feeling in her reached out to him; she felt -that they had taken hold of the situation by the wrong end somehow, -that everything would be all right if they had had a chance.</p> - -<p>He supposed she couldn't take the morning off. He had to see the -superintendent, but maybe they could manage an hour or two. No, she had -to work. With the threat of that missent message hanging over her she -dared not further spoil her record by taking a day off without notice. -And she knew that one or two hours more could not possibly make up the -months of estrangement between them.</p> - -<p>"Well, good-night."</p> - -<p>"Good-night." Their hands clung a moment and dropped apart. If only -he would say something, do something, she did not know what. But -awkwardness held him as it did her.</p> - -<p>"Good-night." The broad door swung slowly shut behind her. Even then -she waited a moment, with a wild impulse to run after him. But she -climbed the stairs instead and went wearily to bed, her heart aching -with a sense of irreparable loss.</p> - -<p>In the morning she was still very tired, and while she drove herself -through the day's work she told herself that probably she had never -really loved him. "Unless you can love as the angels may, with the -breadth of heaven betwixt you," she murmured, remembering the volume of -poetry she had found on a library shelf. She had thrilled over it when -she read it, dreaming of him; now it seemed to her a grim and almost -cynical test. Well, she might as well face a lifetime of work. Lots of -women did.</p> - -<p>She managed to do this, seeing years upon years of lonely effort, -during which she would accumulate money enough to buy a little home of -her own. There would be no one in it to criticise her choice of friends -or say that she painted. That remark clung like a bur in her mind. Yes, -she could face a lifetime in which no one would have the right to say -things like that!</p> - -<p>But when she went home she found that she could not endure an evening -of loneliness. Louise and momma were going out, and she was very gay -while she dressed to go with them. They said they had never seen her in -better spirits.</p> - -<p>Unaccountably, the lights, the music, the atmosphere of gaiety, did not -get into her blood as usual. At intervals she had moments of depression -that they did not touch. She sat isolated in the crowd, sipping her -lemonade, feeling that nothing in the world was worth while.</p> - -<p>However, she went again the next night. She began to go almost as -frequently as momma and Louise, and to understand the unsatisfied -restlessness which drove Mrs. Latimer and her friends. She was tired in -the morning, and there were more complaints of her work at the office, -but she did not care. She felt recklessly that nothing mattered, and -she went back to the beach resorts as a thirsty person will tip an -emptied glass in which perhaps a drop remains.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter, little one? Got a grouch?" said Louise's American -Beauty man one night He was jovial and bald; his neck bulged over the -back of his collar, and he wore a huge diamond on his little finger. -Helen did not like him, but it was his party. He owned the big red car -in which they had come to the beach, and she felt that his impatient -reproach was justified. She was not paying her way.</p> - -<p>"Not a bit!" she laughed. "Only for some reason I feel like a cold -plum-pudding."</p> - -<p>"What you need's brandy sauce," Duddy said, appreciating his own wit.</p> - -<p>"You mean you want me to get lit up!"</p> - -<p>"That's the idea! Bring on the booze, let joy be unrefined! Waiter, rye -high-balls all around!"</p> - -<p>She did not object; that did not seem worth while, either. When the -glasses came she emptied hers with the rest, and her spirits did -seem to lighten a little. "It removes inhibitions," Gilbert Kennedy -had said. And he was gone, too. If he were only there the sparkle of -life would come back; she would be exhilarated, witty, alive to her -finger-tips once more—</p> - -<p>The crowd was moving on again. She went with them into the cool night, -and it seemed to her that life was nothing but a moving on from -dissatisfaction to dissatisfaction. Squeezed into a corner of the -tonneau, she relapsed into silence, and it was some time before she -noticed the altered note in the excitement of the others.</p> - -<p>"Give 'er the gas! Let 'er out! Damn it, if you let 'em pass—!" the -car's owner was shouting, and the machine fled like a runaway thing. -Against a blur of racing sand dunes Helen saw a long gray car creeping -up beside them. "You're going to kill us!" momma screamed, disregarded. -Helen, on her feet, clinging to the back of the front seat, yelled with -the others. "Beat 'im! Beat 'im! Y-a-a-ah!"</p> - -<p>Her hat, torn from her head, disappeared in the roaring blur behind -them. Her hair whipped her face. She was wildly, gloriously alive. -"Faster—faster, oh!" The gray car was gaining. Inch by inch it crawled -up beside them. "Can't you go <i>faster</i>?" she cried in a bedlam of -shouts. Oh, if only her hands were on the wheel! It was unbearable that -they should lose. "Give 'er more gas—she'll make eighty-five!" the -owner yelled.</p> - -<p>Everything in Helen narrowed to the challenge of that plunging gray -car. Its passing was like an intolerable pulling of something vital -from her grip. Pounding her hand against the car-door she shrieked -frantic protests. "Don't let him do it! Go on! Go on!" The gray car was -forging inexorably past them. It swerved. Momma's scream was torn to -ribbons by the wind. It was ahead now, and one derisive yell from its -driver came back to them. Their speed slowed.</p> - -<p>"He's turning in at The Tides. Stop there?" the chauffeur asked over -his shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Yes, damn you! Wha'd yuh think you're driving, a baby-carriage? You're -fired!" his employer raged, and he was still swearing when Helen, -gasping and furious, stumbled from the running-board against Gilbert -Kennedy.</p> - -<p>"Good Lord, was it you?" he cried. "Some race!" he exulted and swinging -her off her feet, he kissed her gayly. Something wild and elemental in -her rushed to meet its mate in him. He released her instantly, and in a -chorus of greetings, "Drinks on me, old man!" "Some little car you've -got!" "Come on in!" she found herself under a glare of light in the -swirl and glitter of The Tides. He was beside her at the round table, -and her heart was pounding.</p> - -<p>"No—no—this is on me!" he declared. "Only my money's good to-night. -I'm going to Argentine to-morrow on the water-wagon. What'll you have?"</p> - -<p>They ordered, helter-skelter, in a clamor of surprise and inquiry. -"Argentine, what're you giving us!" "What's the big idea?" "You're -kidding!"</p> - -<p>"On the level. Argentine. To-morrow. Say, listen to me. I've got -hold of the biggest proposition that ever came down the pike. Six -million acres of land—good land, that'll raise anything from hell to -breakfast. Do you know what people are paying for land in California -right now? I'll tell you. Five hundred, six hundred, a thousand dollars -an acre. And I've got six million acres of land sewed up in Argentine -that I can sell for fifty cents an acre and make—listen to what I'm -telling you—and make a hundred per cent. profit. The Government's -backing me—they'd give me the whole of Argentine. I tell you there's -millions in it!"</p> - -<p>He was full of radiant energy and power. Her imagination leaped -to grasp the bigness of this project. Thousands of lives altered, -thousands of families migrating, cities, villages, railroads built. -She felt his kiss on her lips, and that old, inexplicable, magnetic -attraction. The throbbing music beat in her veins like the voice of it. -He smiled at her, holding out his arms, and she went into them with -recklessness and longing.</p> - -<p>They were carried together on waves of rhythm, his arms around her, her -loosened hair tumbling backward on her neck.</p> - -<p>"I'm mad about you!"</p> - -<p>"And you're going away?"</p> - -<p>"Sorry?"</p> - -<p>"Sorry? Bored. You always do!"</p> - -<p>He laughed.</p> - -<p>"Not on your life! This time I'm taking you with me."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but I wouldn't take you—seriously!"</p> - -<p>"I mean it. You're coming."</p> - -<p>"I'm dreaming."</p> - -<p>"I mean it." His voice was almost savage. "I want you."</p> - -<p>Fear ran like a challenge through her exultation. She felt herself a -small fluttering thing against his breast, while the intoxicating music -swept them on through a whirling crowd. His face so close to her was -keen and hard, his eyes were reckless as her own leaping blood. "All -I've ever needed is a girl like you. You're not going to get away this -time."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but I'm perfectly respectable!"</p> - -<p>"All right! Marry me."</p> - -<p>Behind the chaos of her mind there was the tense, suffocating -hesitation of the instant before a diver leaves the -spring-board—security behind him, ecstasy ahead. His nearness, his -voice, the light in his eyes, were all that she had been wanting, -without knowing it, all these months. The music stopped with a crash.</p> - -<p>He stood, as he had stood once before, his arm still tight around her, -and in a flash she saw that other time and the dreary months that had -followed.</p> - -<p>"All right. It's settled?" There was the faintest question in his -confident voice.</p> - -<p>"You really do—love me?"</p> - -<p>"I really do." His eyes were on hers, and she saw his confidence change -to certainty. "You're game!" he said, and kissed her triumphantly, -in the crowded room, beneath the glaring lights and crepe-paper -decorations. She did not care; she cared for nothing in the world now -but him.</p> - -<p>"Let's—go away—a little while by ourselves, out where it's dark and -cool," she said hurriedly as they crossed the floor.</p> - -<p>"Not on your life! We're going to have the biggest party this town -ever saw!" he answered exultantly over his shoulder, and she saw his -enjoyment of the bomb he was about to drop upon the unsuspecting -group at the table. "The roof is off the sky to-night. This is a -wedding-party!"</p> - -<p>Louise and momma were upon her with excited cries and kisses, and -Helen, flushed, laughing, trying not to be hysterical, heard his voice -ordering drinks, disposing of questions of license, minister, ring, -rooms at the St. Francis, champagne, supper, flowers. She was the -beggar maid listening to King Cophetua.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>At ten o'clock on a bright June morning Helen Kennedy tip-toed across a -darkened bedroom and closed its door softly behind her. Her tenseness -relaxed with a sigh of relief when the door shut with the tiniest of -muffled clicks and the stillness behind its panels remained unbroken.</p> - -<p>Sunlight streamed through the windows of the sitting-room, throwing -a quivering pattern of the lace curtains on the velvet carpet and -kindling a glow of ruddy color where it touched mahogany chairs and a -corner of the big library table. She moved quickly to one of the broad -windows and carefully raised a lower sash. The low roar of the stirring -city rushed in like the noise of breakers on a far-away beach, and -clean, tingling air poured upon her. She breathed it in deeply, drawing -the blue silk negligée closer about her throat.</p> - -<p>The two years that had whirled past since she became Bert Kennedy's -wife had taught her many things. She had drawn from her experience -generalities on men, women, life, which made her feel immeasurably -older and wiser. But there were problems that she had not solved, -points at which she felt herself at fault, and they troubled her -vaguely while she stood twisting the cord of the window-shade in her -hand and gazing out at the many-windowed buildings of San Francisco.</p> - -<p>She had learned that men loved women for being beautiful, gay, -unexacting, sweet-tempered always, docile without being bores. She had -learned that men were infuriated by three things; questions, babies, -and a woman who was ill. She had learned that success in business -depended upon "putting up a front" and that a woman's part was to help -in that without asking why or for what end. She had learned that the -deepest need of her own nature was to be able to look up to the man she -loved, even though she must go down on her own knees in order to do it. -She knew that she adored her husband blindly, passionately, and that -she dared not open her eyes for fear she would cease to do so.</p> - -<p>But she had not quite been able to fit herself into a life with him. -She had not learned what to do with these morning hours while he was -asleep; she had not learned to occupy all her energies in useless -activities while he was away; in a word, she did not know what to do -with the part of her life he did not want, and she could not compel -herself to be satisfied in doing nothing with it.</p> - -<p>Gathering up the trailing silks of her nightgown and negligée she went -back to the pile of magazines and books on the table. She did not -exactly want to read; reading seemed to her as out of place in the -morning as soup for breakfast. But she could not go out, for at any -moment Bert might wake and call to her, and she could not dress, for -he saw a reproach in that, and was annoyed. She turned over the books -uncertainly, selecting at last a curious one called "Pragmatism," which -had fascinated her when she dipped into its pages in the library. She -had it in her hand when the door-bell rang loudly.</p> - -<p>She stood startled, clutching the book against her breast. Her heart -beat thickly, and the color faded from her face and then poured back in -a burning flush. The bell rang again more imperatively. The very sound -of it proclaimed that it was rung by a collector. Was it the taxi-cab -man, the tailor, the collection agency? She could not make herself go -to the door, and the third long, insistent peal of the bell wrung her -like the tightening of a rack. It would waken Bert, but what further -excuse could she make to the grimly insulting man she visualized on the -other side of the door? The bell continued to ring.</p> - -<p>After a long time it was silent, and she heard the slam of the -automatic elevator's door. A second later she heard Bert's voice.</p> - -<p>"Helen! Helen! What the devil?"</p> - -<p>She opened the bedroom door and stood smiling brightly on the -threshold. "'Morning, Bert dear! Behold, the early bird's gone with his -bill still open!"</p> - -<p>"Well, why the hell didn't you open the door and tell him to stop that -confounded noise? Were you afraid of disturbing him?"</p> - -<p>He knew how it hurt her, but she was trained not to show it. It -appeared to her now that she had been criminally selfish in not -guarding Bert's sleep. She saw herself a useless incumbrance to her -husband's career, costing him a great deal and doing nothing whatever -to repay him.</p> - -<p>"That's the trouble—it wouldn't have disturbed him a bit!" she laughed -bravely. "Somebody ought to catch a collector and study the species and -find out what will disturb 'em. I think they're made of cast-iron. I -wonder does collecting run in families, or do they just catch 'em young -and harden them."</p> - -<p>Sometimes even in the mornings talk like this made him smile. But this -morning he only growled unintelligibly, turning his head on the pillow. -She went softly past the bed into the dressing-room.</p> - -<p>Bert had scouted her idea of getting an apartment with a kitchenette. -He said he had not married a cook, and he hated women with burned -complexions and red hands. He made her feel plebeian and common in -preferring a home to a hotel. But she had found when she interviewed -the apartment-house manager and had spent a happy morning buying a -coffee percolator and dainty cups and napkins, that he did not mind -her giving him coffee in bed. She found a deep pleasure in doing it.</p> - -<p>The percolator stood behind a screen in the dressing-room. She turned -on the electric switch and, sitting down before the mirror, took off -her lace cap and released her hair from its curlers. Bert liked her -hair curled. Its dark mist framed a face that she regarded anxiously -in the mirror. The features had sharpened a little, and her complexion -had lost a shade of its freshness. Bert would insist on her drinking -with him, and she knew she must do it to keep her hold on him. A sense -of the unreasonableness of men in loving women for their beauty and -then destroying it came into her mind, nebulous, almost a thought. But -she disregarded it, from a habit she had formed of disregarding many -things, and began combing and coiling her hair, carefully inspecting -the result from all angles with a hand mirror.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later she came into the bedroom, carrying a tray and -kicking the trailing lengths of her negligée before her. She held the -tray in one hand while she cleared the bedside table with the other, -and when she had poured the coffee she went through the sitting-room -and brought in the morning paper. It had been the taxi-cab man. His -bill, stuck in the crack of the door, fluttered down when she opened -it, and after glancing at the figures hastily, she thrust it out of -sight.</p> - -<p>Bert was sitting up in bed, drinking his coffee, and the smile he threw -at her made her happy. She curled on the bed beside his drawn-up knees -and, taking her own cup from the tray, smiled at him in turn. She never -loved him more than at such moments as this, when his rumpled hair -and the eyes miraculously cleared and softened by sleep made him seem -almost boyish.</p> - -<p>"Good?"</p> - -<p>"You're some little chef when it comes to coffee!" he replied. "It hits -the spot." He yawned. "Good Lord, we must have had a time last night! -Did I fight a chauffeur or did I dream it?"</p> - -<p>"It was only a—rather a—dispute," she said hurriedly.</p> - -<p>"That little blond doll was some baby!"</p> - -<p>He could not intend to be so cruel, not even to punish her for letting -the bell waken him. It was only that he liked to feel his own power -over her He cared only for women that he could control, and she knew -that it was the constant struggle between them, in which he was always -victorious, that gave her her greatest hold on him. But it did hurt her -cruelly in this moment of security to be reminded of the dangers that -always threatened that hold.</p> - -<p>"Oh, stunning!" she agreed, keeping her eyes clear and smiling. She -would not fall into the error and the confession of being catty. But -she felt that he perceived her motive, and she knew that in any case -he held the advantage over her. She was in the helpless position of the -one who gives the greater love.</p> - -<p>They sipped their coffee in silence broken only by the crackling of the -newspaper. Then, pushing it away, he set down his cup and leaned back -against the pillows, his hands behind his head. A moment had arrived in -which she could talk to him, and behind her carefully casual manner her -nerves tightened.</p> - -<p>"It was pretty good coffee," she remarked. "You know, I think it would -be fun if we had a real place, with a breakfast-room, don't you? Then -we'd have grape-fruit and hot muffins and all that sort of thing, too. -I'd like to have a place like that. And then we'd have parties," she -added hastily. "We could keep them going all night long if we wanted to -in our own place."</p> - -<p>He yawned.</p> - -<p>"Dream on, little one," he said. But his voice was pleasant.</p> - -<p>"Now listen, dear. I really mean it. We could do it. It wouldn't be a -bit more trouble to you than a hotel, really. I'd see that it wasn't. I -really want it awfully badly. I know you'd like it if you'd just let me -try it once. You don't know how nice I'd make it for you."</p> - -<p>His silence was too careless to be antagonistic, but he was listening. -She was encouraged.</p> - -<p>"You don't realize how much time I have when you're gone. I could keep -a house running beautifully, and you'd never even see the wheels go -round. I—"</p> - -<p>"A house!" He was aroused. "Great Scott, doesn't it cost enough for the -two of us to live as it is? Don't you make my life miserable whining -about bills?"</p> - -<p>The color came into her cheeks, but she had never risked letting -herself feel resentment at anything he chose to say. She laughed -quite naturally. "My goodness!" she said. "You're talking as if I -were a puppy! I've never whined a single whine; it's the howling of -the collectors you've heard. Let 'em howl; it's good enough for 'em! -No, but really, sweetheart, please just let me finish. I've thought -it all out. You don't know what a good manager I am." She hurried on, -forestalling the words on his lips. "You don't know how much I want to -be just a little bit of help. I can't be much, I know. But I'm sure I -could save money—"</p> - -<p>"Old stuff!" he interrupted. "It isn't the money you save; it's the -money you make that counts."</p> - -<p>"I know!" she agreed quickly. "But we could get a house, we could buy -a house, for less than we're paying here in rent. A very nice house. I -wouldn't ask you to do it, if it cost any more than we're spending now. -But—of course I don't know anything about such things—but I should -think it would give you an advantage in business if you owned some -property. Wouldn't—wouldn't it—make people put more confidence—" She -faltered miserably at the look in his eyes, and before he could speak -she had changed her tactics, laughing.</p> - -<p>"I'm just trying to tease you into giving me something I want, and I -know I'm awfully silly about it." She nestled closer to him, slipping -an arm under his neck. "Oh, honey, it wouldn't cost anything at all, -and I do so want to have a house to do things to. I feel so—so -unsettled, living this way. I feel as if I were always sitting on the -edge of a chair waiting to go somewhere else. And I'm used to working -and—and managing a little money. I know it wasn't much money, but I -liked to do it. You're letting a lot of perfectly good energy go to -waste in me, really you are."</p> - -<p>He laughed, tightening his arm about her shoulders, and for one -deliriously happy moment she thought she had won. Then he kissed her, -and before he spoke she knew she had lost.</p> - -<p>"I should worry! You're giving me all I want," he said, and there -was different delight in the words. She was satisfying him, and for -the moment it was enough. He made the mistake of overconfidence in -emphasizing a point already won and so losing it.</p> - -<p>"And as long as I'm giving you three meals a day and glad rags, it -isn't up to you to worry. I'll look after the finances if you'll take -care of your complexion. It's beginning to need it," he added with -brutality that defeated its own purpose. Even in her pain she had an -instant of seeing him clearly and feeling that she hated him.</p> - -<p>She slipped to her feet and stood trembling, not looking down at him.</p> - -<p>"Well, that's settled, then," she said in a clear, hard little voice. -"I'll go and dress. It's nearly noon."</p> - -<p>She felt that her own anger was threatening the most precious thing in -her life; she felt that she was two persons who were tearing each other -to pieces. With a blind instinct of reaching out to him for help she -turned at the dressing-room door. "I know you don't realize what you're -doing to me—you don't realize—what you're throwing away," she said.</p> - -<p>There was a cool amusement in his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Well, but why the melodrama?" he asked reasonably. She stood convicted -of hysteria and stupidity, and she felt again his superiority and his -mastery over her.</p> - -<p>When she came from the dressing-room to find him, careless, -good-humored, handsome, tugging his tie into its knot before the -mirror, she knew that nothing mattered except that she loved him and -that she must hold his love for her. She came close to him, longing -for a reassurance that she would not ask. Unless he gave it to her, -left her with it to hold in her heart, she would be tortured by -miserable doubts and flickering jealousies until he came back. She -would be tied to the telephone, waiting for a call from him, trying to -follow in her imagination the intricate business affairs from which she -was shut out, telling herself that it was business and nothing else -that kept him from her.</p> - -<p>"Well, bye-bye," he said, putting on his hat.</p> - -<p>"Good-by." Her voice was like a detaining hand. "You—you won't be gone -long?"</p> - -<p>He relented.</p> - -<p>"I'm going down to see Clark & Hayward. I'm going to put through a deal -with them that'll put us on velvet," he declared.</p> - -<p>"Clark & Hayward? They're the real-estate people?"</p> - -<p>"You're some little guesser. They certainly are. We're going to be -millionaires when I get through with them! Farewell!"</p> - -<p>The very door seemed to click triumphantly behind him, and she heard -him whistling while he waited for the elevator. When he appeared on the -sidewalk below, she was leaning from the window, and she would have -waved to him if he had looked up. Her occupation for the day vanished -when he swung into a street-car and was carried out of sight.</p> - -<p>She picked up the pragmatism book again and read a few paragraphs, put -it down restlessly. The untidy bedroom nagged at her nerves, but Bert -was paying for hotel service, and once when she had made the bed he -had told her impatiently that there was no sense in letting the very -servants know she was not used to living decently.</p> - -<p>She would go for a walk. There might be something new to see in the -shop windows. She would take the book with her and read it in the dairy -lunch-room where she ate when alone. It seemed criminal to her to spend -money unnecessarily when they owed so much, and she could not help -trying to save it, though all her efforts seemed to make no difference.</p> - -<p>If she could have only a small amount of money regularly, she -could manage so much better. Even the salary she had earned as a -telegraph-operator sometimes seemed like riches to her, because she had -known that she would have it every month and had managed it herself. -But every attempt to establish regularity and stability in her present -life ended always in the same failure, and she hurriedly turned even -her slightest thoughts from the memory of conversations like that just -ended.</p> - -<p>In the dressing-room she snapped on all the lights and under their -merciless glare critically inspected every line of her face. The -carefully brushed arch of the eyebrows was perfect; the slightest trace -of rouge was spread skillfully on her cheeks, the round point of her -chin, the lobes of her ears. She coaxed loose a tendril of dark hair -and, soaking it with banderine, plastered it against her cheek in a -curve that was the final touch of striking artificiality. She did not -like it, but Bert did.</p> - -<p>She took time in adjusting her hat. Everything depended on that, she -knew. She tied her veil with meticulous care. Then, slowly turning -before the long mirror set in the door, she critically inspected every -detail of her costume, the trim little boots, the crisp, even edges of -her skirt, the line of the jacket, the immaculate gloves. A tremendous -amount of thought and effort had gone into the making of that smart -effect, and she felt that she had done a good job. She would still -compare favorably with any of the women Bert might meet. A tiny spark -of cheerfulness was kindled by the thought. She tried to nourish it, -but it went out in dreariness.</p> - -<p>What kind of deal was Bert putting through with Clark & Hayward? It -was the first time he had mentioned real estate since the unexplained -failure of his plan to go to Argentine. That was another memory from -which she hastily turned her thoughts, a memory of his alternate -moodiness and wild gaiety, of his angry impatience at her most -tentative show of interest or sympathy, of their ending an ecstatic, -miserable honeymoon by sneaking out of the hotel leaving an unpaid bill -behind them. She still avoided the hotel, though he must long since -have paid the bill. She had not dared ask him, but he had made a great -deal of money since then.</p> - -<p>There had been the flurry of excitement about the mining stocks, which -were selling like wild-fire and promised millions until something -happened. And then the scheme for floating a rubber plantation in -Guatemala—his long eastern trip and her diamond ring had come out of -that—and then the affair of the patent monkey-wrench. He had said -again that there were millions in it, and had derided her dislike of -the inventor. She wondered what had become of that enterprise, and -secretly thought that she had been right and that the man had tried to -swindle Bert.</p> - -<p>Now it was real estate again. She did not doubt that her clever husband -would succeed in it; she was sure that he would be one of America's -biggest business men some day, when he turned his genius to one line -and followed it with a little more steadiness. But she would have liked -to know more about his business affairs. Since they could not have a -home yet, she would like to be doing something interesting.</p> - -<p>She stopped such thoughts with an impatient little mental shake. -Perhaps she would feel better when she had eaten luncheon. With the -book tucked under her arm she walked briskly down the sunny, wind-swept -streets, threading her way indifferently through the tangle of traffic -at the corners with the sixth sense of the city dweller, seeing -without perceiving them the clanging street-cars, the silent, shining -limousines, the streams of cleverly dressed women, preoccupied men, -fluffy dogs on chains, and the panorama of shop-windows filled with -laces, jewels, gowns, furs, hats. She walked surrounded by an isolation -as complete as if she were alone in a forest, and nothing struck -through it until she paused before a window-display of hardware.</p> - -<p>She came to that window frequently, drawn by an irresistible -attraction. With a pleasant sense of dissipation she stood before -it, gazing at glittering bathroom fixtures, rank on rank of shining -pans, rows of kitchen utensils, electric flat-irons. To-day there -was a glistening white kitchen cabinet, with ingenious flour-bin and -built-in sifter, hooks for innumerable spoons, sugar and spice jars, an -egg-beater, a market-memorandum device. A tempting yellow bowl stood on -a white shelf.</p> - -<p>Some day, she thought, she would have a yellow kitchen. She had in mind -the shade of yellow, a clear yellow, like sunshine. There would be -cream walls and yellow woodwork, at the windows sheer white curtains, -which would wash easily, and on the window-sill a black jar filled with -nasturtiums. The breakfast-room should be a glassed-in porch, and its -curtains should be thin yellow silk, through which the sunshine would -cast a golden light on the little breakfast table spread with a white -embroidered cloth and set with shining silver and china. The coffee -percolator would be bubbling, and the grape-fruit in place, and when -she came from the kitchen with the plate of muffins Bert would look -up from his paper and say, "Muffins again? Fine! You're some little -muffin-maker!"</p> - -<p>She dimpled and flushed happily, standing before the unresponsive -sheet of plate glass. Then, with a shrug and a half laugh at herself, -she came back to reality and went on. But the display held her as a -candy-shop holds a child, and she must stop again to look at the next -window, filled with color-cards and cans of paint. Her mind was still -busy with color combinations for a living-room when she entered the -dairy lunch-room and carried her tray to a table.</p> - -<p>For a moment she looked at the crowd about her, clerks and shopgirls -and smartly dressed stenographers hurriedly drinking coffee and eating -pie. Then she propped her book against the sugar bowl and began slowly -to eat, turning a page from time to time. This was an astonishing book. -It was not fiction, but it was even more interesting. She read quickly, -skipping the few words she did not understand, grasping their meaning -by a kind of intuition, wondering why she had never before considered -ideas of this kind.</p> - -<p>She was so deeply absorbed that she merely felt, without realizing, the -presence of some one hesitating at her elbow, some one who moved past -her to draw out a chair opposite her and set down his tray. She moved -her coffee-cup to make room for it, and apologetically lifted the book -from the sugar bowl, glancing across it to see Paul.</p> - -<p>The shock was so great that for an instant she did not move or think. -He stood motionless and stared at her with eyes wiped blank of any -expression. Her cup rattled as the book dropped against it and the -sound roused her. With the sensation of a desperate twist, like that of -a falling cat righting itself in the air, she faced the situation.</p> - -<p>"Why—Paul!" she said, and felt that the old name struck the wrong -note. "How you startled me. But of course I'm very glad to see you -again. Do sit down."</p> - -<p>In his face she saw clearly his chagrin, his rage at himself for -blundering into this awkwardness, his resolve to see it through. He put -himself firmly into the chair and though his face and even his neck -were red, there was the remembered determination in the set of his lips -and the lift of his chin.</p> - -<p>"I'm certainly surprised to see you," he said. "From all I've been -hearing about you I had a notion you never ate in places like this any -more. They tell me you're getting along fine. I'm mighty glad to hear -it." With deliberation he dipped two level spoonfuls of sugar into his -coffee and attacked the triangle of pie.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I come in sometimes for a change," she said lightly. "Yes, -everything's fine with me. You're looking well, too."</p> - -<p>There was an undeniable air of prosperity about him. His suit was -tailor-made, and the hat on the hook above his head was a new gray felt -of the latest shape. His face had changed very slightly, grown perhaps -a bit fuller than she remembered, and the line of the jaw was squarer. -But he looked at her with the same candid, straight gaze. Of course, -she could not expect warmth in it.</p> - -<p>"Well, I can't complain," he said. "Things are going pretty well. Slow, -of course, but still they're coming."</p> - -<p>"I'm awfully glad to hear it. Your mother's well?" The situation was -fantastic and ghastly, but she would not escape from it until she could -do so gracefully. She formed the next question in her mind while he -answered that one.</p> - -<p>"Do you often get up to the city?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, now and then. I only come when I have to. It's too windy and too -noisy to suit me. I just came up this morning to see a real-estate firm -here about a house they've got in Ripley. I'm going back to-night."</p> - -<p>"You're buying a house?" she cried in the tone of a child who sees a -toy taken from it. Her anger at her lack of self-control was increased -when she saw that he had misinterpreted her feeling.</p> - -<p>"Just to rent," he said hastily. "I'm not thinking of—moving. Mother -and I are satisfied where we are, and I expect it'll be some time -before I get that place paid for. This other house—" It seemed to her -unbearable that he should have two houses. But he went on doggedly, -determined, she saw, to give no impression of a prosperity that was -not his. "I expect you wouldn't think much of it. But there's a big -real-estate firm up here that's going to boom Ripley, and I wanted to -get in on as much of it as I could. They're buying up half the land in -the county, and I had an option on a little piece they wanted, so I -traded it in for this house. I figure I can fix it up some and make a -good thing renting it pretty soon."</p> - -<p>She saw that her momentary envy had been absurd. He might have two -houses, but he was only one of the unnumbered customers of a big -real-estate firm. At that moment her husband was dealing as an equal -with the heads of such a firm. There was, of course, no comparison -between the two men, and she made none. The stirring of remembered -affection that she felt for Paul registered in her mind only a pensive -realization of the decay of everything under the erosion of time.</p> - -<p>She felt that she was managing the interview very well, and when -she saw Paul resugaring his coffee from time to time, with the same -deliberate measuring of two level spoonfuls, she felt a complex -gratification. She told herself that she did not want Paul to be still -in love with her and unhappy, but there was a pleasure in seeing this -evidence that his agitation was greater than hers. Being ashamed of the -emotion did not kill it.</p> - -<p>He told her, with an attempt to control his pride, that he was no -longer with the railroad company. The man who "just about owned Ripley" -had given him a better job. He was in charge of the ice-plant and -lumber-yard now, and he was getting a hundred and fifty a month. He -mentioned the figures diffidently, as one who does not desire to be -boastful.</p> - -<p>"That's fine!" she said, and thought that they paid nearly half that -sum for rent, and that the very clothes she was wearing had cost more -than his month's salary. She would have liked him to know these things, -so that he might see how wonderful Bert was, though they did not have -a house, and the cruelty of even thinking this made her hate herself. -"Why, you're doing splendidly," she said. "I'm so glad!"</p> - -<p>Paul, though conscientiously modest, agreed with her, and was deeply -pleased by her applause. After an evident struggle between two opposing -impulses, he began to ask questions about her. She found there was very -little to tell him. Yes, she was having a very good time. Yes, she was -very well. His admiration of her rosy color threw her into a strangling -whirlpool of emotions, from which she rescued herself by the sardonic -thought that her technic with rouge had improved since their last -meeting. She told him vaguely that business was fine, and that they had -a lovely apartment on Bush Street.</p> - -<p>There was nothing else to tell about herself, and both of them avoided -directly mentioning her husband. She had never more keenly realized the -emptiness of her life, except for Bert, than when she saw Paul's mind -circling about it in an effort to find something there.</p> - -<p>He turned at last, baffled, to the book beside her plate.</p> - -<p>"Still keeping on reading, I see. I re—" he stopped short. They both -remembered the small book-case with the glass doors that had stood in -his mother's parlor in Masonville, and how they had lingered before -it on the pretext that she was borrowing a book. "Something good?" -he asked hastily. When she showed him the title, he repeated it -doubtfully: "Pragmatism? Well, it's all right, I suppose. I don't go -much for these Oriental notions about religion, myself."</p> - -<p>"It isn't a religion, exactly," she said uncertainly. "It's a new way -of looking at things. It's about truth—sort of. I mean, it says there -isn't any, really—not absolutely, you know," she floundered on before -the puzzled question in his eyes. "It says there isn't <i>absolute</i> -truth—truth, you know, like a separate thing. Truth's only a sort -of quality, like—well, like beauty, and it belongs to a thing if -the thing works out right. I've got it clear in my head, but I don't -express it very well, I know."</p> - -<p>"I don't see any sense to it, myself," he commented. "Truth is just -simply truth, that's all, and it's up to us to tell it all the time."</p> - -<p>She knew that an attempt to explain further would fail, and she felt -that her mind had a wider range than his; but she had an impression -of his standing sure-footed and firm on the rock of his simple -convictions, and she saw that his whole life was as secure and stable -as hers was insecure and precarious. She felt about that as she did -about his house, envying him something which she knew was not as -valuable as her own possessions.</p> - -<p>A strange pang—a pain she could not understand—struck her when he -stopped at the cashier's grating and paid her check with his own in the -most matter-of-fact way.</p> - -<p>They parted at the door of the lunch-room; for seeing his hesitation -she said brightly: "Well, good-by. I'm going the other way." She held -out her hand, and when he took it she added quickly, "I'm so glad to -have seen you looking so well and happy."</p> - -<p>"I'm not so blamed happy," he retorted gruffly, as if her words jarred -the exclamation from him. He covered it instantly with a heavy, "So'm -I—I'm glad you are. Good-by."</p> - -<p>That exclamation remained in her mind, repeating itself at intervals -like an echo. She had been more deeply stirred than she had realized. -Fragments of old emotions, unrealized hopes, unsatisfied longings, rose -in her, to be replaced by others, to sink, and come back again. "I'm -not so blamed happy." It might have meant anything or nothing. She -wondered what her life would be if she were living in a little house in -Ripley with him, and rejected the picture, and considered it again.</p> - -<p>Looking back, she saw all the turnings that had taken her from the -road to a life like that—the road that she had once unquestioningly -supposed that she would take. If she had stayed at home in Masonville, -if she had given up the struggle in Sacramento; if she had been able -to live in San Francisco with nothing to fill her days but work and -loneliness—she saw as a series of merest chances the steps which had -brought her at last to Bert.</p> - -<p>One could not have everything. She had him. He was not a man who would -work slowly, day by day, toward a petty job and a small house bought -on the instalment plan. He was brilliant, clever, daring. He would one -day do great things, and she must help him by giving him all her love -and faith and trust. Suddenly it appeared monstrous that she should be -struggling against him, troubling him with her commonplace desires for -a commonplace thing like a home, at the very moment when he needed all -his wit and skill to handle a big deal. She was ashamed of the thoughts -with which she had been playing; they seemed to her an infidelity of -the spirit.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Bert was not in the apartment when she reached it; she knew her -disappointment was irrational, for she had told herself he would -not be there. However, he might telephone. She curled up in the big -chair by the window, the book in her lap, and read with a continual -consciousness of waiting. She felt that his coming or the sound of his -voice would rescue her from something within herself.</p> - -<p>At six o'clock she told herself that he would telephone within an -hour. Experience had taught her that this way of measuring time helped -it to pass more quickly. With determined effort she concentrated -her attention upon her book, shutting out voices that clamored -heart-shaking things to her. At seven o'clock she was walking up and -down the living-room, despising herself, telling herself that nothing -had happened, that he did these things only to show her his hold on -her, that at any moment now his message would come.</p> - -<p>For another hour she thought of many things she might have done -differently. She might have walked past the office of Clark & Hayward, -meeting him as if by accident when he came out. But that might have -annoyed him. She might have gone to some of the cafés for tea on the -chance of meeting him there. But there were so many cafés! He must be -dining in one of them now, and she could not know which one. She could -not know who might be dining with him.</p> - -<p>"Helen Davies Kennedy, stop it! Stop it!" she said aloud. She was a -little quieter then, walking to the window, and standing there, gazing -down at the street. Her heart beat suffocatingly at the sight of each -machine that passed; she thought, until it went by, that he might be in -it.</p> - -<p>It was the old agony again, and weariness and contempt for herself were -mingled with her pain. So many times she had waited, as she was waiting -now, and always he had come back to her, laughing at her hysteria. Why -could she not learn to bear it more easily? She might have to wait -until midnight, until later than midnight. She set her teeth.</p> - -<p>The sudden peal of the telephone-bell in the dark room startled a -smothered cry from her. She ran, stumbling against the table, and the -receiver shook at her ear; but her voice was steady and pleasant.</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"Helen? Bert. I'm going south to-night on the Lark. Pack my suitcases -and ship 'em express to Bakersfield, will you?"</p> - -<p>"What? Yes, yes. Right away. Are you—will you—be gone long?"</p> - -<p>His voice was going on, jubilant:</p> - -<p>"Trust your Uncle Dudley to put it over! D'you know what I got from the -tightest firm in town? Unlimited letter of credit! Get that 'unlimited'?</p> - -<p>"Oh Bert!"</p> - -<p>"It's the biggest land proposition ever put out in the West! Ripley -Farmland Acres I'm going to put them on the map in letters a mile high! -Believe me, I'm going to wake things up! There's half a million in it -for me if it's handled right, and, believe me, I'm some little handler!"</p> - -<p>"I know you are! O Bert, how splendid!"</p> - -<p>"All right. Get the suitcases off early—here's my train. Bye-bye."</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute—when're you coming back? Can't I come, too?"</p> - -<p>"Not yet. I'll let you know. Oh, d'you want some money?"</p> - -<p>"Well—I haven't got much—but that isn't—"</p> - -<p>"Send you a check. From now on I'm made of money—so long—"</p> - -<p>"Bert dear—" she cried, against the click of a closed receiver. Then -with a long, relaxing sigh she slowly put down the telephone. After a -moment she went into the bedroom, switched on the lights, and began -to pack shirts and collars into his bags. She was smiling, because -happiness and hope had come back to her; but her hands shook, for she -was exhausted.</p> - -<p>It was thirty-two days before she heard from him again. A post-dated -check for a hundred dollars, crushed into an envelope and mailed on the -train, had come back to her, and that was all. But she assured herself -that he was too busy to write. The month went by slowly, but it was not -unbearably dreary, for she was able to keep uneasy doubts in check, -and to live over in her memory many happy hours with him. She planned, -too, the details of the house they would have if this time he really -did make a great deal of money. He would give her a house, she knew, -whenever he could do it easily and carelessly.</p> - -<p>When the telephone awakened her one night at midnight her first -thought was that he had come back. She was struggling into a negligée -and snatching a fresh lace cap from a drawer when it rang again and -undeceived her.</p> - -<p>Long distance from Coalinga had a call for her and wished her to -reverse charges. She repeated the name uncertainly, and the voice -repeated: "Call from Mr. Kennedy in Coalinga—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, yes! Yes. I'll pay for it. Yes, it's O.K." She waited -nervously in the darkness until his voice came faintly to her.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Helen! Bert. Listen. Have you got any money?"</p> - -<p>"About thirty dollars."</p> - -<p>"Well, listen, Helen. Wire me twenty, will you? I've got to have it -right away."</p> - -<p>"Of course. Very first thing in the morning. Are you all right?"</p> - -<p>"Am I all right? Good God, Helen! do you think anybody's all right when -he hasn't got any money? We've just got into this rotten burg; been -driving all day long and half the night across a desert hotter than the -hinges of the main gate, and not a drink for a hundred and forty—" His -voice blurred into a buzzing on the wire, and she caught disconnected -words: "Skinflints—over on me—they've got another guess—piker -stunt—"</p> - -<p>She reiterated loudly that she would send the money, and heard central -relaying the words Nothing more came over the wire, though she rattled -the receiver. At last she went back to bed, to lie awake till dawn came.</p> - -<p>She was waiting at the telegraph-office when the money-order department -opened. After she had sent the twenty dollars she tried to drink a cup -of coffee, and walked quickly back to the apartment. She felt that -she should be able to think of something to do, some action she could -take which would help Bert, and many wild schemes rushed through her -feverish brain. But she knew that she could do nothing but wait.</p> - -<p>The telephone-bell was ringing when she reached her door. It seemed -an eternity before she could reach it. Again she assured central that -she would pay the charges, and heard his voice. He wanted to know why -she had not sent the money, then when she had sent it, then why it had -not arrived. He talked a great deal, impatiently, and she saw that his -high-strung temperament had been excited to a frenzy by disasters which -in her ignorance of business she could not know. Her heart ached with a -passion of sympathy and love; she was torn by her inability to help him.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later he called again, and demanded the same explanations. -Then suddenly he interrupted her, and told her to come to Coalinga. It -was a rotten hole, he repeated, and he wanted her.</p> - -<p>That he should want her was almost too much happiness, but she tried to -be cool and reasonable about it. She pointed out that she had just paid -a month's rent, that she had only ten dollars, that it might be wiser, -she might be less a burden to him, if she stayed in San Francisco. -She would make the ten dollars last a month, and that would give him -time—He interrupted her savagely. He wanted her. Was she coming or was -she throwing him down? Thought he couldn't support her, did she? He -always had done it, hadn't he? Where she'd get this sudden notion he -was no good? He could tell her Gilbert Kennedy wasn't done for yet, not -by a damned sight. Was she coming or—</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes! yes! yes! I'll come right away!" she cried.</p> - -<p>While she was packing, she wished that she had something to pawn She -would have braved a pawnbroker's shop herself. But the diamond ring had -gone when the Guatemala rubber plantation failed; her other jewels were -paste or semi-precious stones; her furs were too old to bring anything. -She could take Bert nothing but her courage and her faith.</p> - -<p>She found that her ticket cost nine dollars and ninety cents. When -she reached Coalinga, after a long restless night on the train and a -two-hours' careful toilet in the swaying dressing-room, she gave the -porter the remaining dime. It was a gesture of confidence in Bert and -in the future. She was going to him with a high spirit, matching his -reckless daring with her own.</p> - -<p>He was not on the platform. When the train had gone she still waited a -few minutes, looking at a row of one-story ramshackle buildings which -paralleled the single track. Obviously they were all saloons. A few -loungers stared at her from the sagging board sidewalk. She turned her -head, to see on either side the far level stretches of a desert broken -only by dirty splashes of sage-brush. The whole scene seemed curiously -small under a high gray sky quivering with blinding heat.</p> - -<p>She picked up her bags and walked across the street in a white glare -of sunlight. A heavy, sickening smell rose in hot waves from the oiled -road. She felt ill. But she knew that it would be a simple matter to -find Bert in a town so small. He would be at the best hotel.</p> - -<p>She found it easily, a two-story building of cream plaster which rose -conspicuously on the one main street. There was coolness and shade in -the wide clean lobby, and the clerk told her at once that Bert was -there. He told her where to find the room on the second floor.</p> - -<p>Her heart fluttered when she tapped on the panels and heard Bert call, -"Come in!" She dropped her bags and rushed into a dimness thick with -the smoke of cigars. The room seemed full of men, but when the first -flurry of greetings and introductions were over and she was sitting on -the edge of the bed beside Bert, she saw that there were only five.</p> - -<p>They were all young and appeared at the moment very gloomy. Depression -was in the air as thickly as the cigar smoke. She gathered from -their bitter talk that they were land salesmen, that a campaign in -Bakersfield had ended in some sudden disaster,—"blown up," they -said,—and that they found a miserable pleasure in repeating that -Coalinga was a "rotten territory."</p> - -<p>Bert, lounging against the heaped-up pillows on the bed, with a cigar -in his hand and whisky and ice-water at his elbow, let them talk -until it seemed that despondency could not be more blacker, then -suddenly sitting up, he poured upon them a flood of tingling words. -His eyes glowed, his face was vividly keen and alive, and his magnetic -charm played upon them like a tangible force. Helen, sitting silent, -listening to phrases which meant nothing to her, thrilled with pride -while she watched him handle these men, awakening sparks in the dead -ashes of their enthusiasm, firing them, giving them something of his -own irresistible confidence in himself.</p> - -<p>"I tell you fellows this thing's going to go. It's going to go big. -There's thousands of dollars in it, and every man that sticks is going -to be rolling in velvet. Get out if you want to; if you're pikers, beat -it. I don't need you. I'm going to bring into this territory the livest -bunch of salesmen that ever came home with the bacon. But I don't want -any pikers in my game. If you're going to lay down on me, do it now, -and get out."</p> - -<p>They assured him that they were with him. The most reluctant wanted to -know something about details, there was some talk of percentage and -agreements. Bert slashed at him with cutting words, and the others -bore him down with their aroused enthusiasm. Then Bert offered to buy -drinks, and they all went out together in a jovial crowd.</p> - -<p>Helen was left alone, to realize afresh her husband's power, and to -reflect on her own smallness and stupidity. She stifled a nagging -little worry about Bert's drinking. She always wished he would not do -it, but she knew it was a masculine habit which she did not understand -because she was a woman. After all, men accomplished the big things, -and they must be allowed to do them in their own way.</p> - -<p>She opened the windows, but letting out the smoke let in a stifling -heat and the sickening smell of crude oil. She closed them again and -reduced the confusion of the room to orderliness, smoothing the bed, -gathering up armfuls of scattered papers and unpacking her bags. When -Bert came back a few hours later she was reading with interest a pile -of literature about Ripley Farmland Acres.</p> - -<p>He came in exuberantly, and as she ran toward him he tossed into -the air a handful of clinking gold coins. They fell around her and -scattered rolling on the floor. "Trust your Uncle Dudley to put one -over!" he cried. "Pick 'em up! They're yours!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she gasped, between laughter and the tears that -now she could no longer control. Her arms were around his neck, and she -did not mind his laughing at her, though she controlled herself quickly -before his amusement could change to annoyance. "I knew you'd do it!" -she said.</p> - -<p>It was a long time before she remembered the money. Then, gathering it -up, she was astonished to find nearly a hundred dollars. He laughed -at her again when she asked him how he had got it. It was all right. -He'd got it, hadn't he? But he told her not to pay for her meals in the -dining-room, to sign the checks instead, and from this she deduced that -his business difficulties were not yet entirely overcome. She put the -money in her purse, resolving to save it.</p> - -<p>She discovered that he now owned a large green automobile. Apparently -he had bought it in Bakersfield, for it had been some months since -he had sold the gray one. In the afternoon they drove out to the oil -leases, and she sat in the machine while the salesmen scattered to look -for land-buyers.</p> - -<p>The novelty of the scene was sufficient occupation for her. Low hills -of yellow sand, shimmering in glassy heat-waves, were covered with -innumerable derricks, which in the distance looked like a weird forest -without leaf or shade and near at hand suggested to her grotesque -creatures animated by unnatural life, their long necks moving up and -down with a chugging sound. There were huddles of little houses, -patchworks of boards and canvas, and now and then she saw faded women -in calico dresses, or a child sitting half naked and gasping in the hot -shadows. She felt that she was in a foreign land, and the far level -desert stretching into a haze of blue on the eastern sky-line seemed -like a sea between her and all that she had known.</p> - -<p>The salesmen were morose when they returned to the machine, and Bert's -enthusiasm was forced. "There's millions of dollars a year pouring out -of these wells," he declared. "We're going to get ours, boys, believe -me!" But they did not respond, and Helen felt an increasing tension -while they drove back to town through a blue twilight. She thought with -relief of the gold pieces in her purse.</p> - -<p>After supper Bert sent her to their room, and she lay in her nightgown -on sheets that were hot to the touch, and panted while she read of -Ripley Farmland Acres. The literature was reassuring; it seemed to -her that any one would buy land so good on such astonishingly low -terms. But her uneasiness increased like an intolerable tightening of -the nerves, and her enforced inaction in this crisis that she did not -understand tortured her. It occurred to her that she was still able to -telegraph, and until she dismissed the thought as unfair to Bert she -was tantalized by a wild idea of once more having some control of her -fate.</p> - -<p>It was nearly midnight when he came in, and she saw that any questions -would drive him into a fury of irritated nerves. In the morning, she -thought, he would be in a more approachable mood. But when she awakened -in the dawn he was gone.</p> - -<p>She did not see him until nearly noon. After sitting for some time in -the lobby and exploring as much of the sleepy town as she could without -losing sight of the hotel entrance to which he might come, she had -returned to the row of chairs beside it and was sitting there when he -appeared in the green automobile.</p> - -<p>She ran to the curb. He was flushed, his eyes were very bright, and -while he introduced her to a man and woman in the tonneau, she heard in -his voice the note she had learned to meet with instant alertness. He -told her smoothly that Mr. and Mrs. Andrews were interested in Ripley -Farmland Acres; he was driving them over to look at the proposition. -She leaned across a pile of luggage to shake hands with them and talked -engagingly to the woman, but she did not miss Bert's slightest movement -or change of expression.</p> - -<p>When he asked her to get his driving gloves she knew that he would -follow her, and on the stairs she gripped the banister with a hand -whose quivering she could not stop. She was not afraid of Bert in this -mood, but she knew that it threatened an explosion of nervous temper as -sufficient atmospheric tension threatens lightening. He was at the door -of their room before she had closed it.</p> - -<p>"Where's that money?"</p> - -<p>"Right here." She hesitated, opening her purse. "Bert—it's all we -have, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"What difference does that make? It isn't all I'm going to have."</p> - -<p>"Listen just a minute. Did that woman tell you she was going to buy -land?"</p> - -<p>"Good Lord, do I have to stand here and talk? They're waiting. Give me -that money."</p> - -<p>"But Bert. She's taking another hat with her. She's got it in a bag, -and she's got two suitcases, and she—the way she looks—I believe -she's just going somewhere and getting you to take her in the machine. -And—please let me finish—if it's all the money we have don't you -think—"</p> - -<p>She knew that his outburst of anger was her own fault. He was nervous -and over-wrought; she should have soothed him, agreed with him in -anything, in everything. But there had been no time. Shaken as she was -by his words, she clung to her opinion, even tried to express it again. -She felt that their last hold on security was the money in her purse, -and she saw him losing it in a hopeless effort. Against his experience -and authority she could offer only an impression, and the absurdity of -talking about a hatsack in a woman's hand. The futility of such weapons -increased her desperation. His scorn ended in rage. "Are you going to -give me that money?"</p> - -<p>Tears she would not shed blinded her. Her fingers fumbled with the -fastening of the purse. The coins slid out and scattered on the floor. -He picked them up, and the slamming of the door told her he was gone.</p> - -<p>She no longer tried to hold her self-control. When it came back to her -it came slowly, as skies clear after a storm. Her body was exhausted -with sobs and her face was swollen and sodden, but she felt a great -relief. The glare of sunlight on the drawn shades and the stifling heat -told her that it was late in the afternoon. She undressed wearily, -bathed her face with cool water and, lying down again, was engulfed in -the pleasant darkness of sleep.</p> - -<p>The next day and the next passed with a slowness that was like a -deliberate refinement of cruelty. She felt that time itself was -malicious, prolonging her suspense. The young salesmen shared it with -her. They had telegraphed friends and families and were awaiting money -with which to get out of town. One by one they were released and -departed joyfully. Five days passed. Six. Seven.</p> - -<p>She would have telegraphed to Clark & Hayward, but she had no money -for the telegram. She would have found work if there had been any that -she could do. The manager of the small telegraph-office was the only -operator. In the little town there were a few stores, already supplied -with clerks, a couple of boarding-houses on Whiskey Row, and scores -of pretty little houses in which obviously no servants were employed. -The local paper carried half a dozen "help wanted" advertisements -for stenographers and cooks on the oil-leases. She did not know -stenography, and she did not have the ability to cook for twenty or -forty hungry men.</p> - -<p>A bill in her box at the end of the week told her that her room was -costing three dollars a day, and she dared not precipitate inquiry -by asking for a cheaper one. She was appalled by the prices of the -bill-of-fare, and ate sparingly, signing the checks, however, with a -careless scrawl and a confident smile at the waitress.</p> - -<p>She was coming from the dining-room on the evening of the seventh day -when the manager of the hotel, somewhat embarrassed, asked her not to -sign any more checks for meals. It was a new rule of the house, he -said. She smiled at him, too, and agreed easily. "Why, certainly!" -Altering her intention of going up-stairs, she walked into the lobby -and sat relaxed in a chair, glancing with an appearance of interest at -a newspaper.</p> - -<p>So it happened that she saw the item in the middle of the column, which -at last gave her news of Bert.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="ph2">BERT KENNEDY SOUGHT ON BAD CHECK CHARGE</p> - -<p>Charging Gilbert H. Kennedy, well-known along the city's joy zones, -with cashing a bogus check for a hundred dollars on the Metropolitan -National Bank, Judge C. K. Washburne yesterday issued a warrant for -the arrest of the young man on a felony charge. The police search -for Kennedy and his young wife, a former candy-store girl, has so -far proved fruitless. Interviewed at his residence in Los Angeles -last night, former Judge G. H. Kennedy, father of the missing man, -controller of the Central Trust Company until his indictment some -years ago for mishandling its funds, denied knowledge of his son's -whereabouts, saying that he had not been on good terms with his son -for several years.</p> -</div> - -<p>After some time she was able to rise and walk quite steadily across the -lobby. Her hand on the banister kept her from stumbling very much while -she went up-stairs. There was darkness in her room, and it covered her -like a shield. She stood straight and still, one hand pressing against -the wall.</p> - -<p>It was Saturday night, and in the happy custom of the oil fields a -block of the oiled street had been roped off for dancing. Already -the musicians were tuning their instruments. Impatient drillers and -tool-dressers, with their best girls, were cheering their efforts with -bantering applause. The ropes were giving way before the pressure of -the holiday crowd in a tumult of shouts and laughter.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, with a rollicking swing, the band began to play. The tune -rose gaily through the hot, still night, and beneath it ran a rustling -undertone, the shuffling of many dancing feet. Below her window the -pavement was a swirl of movement and color. Her body relaxed slowly, -letting her down into a crumpled heap, and she lay against the -window-sill with her face hidden in the circle of her arms.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Morning came like a change in an interminable delirium. Light poured -in through the open window, and the smothering heat of the night gave -way to the burning heat of the day. Helen sat up on the tumbled bed, -pressing her palms against her forehead, and tried to think.</p> - -<p>The realization of her own position did not rouse any emotion. Her -mind stated the situation baldly and she looked at it with impersonal -detachment. It seemed a curious fact that she should be in a hotel in -the oil fields, without money, with no way of getting food, with no -means of leaving the place, owing bills that she could not pay.</p> - -<p>"Odd I'm not more excited," she said, and in the same instant forgot -about it.</p> - -<p>The thought of Bert did not hurt her any more, either. She felt it as a -blow on a spot numbed by an anesthetic. But slowly, out of the chaos in -her brain, there emerged one thought. She must do something to help him.</p> - -<p>She did not need to tell herself that he had not meant to break -the law; she knew that. She understood that he had meant to cover -the check, that he was in danger because of some accident or -miscalculation. In the saner daylight the succession of events that -had led to this monstrous catastrophe became clear to her. Bert's -over-wrought self-confidence when he brought her the gold, his -feverish insistence that this was a good territory for land sales, his -excitement when he rushed away, believing that he could sell a farm -to that shifty-eyed woman with the hat-box, should have told her the -situation.</p> - -<p>Just because Bert had made that tiny mistake in judgment—A frenzy of -protest rose in Helen, beating itself against the inexorable fact. It -could not be true! It could not be true that so small an incident had -brought such calamity. It was a nightmare. She would not believe it.</p> - -<p>"O Bert! It isn't true! It isn't—it isn't—O Bert!" She stopped that -in harsh self-contempt. It was true "Get up and face it, you coward, -you coward!"</p> - -<p>She made herself rise, bathed her face and shoulders with cool water. -The mirror showed her dull eyes and a mass of frowsy hair stuck through -with hairpins. She took out the pins and began tugging at the snarls -with a comb. Everything had become unreal; the solid walls about her, -the voices coming up from the street below, impalpable things; she -herself was least real of all, a shadow moving among shadows. But she -must go on; she must do something.</p> - -<p>Money. Bert needed money. It was the only thing that stood between him -and unthinkable horrors of suffering and disgrace. His father would not -help him. Her people could not. Somehow she must get money, a great -deal of money.</p> - -<p>She did not think out the idea; it was suddenly there in her mind. It -was a chance, the only one. She stood at the window, looking out over -the low roofs of Coalinga to the sand hills covered with derricks. -There was money there. "Millions of dollars a year." She would take -Bert's vacant place, sell the farm he had failed to sell, save him.</p> - -<p>Her normal self was as lifeless as if it were in a trance, but beneath -its dull weight a small clear brain worked as steadily as the ticking -of a clock. It knew Ripley Farmland Acres; it recalled scraps of talk -with the salesmen; it reminded her of photographs and blank forms and -price lists. She dressed quickly, twisting her hair into a tidy knot, -dashing talcum powder on her perspiring face and neck. From Bert's -suitcase she hurriedly gathered a bunch of Ripley Farmland Acres -literature and tucked it into a salesman's leather wallet. At the door -she turned back to get a pencil.</p> - -<p>The hotel was an empty place to her. If the idlers looked at her -curiously over their waving fans when she went through the lobby she -did not know it. It was like opening the door of an oven to meet the -white glare of the street, but she walked briskly into it. She knew -where to find the livery-stable, and to the man who lounged from its -hay-scented dimness to meet her she said crisply:</p> - -<p>"I want a horse and buggy right away, please."</p> - -<p>She waited on the worn boards of the driveway while he brought out a -horse and backed it between the shafts. He remarked that it was a hot -day; he inquired casually if she was going far. To the oil fields, -she said. East or west? "East," she replied at a venture. "Oh, the -Limited?" Yes, the Limited, she agreed. When she had climbed into the -buggy and picked up the reins, it occurred to her to ask him what road -to take.</p> - -<p>When she had passed Whiskey Row the road ran straight before her, -a black line of oiled sand drawn to a vanishing-point on the level -desert. The horse trotted on with patient perseverance, the parched -buggy rattled behind him, and she sat motionless with the reins in her -hands. Around her the air quivered in great waves above the hot yellow -sand; it rippled above the black road like the colorless vibrations on -the lid of a stove. Far ahead she saw a small dot, which she supposed -was the Limited. She would arouse herself when she reached it. Her -brain was as motionless as her body, waiting.</p> - -<p>Centuries went past her. She reached the dot, and found a -watering-trough and an empty house. She unchecked the horse, who -plunged his nose eagerly into the water. His sides were rimed with -dried sweat, and with the drinking can she poured over him water, which -almost instantly evaporated. She was sorry for him.</p> - -<p>When she was in the buggy again and he was once more trotting patiently -down the long road she found that she was looking at herself and him -from some far distance, and finding it fantastic that one little animal -should be sitting upright in a contrivance of wood and leather, while -another little animal drew it industriously across a minute portion -of the earth's surface. Her mind became motionless again, as though -suspended in the quivering intensity of heat.</p> - -<p>Hours later she saw that the road was winding over hills of sand. -A few derricks were scattered upon them. She stopped at another -watering-trough, and in the house beside it a faded woman, keeping the -screen door hooked between them, told her that the Limited was four -miles farther on. It did not occur to her to ask anything more. Her -mind was set, like an alarm clock, for the Limited.</p> - -<p>She drove into it at last. It was like a small part of a city, hacked -off and set freakishly in a hollow of the sand hills. A dozen huge -factory buildings faced a row of two-story bunkhouses. Loaded wagons -clattered down the street between them, and electric power wires -crisscrossed overhead. On the hillside was a group of small cottages, -their porches curtained with wilting vines. When she had tied the -horse in the shade she stood for a moment, feeling all her courage and -strength gathering within her. Then she went up the hill.</p> - -<p>The screen doors of the cottages opened to her. She heard herself -talking pleasantly, knew that she was smiling, and saw answering -smiles. Tired women with lines in their sallow faces tipped the -earthern ollas to give her a cool drink, pushed forward chairs for her. -Brown-skinned children came shyly to her and touched her dress with -sticky little fingers, laughing when she patted their cheeks and asked -their names. Mothers showed her white little babies gasping in the -heat, and she smiled over them, saying how pretty they were. Beneath it -all she felt trapped and desperate.</p> - -<p>It seemed to her that these women should have started at the sight of -her as at a death's-head. There was nothing but friendly interest in -their eyes, and their obliviousness gave her the comfort that darkness -gives to a tortured animal. The hours were going by, relentlessly -taking her one hope.</p> - -<p>"Do you own any California land?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." There would be a flicker of pride in tired eyes. "My husband -just bought forty acres last week, near Merced. We're going to pay for -it out of his wages, and have it to go to some day!"</p> - -<p>"Isn't that fine! Oh yes, the land near Merced is very good land. Your -husband's probably done very well. Do you know any one else who's -looking for a ranch?" No one did.</p> - -<p>She kept on doggedly. When she left each cottage desperation clutched -at her throat, and for an instant her breath stopped. But she was so -hopeless that she could do nothing but clench her teeth and go on. -At the next door she smiled again and her voice was pleasant. "Good -afternoon! Might I ask you for a drink of water? Oh, thank you! Yes, -isn't it hot? I'm selling farm land. Do you own a California ranch?"</p> - -<p>It was when she approached the sixteenth cottage that the steps, the -wilted vine, the little porch went out in blackness before her eyes. -But she escaped the catastrophe, and almost at once saw them clearly -again and felt the gate-post under her tight fingers. The taste in her -mouth was blood. She had bitten her lips quite badly, but wiping her -mouth with her handkerchief she found that it did not show. She was -past caring for anything but finding some one who would buy land. All -her powers of thinking had narrowed to that and were concentrated upon -it like a strong light on a tiny spot.</p> - -<p>In the twentieth cottage a woman said that she had heard that Mr. -MacAdams, who worked in the boiler factory, had been to Fresno to buy -land and had not bought it. Helen thanked her, and went to the boiler -factory.</p> - -<p>It was a large building, set high above the ground. Circling it, she -saw a man in overalls and undershirt lounging in a wide doorway above -her. The roar and bang and whir of machinery behind him drowned her -voice, and he stared at her as at an apparition. When he leaped down -beside her and understood her demand to see Mr. MacAdams his expression -of perplexity changed to a broad grin. MacAdams was in a boiler, he -said, and still grinning, he climbed back to the door-step and drew her -up by one arm into a huge room shaking with noise. He led her through -crashing confusion and with his pipe-stem pointed out MacAdams.</p> - -<p>MacAdams was crouching in a big cylinder of steel. In his hand he held -a jerking riveter, and the boiler vibrated with its racket. His ears -were stuffed with cotton, his eyes intent on his work. In mute show -Helen thanked the man beside her and, going down on her hands and -knees, crawled into the boiler. When she touched MacAdams's shoulder -the riveter stopped.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon," she said. "I heard you were interested in buying a -ranch."</p> - -<p>MacAdams's astonishment was profound. Mechanically he put a cold pipe -in his mouth and took it out again. She saw that his mind was passive -under the shock. Sitting back on her heels she opened the wallet and -took out the pictures. Her voice sounded thin in her ears.</p> - -<p>"There's lots of good land in California. I wouldn't try to tell -you, Mr. MacAdams, that ours is the only land a man can make money by -buying. But what do you think of that alfalfa?"</p> - -<p>She knew that it was alfalfa because the picture was so marked on the -back. While he looked at it she studied him, and her life was blank -except for his square Scotch face, the deliberate mind behind it, and -her intensity of purpose.</p> - -<p>She saw that she must not talk too much. His mind worked slowly, -standing firmly at each point it reached. He must think he was making -his own decisions. She must guide them by questions, not statements. He -would be obstinate before definite statements. He was interested. He -handed back the picture and asked a question. She answered it from the -information in the advertising, and while she let him reach for another -picture she thought quickly that she must not let him catch her in a -lie. If he asked a question, the answer to which she did not know, she -must say so. She was ready when it came.</p> - -<p>"I don't know about that," she answered. "We can find out on the land -if you want to go and look at it."</p> - -<p>He was noncommittal. She let the point go. She felt that her life -itself hung on his decisions, and she could do nothing to hasten them. -Her hands were shaking, and she forced her body to relax. She unfolded -a map of Ripley Farmland Acres and pointed out the proposed railroad, -the highway, the irrigation canals. She made him ask why part of the -map was painted red, and then told him that those farms were sold. -He was impressed. She folded the map a second too soon, leaving his -interest unsatisfied.</p> - -<p>He said he thought the proposition was worth looking into. She did not -reply because she feared her voice would not be steady. In the pause he -added that he would go over and look at it next Tuesday. She unfolded -the map again. Her fingers were cold and stiff paper rattled between -them, but the moment had come to test her success, and she would not -deceive herself with false hopes.</p> - -<p>She told him that she wanted to reserve a certain farm for him to see. -She pointed it out at random. It was a very good piece, she said, the -best piece unsold. She feared it would be sold before Tuesday. It could -not be held unless he would pay a deposit on it. If he did not buy it -the deposit would be returned.</p> - -<p>"You don't want to waste your time, Mr. MacAdams, and neither do I." -She felt the foundations of her self-control shaking, but she went on, -looking at him squarely. "If this piece suits you, you will buy it, -won't you?"</p> - -<p>He would. If it suited him.</p> - -<p>"Then please let me hold it until I can show it to you."</p> - -<p>She waited while time ticked by slowly. Then he leaned sidewise, -putting his hand in his pocket. "How much will I have to put up?"</p> - -<p>When she backed out of the boiler five minutes later she had a -twenty-dollar gold piece in her hand, and in her wallet was the yellow -slip of paper with his signature on the dotted line. She stumbled down -a lane between whirring machinery and dropped over a door-sill into -the hot dust of the road. Her grip on herself was being shaken loose -by unconquerable forces. She ran blindly to the buggy, and when she -had somehow got into it she heard herself laughing through sobs in her -throat. The horse trotted gladly toward Coalinga.</p> - -<p>During the long drive across the desert she sat relaxed, too weary to -be troubled or pleased by anything. The sun sank slowly beyond cool -blue hills, and darkness crept down from them across the level miles -of sand. A crescent of twinkling lights appeared on the lower slopes, -where the western oil fields lay. Their lower rim was Coalinga, and -she thought of bed and sleep. Clutching the gold piece, she reminded -herself that she must eat. She must keep up her strength until she -had sold that piece of land. She was too tired to face that effort -now. The horse took her quickly past Whiskey Row and dashed to the -livery-stable. She climbed down stiffly.</p> - -<p>"Charge it." Her voice was stiff, too. "Clark & Hayward, San -Francisco. I'm representing them. H. D. Kennedy—I'm at the hotel."</p> - -<p>Her body lagged as she drove it to the telegraph-office. She had -written a telegram to Clark & Hayward before she realized that she -dared not face any inquiry until after Tuesday. It occurred to her then -that she had committed a crime. She was not certain what it was, but -she thought it was obtaining money under false pretenses. She destroyed -the telegram.</p> - -<p>Later, when she laid the twenty-dollar gold piece on the check for her -supper, it seemed to her that she was embezzling. A discrepancy vaguely -irritated her. Could one obtain money under false pretenses and then -embezzle it, too? She was too tired to be deeply concerned, but as an -abstract question it annoyed her. The waitress looked at her sharply, -and she wondered if she had said something about it. In a haze she got -up the stairs and into bed.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Very early Tuesday morning she drove to the Limited lease and got -MacAdams. He looked formidable in his good clothes, and now that he had -shaved the scrubby gray beard his chin had an even more obstinate line. -She talked to him in an easy and friendly manner, without mentioning -land. She must not waste her strength. There was a struggle before her -and a menace behind. She had opened a livery-stable account against -Clark & Hayward, who had never heard of her. The hotel, she knew, had -let her go only because she took no baggage and had told the clerk -casually that she would return to-morrow. The ticket to Ripley left -five dollars of the twenty that belonged to MacAdams. And every moment -that the sale was delayed might make it impossible to save Bert.</p> - -<p>She sat smiling, listening to a tale of MacAdams' youth, when he was a -sea-faring man.</p> - -<p>The train reached Fresno, and MacAdams's gaze rested with joy on leafy -orchards and vineyards and the cool green of alfalfa fields. She -perceived the effect upon him of that refreshing contrast with the -arid desert. Before they reached Ripley his mind would be adjusted to -a green land and ditches filled with running water. She had lost one -point.</p> - -<p>Her attention concentrated upon the thoughts slowly forming in -his mind. Each word he spoke was an indication which she seized, -considered, turned this way and that, searching for the roots of it, -the implications growing from it.</p> - -<p>The train was now running across a level plain covered with dry grass. -Desolation was written upon it, and small unpainted houses stood here -and there like periods at the end of sentences expressing the futility -of human hope. She smiled above a sinking heart. They alighted at -Ripley.</p> - -<p>She had never seen the town before, and she saw now, with MacAdams's -eyes, a yellow station, several big warehouses, a wide dusty road into -which a street of two-story buildings ran at right angles. It was not -much larger than Coalinga. She looked anxiously for the agent from -Ripley Farmland Acres. That morning she had telegraphed him to meet her.</p> - -<p>He came toward them and shook MacAdams' hand heartily. His name was -Nichols. He had a consciously frank eye, and a smooth manner. He -hustled them toward a dusty automobile whose sides were covered with -canvas advertisements of the tract, and put MacAdams into the front -seat beside him.</p> - -<p>The machine, stirring a cloud of dust behind it, rattled down the -road between fields of dry stubble. She was ignored in the back seat. -Nichols had taken the situation out of her hands, and she did not -trust him. However, she could not trust herself, in the midst of her -uncertainties and ignorance.</p> - -<p>Nichols talked too much and too enthusiastically. She was astounded by -his blindness. To her it seemed obvious that his words were of little -importance. It was what MacAdams said that mattered. He gave MacAdams -no silences in which to speak, and he appeared oblivious to the fact -that MacAdams, gazing contemplatively at the sky-line, said nothing.</p> - -<p>They drove beneath an elaborate plaster gateway into the tract. Seventy -thousand acres of scorched dry grass lay before them, stretching -unbroken to a misty level horizon. Over it was the great arch of a hot -sky.</p> - -<p>The machine carried them out into the waves of dry grass like the -smallest of boats putting out into an ocean of aridity. When it stopped -the sun poured its heat upon them and dust settled on perspiring hands -and faces. Nichols unrolled a map and talked with galvanic enthusiasm. -He talked incessantly and his phrases seemed worn threadbare by -previous repetition. MacAdams said nothing, and Helen tried to devise a -way to ask Nichols to stop talking.</p> - -<p>His manner had dropped her outside of consideration, save as a woman -for whom automobile-doors must be opened. She saw that he felt her -presence as a handicap in this affair between men; he apologized for -saying "damn," and his apology conveyed resentment. He was losing her -the sale, and she could not interfere. Her only hope of saving Bert -rested on this sale. She controlled a rising desperation, and smiled at -him.</p> - -<p>They got out of the machine and waded through dusty grass, searching -for surveyor's posts. Nichols pointed out the luxuriant growth of wild -hay, asked MacAdams what he thought of that, continued without a pause -to pour facts and figures upon him, heedless that he received no reply. -They got into the car again and Nichols, pulling a pad of blanks from -his pocket, tried to make MacAdams buy a certain piece of land then -and there. He attacked obliquely, as if expecting to trap MacAdams -into signing his name, and MacAdams answered as warily. "Well, I have -seen worse. And I have seen better." He lighted his pipe and listened -equably. He did not sign his name.</p> - -<p>They drove further down the road and got out again. Helen caught -Nichols' sleeve, and though he shook his arm impatiently she held him -until MacAdams had walked some distance away and picked up a lump of -soil.</p> - -<p>"Leave him to me, please," she said.</p> - -<p>"What do you know about the tract?"</p> - -<p>"Just the same, I wish you'd give me a chance, please."</p> - -<p>"Do you want to sell him or don't you? I know how to handle prospects."</p> - -<p>They spoke quickly. Already MacAdams was turning his head.</p> - -<p>"He's my prospect. And, by God! I'm going to sell him or lose him -myself!" Her words shocked her like a thunderclap, but the shock -steadied her. And Nichols' overthrow was complete. He said hardly a -word when they reached MacAdams.</p> - -<p>Almost in silence they examined that piece of land. MacAdams walked -to each of its corners; he looked at the map for some time; he asked -questions that Nichols answered briefly. He pulled up clumps of grass -and looked at the earth on their roots. At last he walked back to the -machine and leaned against it, lighting his pipe leisurely and looking -out across the tract. The silence was palpitant. When she saw that he -did not mean to break it, Helen asked, "Shall we look at another piece?"</p> - -<p>"No. I've seen enough."</p> - -<p>They got into the machine, and this time Nichols was alone on the front -seat. They drove back toward the tract office. The sun was sinking, and -a gray light lay over the empty fields. Helen felt herself part of it. -She had lost, and nothing mattered any more. She had no more to lose. -She kept up the hopeless effort, but the approaching end was like the -thought of rest to a struggling man who is drowning.</p> - -<p>"What do you think of it, Mr. MacAdams?"</p> - -<p>"Well—I have seen worse."</p> - -<p>"Were you satisfied with the soil?"</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't say anything against it."</p> - -<p>"Would you like us to show you anything more of the water system?" What -did she care about water systems!</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>The machine stopped before the tract office. They got out.</p> - -<p>"Your man's no good. He's a looker, not a buyer," Nichols said to her -in an aside.</p> - -<p>"He has money and he wants land," she answered wearily.</p> - -<p>"We'll have another go at him. But it's no use."</p> - -<p>They went into the office. A smoky lamp stood on a desk littered with -papers. MacAdams asked when the train left Ripley. Nichols told him -that they had half an hour. They sat down, and Nichols, drawing his -chair briskly to the desk, began.</p> - -<p>"Now, Mr. MacAdams, in buying land you have to consider four things; -land, water, climate, and markets. Our land—"</p> - -<p>She could not go back to Coalinga with him. Probably there would be a -warrant out for her arrest. Oh, Bert! She had done her best, her very -best. There were five dollars left, MacAdams's money. The whole thing -was unreal. She was dreaming it.</p> - -<p>Nichols was leading him up to the decision. MacAdams evaded it. Nichols -began again. The blank form was out now and the fountain-pen ready.</p> - -<p>"You like the piece, don't you? You're satisfied with it. You've found -everything exactly as we represented it. It's the best buy on the -tract. Well, now we'll just close it up."</p> - -<p>MacAdams put his hands in his pockets and gazed at the map on the wall. -"I'm not saying it isn't a good proposition."</p> - -<p>Nichols began again. Was forty acres more than MacAdams wanted to -carry? MacAdams would not exactly say that. Would a change in the terms -be more convenient for him? MacAdams had no fault to find with the -terms. Did the question of getting the land into crop trouble him? No. -Well, then they'd get down to the point. The payments on this piece -would be—"I'll not be missing my train, Mr. Nichols?"</p> - -<p>Patiently Nichols went back to the beginning. Land, water, -transportation, and cli—Helen could endure it no longer. One straight -question would end it, would leave her facing certainty. She leaned -forward and heard her own voice.</p> - -<p>"Mr. MacAdams, you came to look at this land. You've looked at it. Do -you want it?"</p> - -<p>There was one startled, arrested gesture from Nichols. Then they -remained motionless. The clock ticked loudly. Slowly MacAdams leaned -back in his chair, straightened one leg, put his hand into his trouser -pocket. He pulled out a grimy canvas bag.</p> - -<p>"Yes. How much is the first payment?"</p> - -<p>Deliberately he poured out on the desk a heap of golden coins. His -stubby fingers extracted from the sack a wad of banknotes. Nichols was -figuring madly. "Twelve hundred and seventy-three dollars and ninety -cents," he announced in a shaking voice. MacAdams counted it out with -exactness. He signed the contract. Nichols recounted the money and -sealed it in an envelope. They rose.</p> - -<p>Helen found herself stumbling against the side of the automobile, and -felt Nichols squeezing her arm exultantly while he helped her into it. -They had reached Ripley before she was able to think. Then she said -that she would not return to Coalinga with MacAdams. They put him on -the train.</p> - -<p>She told Nichols that she wanted the money and the contract. She was -going to take the next train to San Francisco. He objected. She argued -through a haze, and her greatest difficulty was keeping her voice -clear. But she held tenaciously to her purpose. Later she was on the -train with the contract and Nichols' check drawn to Clark & Hayward. -She slept then and she slept in the taxi-cab on the way to a San -Francisco hotel. She felt that she was asleep while she wrote her name -on a register She shut a door somehow behind a bell-boy, and at last -could sleep undisturbed.</p> - -<p>At nine o'clock the next morning she sat facing Mr. Clark across a big -flat-topped desk. The contract and Nichols' check lay upon it.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Mr. Clark was a lean, shrewd-looking man about forty-five years old. -He gave the impression of having kept his nerves at high tension for -so many years that now he must strain them still tighter or relax -altogether. This catastrophe he would have described as "losing his -grip," and Helen felt that he lived in dread of it as the ultimate -calamity. They had been talking for some time. Mr. Clark did not know -where Bert was.</p> - -<p>"My dear young lady, if we had known—" he said, and he stopped because -it would be useless cruelty to complete the sentence. She thought that -he would not be cruel unless there were some purpose to be achieved by -it. There was even a kindly expression in his eyes at times.</p> - -<p>He had explained clearly the situation in which her husband stood. Bert -had persuaded the firm to give him an unlimited letter of credit. "That -young man has a truly remarkable personality as a salesman. He had us -completely up in the air." He had proposed a gigantic selling campaign -in the oil fields, and had so filled Clark & Hayward with his own -enthusiasm that they had given him free rein.</p> - -<p>The campaign had begun with every promise of astounding success. He -had brought huge crowds to hear speakers sent down from the city; had -gathered the names of thousands of "leads"; had imported fifty salesmen -to canvass these names and bring in prospective buyers. Scores of these -had been taken to the land and hundreds more were promised. Clark & -Hayward contemplated hiring special trains for them.</p> - -<p>But expenses were running into disquieting amounts for the actual -results produced. Bert's checks poured in, and there began to be -annoying rumors. The firm had begun a quiet investigation and had -decided that he was spending too much of their money for personal -expenses. Mr. Clark need not go into details. They had withdrawn the -letter of credit and advised creditors in Bakersfield that the firm -would no longer pay Mr. Kennedy's bills.</p> - -<p>Mr. Kennedy had been informed of this. He had taken one of the firm's -automobiles and disappeared. Later his check had come in. Clark & -Hayward could not make that good, in addition to their other losses. -The matter was now entirely out of their hands. Mr. Clark's gesture -placed it in the hands of inscrutable fate. He was more interested in -the MacAdams sale and the unexpected appearance of Helen.</p> - -<p>However, under her insistence he admitted that if the check were made -good, Clark & Hayward could persuade the bank not to press the charge. -Of course the warrant was out, but there were ways. He undertook to -employ them for her, thoughtfully fingering Nichols' check. As to -finding Bert—well, if the police had failed—</p> - -<p>Helen asked how much Bert owed the firm. Mr. Clark told her that the -sum was roughly five thousand dollars.</p> - -<p>"In thirty days! Why—but—how is it possible?"</p> - -<p>The amount included the cost of the automobile. The balance was Mr. -Kennedy's personal expenses, not included in his arrangement with -the firm. "Wine—ah—" Mr. Clark did not complete the triology. "Mr. -Kennedy's—recreations were expensive?" He would have the account -itemized?</p> - -<p>"Oh, no. It isn't necessary," said Helen. She would like to know only -the exact sum. Mr. Clark pressed a button and asked the girl who -answered it to look up the amount. "And, by the way, have this sale -entered on the books, and a check made out to—?"</p> - -<p>"H. D. Kennedy," said Helen.</p> - -<p>"To H. D. Kennedy for the commissions. Seven and a half per cent."</p> - -<p>"You were paying the other salesmen fifteen per cent.," said Helen.</p> - -<p>That was by special arrangement. The ordinary salesmen in the field -were paid seven and a half percent. Helen accepted the statement, being -unable to refute it. She proposed that she should continue working for -the firm on twelve and a half per cent., five per cent. to apply on -the amount Bert owed them. Mr. Clark countered by offering her ten per -cent. with the same arrangement. She was stubborn, and he yielded.</p> - -<p>Helen came out of the office with three hundred dollars in her -purse. She saw that the sun was shining, and as she walked through -the crowded, familiar streets, passing flower-stands gay with color, -feeling the cool breeze on her face, and seeing white clouds sailing -over Twin Peaks, she felt that the bright day was mocking her. She -understood why most suicides occur on days of sunshine.</p> - -<p>Her life was beginning again, in a new way, among strange surroundings. -She thought that it would be pleasant to be dead. One would be then as -she was, numb, with no emotion, no interest, no concern for anything, -and one would not have to move or think. "Cheer up! What's the use of -wishing you were dead? You will be some day!" she said to herself, -with an effort to be humorous about it.</p> - -<p>She thought that she would go out to the old apartment, pack the things -she had left there, and take them with her. There was a hard bitterness -in the thought that seemed almost sweet to her. To stand unmoved in -that place where she had loved and suffered, to handle with uncaring -hands those objects saturated with memories, would be a desecration of -the past that would prove how utterly dead it was.</p> - -<p>But she did not do it. She telephoned from the station, giving up the -apartment and abandoning the personal belongings in it, leaving her -address for the forwarding of mail. Then she shut her mind against -memories and went back to the oil fields.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>During the weeks that followed she felt that she was moving in a dream, -a shadow among unrealities. She drove across endless yellow plains that -wavered in the heat. The lines were lax in her hands, her thoughts -hardly moved. Again she had the sensation of gazing upon herself -from an infinite distance, and she saw her whole life very small and -far-away and unimportant.</p> - -<p>It was odd that she should be where she was.—They would reach the -watering-trough soon, and then the horse could drink.—The lake -she saw rippling upon the burning sand was a mirage.—The horse -was not interested in it. Horses must recognize water by smelling -it.—The sunlight struck her hands, and they were turning browner. -Complexions.—How strange that women cared about them.—How strange -that any one cared about anything.</p> - -<p>She reached an oil lease, and part of her brain awoke. It worked so -smoothly that she felt an impersonal pride in it. It was concerned -only with Ripley Farmland Acres. It was intent upon selling them. She -tapped at screen doors, and knew she was being charming to tired women -exhausted by heat and babies. She skirted black pools of oil, climbed -into derricks,—she had learned to call them "rigs,"—and heard herself -talking easily to grimy men beside a swaying steel cable that went -eternally up and down, up and down, in the well-shaft.</p> - -<p>Selling land, she found, was not the difficult and intricate business -she had supposed it to be. California's great estates, the huge Mexican -grants of land now passed to the second and third generations, were -breaking up under the pressure of growing population and increased land -taxes; for the first time in the State's history the land-hunger of the -poor man could be satisfied. Deep in the heart of every man imprisoned -by those burning wastes of desert was the longing for a small bit of -green earth, a home embowered in trees and vines. Her task was to find -the workman who had saved enough money for the first payment, the ten -or twenty per cent. of the purchase price asked by the subdividing -land companies, and having found him to play upon his longing and his -imagination until the pictures she painted meant more to him than his -hoarded savings.</p> - -<p>Half of his first payment was hers; one sale meant to her five hundred -or even a thousand dollars. But while she talked she forgot this; -she thought only of cool water flowing through fields of alfalfa, of -cows knee-deep in grass beneath the shade of oaks, of the fertile -earth blooming in harvests. The skill in handling another's thoughts -before they took form, teamed in her life with Bert, enabled her to -impress these pictures upon her hearer's mind so that they seemed his -own, and grimy men in oil-soaked overalls, listening to her without -combativeness because she was a woman and not to be taken seriously in -business, felt that they must buy this land so temptingly described.</p> - -<p>"I'm not really a land-salesman," she said, believing it. "I know I -can't <i>sell</i> you this land. I can only tell you about it. And then if -you want to buy it, you will. Won't you?" She found that she need only -talk to a sufficient number of men to find one who would buy, and each -sale brought her enough money to give her weeks in which to trudge -from derrick to derrick searching for another buyer. All her life had -narrowed to that search.</p> - -<p>She accumulated a store of facts. Drillers were the best prospects -because they earned good salaries and had steady, straight-thinking -brains. Tool-dressers were younger men, inclined to smartness, harder -to handle. Pumpers were lonely and liked to talk; one must not waste -too much time on them; they made small wages, but would give her -"leads" to good prospects. A superintendent of a wild-cat lease was a -good prospect; approach him with talk of a safe investment. Shallow -fields were poor territory to work; jobs were longer and wages surer -among the deeper wells. At a house ask for a drink of water; on a rig -begin conversation by remarking, "Getting pretty deep, isn't she?" She -was known throughout the fields as the Real-Estate Lady.</p> - -<p>At twilight she drove back to the hotel. Her khaki skirt was spattered -with crude oil; her pongee waist showed streaks of grime where dust had -dried in perspiration. There was sand in its folds, sand in her shoes, -sand in her hair. Her body seemed as lifeless as her emotions, and her -brain had stopped again. She would not dream to-night.</p> - -<p>She smiled again at the hotel clerk. Yes, thank you, business was -fine! There were letters, no word of Bert. Her mother wrote puzzled -and anxious inquiries. What was Helen doing in Coalinga? Was something -wrong? What was her husband doing? Mrs. Updike was telling that she had -seen in the paper—Helen folded the pages. There were a couple of thin -envelopes from Clark & Hayward, announcements of sales, Farm 406—J. D. -Hutchinson; Farms 915-917—H. D. Kennedy.</p> - -<p>It was good to be in bed, feeling unconsciousness creeping over her -like dark, cool water, lapping higher and higher.</p> - -<p>On her third trip to the land with buyers she met Paul's mother -on the main street in Ripley. Mrs. Masters appeared competent and -self-assured, walking briskly from a butcher-shop with some packages on -her arm. She was bare-headed, carrying a parasol above her smooth, gray -hair. Small as she was, there was something formidable in the lines of -her stocky figure and in the crispness of her stiff white shirt-waist. -She looked at Helen with shrewd, interested eyes, and Helen realized -that her hair was untidy, that there was dust on her shoes and on her -blue serge suit. It was dust from the tract where she had just made -another sale. Helen supposed there was dust on her face, too, when she -perceived Mrs. Masters' eyes fixed so intently upon it.</p> - -<p>They shook hands and spoke of the heat. Helen explained that she was -selling land. She had just put one buyer on the Coalinga train and was -waiting in Ripley for another man to meet her next day.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Masters asked her to supper. A realization that meeting her might -be embarrassing to Paul flickered through Helen's mind. She made some -excuse, which Mrs. Masters overruled briskly. The strain of making a -sale had left Helen without energy for resistance. She found they were -walking down the street together, and she tried to rouse herself, as -one struggles under an anesthetic. Mrs. Masters was the first person to -whom she had tried to talk of anything but land, and the effort made -her realize that she had been living in something like delirium.</p> - -<p>They came to the cottage of which Paul had written her long ago. There -was the little white-picket fence, the yard with rose-bushes in it, and -the peach-tree. The graveled walk led to a tiny porch ornamented with -wooden lace work, and through a screen door they went into the parlor. -The shades were drawn to keep the afternoon sun from the flowered -Brussels carpet; the room was cool and dim and rose-scented. There was -a crocheted mat on the oak center-table; cushions stood stiff and plump -on the sofa; in one corner on an easel was an enlarged crayon portrait -of Paul as a little boy.</p> - -<p>There was not a detail of the room that Helen would not have changed, -but as she looked at it tears came unexpectedly into her eyes. -Something was here that she wanted, something that she had always -missed. Currents of indefinable emotion rose in her. Her heart ached, -and suddenly she was shaken by a sense of irretrievable loss.</p> - -<p>"I—I'm very tired. You must forgive me—a very hard day. If I -could—lie down a minute?" She could not stop the quivering of her -lips. Mrs. Masters looked at her curiously, leading her to the bedroom -and folding back an immaculate white spread. Helen, hating herself for -her weakness, took off her hat and lay down. She would be all right in -a minute; she was sorry to make so much trouble; Mrs. Masters must not -bother; she was just a little tired.</p> - -<p>She lay still, hearing the rattling of pans and sizzling of meat -from the kitchen where Mrs. Masters was getting supper. Voices went -by in the street; a dog barked joyously; a shrill whistling passed, -accompanied by the rattle of a stick along the picket fence. The sharp -shadows of vine-leaves on the shade blurred into the twilight. Mrs. -Masters was singing throatily, "Rock of Ages, cleft for me-e-e," while -she set the table.</p> - -<p>It was peace and security and rest. It was all that Helen did not have. -The crudely papered walls enclosed a haven warmed by innumerable homely -satisfactions. How sweet to have no care but the crispness of curtains, -the folding away of linen, the baking of bread! She was an alien spirit -here, with her aching head and heart, her disheveled hair and dusty -shoes. A tear slipped down her cheek and spread into a damp splash on -the white pillow.</p> - -<p>She rose quickly, knowing that she must be stronger than the longing -that shook her. The towel lying across the water pitcher was -embroidered. She had always wanted embroidered towels, and she had made -dozens of them. They had been left in the apartment. She bathed her -face for a long time, dashing cool water on her eyelids.</p> - -<p>The gate clicked, and Paul came whistling up the path. She stood -clutching the towel, shivering with panic. Had she been mad that she -had come to his house? Oh, for anything, anything, that would erase the -past hour, and let her be anywhere but here! She heard his step on the -porch, the bang of the screen door, his voice. "Hello, Mother? Supper -ready?" And at the same time she saw unrolling in her mind the picture -of herself and Mrs. Masters on the sidewalk, heard the definite, polite -excuse she might have made, saw herself going back to the hotel. -She might easily have done that. Why was her life nothing but one -blundering stupidity? She waited until his mother had time to tell him -she was there. Then she went out, smiling, and met him.</p> - -<p>His hand was warm and strong, closing around her cold fingers. He could -not conceal the shock her whiteness and thinness gave him. He stammered -something about it, and reddened. She saw that he felt he had referred -to Bert and hurt her. Yes, she said lightly, the heat in the oil fields -was better than banting. She rather liked it, though, really. And -selling land was fascinating work. She found that she was clinging to -his hand, drawing strength from it, as though she could not let go. She -released her fingers quickly, hoping he had not noticed that second's -delay, which meant nothing, nothing except that she was tired.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Masters sat opposite her at the supper table, and with those -polite, neutral eyes upon her it was hard to make conversation. She -told the story of the MacAdams sale, making it humorous instead of -tragic, trying to keep the talk away from Masonville and the people -there. Paul spoke only to offer her food, to advise a small glass of -his mother's blackberry cordial, and urge her to drink it, to suggest -a cushion for her back. Tears threatened her eyes again, and she -conquered them with a laugh.</p> - -<p>He went with her to the hotel. They walked in silence through -moon-light and shadow, on the tree-bordered graveled sidewalk. Through -lighted cottage windows Helen saw women clearing supper-tables, men -leaning back in easychairs, with cigar and newspaper. They passed -groups of girls, bare-headed, bare-armed, chattering in the moon-light -They spoke to Paul, and Helen felt their curious eyes upon her. -Children were playing in the street; somewhere a baby wailed thinly, -and farther away a piano tinkled.</p> - -<p>"It's very lovely—all this," she said.</p> - -<p>"It suits me," Paul replied. A little later he cleared his throat and -said, "Helen—I—I'm sorry."</p> - -<p>"I'm all right," she said quickly. It was almost as if she had slammed -a door in his face, and she did not want to be rude to him. "I -mean—it's good of you to care. I'd rather not talk about it."</p> - -<p>"I—sometimes I think I could—I could commit murder!" he said thickly. -"When I get to thinking—"</p> - -<p>"Don't," she said. It was some time before he spoke again.</p> - -<p>"Well, if there is ever any chance for me to do anything—I guess you -know I'd be glad to."</p> - -<p>She thanked him. When he left her at the door of the hotel she thanked -him again, and he asked her not to forget. If he could help her with -her sales or the bank people or anything—She said she would surely let -him know.</p> - -<p>It was necessary to sleep, because she had another sale, a hard sale, -to make next day. But she was unable to do it. Long after midnight she -was lying awake, beating the pillows with clenched hands and biting her -lips to keep from sobbing aloud. It seemed to her that all of life was -torture and that she could no longer bear it.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Returning to Coalinga after the meeting with Paul, Helen ached -with weariness. But she was alive again. The haze in which she had -been existing was gone. She had risen early that morning, met her -prospective land-buyer at the train, and made the sale. It had been -doubly difficult, because the salesman for Alfalfa Tracts had met the -train, too, and had almost taken the prospect from her, thinking it -would be easy to do because she was only a woman. There was a hard -triumph in her victory. The sale had reduced Bert's debt by another -four hundred dollars, for she could afford now to turn in the entire -commission against it.</p> - -<p>The jolting of the train shock her relaxed body. Her cheek lay against -the rough plush of the chairback, for she was too tired to sit upright. -Against the black square of the window her life arranged itself before -her. How many times she had seen her life lying before her like a -straight road, and had determined what its course and end would be! But -she was older now, and wiser, and able to control her destiny.</p> - -<p>She was a land-salesman; she was a good salesman. This was the only -thing she had saved from wreckage. At least she would succeed in this. -She would make money; she would clear Bert's name, which was hers; she -would buy a little house and make it beautiful. Perhaps Bert would want -to come to it some day and she would have it waiting for him. She knew -that she would never love him as she had loved him, for she saw him -too clearly now, but she felt that their lives were inextricably bound -together and that the tie between them was stronger because he needed -her.</p> - -<p>A letter from Clark & Hayward was in her box at the hotel. She tore it -open quickly. As always, she had a wild thought that it contained news -of Bert.</p> - -<p>It said that the firm had given the oil fields territory to two other -salesmen, Hutchinson and Monroe. The oil fields had proved a good -territory, and it was too large for her to handle alone. She would -turn over to Hutchinson and Monroe any leads she had not followed up. -Doubtless she could make arrangements with them as to commissions; the -firm hoped she would continue to work in the fields; Hutchinson and -Monroe would expect an overage on her sales. Mr. Clark trusted they -would work in harmony, and congratulated her on her success.</p> - -<p>Her first astonishment changed quickly to a cold rage. Did they think -they could take her territory from her? Her territory, that she had -developed herself, alone? After her days and weeks of hard, exhausting -work, after her hours of talking, of distributing advertising, of -making sales that would lead to more sales, they were coming in and -taking the fruits of it away from her? Oh, she would fight!</p> - -<p>The clerk told her that Hutchinson and Monroe had arrived that -afternoon. She asked him to tell them that she would see them in the -parlor at nine o'clock. There would be some slight advantage in making -them come to her.</p> - -<p>She was sitting in the small, stuffy room, her eyes fixed on a -newspaper, when they came in. She felt hard, like a machine of steel, -when she rose smiling to meet them.</p> - -<p>Hutchinson was a tall, angular man, who moved in an easy-going way as -if his body had nothing to do with the loose-fitting, gray clothes he -wore. His eyes were frank, with a humorous expression in them, but -though his face was lean there were deep lines from his nostrils to the -corners of his mouth, and when he smiled, which he did easily, two more -deep lines appeared in his cheeks.</p> - -<p>Monroe was older, shorter, and stout. There was a smooth suavity in -the effect of his neat, dapper person, his heavy gold watch-chain, his -eye-glasses. He removed the glasses at intervals, as if from habit, -wiping them with a silk handkerchief, and at such moments his blandly -paternal manner was accentuated. His eyes were set too close to the -thin bridge of a nose that grew heavy at the tip, but his gray hair, -the kindly patronage of his smile, and his soft, heavy voice were -impressive.</p> - -<p>Helen perceived that both of these men were good salesmen, and that -their working together made a happy combination of opposite abilities. -She saw herself opposing them, an inexperienced girl, and felt that the -odds were overwhelmingly against her. But her determination to fight -was not lessened.</p> - -<p>Upright on a hard red davenport, she argued. The territory was hers. -She had come into it first. She had developed it. She conceded their -right to work there, but not the justice of their demanding part of the -commissions she earned. The stale little room, filled with smells of -heat-blistered varnish and dusty plush, became a battle-ground, and the -high back of the davenport was a wall against which she stood at bay, -confronting these men who had come to rob her.</p> - -<p>But she was a woman. They did not let her forget it. They asked -her permission to smoke, but not her consent to their business -arrangements. They smiled at her arguments. After all, she was of -the sex that must be humored. "My dear Mrs. Kennedy," said Monroe, -gallantly. "Do let us be—ah—reasonable." Their courtesy was perfect. -They would let her talk, since it pleased her to do so. They would -pick up her handkerchief when it slid from her lap. If it was her whim -to work in the oil fields they would even indulge her in it. But she -struck rock when she spoke of commissions. They would take two and a -half per cent. from any sales she made.</p> - -<p>It bored Hutchinson to point out the situation to her, but he did -it, courteously. The firm had given them the territory. They were -experienced salesmen. Naturally, Clark would not leave the territory in -the hands of a young saleswoman, however charming personally. This was -business, he gently explained. They would take two and a half per cent.</p> - -<p>But she was a woman, and a charming one. Their tone implied that some -slight sentimentality existed even in business. On sales they made from -the leads she gave them, they would be generous. They would give her -two and a half per cent. on those.</p> - -<p>At this there was an interval when she sat smiling, speechless with -rage. But she saw that the situation was hopeless. And every one of -those names on her lists was a potential sale that would have paid her -twelve and a half per cent. Anger surged up in her, almost beyond her -control. However, there was no value in fighting when she was beaten.</p> - -<p>They parted on the best of terms; she yielded every point; she would -give them the leads in the morning. She left them satisfied, thinking -that women, while annoying, were not hard to handle.</p> - -<p>In her room she stood shaken by her anger, by resentment and disgust. -"Oh, beastly, beastly!" she said through clenched teeth. Striking her -hand furiously against the edge of the dresser, she felt a physical -pain that was a relief. She was able even to smile, ironically and -wearily. This was the game she had to play, was it? Well—she had to -play it.</p> - -<p>She sat down and from her note-book copied a list of names and -addresses. She chose only those of men to whom she had talked until -convinced they were not land-buyers. In the morning she met Hutchinson -in the lobby and gave him the list. She also insisted on a written -agreement promising her two and a half per cent. commission on sales -made to any of those men. Hutchinson gave it to her in patronizing -good-humor.</p> - -<p>Her buggy was waiting as usual in the shade of the hotel building. She -felt grim satisfaction while she climbed into it and drove away, toward -the Limited lease. Hutchinson and Monroe would work industriously for -some time before they perceived her duplicity, and she did not care -for their opinion when they did discover it. Her own conscience was -harder to handle, but she reflected that she would have to revise -her standards of honesty. "My dear Mrs. Kennedy—ah—really—this is -business." She hoped viciously that Monroe would see that she had -quite understood his words. She made another good sale before they -stopped working on the worthless leads. Their attitude toward her -changed abruptly.</p> - -<p>"You certainly put one over on us," Hutchinson said without malice, and -from that time they regarded her more as an equal than as a woman.</p> - -<p>She was surprised to discover the bitterness developing in her.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Often in the evenings she walked in the quiet streets of little houses. -Women were watering the lawns. A cool, sweet odor rose from refreshened -grass and clumps of dripping flowers. Here and there a man leaned -on the handle of a lawnmower, pipe in hand, talking to a neighbor. -Children were playing in the twilight. Their young voices rose in -happy shouts, and their feet pattered on the pavement. Hardness and -bitterness vanished then, and Helen felt only an ache of wistfulness.</p> - -<p>Later, lights bloomed through the deepening night, and the houses -became dark masses framing squares of brightness. Vaguely beyond lace -curtains Helen saw a woman swaying in a rocking-chair, a group of girls -gathered at a piano. From dim porches mothers called the children to -bed, and at an up-stairs window a shade came down like an eyelid. Helen -felt alone and very lonely. She realized that she had been walking for -a long time on tired feet. But she did not want to go back to the -hotel. She must remind herself that to-morrow would be another hard day.</p> - -<p>In the hotel lobby she encountered Hutchinson or Monroe. Sharpness and -hardness came back then. Monroe was able to handle the smart young -tool-dressers; his bland paternal manner crushed them into a paralyzing -sense of their youth and crudeness. He had got hold of a tool-dresser -she had canvassed and hoped to sell. That meant a fight about the -commissions, in which, of course, Hutchinson backed Monroe. She was -still alone, but now she was among enemies.</p> - -<p>"You've got to fight!" she told herself. "Are you going to let them -put it over on you because you're a woman?" She lay awake thinking of -selling arguments, talking points, ways of handling this prospect and -that. Every sale brought her nearer to freedom. Some day she would have -a house, with a big gray living-room, rose curtains, dozens of fine -embroidered towels and tablecloths. She jerked her thoughts back to her -work, angry at herself for letting them stray. But when, triumphantly, -she closed the biggest sale yet,—sixty acres!—she celebrated by -buying a linen lunch cloth stamped in a pattern of wild roses. She sat -in her room in the evenings and embroidered it beautifully with fine -even stitches.</p> - -<p>When it was finished and laundered, she folded it in tissue-paper -and put it carefully away in one of the cheap, warped drawers of her -bureau. Often she took it out, spreading the shining folds over the -foot of her bed and looking at it with joy. It lay in her thoughts like -a nucleus of a future contentment. But when her sister Mabel wrote from -Masonville that she was going to marry the most wonderful man in the -world, Bob Mason, "Old Man" Mason's grandson, who was head clerk of -Robertson's store, the rose lunch cloth became something Helen could -not keep. It was too keenly a symbol of all that she had missed, all -that she wanted her little sister to have.</p> - -<p>It went to Mabel in a rose-lined white box, with a letter and a check. -Mabel's letter, palpitating with happiness and awkwardly triumphant -over the splendid match,—"though of course it makes no difference, -because I would marry him if he was the poorest man on earth, because -money isn't everything, is it?"—had suggested that Helen come home -for the wedding. But this would mean facing curiosity and sympathy and -whispered discussion of her own tragedy, unforgotten, she knew, in -Masonville. She replied that she could not get away from her work, and -read Mabel's relief in the light regrets sprinkled through her radiant -thanks for the check. "And the table-cloth is beautiful, too, one of -the loveliest ones I have."</p> - -<p>"After all, it is good to think that it matters so little to her," -Helen thought quickly. But the letters had shown her the deep gulf time -had dug between her and her girlhood, and the realization increased her -loneliness. Her life went by. Business filled it, and it was empty.</p> - -<p>One day late in the fall she came in early from the oil fields. Over -the level yellow plains a sense of autumn had come, an indefinable -change in the air. She felt another change, too, a vague foreboding, -something altered and restless in the spirit of the men with whom she -had talked. For a week she had not found a new prospect, and two sales -had slipped through her fingers. She stopped at the hotel to get a -newspaper and read the financial news. Then she walked down Main Street -to the little office Hutchinson and Monroe had rented.</p> - -<p>Hutchinson was there, leaning back in a chair, his feet crossed on the -desk. He did not move when she came in, save to lift his eyes from the -sporting page and knock the ashes from his cigar. He accepted her now -as an equal in his own game, and there was respect in his voice. "Well, -how's it coming?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to get out of the fields," she said. She pushed back her hat -with a tired gesture and dropped into a chair.</p> - -<p>"The hell you say! What's wrong?" Hutchinson set up, dropping the -paper, and leaned forward on the desk. His interest was almost alarmed. -She was making him money.</p> - -<p>"Territory's gone bum. K. T. O. 25 will close down in another two -weeks. The Limited's going to stop drilling. I'm going somewhere else."</p> - -<p>"What! Who told you?"</p> - -<p>"Nobody. I just doped it out."</p> - -<p>He was relieved. He cajoled her. She was tired, he said. She was -working in a streak of bad luck. Every salesman struck it sometime. -Look at him; he hadn't made a sale in four weeks, and he hadn't lost -his nerve. Cheer up!</p> - -<p>She had been considering a plan, and she had chosen the moment -to present it to him. The obliqueness of real-estate methods had -astounded her. She had always supposed that men thought and acted in -straight lines, logical lines. That, she had thought, gave them their -superiority over irrational womankind. But the waste and blindness -of business as she had seen it had altered her opinion of them. Her -plan was logical, but she did not count upon its logic to impress -Hutchinson. She reckoned on the emotional effect that would be produced -by the truth of her prophecy. Letting that prophecy stand, she began to -unfold her plan.</p> - -<p>The big point in making a land sale was getting hold of a good -prospect. That should not be done by personal canvassing. It was too -wasteful of time and energy. It should be done by advertising. Now -Clark & Hayward's advertising was all "Whoop'er up! Come on!" stuff. It -made a bid for suckers. Hutchinson smiled, but she went on.</p> - -<p>Men who would fall for that advertising were not of the class that had -bank accounts. Hutchinson had lost a lot of money trying to sell the -type of men who answered those advertisements. She mentioned incidents, -and Hutchinson's smile faded.</p> - -<p>She proposed a new kind of real-estate advertising; small type, reading -matter, sensible, straight-forward arguments. She was going into a -settled farming community, where land values were high, and she was -going to try out an advertising campaign for farmers. It had been a -good farming year; farmers had money, and they had brains. She was -going to offer them cheap land, and she was going to sell them.</p> - -<p>She had the money to pay for the advertising, but she needed some one -to work with her. She proposed that Hutchinson come in with her on a -fifty-fifty basis. He could have his name on the door; he could make -arrangements with the firm for the territory. They would hesitate to -give it to her. But he knew she could sell land. Together they could -make money.</p> - -<p>Hutchinson did not take the proposition very seriously. She had not -expected that he would. He thought about it, and grinned.</p> - -<p>"I'd have to be mighty careful my wife didn't get wise!" he remarked.</p> - -<p>"Cut that out!" she said in a voice that slashed. She unloosened her -fury at him, at all men, and looked at him with blazing eyes. He -stammered—he didn't mean—"When I talk business to you, don't forget -that it's business," she said. She picked up her wallet of maps and -left the office. As she did so she reflected that the scheme would work -out.</p> - -<p>Ten days later word ran through the oil fields that all the K. T. O. -leases were letting out men. Hutchinson's inquiries showed that the -Limited was not starting any new wells. Monroe, who had saved his -money, announced that he would stop work for the winter. Hutchinson, -remembering that Mrs. Kennedy had funds for an advertising campaign, -decided that her proposition offered a shelter in time of storm.</p> - -<p>They talked it over again, considering the details, and Hutchinson went -to the city to see Clark. He got a small advance on commission, and the -Santa Clara Valley territory.</p> - -<p>On the train, leaving the oil fields for the last time, Helen looked -back at the little station, the sand hills covered with black derricks, -the wide, level desert, and felt that she was leaving behind her the -chrysalis of the woman she had become.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>On a hot July afternoon three years later she drove a dusty car through -the traffic on Santa Clara Street in San José, and stopped it at the -curb. When she had jumped to the sidewalk she walked around the car and -thoughtfully kicked a ragged tire with a stubby boot. The tire had gone -flat on the Cupertino road, and it was on her mind that she had put too -much air into the patched tube. For two miles she had been expecting to -hear the explosion of another blow-out, and had been too weary to stop -the car and unscrew the air valve.</p> - -<p>"Darn thing's rim-cut, anyway," she said under her breath. "I'll have -to get a new one." She dug her note-book and wallet from the mass of -dusty literature in the tonneau and walked into the building.</p> - -<p>Hutchinson was telephoning when she entered their office on the fourth -floor. A curl of smoke rose from his cigar-end on the flat-topped desk -and drifted through the big open window. There were dusty footprints on -the ingrain rug, and the helter-skelter position of the chairs showed -that prospects had come in during her absence. Hutchinson chuckled when -he hung up the receiver.</p> - -<p>"Ted's going to catch it when he gets home!" he remarked, picking up -the cigar.</p> - -<p>"Stalling his wife again?" Helen was running through her mail. "I -suppose there isn't a man on earth who won't joyfully lie to another -man's wife for him," she added, ripping an envelope.</p> - -<p>"Well, Holy Mike! What would you tell her?"</p> - -<p>Helen looked up quickly from the letter.</p> - -<p>"I'd tell her the—" she began hotly, and stopped. "Oh, I don't know. -I suppose he's got that red-headed girl out in the machine again? He -makes me tired. If you ask me, I think we'd better get rid of him. That -sort of thing doesn't make us any sales."</p> - -<p>There was silence while she ripped open the other letters and glanced -through them. Her momentary anger subsided. She reflected that there -were men on whom one could rely. Her thoughts returned to Paul as to a -point of security. His appearance in San José a few months earlier had -been like the sight of a cool spring in a desert. She had not realized -the scorn for all men that had grown in her until she met him again and -could not feel it for him.</p> - -<p>She glanced from the window at the clock in the tower of the Bank of -San José building. Half-past four. He would still be at the ice-plant. -This thought, popping unexpectedly into her mind, startled her with the -realization that all day she had been subconsciously dwelling on the -fact that it was the day on which he usually came to San José since -his firm had acquired its interests there.</p> - -<p>The clock suggested simultaneously another thought, and she snatched -the telephone-receiver from its hook. "Am I too late for the afternoon -delivery?" she anxiously asked the groceryman who answered the call. -"Oh, thank you. Two heads of lettuce, a dozen eggs, half a pound of -butter. How much are tomatoes? Well, send me a pound. Yes, H. D. -Kennedy, 560 South Green Street. Thank you!" As the receiver clicked -into place, she asked, "Any live ones to-day?"</p> - -<p>"Six callers. Two good prospects and a couple that may work up into -something," Hutchinson answered. "Say, the Seals are certainly handing -it to the Tigers. Won in the fifth inning."</p> - -<p>"That's good," she said absently. "Closed the Haas sale yet?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, he's all right. Tied up solid." Hutchinson yawned. "How's your -man?"</p> - -<p>"Dated him for the land next Wednesday. He's live, but hard to handle. -Taking him down in the machine."</p> - -<p>"Machine all right?"</p> - -<p>"Engine needs overhauling, and we've got to get a new rear tire and -some tubes. Two blow-outs to-day. Time's too valuable to spend it -jacking up cars in this heat. I'm all in. But I can nurse the engine -along till I get back from this trip." She felt that each sentence was -a load she must lift with her voice. "I'm all in," she repeated. "Guess -I'll call it a day."</p> - -<p>However, she still sat relaxed in her chair, looking out at the quaint -old red-brick buildings across the street. San José, she thought -whimsically, was like a sturdy old geranium plant, woody-stemmed, whose -roots were thick in every foot of the Santa Clara Valley. She felt an -affection for the town, for the miles of orchard around it, interlaced -with trolley-lines, for the thousands of bungalows on ranches no larger -than gardens. Some day she would like to handle a sub-division of acre -tracts, she thought, and build a hundred bungalows herself.</p> - -<p>She brought her thoughts back to the Haas sale, and spoke of it -tentatively. It was all right, Hutchinson assured her with some -annoyance. The old man was tied up solid. He'd sign the final contract -as soon as he got his money, and he had written for it. What did Helen -want to crab about it for?</p> - -<p>"I don't mean to be a crab," she smiled. "But—do you know the -definition of a pessimist? He's a man who's lived too long with an -optimist."</p> - -<p>Hutchinson covered his bewilderment with a laugh.</p> - -<p>"You know, I've often thought I'd look up that word. I see it every -once in a while. Pessimist. But what's the use? You don't need words -like that to sell land."</p> - -<p>She had been stupid again, aiming over his head. He was right. You -didn't need words like that to sell land. You didn't need any of the -things she liked, to sell land. She was a fool. She was tired. But she -returned to the Haas sale. The subject must be handled carefully, for -Hutchinson was too good a salesman to offend, though he was lazy. Where -was Haas's money? Hutchinson replied that it was banked in the old -country, Germany.</p> - -<p>"Germany! And he's written for it? For the love of—! You grab the -machine and chase out there and make him cable. Pay for the cable. Send -it yourself. Tell 'em to cable the money. Haven't you seen the papers?"</p> - -<p>Hutchinson, surrounded by scattered sporting sheets, stared up at her -in amazement.</p> - -<p>"Don't you know Austria sent an ultimatum to Servia? Haven't you ever -heard of the Balkan Wars? Don't you know if Russia—Good Lord, man! -And you're letting that money lie in Germany waiting for a letter? -Beat it out there. Make him cable. I'll pay for it myself. Good Lord, -Hutchinson—a fifty acre sale! Don't stop to talk. The cable-office -closes at six. Hurry! And look out for that rear left tire!" she opened -the door to call after him.</p> - -<p>The brief flurry of excitement had raised in her an exhilaration that -vanished in a sense of futility and shame. "I'm getting so I swear -like—like a land-salesman!" she said to herself, straightening her -hat before the mirror. There was a streak of dust on her nose, and she -wiped it off with a towel, and tucked up straggling locks of hair. In -the dark strand over one temple a few white lines shone like silver. -"I'm wearing out," she said, looking at them and at her skin, tanned to -a smooth brown. Nobody cared. Why should she carefully save herself? -She shut the closet door on her mirrored reflection, locked the office -door, and went home.</p> - -<p>The small, brown bungalow looked at her with empty eyes. The locked -front door and the dry leaves scattered from the rose-vines over the -porch gave the place a deserted appearance. At all the other houses on -the street the doors were open; children played on the lawns, wicker -tables and rocking-chairs and carelessly dropped magazines made the -porches homelike. There was pity in her rush of affection for the -little house; she felt toward it as she might have felt toward an -animal she loved, waiting in loneliness for her coming to make it happy.</p> - -<p>The door opened wide into the small square hall, and in the stirred -air a few rose petals drifted downward from the bowl of roses on the -walnut table. She unlatched and swung back the casement windows in the -living-room. Then she dropped her hat and purse among the cushions -on the window-seat, and straightening her body to its full height, -relaxed again in a long, contented sigh. A weight slipped from her -spirit. She was at home.</p> - -<p>Her lingering glance caressed the rose-colored curtains rustling softly -in the faint breeze, the flat cream walls, the brown rugs, the brick -hearth on which piled sticks waited for a match. There was her wicker -sewing-basket, and beyond it the crowded book shelves. Here was the -quaint, walnut desk she had found at a second-hand store, and the -big, mannish chair with the brown leather cushions. It was all hers, -her very own. She had made it. She was at home, and free. The silence -around her was like cool water on a hot face.</p> - -<p>In the white-tiled bathroom, with its yellow curtains, yellow bath -rug, yellow-bordered fluffy bath-towels, she washed the last memory -of the office from her. She reveled in the daintiness of sheer, -hand-embroidered underwear, in the crispness of the white dress she -slipped over her head. She put on her feet the most frivolous of -slippers, with beaded toes and high heels.</p> - -<p>"You're a sybarite, that's what you are! You're a beastly sensualist!" -she laughed at herself in the mirror. "And you're leading a double -life. 'Out, damned spot!'" she added, to the brown triangle of tan on -her neck.</p> - -<p>For an hour she was happy. Aproned in blue gingham she watered the -lawn and hosed the last swirling leaf from the front porch. She said -a word or two about roses to the woman next door. They were not very -friendly; all the women on that street looked at her across the gulf of -uncomprehension between quiet, homekeeping women and the vague world -of business. They did not quite know how to take her; they thought her -odd. She felt that their lives were cozy and safe, but very small.</p> - -<p>Then she went into the kitchen. She made a salad, broke the eggs for an -omelet, debated with finger at her lip whether to make popovers. They -were fun to make, because of the uncertainty about their popping, but -somehow they were difficult to eat while one read. One could manage -bread-and-butter sandwiches without lifting eyes from the page Odd, -that she should be lonely only while she ate. The moment she laid down -her book at the table the silence of the house closed around her coldly.</p> - -<p>She would not have said that she was waiting for anything, but an -obscure suspense prolonged her hesitation over the trivial question. -When the telephone-bell pealed startlingly through the stillness it -was like an awaited summons, and she ran to answer it without doubting -whose voice she would hear.</p> - -<p>As always, there was some excuse for Paul's telephoning,—a message -from his mother, a bit of news from Ripley Farmland Acres,—some -negligible matter which she heard without listening, knowing that to -both of them it was unimportant. The nickel mouthpiece reflected an -amused dimple in her cheek, and there was a lilt in her voice when she -thanked him. She asked him to come to supper. His hesitation was a -struggle with longing. She insisted, and when she hung up the receiver -the house had suddenly become warmed and glowing.</p> - -<p>She felt a new zest while she took her prettiest lunch cloth from its -lavender-scented drawer and brought in a bunch of roses, stopping to -tuck one in her belt. She felt, too, that she was pushing back into the -depths of her mind many thoughts and emotions that struggled to emerge. -She shut her eyes to them, and resisted blindly. It was better to see -only the placid surface of the moment. She concentrated her attention -upon the popovers, and the egg-beater was humming in her hands when she -heard his step on the porch.</p> - -<p>It was a quick, heavy step, masculine and determined, but always there -was something boyishly eager in it.</p> - -<p>She called to him through the open doors, and when he came in she gave -him a floury hand, pushing a lock of hair back from her eyes with the -back of it before she went on beating the popovers. He stood awkwardly -about while she poured the mixture into the hot tins and quickly slid -it into the oven, but she knew he enjoyed being there.</p> - -<p>The table was set on the screened side porch. White passion flowers -fluttered like moths among the green leaves that curtained it, and in -an open space a great, yellow rose tapped gently against the screen. -The twilight was filled with a soft, orange glow; above the gray roofs -half the sky was yellow and the small clouds were like flakes of -shining gold.</p> - -<p>There came over Helen the strange, uncanny sensation that sometime, -somewhere, she had lived through this moment once before. She ignored -it, smiling across the white cloth at Paul. She liked to see him -sitting there, his square shoulders sturdy in the gray business suit, -his lips firm, tight at the corners, his eyes a little stern, but -straight-forward and honest. He gave an impression of solidity and -permanence; one would always know where to find him.</p> - -<p>"You're certainly some cook, Helen!" he said. The omelet was delicious, -and the popovers a triumph. She ate only one, that he might have the -others, and his enjoyment of them gave her a deep delight.</p> - -<p>Across the little table a subtle current vibrated between them, -intoxicating her, making her a little dizzy with emotions she would not -analyze.</p> - -<p>"I certainly am!" she laughed. "The cook-stove lost a genius when -I became a real-estate lady." She was not blind to the shadow that -crossed his face, but part of her intoxication was a perverseness that -did not mind annoying him just a little bit.</p> - -<p>"I hate to think about it," he said. His gravity shattered the -iridescent glamor, making her grave, too, and the prosaic atmosphere of -the office and its problems surrounded her.</p> - -<p>"Well, you may not have it to think about much longer. What do you -think? Is there going to be real trouble in Europe?"</p> - -<p>"How do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"War?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I doubt it. Not in this day and age. We've got beyond that, I -hope." His casual dismissal of the possibility was a relief to her, but -not quite an assurance.</p> - -<p>"I hope so." She stirred her coffee, thoughtfully watching the glimmer -of the spoon in the golden-brown depths. "I'll be glad when it blows -over. That Balkan situation—If Austria stands by her ultimatum, and -Servia does pull Russia into it, there's Germany. I don't know much -about world politics, but one thing's certain. If there is war, the -bottom'll drop out of my business."</p> - -<p>He was startled.</p> - -<p>"I don't know what it's got to do with us over here."</p> - -<p>"It hasn't anything to do with you or your affairs. But farmers are the -most cautious class on earth. The minute there is a real storm cloud in -Europe every one of 'em'll draw in his money and sit on it. The land -game's entirely a matter of psychology. Let the papers begin yelling, -'War!' though it's eight thousand miles away, and every prospect I -have will figure that good hard cash in hand is better than a mortgage -with him on the wrong side of it. That means thumbs down for me. It's -hard enough to keep up the office expenses and pay garage bills as it -is."</p> - -<p>Alarm was driven from his face by a chaos of emotions. He flushed -darkly, his eyes on his plate. "You oughtn't to have to be worrying -about such things."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I won't mind if it does happen," she said quickly. "In a way, I'd -be glad. I'd be out of business anyway; I'd find something else to do. -Nobody knows how I hate business—nothing but an exploiting of stupid -people by people just a little less stupid."</p> - -<p>She caught at the impersonality of the subject, trying to control -the intoxication that rose in her again, fed by his silence, by the -currents it set vibrating between them once more. She threw her words -into it as if their hard-matter-of-factness would break a growing spell.</p> - -<p>"Six-tenths of our business can be wiped out without doing any harm. -A real-estate salesman hasn't any real reason for existing. We're -just a barrier between the land and the people who want it. We aren't -needed a bit. The people would simply take the land if they weren't -like horses, too stupid to know their own strength, letting us grow -fat on their labor. Hoffman, owning the land and making a hundred per -cent. on its sale; Clark & Hayward, with their fifty per cent. expenses -and commissions; me, with my fifteen per cent, and the salesman under -me—we're just a lot of parasites living off the land without giving -anything in return. Oh, don't think I don't know how useless these last -three years—"</p> - -<p>She knew he was not listening. Nothing she was saying set his cup -chattering against the saucer as he put it down. The twilight was -prolonged by the first radiance of a rising moon, and in the strange, -silver-gray light the white passion flowers, the green spray of the -pepper-tree on the lawn, took on an unearthly quality, like beauty in -a dream. Her voice wavered into silence. Through a haze she became -aware that he was about to speak. Her own words forestalled him, still -pleasantly commonplace.</p> - -<p>"It's getting dark, isn't it? Let's go in and light the lamps."</p> - -<p>His footsteps followed her through the ghostly dimness of the house. -The floor seemed far beneath her feet, and through her quivering -emotions shot a gleam of amusement. She was feeling like a girl in -her teens! Her hand sought the electric light-switch as it might have -clutched at a life-line.</p> - -<p>"Helen, wait a minute!" She started, stopped, her arm out-stretched -toward the wall "I've got to say something."</p> - -<p>The tortured determination of his voice told her that the coming moment -could not be evaded. A cool, accustomed steadiness of nerves and -brain rose to meet it. She crossed the room, and switched on the tiny -desk-lamp, the golden-shaded light of which only warmed the dusk. But -her opened lips made no sound; she indicated the big, leather chair -only with a gesture, settling herself on the cushioned window-seat. -He remained standing, his hands in his coat-pockets, his gaze on the -fingers interlaced on her knees.</p> - -<p>"You're a married woman."</p> - -<p>A shock ran through her. She had worn those old bonds so long without -feeling them that she had forgotten they were there. Why—why, she was -herself, H. D. Kennedy, salesman, office-manager, householder.</p> - -<p>His voice went on stubbornly, hoarse.</p> - -<p>"I haven't got any right to talk this way. But, Helen, what are you -going to do? Don't you see I've got to know? Don't you see I can't go -on? It isn't fair." He faltered, dragging out the words as though by -muscular effort. "It isn't fair to—him. Or me or you. Helen, if—if -things do go to pieces, as you said—can't you see I'll—just have to -be in a position to <i>do</i> something?"</p> - -<p>The tremulous intoxication was gone. Her composed self-possession of -the moment before seemed a cheap, smug attitude. She saw a naked, -tortured soul, and the stillness of the room was reflected in the -stillness within her.</p> - -<p>"What do you want me to do?" she said at last.</p> - -<p>He walked to the cold hearth and stood looking down at the piled -sticks. His voice, coming from the shadows, sounded as though muffled -by them. "Tell me—do you still care about him?"</p> - -<p>All the wasted love and broken hopes, the muddied, miserable tangle -of living, swept over her, the suffering that had been buried by many -days, the memories she had locked away and smothered, Bert, and all -that he had been to her. And now she could not remember his face. She -could not see him clearly in her mind; she did not know where he was. -When had she thought of him last?</p> - -<p>"No," she said.</p> - -<p>"Then—can't you?"</p> - -<p>"Divorce, you mean?"</p> - -<p>Paul came back to her, and she saw that he was even more shaken than -she. He spoke thickly, painfully. He had never thought that he would do -such a thing. God knew, he said without irreverence, that he did not -believe in divorce. Not usually. But in this case—He had never thought -he could love another man's wife. He had tried not to. But she was so -alone. And he had loved her long ago. She had not forgotten that? It -hadn't been easy to keep on all these years without her. And then when -she had been treated so, and he couldn't do anything.</p> - -<p>But it wasn't altogether that. Not all unselfish, "I—I've wanted -you so! You don't know how I've wanted you. Nobody ever seems to -think that a man wants to be loved and have somebody caring just -about him, somebody that's glad when he comes home, and that—that -cares when he's blue. We—we aren't supposed to feel like that. But -we do. I do—terribly. Not just 'somebody.' It's always been you I -wanted. Nobody else. Oh, there were girls. I even tried to think that -maybe—but somehow, none of them were you. I couldn't help coming back."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she said, with tears on her cheeks.</p> - -<p>Perhaps, after all, forgetting the past and the things that had been -between them, they could come together again and be happy. But he was -tortured by a dread of being unfair to Bert. If she did still care for -him, if he had any rights.—"Of course he has rights. He's your—I -never thought that I could talk like this to a woman who hadn't any -right to listen to me."</p> - -<p>"Hush! Of course I have a right to listen to you. I have every right to -do as I please with myself."</p> - -<p>The tragedy that shook her was that it was true, that all the passion -and beauty of her old love for Bert was dead, lying like a corpse in -her heart, never to be awakened and never utterly forgotten. "I will -be free," she promised, knowing that she never would be. But in her -deepest tenderness toward Paul she could shut her eyes to that.</p> - -<p>The promise made him happy. Despite his doubts, his restless conscience -not quite silenced, he was happy, and his happiness was reflected in -her. Something of magic revived, making the moment glamorous. She need -not think of the future; she need made no promises beyond that one. "I -will be free." A year, a year at least. Then they would plan.</p> - -<p>For the moment her tenderness enfolded him, who loved her so much, so -much that she could never give him enough to repay him. It came to her -in a clear flash of thought through one of their silences that the -maternal quality in a woman's love is not so much due to the mother in -the woman as to the child in the man.</p> - -<p>"You dear!" she said.</p> - -<p>He had to go at last. The morning train for Ripley, but he would write -her every day. "And you'll see—about it—right away?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, right away." The leaves of the rose-vines over the porch rustled -softly; a scented petal floated down through the moon-light. "Good-by, -dear."</p> - -<p>"Good-by." He hesitated, holding her hand. "Oh, Helen,— -<i>sweetheart</i>—" Then, quickly, he went without kissing her.</p> - -<p>She entered a house filled with a silence that turned to her many -faces, and switching out the little lamp she sat a long time in the -darkness, looking out at the moonlit lawn. She was tired. It was good -to be alone in the stillness, not to think, but to feel herself slowly -growing quiet and composed again around a quietly happy heart.</p> - -<p>Something of the glow went with her to the office next morning, -stayed with her all day, while she talked sub-soils, water-depths, -prices, terms, while she answered her letters, wrote her next week's -advertising, corrected proofs. The news in the papers was disquieting; -it appeared that the cloud over Europe was growing blacker. How long -would it be if war did come before its effects reached her territory, -slowly cut off her sales? Ted Collin's bill for gasoline was out of all -reason; there was a heated discussion in the office, telephone messages -to Clark in San Francisco. Business details engulfed her.</p> - -<p>On Wednesday she took her difficult prospect to the Sacramento lands -in the machine. He was hard to handle; salesmen for other tracts had -clouded the clear issue. She fell back on the old expedient of showing -him all those other tracts herself, with a fair-seeming impartiality -that damned them by indirection. There was no time for dreaming during -those hard three days; toiling over dusty fields with a soil-augur, -skilfully countering objections before they took form, nursing an -engine that coughed on three cylinders, dragging the man at last by -sheer force of will power to the point of signing on the dotted line. -She came exhausted into the Sacramento hotel late the third night, with -no thought in her mind but a bath and bed.</p> - -<p>Stopping at the telegraph counter to wire the firm that the sale was -closed, she heard a remembered voice at her elbow, and turned.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Monroe! You're up here too! How's it going?" She gave him a -dust-grimed hand.</p> - -<p>"Well, I'm not complaining, Mrs. Kennedy—not complaining. Just closed -thirty-five acres. And how are you? Fortune smiling, I hope?"</p> - -<p>"Just got in from the tract. Sold a couple of twenty-acre pieces."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, is that so? Fine work, fine work! Keep it up. It's a -pleasure to see a young lady doing so well. Well, well, and so you've -been out on the tract! I wonder if you've seen Gilbert yet?" His shrewd -old gossip-loving eyes were upon her. She turned to her message on the -counter, and after a pause of gazing blindly at it, she scrawled, "H. -D. Kennedy," clearly below it. "Send collect," she said to the girl, -and over her shoulder, "Gilbert who? Not my husband?"</p> - -<p>Yes. Monroe had run across him in San Francisco, and he was looking -well, very well indeed. Had asked about her; Monroe had told him she -was in San José. "But if you were on the tract, no doubt he failed to -find you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said. "I've been lost to the world for three days. Showed my -prospect every inch of land between here and Patterson. You know how it -is. I'm all in. Well, good-by. Good luck." As she crossed the lobby to -the elevator she heard her heels clicking on the mosaic floor, and knew -she was walking with her usual quick, firm step.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Sleep was impossible. Helen's exhausted nerves reacted in feverish -tenseness to the shock of this unexpected news of Bert. From long -experience she knew that in this half-delirious state she could not -trust her reasoning, must not accept seriously its conclusions, but she -could not stop her thoughts. They scurried uncontrolled through her -brain as if driven by a life of their own. She could only endure them -until her over-taxed body crushed them with its tired weight. To-morrow -she would be able to think.</p> - -<p>In the square hotel room, under the garish light that emphasized the -ugliness of red carpet and varnished mahogany furniture, she moved -about as usual, opening the windows, hanging up her hat and coat, -unfastening her bag. She did not forget the customary pleasant word to -the bell-boy who brought ice-water, and he saw nothing unusual in her -white face and bright eyes. This hotel saw her only on her return trips -from the tract, and she was always exhausted after making or losing a -sale. She locked the door behind him, and began to undress.</p> - -<p>Paul must pot be involved. She must manage to shield him. A sensation -of nausea swept over her. The vulgarity, the cheap coarseness of it! -But she must not think. She was too tired. Why had she blundered into -such a situation? What change had the years made in Bert? Her thoughts, -touching him, recoiled. She would not think of Paul. To have the -two in her mind together was intolerable, it was the essence of her -humiliation. Married to one man, bound to him by a thousand memories -that rushed upon her, and loving another, engaged to him! No fine, -self-respecting woman could be in such a position. But she was. She -must face that fact. No, she must not face it Not until she was rested, -in command of herself.</p> - -<p>She bathed, scrubbing her skin until it glowed painfully. Cold-cream -was not enough for her face and hands. She rubbed them with soap, with -harsh towels. At midnight she was washing her hair. If only she could -slip out of her body, run away from herself into a new personality, -forget completely all that she was or had been!</p> - -<p>This was hysteria, she told herself. "Only hold on, have patience, -wait. The days will go past you. Life clears itself, like running -water. It will be all right somehow. Don't try to think. You're too -tired."</p> - -<p>At dawn her eyelids were weary at last, and she fell asleep. She -prolonged the sleep consciously, half waking at intervals as the day -grew brighter, pulling oblivion over her head again to shield herself -from living, as a child hides beneath a quilt to keep away darkness.</p> - -<p>Outside the world had awakened, going busily about its affairs -while the day passed over it. The noise of the streets, voices, -automobile-horns, rumbling wheels, came through the open windows with -the hot sunshine, running like the sound of a river through her sleep. -She awoke in the late afternoon, heavy-lidded, with creased cheeks, but -once more quietly self-controlled.</p> - -<p>Refreshed by a cold plunge, crisply dressed, composed, she ate dinner -in the big, softly lighted dining-room, nodding across white tables -to the business men she knew. Then, led by an impulse she did net -question, she went out into the crowded streets. With her walked -the ghost of the girl who had come down from Masonville, dazzled, -wide-eyed, so pitifully sure of herself, to learn to telegraph.</p> - -<p>Sacramento had changed. It had been a big town; it was now a city, -radiating interurban lines, thrusting tall buildings toward the sky, -smudging that sky with the smoke of factories and canneries. Its -streets were sluggishly moving floods of automobiles; its wharves were -crowded with boats; across the wide, yellow river spans of new bridges -were reaching toward each other.</p> - -<p>All the statistics of the city's growth, of the great reclamation -projects, of the rich farms spreading over the old grain lands, were -at Helen's finger-tips. A hundred times she had gone over them, drawn -conclusions from them, pounded home-selling arguments with them, since -she had added Sacramento valley lands to the San Joaquin properties she -handled. But more eloquently her reviving memories showed her the gulf -between the old days and the new.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown's little restaurant and the room where Helen had lived, -were gone. In their place stood a six-story office building of raw new -brick. That imposing street down which she had stumbled awkwardly after -Mrs. Campbell was now a row of dingy boarding-houses. Mrs. Campbell's -house itself, once so awe-inspiring, had become a disconsolate building -with peeling paint, standing in a ragged lawn, and across the porch -where she and Paul had said good-by in the dawn there was now a black -and gold sign, "Ah Wong, Chinese Herb Doctor." She went quickly past it.</p> - -<p>For the first time in the hurried years her thoughts turned inward, -self-questioning, and she tried to follow step by step the changes that -had taken place in her. But she could not see them clearly for the -memory of the girl that she had been, a girl she saw now as a piteous -young thing quite outside herself, a lovely, emotional, valiant young -struggler against unknown odds. She felt an aching compassion, a -longing to shield that girl from the life she had faced with such blind -courage, to save her youth and sweetness. But the girl, of course, -was gone, like the room from which she had looked so eagerly at the -automobile.</p> - -<p>It was eleven o'clock when she walked briskly through the groups in the -hotel lobby, took her key from the room clerk and left a call for the -early San Francisco train. She would reach the city in time to get the -final contracts for the sale she had made yesterday, to take them to -San José and get them signed the same day. The thought of Bert lay like -a menace in the back of her mind, but she kept it there. She could not -foresee what would happen; she would meet it when it occurred. Meantime -she would go about her work as usual. Her attitude toward the future, -her attitude toward even herself, was one of waiting. She fell quietly -asleep.</p> - -<p>On the train next morning she bought the San Francisco papers. The -headlines screamed the news at her. It was war. She missed one train -to San José in order to talk to Mr. Clark. The news had made no change -in the atmosphere of Clark & Hayward's wide, clean-looking office, -where salesmen lounged against the counters, their elbows resting on -plate glass that covered surveyor's maps and photographs of alfalfa -fields. The talk, as she stopped to speak to one and another, was the -usual news of sales made and lost, quarrels over commissions, personal -gossip. She waited her turn to enter Mr. Clark's office, and when it -came she looked at him with a keenness hidden under the friendliness of -her eyes.</p> - -<p>She liked to talk to Mr. Clark. Three years of working with him had -brought her an understanding of this nervous, quick-witted, harassed -man. There was comradeship between them, a sympathy tempered by -wariness on both sides. Neither would have lost the slightest business -advantage for the other, but beyond that necessary antagonism they -were friends. She watched with pleasure the quick play of his mind, -managing hers as he would have handled the thoughts of a buyer; she was -conscious that he saw the motives behind her method of counter-attack; -a business interview between them was like a friendly bout between -fencers. But he spoke to her sometimes of the wife and children whose -pictures were on his desk; she knew how deeply he was devoted to them. -And once, during an idle evening in a Stockton hotel, he had held her -breathless with the whole story of his business career, talking to her -as he might have talked to himself.</p> - -<p>To-day there seemed to her an added shade of effort in his briskly -cheerful manner. The lines around his shrewd eyes had deepened since -she first knew him, and it struck her, as she settled into the chair -facing his across the flat desk, that his hair was quite gray. With -the alert, keen expression taken from his face he would appear an old -man.</p> - -<p>This expression was intensified when she spoke of the war, questioned -its effect on the business. It would have no effect, he assured her. -The future had never been brighter; Sacramento lands were booming; -fifty new settlers were going into Ripley Farmland Acres that fall. -Chaos on the stock market would make the solid investment values of -land even more apparent. If the war lasted a year or longer the prices -of American crops would rise.</p> - -<p>"I was wondering about the psychological effect," she murmured. Mr. -Clark ran a nervous hand through his hair.</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's all right. High prices will take care of the buyer's -psychology."</p> - -<p>She laughed.</p> - -<p>"While you take care of the salesman's." A twinkle in his eyes answered -the smile in hers, but she spoke again before he replied. "Mr. Clark, -I'd like to ask you something—rather personal. What do you really get -out of business?"</p> - -<p>A quizzical smile deepened the lines around his mouth.</p> - -<p>"Well, I got two million dollars out of it in the Portland boom! It's -a game," he said after a moment. "Just a game. That's all. I've made -two fortunes—you know that—and lost them. And now I'm climbing up -again. Oh, if I had it to do over again, I—" He changed the words on -his lips,—"I'd do the same thing. No doubt about it. We all think we -wouldn't, but we would. We don't make our lives. They make us."</p> - -<p>"Fatalist?"</p> - -<p>"Fatalist." They smiled at each other again as she rose and held out -her hand. He kept it a moment in a steadying grasp. "By the way, have -you heard that your husband's around?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." She thanked him with her eyes. "Good-by."</p> - -<p>She was oppressed by a sense of futility, of the hopeless muddle of -living, while the train carried her down the peninsula toward San José. -To escape from it she concentrated her attention on the afternoon -papers.</p> - -<p>They were filled with wild rumors, with names of strange towns in -Belgium, a mass of clamoring bulletins, confusing, yet somehow making -clear a picture of gray hordes moving, irresistible as a monstrous -machine, toward France, toward Paris. She was surprised by her passion -of resistance. Intolerable, that the Germans should march into Paris! -Why should she care so fiercely, she who knew nothing of Paris, nothing -but chance scraps of facts about Europe?</p> - -<p>"I must learn French," she said to herself, and was appalled by the -multitude of things she did not know, both without and within herself.</p> - -<p>The unsigned contracts in their long manila envelope were like an -anchor in a tossing sea. She must get them signed that night. It was -something to do, a definite action. She telephoned from the station, -making an appointment with the buyer, and felt the familiar routine -closing around her again while the street-car carried her down First -Street to her office.</p> - -<p>Bert was sitting in her chair, smoking and talking enthusiastically to -Hutchinson, when she opened the door. The shock petrified them all. -The two men stared at her, Hutchinson's expression of easy good humor -frozen on his face; Bert's hand, extended in the old, flashing gesture, -suspended in the air. The door closed behind her.</p> - -<p>Later she remembered Hutchinson's blood-red face, his awkward, even -comical, efforts to stammer that he hadn't expected her, that he must -be going, his blind search for his hat, his confused departure. At the -moment she seemed to be advancing to meet Bert in an otherwise empty -room, and though she felt herself trembling from head to foot her hands -and her voice were quite steady.</p> - -<p>"How do you do?" she said, beginning to unbutton her gloves:</p> - -<p>Though she had not been able to remember his face, it was as familiar -as if she had seen it every day; the low white forehead with the lock -of fair hair across it, the bright eyes, the aquiline nose, the rather -shapeless mouth—No, she had not remembered that his mouth was like -that. Her experienced eye saw self-indulgence and dissipation in the -soft flesh of his cheeks, the faint puffiness of the eyelids. Her -trembling was increasing, but it did not affect her. She was quite cool -and controlled.</p> - -<p>She heard unmoved his cajoling, confident expostulation. That was a -nice way to meet a man when he'd come—she brushed aside his embracing -arm with a movement of her shoulder. "We'd better sit down. Pardon -me." She took the chair he had left, her own chair, from which she had -handled so many land-buyers.</p> - -<p>"God, but you're hard!" His accusation held an unwilling admiration. -She saw that the way to lose this man was to cling to him; he wanted -her now, because she had no need of him. Memories of all the wasted -love, the self-surrender and faith she had given him, for which he had -not cared at all, which he had never seen or known how to value, came -back to her in a flood of pain. Her lips tightened, and looking at him -across the desk, she said:</p> - -<p>"Do you think so? I'm sorry. But—just what do you want?"</p> - -<p>He met her eyes for a moment, and she saw his effort to adjust himself, -his falling back upon his old self-confidence in bending other minds -to his desires. He could not believe that any one would successfully -resist him, that any woman was impervious to his charm. And suddenly -she felt hard, hard through and through. She wanted to hurt him -cruelly; she wanted to tear and wound his self-centered egotism, to -reach somewhere a sensitive spot in him and stab it.</p> - -<p>He wanted her, he said. He wanted his wife. She heard in his voice a -note she knew, the deep, caressing tone he kept for women, and she saw -that he used it skilfully, aware of its effect.</p> - -<p>He had gone through hell. "Through <i>hell</i>," he repeated vibrantly. -He did not expect her to understand. She was a woman. She could not -realize the tortures of remorse, the agonies of soul, the miseries -of those years without her. He sketched them for her, with voice and -gestures appealing to her pity. He had been a brute to her; he had been -a yellow cur to leave her so. He admitted it, magnificently humble.</p> - -<p>He had promised himself that he would not come back to her until he was -on his feet again. He had reformed. He was going to work. He was going -to cut out the booze. Already he had the most glittering prospects. -Fer de Leon, the king of patent-medicine men, was going to put on a -tremendous campaign in Australia. Fer de Leon had absolute confidence -in him; he could sign a contract at any time for fifteen thousand a -year.</p> - -<p>He wanted her to come with him. He needed her. With her beside him he -could resist all temptations. She was an angel; she was the only woman -he had ever really loved and respected. With her he could do anything. -Without her he would be hopeless, heartsick. God only knew what would -happen. "You'll forgive me, won't you? You won't turn me down. You'll -give me another chance?"</p> - -<p>She was looking down at her hands, unable any longer to read what her -eyes saw in him. Her hands lay folded on the edge of the desk, composed -and quiet, not moved at all by the sick trembling that was shaking her. -The desire to hurt him was gone. His appeal to her pity had dissolved -it in contempt.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry," she said with effort. "I hope you—you will go on -and—succeed in everything. I know you will, of course." She said it in -a tone of strong conviction, trying now to save his egotism. She did -not want to hurt him. "I know you have done the best you could. It's -all right. It isn't anything you've done. I don't blame you for that. -But it seems to me—"</p> - -<p>"Good God! How can you be so cold?" he cried.</p> - -<p>Even her hands were shaking now, and she quieted them by clasping -them together. "Perhaps I am cold," she said. "You see already that -we couldn't—make a success of it. It isn't your fault. We just -don't—suit each other. We never did really. It was all a mistake." Her -throat contracted.</p> - -<p>"So it's another man!" he said. "I might have known it."</p> - -<p>"No." She was quiet even under the sneer. "It isn't that. But there -was never anything to build on between you and me. You think you want -me now only because you can't have me. So it will not really hurt -you if I get a divorce. And I'd rather do that. Then we can both -start again—with clean slates. And I hope you will succeed. And have -everything you want." She rose, one hand heavily on the desk, and held -out the other. "Good-by."</p> - -<p>Her attempt to end the scene with frankness and dignity failed. He -could not believe that he had lost this object he had attempted to -gain. His wounded vanity demanded that he conquer her resistance. He -recalled their memories of happiness, tried to sway her with pictures -of the future he would give her, appealed to generosity, to pity, to -admiration. He played upon every chord of the feminine heart that he -knew.</p> - -<p>She stood immovable, sick with misery, and saw behind his words -the motives that prompted them, self-love, self-assurance, baffled -antagonism. She felt again, as something outside herself, the -magnetism, the force like an electric current, that had conquered her -once.</p> - -<p>"I really wish you would go," she said. "All this gains nothing for -either of us." At last he went.</p> - -<p>"You women are all alike. Don't think you've fooled me. It's another -man with more money. If I were not a gentleman you wouldn't get away so -easily with this divorce talk. But I am. Go get it!" The door crashed -behind him.</p> - -<p>She did not move for a long moment. Then she went into the inner -office, locked the door behind her, and sat down. Her glance fell on -her clenched hands. She had not worn her wedding-ring for some time, -but the finger was still narrowed a little, and on the inner side a -smooth, white mark showed where it had been. Quietly she folded her -arms on the desk and hid her face against them. After a little while -she began to sob, rough, hard sobs that tore her throat and forced a -few burning tears from her eyes.</p> - -<p>An hour went by, and another. She was roused, then, by the sound of -steps in the outer office. Doubtless a prospect had come in. She lifted -her head, and waited, without moving, until the steps went out again. -The noise of the streets came up to her as usual; street-cars clanged -past, a newsboy cried an extra. Across the corner the hands of the -clock in the Bank of San José building marked off the minutes with -little jerks.</p> - -<p>It was six o'clock. An urgent summons knocked at a closed door in her -mind. Six o'clock. She looked at her wrist-watch, and memory awoke. She -had an appointment at six-thirty, to close the final contracts on the -forty-acre sale. Hutchinson was depending on her to handle it. Below -the window the newsboy cried "War!" again.</p> - -<p>Wearily she bathed her face with cold water, combed her hair, adjusted -her hat. Contracts in hand, she locked the office door behind her, -and her face wore its necessary pleasant, untroubled expression. The -buyer's wife was charmed by her smile, and although the man was already -somewhat disturbed by the war news, Helen was able to persuade them to -sign the contracts.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>A week later she announced to Hutchinson that she was going to stop -selling land. She could give him no reasons that satisfied his startled -curiosity. She was simply quitting; that was all. He could manage the -office himself or get another partner; her leaving would make little -difference.</p> - -<p>He protested, trying half-heartedly to shake her determination. The -shattering of accustomed and pleasant routine shocked him; he was like -a man thrown suddenly from a boat into the unstable water.</p> - -<p>"But what do you want to do it for? What's the idea? Aren't we getting -along all right?" He was longing to ask if she were going to Bert, -whose arrival and immediate departure had not been explained to him. -The whole organization, she knew, was discussing it, and Hutchinson, on -the very scene of their meeting, was in the unhappy position of being -unable to give the interesting details. But he did not quite venture -to break through her reserve with a direct question. He scouted her -suggestion that the war would affect business. "Why, things have never -looked better! Here we've just made a forty-acre sale. Sacramento's -booming, and so is the San Joaquin. Fifty new settlers are going into -Farmland Acres this fall. There's going to be a boom in land. Folk -are going to see what a solid investment it is, the way stocks are -tumbling. And the farmers are going to make money hand over fist if the -war lasts a couple of years."</p> - -<p>"Oh, well, maybe you're right," she conceded, remembering the twinkle -in Mr. Clark's eye when she had accused him of taking care of the -salesman's psychology. She still believed that spring would see a slump -in real-estate business. She had learned too well that men did not -handle their affairs on a basis of cool logic; too often in her own -work she had taken advantage of the gusts of impulse and unreasoning -emotion that swayed them. There would be a period when they would be -afraid; no facts or arguments would persuade them to exchange solid -cash for heavily mortgaged land. But the point no longer interested her.</p> - -<p>She felt a profound weariness, an unease of spirit that was like the -ache of a body too long held motionless. Business had rested on her -like a weight for nearly four years. She could bear it no longer. She -must relax the self-control that held her own impulses and emotions in -its tight grip. The need was too strong to be longer resisted, too deep -in herself to be clearly understood. "I'm tired," she said. "I'm going -to quit."</p> - -<p>An agreement dividing their deferred commissions must be drawn up -and filed with the San Francisco office. Hutchinson took over her -half-interest in the automobile she had left to be repaired in -Sacramento. Already his mind was busy with new plans. Since she would -no longer write the advertising he would cut it out. "Want ads'll be -cheaper and good enough," he said.</p> - -<p>Thus simply the bonds were cut between her and all that had filled her -days and thoughts. She went home to the little bungalow, put the files -of her land advertisements out of sight, hung her hat and coat in the -closet.</p> - -<p>The house seemed strange, with early-afternoon sunlight streaming -through the living-room windows. It was delightfully silent and empty. -Long hours, weeks, months, stretched before her like blank pages on -which she might write anything she chose.</p> - -<p>She went through the rooms, straightening a picture, moving a chair, -taking up a vase of withering flowers. The curtains stirred in a cool -breeze that poured through the open windows and ruffled her hair. It -seemed to blow through her thoughts, too; she felt clean and cool and -refreshed. With a deep, simple joy she began to think of little things. -She would discharge the woman who came to clean; she would polish the -windows and dust the furniture and wash the dishes herself. To-morrow -she would get some gingham and make aprons. Perhaps Mabel and the baby -would come down for a visit; she would write and ask them.</p> - -<p>She was cutting roses to fill the emptied vase when she thought of -Paul. He came into her thoughts quite simply, as he had come before -Bert's return. She thought, with a warmth at her heart and a dimple in -her cheek, that she would telephone him to come next Sunday, and she -would make a peach shortcake for him.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The shortcake was a triumph when she set it, steaming hot and oozing -amber juice, on the table between them. "You certainly are a wonder, -Helen!" Paul said, struck by its crumbling perfection. "Here we haven't -been in the house an hour, and with a simple twist of the wrist you -give a fellow a dinner like this! Lucky we aren't living a couple of -centuries ago. You'd been burned for a witch." His eyes, resting on -her, were filled with warm light.</p> - -<p>Already he seemed to irradiate a glow of contentment; the hint of -sternness in his face had melted in a joy that was almost boyish, and -all day there had been a touch of possessive pride in his contemplation -of her. It intoxicated her; she felt the exhilaration of victory in her -submission to it, and a sense of her power over him gave sparkle to her -delight in his nearness.</p> - -<p>Her bubbling spirits had been irrepressible: she had flashed into -whimsicalities, laughed at him, teased him, melted into sudden -tendernesses. Together they had played with light-hearted absurdities, -chattering nonsense while they explored a rocky canyon in Alumn Rock -Park, a canyon peopled only with bright-eyed furtive creatures of the -forest whisking through tangled underbrush and over fallen logs. They -had looked at each other with dancing eyes, smothering bursts of mirth -like children hiding some riotous joke, when they came down into the -holiday crowd around the hot-dog counters at the park gate, and side by -side with Portuguese and Italians, they had bought ice-cream cones from -a hurdy-gurdy and listened to the band.</p> - -<p>Now she looked at him across her own dinner-table, and felt that the -last touch of perfection had been given a happy day. She laughed -delightedly.</p> - -<p>"It's a funny thing when you think of it," he went on, pouring -cream over the fruity slices. "Here you're working all week in an -office—just about as good a little business woman as they make 'em, I -guess—and then on top of it you come home and cook like mother never -did. It beats me."</p> - -<p>"Well—you see I like to cook," she said. "It's recreation. Lots of -successful business men are pretty good golf players. Besides I'm not a -business woman any more. I've left the office. Shall I pour your coffee -now?"</p> - -<p>"Left the office!" he exclaimed. "What for? When?"</p> - -<p>"The other day. I don't know why. I felt—oh, I don't know. I just -quit. Why, Paul!" She was startled by his expression.</p> - -<p>"Well—it would rather surprise anybody," he said. "A sudden change -like this. You didn't give me any idea—" There was a shade of reproach -in his tone, which shifted quickly to pugnacity. "That partner of -yours—what's-his-name? He hasn't been putting anything over on you?"</p> - -<p>"Why, no, of course not! I just made up my mind to stop selling land. -I'm tired of it. Besides, it looks as though there'd be a slump in the -business."</p> - -<p>"Well, you can't tell. However, you may be right," he conceded. He -smiled ruefully. "It's going to be pretty hard on me, though—your -quitting. It's a long way to Masonville."</p> - -<p>"To Masonville?" she repeated in surprise.</p> - -<p>"Aren't you going there?"</p> - -<p>"Why on earth should I go to Masonville?" She caught at the words, not -quite quickly enough to stop them. "Oh, I know—my mother. Of course. -But, to tell the truth, Paul, I'm fond of her and all that, you know -I've been up to see her a good many times,—but after all we've been -apart a long time, and my life's been so different. She doesn't exactly -know what to make of me. I honestly don't think either of us would be -very happy if I were to go back there now. She has Mabel, you know, -and the baby. It isn't as though—" Floundering in her explanations, -she broke through them, with a smile, to frankness. "As a matter of -fact, I never even thought of going back there."</p> - -<p>There was bewilderment in his eyes, but he repressed a question.</p> - -<p>"Just as you like, of course. Naturally I supposed,—but I'm glad you -aren't going. Two lumps, please."</p> - -<p>"As though I wouldn't remember!" she laughed. But as she dropped the -sugar into his cup and tilted the percolator, a memory flashed across -her mind. She saw him sitting at a little table in a dairy lunch-room, -struggling to hide his embarrassment, carefully dipping two spoonsful -of sugar from the chipped white bowl, and the memory brought with it -many others.</p> - -<p>The iridescent mood of the afternoon was gone, and reaching for the -deeper and more firm basis of emotion between them, she braced herself -to speak of another thing she had not told him.</p> - -<p>Constraint had fallen upon them; they were separated by their diverging -thoughts, and uneasily, with effort, they broke the silence with -disconnected scraps of talk. Time was going by; already twilight crept -into the room, and looking at his watch, Paul spoke of his train. -Helen led the way to the porch, where the shade of climbing rose-vines -softened the last clear gray light of the day. There was sadness in -this wan reflection of the departed sunlight; the air was still, and -the creaking of the wicker chair, when Helen settled into it, the sharp -crackle of Paul's match as he lighted his after-dinner cigar, seemed -irreverently loud. With a sudden keen need to be nearer him, Helen drew -a deep breath, preparing to speak and to clear away forever the last -barrier between them.</p> - -<p>But his words met hers before they were uttered.</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do, then, Helen?—If you aren't going home?" he -added, before her uncomprehension.</p> - -<p>"Oh, that! Why—I haven't thought exactly. I'd like to stay at home, -stay here in my own house. There's so much to do in a house," she -said, vaguely. "I've never had time to do it before."</p> - -<p>His voice was indulgent.</p> - -<p>"That'll be fine! It's just what you ought to have a chance to do. But, -see here, Helen, of course it's none of my business yet, in a way, but -naturally I'd worry about it. It takes an income to keep up a house, -you know. I'd like—you know everything I've got is—is just the same -as yours, already."</p> - -<p>"Paul, you dear! Don't worry about that at all. If I needed any help -I'd ask you, truly. But I don't."</p> - -<p>"Well, we might as well look at it practically," he persisted. "It's -going to figure up maybe more than you think to keep this house going. -Not that I want you to give it up if you'd rather stay here," he -parenthesized, quickly. "I'd rather have you here than in Masonville, -and I'd rather have you in Ripley than here, for that matter. Say, why -couldn't you come down there? I could fix up that little bungalow on -Harper Street. And every one knows you're an old friend of mother's."</p> - -<p>"I might do something like that," she said at random. She was troubled -by the knowledge that their hour was slipping past and the conversation -going in the wrong direction.</p> - -<p>"It would cost you hardly anything to live there. And we could—"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said. "I'd love that part of it. You know how I'd like to -see you every minute. But there's plenty of time. I'll think about it, -dear."</p> - -<p>"That's just the point. There is so much time. A whole year and more -before I can—and it would be just like you to half starve yourself and -never say a word to me about it."</p> - -<p>"O Paul!" she laughed, "you are so funny! And I love you for it. Well, -then, listen. I have a little over twelve hundred dollars in the bank. -Not much, is it, to show for all the years I've been working? But it -will keep me from growing gaunt and hollow-eyed for lack of food, quite -a little while. And if I really did need more there's a whole world -full of money all around me, you know. So please don't worry. I promise -to eat and eat. I promise never to stop eating as long as I live. -Regularly, three times a day, every single day!"</p> - -<p>"All right," he said. His cigar-end glowed red for a minute through the -gathering dusk. She put her hand on his sleeve, and it moved beneath -her fingers until its firm, warm grip closed over them. Palm against -palm and fingers interlaced, they sat in silence. "It's going to be a -long time," he said. After a long moment he added gruffly, "I suppose -you've—begun the thing—seen a lawyer?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to, this week. I—hate to—somehow. It's so—"</p> - -<p>"You poor dear! I wish to heaven you didn't have to go through it. But -I suppose it won't be—there won't be any trouble. Tell me, Helen, -honestly. You do want to do it? You aren't keeping—anything from me?"</p> - -<p>"No. I do want to. But there's something I've got to tell you. He's -come back." He was instantly so still that his immobility was more -startling than a cry. At the faint relaxing of his hand, her own fled, -and clenched on the arm of her chair. Quietly, in a voice that was -stiff from being held steady, she told him something of her interview -with Bert. "I thought you ought to know. I didn't want you to hear it -from some one else."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you told me. But—don't let's ever speak of him again." His -gesture of repugnance flung the cigar in a glowing arc over the porch -railing, and it lay a red coal in the grass.</p> - -<p>"I don't want to." She rose to face him, putting her hands on his -shoulders. "But, Paul, I want you to understand. He never was anything -to me, really. Nothing real, I mean. It was just because I was a -foolish girl and lonely and tired of working—and I didn't understand. -We never were really <i>married</i>." She stumbled among inadequate words, -trying to make him feel what she felt. "There wasn't any reality -between us, any real love, nothing solid to build a marriage on. And I -think there is between you and me."</p> - -<p>"The only thing I want," he said, his arms around her, "the only thing -I want in the world is just to take you home and take care of you."</p> - -<p>She kissed him, a hushed solemnity in her heart. He was so good, so -fine and strong. With all her soul she longed to be worthy of him, to -make him happy, to be able to build with him a serene and beautiful -life.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The days went by with surprising slowness. In the mornings, waking -with the first twittering of the birds in the vines over the sleeping -porch, she started upright, to relax again on the pillows and stretch -luxuriously between the cool sheets, with delicious realization that -the whole, long day was hers. But her body, filled with energy, -rebelled at inaction. She rose, busying her mind with small plans while -she dressed and breakfasted. At ten o'clock she could think of nothing -more to do to the house or the garden, and still time stretched before -her, prolonged indefinitely, empty.</p> - -<p>The house, lamentably failing as an occupation, became a prison. She -escaped from it to the streets. She shopped leisurely, comparing colors -and fabrics and prices, seeking the bargains she had been obliged to -forego while she was working. An afternoon spent in this way might -save her a dollar, and her business sense grinned at her sardonically. -She might meet an acquaintance, a woman who lived near her, and over -ices elaborately disguised with syrups and nuts they could talk of the -movies, the weather, the stupidities of servants. Time had become an -adversary to be destroyed as pleasantly as possible. In the long, lazy -afternoons she sat on a neighboring porch, listening to talk about -details, magnified, distorted, handled over and over again, and while -her fingers were busy at an embroidery hoop, stitching bits of thread -back and forth through bits of cloth, her mind yawned with boredom.</p> - -<p>At night, letting down her hair, she looked back at a day gone from her -life, a day spent in sweeping and dusting and making pleasant a house -that must be swept and dusted and made pleasant on the morrow, a day -that had accomplished several inches of scalloping on a table-cloth, -and she was overwhelmed with a sense of futility. "After all, I've -rather enjoyed it," she said. "To enjoy a day—what more can one do -with it?" The argument rang hollow in her mind, answered only by an -uneasy silence.</p> - -<p>If she were with Paul the days would mean more, she told herself. But -it seemed best to remain in San José until the first legal formalities -were done. The case, her lawyer told her, would come on the court -calendar in four or five weeks. She would have no difficulty in getting -a decree. "But can't you charge something to make it more impressive? -No violence? He never hit you or threw anything at you?" The lawyer's -eyes filled with a certain eagerness. Wincing, she told him with cold -fury that she would charge nothing but desertion. No, she wanted no -alimony. When, disappointed, he had jotted these details on a pad and -tried with professional jocularity to make her smile, she escaped, -shrinking with loathing.</p> - -<p>Something like this she must endure again, upon a witness-stand in open -court. Better to face it alone, to finish it and push it behind her -into the past before she went to Ripley to meet the shrewd interest -of Mrs. Masters and the warmth of Paul's sympathy. Meantime her life -seemed motionless as a treadmill is motionless, and a vague irritation -nagged at her nerves.</p> - -<p>She began to frequent the public library. In a locked room, to which -the librarian gave her the key after an embarrassed scrutiny, she -found on forbidden shelves a history of marriage, and curled among -the cushions on her window-seat, she spent an afternoon absorbed in -tracing that institution from the first faint appreciation of the -property value of women into the labyrinth of custom and morality to -which it led. She became interested in marriage laws, and discovered -with amazement the contracts so blithely entered upon by men and -women who would not so unquestioningly subscribe to any other legal -agreement. When she wearied of this subject, she turned to others -and, with an interest sharpened by the European news, she devoured -history and floundered beyond her depths in economics. She bought a -French dictionary and grammar and, finding them but palely alluring -in themselves, she boldly attacked <i>La Livre de Mon Ami</i>, digging the -meaning from its charming pages eagerly as a miner washing gold. But -the nights found her still haunted by a restlessness as miserable and -vague as that of unused muscles. "I wish I were doing something!" she -cried.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Two weeks after she left the office her feet took her back to it, as if -by volition of their own. The familiar walls, covered with photographs -of alfalfa fields and tract maps painted with red ink, closed around -her like the walls of home. Hutchinson sat smoking at his desk; nothing -had changed. She said that she had only dropped in for a moment. How -was business? Her eye automatically noted the squares of red on the -maps. "Hello! That three-cornered piece by Sycamore Slough's gone! Who -sold it?"</p> - -<p>"Watson," said Hutchinson. "He's uncovered a gold mine in the -Healdsburg country, selling the farmers hand over fist. Last week he -brought down a prospect who—" She heard the story to its end, capped -it with one of her own, and two hours had passed before she realized it.</p> - -<p>In another week it had become her habit to drop in at the office every -time she came down town, to discuss Hutchinson's difficulties with him, -even on occasion to help him handle a sale. Business prospects were -not brightening; the prune market was disrupted by the European War, -orchardists were panic stricken; already a formless, darkening shadow -hung over men's minds. In any case she had no intention of going back -into business; she told herself that she detested it. And she continued -to go to the office.</p> - -<p>Hutchinson awaited her one day with a bit of news. A man named MacAdams -had been telephoning; he was coming to the office; he wanted to see -her. "MacAdams?" she repeated. "Odd—I seem to remember the name."</p> - -<p>MacAdams came in five minutes later, and the sight of his square, -deeply lined face, the deep-sunken eyes under bushy gray brows, brought -back to her vividly all the details of her first sale. She met him with -an out-stretched hand, which MacAdams ignored. "I'd like a few words -with you, miss."</p> - -<p>She led him into the inner office, closed the door, made him sit down. -He sat upright, gnarled hands on his knees, and badly, in simple words, -laid his case before her. The land she had sold him was no good. It -was hard-pan land. After he bought it he had saved his money for a -year and moved to that land. "They told me I could make the payments -from the crops." He had leveled the forty acres, checked it, seeded it -to alfalfa. The alfalfa had begun to die the second year. That fall -he plowed it up and sowed grain. He made enough from that to pay for -seed and meet the water-tax. In the spring he and his boy had planted -beans. The boy had cultivated them, and he had worked out, making money -enough for food. The irrigation ditch broke; they could get no water -for the beans when they needed it. The beans had died. He was two years -behind in his payments; he could not meet the interest; he owed a -hundred dollars in grocery bills.</p> - -<p>"I put three thousand dollars into that land. I went to see your firm -about it. They said they would give me more time to pay the rest if I -would keep up the interest. But I want no more farming; I'm done. They -can have the land. It's no good on God's earth. I'm blaming nobody, -miss. A man that is a fool is a fool. But I want back some of the -money, so I can move my family to the city and live till I get a job. -It is no more than justice, and I come to ask you for it."</p> - -<p>She heard him to the end, one hand supporting her cheek, the other -drawing aimless pencil marks on the desk blotter. His request was -hopeless, she knew; even if Clark had wanted to return the money, it -had gone long ago in overhead and in payments to the owners of the -land. No one could be compelled to return any part of the payment -MacAdams had made on the contract he had signed. Clearly before her -eyes rose the picture of the little tract office, the smoky oil lamp, -Nichols in his chair, and she herself awaiting the word from MacAdams' -lips that would decide her fate and Bert's. Parrot-like words, repeated -many times, resaid themselves. "I'm sorry. Of course you know that -in any large tract of land there will be a few poor pieces. I acted -in perfectly good faith; you saw the land, examined it—" She met -MacAdams's eyes. "I'll give back all the money I made on it," she said.</p> - -<p>She wrote a check for six hundred dollars, blotted it carefully, handed -it to him. His stern face was as tremulous as water blown upon by the -wind, but he said nothing, shaking her hand with a force that hurt and -going away quickly with the check. After the door closed behind him -she remembered that she had got only three hundred dollars from the -sale. The remainder had gone to cover Bert's debts. At this, shaken by -emotions, she laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>"Well, anyway, now you'll have plenty to do!" she said to herself. "Now -you'll get out and scurry for money to live on!" She felt a momentary -chill of panic, but there was exhilaration in it.</p> - -<p>She would not return to selling land. Her determination was reinforced -by the possibility that if she did she would find herself penniless -before she had made a sale. No, she must earn money in some other way. -She walked slowly home, wrapped in abstraction, searching her mind -for an idea. It was like gazing at the blankness of a cloudless sky, -but her self-confidence did not waver. All about her men no wiser, no -better equipped than she, were making money.</p> - -<p>Sitting at the walnut desk in her sunny living-room she drew a sheet -of paper before her and prepared to take stock of her equipment. Her -thoughts became clearer when they were written. But after looking for -some time at the blank sheet, she began carefully to draw interlacing -circles upon it. There seemed nothing to write.</p> - -<p>She was twenty-six years old. She had been working for eight years. -Telegraphing was out of the question; she would not go back to that. -Her four years of selling land had brought her nothing but a knowledge -of human minds, a certain cleverness in handling them, and a distaste -for doing it. And advertising. She could write advertisements; she -had records in dollars and cents that proved it. What she needed was -an idea, something novel, striking and soundly valuable, with which -to attack an advertiser. Her mind remained quite blank. Against the -background of the swaying rose-colored curtains picture after picture -rose before her vague eyes. But no idea.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she thought of Paul, of her plan of going to Ripley, now -demolished. She could not work there; if Paul suspected her difficulty -he would insist upon helping her. He would be hurt by her refusal, -however carefully she tried not to hurt him. "Oh, you little idiot! -You have made a mess of things!" she said.</p> - -<p>Half-formed thoughts began to scamper frantically through her mind. -This was no way to face a problem, she knew. She would think no more -about it until to-morrow. Smiling a little, she began a letter to Paul, -a long, whimsical letter, warmed with tenderness, saying nothing and -saying it charmingly. An hour later, rereading it and finding it good, -she folded it into its envelope and put a tiny kiss upon the flap, -smiling at herself.</p> - -<p>Lest her perplexities come back to break the contentment of her -mood, she barricaded herself against the silence of the house with a -magazine. It was the "Pacific Coast," a San Francisco publication of -particular interest to her because of its articles on California land. -She had once wished to write a series of reading-matter advertisements -to be printed in it, but Clark had overruled her idea, favoring display -type.</p> - -<p>She was buried in a story of the western mining camps when from the -blank depths of her mind the idea she had wanted sprang with the -suddenness of an explosion. What chance contact of buried memories had -produced it she could not tell, but there it was. As she considered -it, it appeared now commonplace and worthless, now scintillating with -bright possibilities. In the end, composing herself to sleep on the -star-lit porch, she decided to test it.</p> - -<p>Early the next afternoon she arrived at the San Francisco offices of -the "Pacific Coast" and asked to speak to the circulation manager.</p> - -<p>She was impressed by the atmosphere of dignity and restraint in the -large, bland offices. Sunshine streamed through big windows over tidy -desks and filing-cabinets; girls moved about quietly, carrying sheaves -of typewritten matter in smooth, ringless hands; even the click of -typewriters was subdued, like the sound of well-bred voices. Her -experiences of newspaper offices had not prepared her for this, and her -pulses quickened at this glimpse of a strange, uncharted world.</p> - -<p>The circulation manager was a disappointment. He was young, and -desirous of concealing the fact. His manner, a shade too assertive, -betrayed suppressed self-distrust; being doubtful of his own ability -he sought to reassure himself by convincing others of it. Had she been -selling him land, she would have played upon this shaky egotism, but -here the weapon turned against her. He was prepared to demonstrate his -efficiency by swiftly dismissing her.</p> - -<p>Drawing upon all her resources of salesmanship, she presented her plan. -She wished to organize a crew of subscription solicitors and cover the -state, section by section. She would interview chambers of commerce, -boards of trade, business men, and farmers, gathering material for an -article on local conditions; she would get free publicity from the -newspapers; she would stimulate interest in the "Pacific Coast."</p> - -<p>"Every one likes to read about himself, and next he likes to read -about his town. I will see that every man and woman in the territory -knows that the "Pacific Coast" will run articles about his own -local interests. Then the solicitors will come along and take his -subscription. The solicitors will work on commission; the only -expense will be my salary and the cost of writing the articles. And -the articles will be good magazine features, in addition to their -circulation value."</p> - -<p>His smile was pityingly superior.</p> - -<p>"My dear young lady, if I used our columns for schemes like that!" -She perceived that she had encountered a system of ethics unknown -to her. "We are not running a cheap booster's magazine, angling for -subscriptions." And he pointed out that every article must interest a -hundred thousand subscribers, while an article on one section of the -state appealed only to the local interest. The talk became an argument -on this point.</p> - -<p>"But towns have characters, like people. Every town in California is -full of stories, atmosphere, romance, color. Why, you couldn't write -the character of one of them without interesting every reader of your -magazine!"</p> - -<p>He ended the interview with a challenge.</p> - -<p>"Well, you bring me one article that will pass one of our readers and -I may consider the scheme." He turned to a pile of letters, and his -gesture indicated his satisfaction in dismissing her so neatly and -finally.</p> - -<p>It left a sting that pricked her pride and made her nerves tingle. -She was passed outward through the suave atmosphere of the offices, -and every shining wood surface affected her like a smile of conscious -superiority.</p> - -<p>She went to see Mr. Clark, who welcomed her with regrets that she had -left the organization, and at her suggestion readily promised her a -place in his office at a moderate salary. But to take it seemed a -self-confession of failure. Mr. Clark's offer was left open, and she -returned to San José smarting with resentful humiliation.</p> - -<p>The sun was low when she alighted at the station. Amber-colored light -lay over the green of St. James Park, and the long street beyond -glowed with the dull, warm tone of weathered brick. The tall windows -and gabled roofs of the old business blocks threw back the flames of -the level sun-rays. In the gray light below them the bell of El Camino -Real stood voiceless at the corner of the old Alameda beside a red -fire-alarm box, and around it scores of farmers' automobiles fringed -the wide cement sidewalks.</p> - -<p>Here, within the memory of men yet living, fields of wild mustard had -hidden hundreds of grazing cattle and vaqueros, riding down to them -from the foot-hills, had vanished in seas of yellow bloom; here the -padres had trudged patiently on the road from Santa Clara to Mission -San José; here pioneers had broken the raw soil and lined the cup of -the valley with golden wheat fields, and Blaine had come in the heyday -of his popularity, counseling orchards.</p> - -<p>Now, mile after mile to the edge of the blue hills, prune-trees and -apricots and cherries stood in trim rows, smooth boulevards hummed with -the passing of motor-cars, and where the vaqueros had broken the wild -mustard, San José stood, the throbbing heart of all these arteries -reaching into past and present and future.</p> - -<p>"And he says there's nothing of interest here!" she cried. "Oh, if only -I could write it! If I could write one tenth of it!"</p> - -<p>Midnight found her sitting before her typewriter, disheveled, hot-eyed, -surrounded by crumpled sheets of paper, pondering over sentences, -discarding paragraphs, by turns glowing with satisfaction and chilled -by hopelessness. "I could write an advertisement about it," she -thought. "I could interest a buyer. Magazine articles are different. -But human beings are all alike. Interest them. I've got to interest -them. If I can just make it human, make them see—Oh, what an idiot -that man was!" Absorbed in her attempt to express the spirit of San -José, she still felt burning within her a rage against him. "I'll show -him, anyway, that there are some things he doesn't see!"</p> - -<p>Next morning she read her work and found it worthless.</p> - -<p>"I'll write it like a letter," she thought, and pages poured easily -from the typewriter. She spent the next day slashing black pencil-marks -through paragraphs, shifting sentences, altering words. The intricacy -of the work fascinated her; it allured like an embroidery pattern, -challenged like a land sale, roused all her energies.</p> - -<p>When she could do no more, she read and re-read the finished article. -She thought it hopelessly stupid; she thought it as good as some she -had read; a sentence glinted at her like a ray of light, and again it -faded into insignificance. She did not know what she thought about it. -The memory of that irritating young man decided her. "It may be done -absurdly, but it will prove my point. There is something here to write -about." She sent it to him.</p> - -<p>After five empty days, during which she struggled in a chaos of -indecisions, she tore open an envelope with the "Pacific Coast" -imprint. "Perhaps that plan will go through, after all," she thought. -She read a note asking her to call, a note signed "A. C. Hayden, -Editor."</p> - -<p>The next afternoon she was in his office. It was a quiet room, lined -with filled bookcases, furnished with comfortable chairs and a huge -table loaded with proofs and manuscripts piled in orderly disorder. Mr. -Hayden himself gave the same impression of leisurely efficiency; Helen -felt that he accomplished a great deal of work without haste, smiling. -He was not hurried; he was quite willing to discuss her circulation -scheme, listening sympathetically, pointing out the reasons why it -was not advisable. Her article lay on the desk. It had brought her a -pleasant interview. After all, there was no reason why she should not -accept Clark's offer.</p> - -<p>"Now this," Mr. Hayden said, unfolding her manuscript. "We can use -this, simply as a story, if you want to sell it to us. With the right -illustrations and a few changes it will make a very good feature. Our -rates, of course—" Helen had made no sound, but some quality in her -breathless silence interrupted him. He looked at her questioningly.</p> - -<p>"You don't mean—I can write?"</p> - -<p>He was amused.</p> - -<p>"People do, you know. In fact, most people do—or try. You'd realize -that if you were a magazine editor. Have you never written before?"</p> - -<p>"Well—reader advertisements and letters, of course. I haven't thought -of really writing, not since I was a school girl." She was dazzled.</p> - -<p>"Advertisement! That accounts for it. You cramp your style here and -there. But you can write. You have an original viewpoint; you write -with a sense of direction, and you pack in human interest—human -interest's always good. And you know the values of words."</p> - -<p>"When you're paying three dollars and eighty cents an inch for -space you do think about them!" she laughed. His words revealed the -unmeasured stretches of her ignorance in this new field, but the blood -throbbed in her temples. Her mind became a whirl of ideas; she saw -the world as a gold mine, crammed with things to write about. Eagerly -attentive, she listened to Mr. Hayden's criticisms of the manuscript.</p> - -<p>Her lead was too long. "You spar around before you get to the point. -The story really begins here." His pencil hovered over the page. "If -you don't object to our making changes?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, please dot I want to learn."</p> - -<p>An hour went by, and another. Mr. Hayden was interested in her opinions -on all subjects; he led her to talk of land selling, of advertising, of -the many parts of California that she knew. He suggested a series of -articles similar to the one he held in his hand. He would be glad to -consider them if she would write them. If she had other ideas, would -she submit them?</p> - -<p>She left the office with a check in her purse, and her mind was filled -with rainbow visions. She saw a story in every newsboy she met, ideas -clothed with romance and color jostled each other for place in her -mind, and the world seemed a whirling ball beneath her feet. For the -first time since the interview with MacAdams she longed to rush to -Paul, to share with him her glittering visions.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Paul was aggrieved. He stood in the dismantled living-room of the -little bungalow, struggling between forbearance and a sense of the -justice of his grievance. "But look here!" he said for the hundredth -time, "why couldn't you let a fellow know? If I'd had a chance to show -you how unreasonable, how unnecessary—" He thrust his hands deep into -his coat-pockets and walked moodily up and down between the big trunk -and the two bulging suitcases that stood on the bare floor.</p> - -<p>Helen, drooping wearily on one of the suitcases, contritely searched -her mind for a reply. It was bewildering not to find one. On all other -points of the discussion her reasons were clear and to her convincing. -But surely she should have informed him of her plans. He had never for -a moment been forgotten; the knowledge of him continually glowed in her -heart, warming her even when her thoughts were furthest from him.</p> - -<p>She could not understand the disassociation of ideas that had caused -this apparent neglect of him. There was no defense against her -self-accusation.</p> - -<p>"I'm terribly sorry," she murmured inadequately. He had already passed -over the point, beginning again the circling argument that had occupied -them since his unexpected arrival.</p> - -<p>"Can't you see, dear, there's no reason under the sun for a move -like this? You'll no more than get settled in the city before—" His -moodiness vanished. "Oh, come on, sweetheart! Chuck the whole thing. -Come on down to Ripley. It's only for a little while. Why should you -care so much about a little money? You'll have to get used to my paying -the bills some time, you know; it might as well be now. No? Yes!" His -arm was around her shoulders, and she smiled up into his coaxing, -humorous eyes.</p> - -<p>"You're a dear! No, but seriously, Paul, not yet. It's all -arranged—the 'Pacific Coast' is counting on me, and I've got the new -series started in the 'Post.' Just think of all the working girls you'd -rob of oodles of good advice that they won't follow! Please don't feel -so badly, dear." Her voice deepened. "I'll tell you the real reason I -want to go. If I can get really started, if I can get my name pretty -well known—A name in this writing game, you know, is just like a -trade-mark. It's established by advertising. Well, if I can do that, I -can keep on writing wherever I am, even in Ripley. And then I'll have -something to do and a little income. I—I would like that. Don't you -see how beautiful it would be?"</p> - -<p>"It may be your idea of beautifulness, but I can't say I'm crazy about -it," he replied. He sat on the suitcase, his hands clasped between his -knees, and stared glumly at his boots. "Why do you want an income? I -can take care of you."</p> - -<p>"Of course!" she assured him, hastily. "I didn't mean—"</p> - -<p>"And when it comes to something to do—you're going to have me on your -hands, you know!" he continued, with a troubled smile.</p> - -<p>"I do believe he's jealous!" She laughed coaxingly, slipping a hand -through the crook of his unyielding arm. "Are you jealous? Just as -jealous as you can be? Jealous of my typewriter?" She bent upon him a -horrific frown. "Answer to me, sir! Do you love that electric plant? -How dare you look at dynamos!"</p> - -<p>He surrendered, laughing with her.</p> - -<p>"You little idiot! Just the same—oh, well, what's the use? Just so -you're happy."</p> - -<p>It was the first time there had been a sense of reservations behind -their kiss. But he seemed not to know it, radiating content.</p> - -<p>"All right, run along and play in San Francisco. I don't care. I do -care. I do care like the devil. But it won't be long. Only I warn you, -I'm not going to be called Mr. Helen Davies!"</p> - -<p>She laughed too, rising and tucking up her hair.</p> - -<p>"As if I wanted you to be! I'll never be so well-known as that, don't -fear! Now if I were a real writer—" The trace of wistfulness in her -voice was quickly repressed. "Then, young man, you'd have reason to -worry! But I'm not. I wonder if that expressman's never coming!"</p> - -<p>"You oughtn't to be trying to manage all this yourself," he said. "I -wish I'd known in time. I could have come up and done it for you."</p> - -<p>She was touched by his whole-hearted acceptance of her plans, and she -felt a twinge of regret, a longing to acquiesce in his. But some strong -force within herself would not yield. She could not be dependent upon -him, not yet. Later—later she would feel differently.</p> - -<p>There were six months between her and final legal freedom. The -miserable half hour that had given her an interlocutory decree of -divorce had been buried by the rush of new events; routine completion -of the court's action had no vital meaning for her. She had in reality -been long divorced from the past she wished to forget. The date six -months in the future meant only the point at which she would face the -details of a new life. Until that time she need not consider them too -closely. It was enough to know that she and Paul loved each other. All -difficulties when she reached them would be conquered by that love.</p> - -<p>She turned a bright face to him.</p> - -<p>"Let's go out and walk in the sunshine. An empty house is so sorrowful. -And I have heaps of things to tell you."</p> - -<p>They walked slowly up and down the pleasant tree-shaded street, passing -the homelike porches at which she no longer looked wistfully. Her mind -was filled with the immediate, intoxicating future, and she tumbled out -for Paul's inspection all her anticipations.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hayden had refused her last story, about immigration conditions -on Angel Island, and she had sent it to an Eastern weekly. Wouldn't -it be splendid if they took it! And wasn't it a bit of luck, getting -the "Post's" city editor to take her idea of a department for -working-girls' problems?</p> - -<p>And the new series—the series that was taking her to San Francisco. -"O Paul, if I can only do it half as well as I want to! I'm just sure -Mr. Hayden would take it. 'San Francisco Nights.' Bagdad-y stuff, you -know, Arabian Nights. You've no idea how fascinating San Francisco is -at night. The fishing fleet, going out from Fisherman's Wharf over the -black water, with Alcatraz Light flashing across the colored boats, and -the fishermen singing 'Il Trovatore.' Honestly, Paul, they do. And the -vegetable markets, down in the still, ghostly, wholesale district at -three o'clock in the morning, masses of color and light, the Italian -farmers with their blue jackets and red caps, and the huge, sleepy -horses, and the Chinese peddlers pawing over the vegetables, with their -long, yellow fingers."</p> - -<p>"At three o'clock in the morning! You don't mean you're dreaming of -going down there?"</p> - -<p>"I've already been," she said guiltily. "With one of the girls, Marian -Marcy. I told you about her last week. The girl on the 'Post,' you -know?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I hope at least you had a policeman with you."</p> - -<p>"Naturally one would have," she replied diplomatically. Absorbed in -the interest of these new experiences, she had not thought of being -fearful; without considering the question, she had felt quite capable -of meeting any probable situation. But she perceived that she was -alarming Paul.</p> - -<p>It seemed safer to discuss the little house she had rented, the -little house that hung like a swallow's nest on the steep slopes of -Russian Hill, overlooking the islands of the bay and the blue Marin -hills. Eager to take Paul's imagination with her, she described it -minutely, its wood-paneled walls, its great windows, the fireplace, the -kitchenette where they would cook supper together when he came to see -her.</p> - -<p>"And you'll come often? Every week?" she urged.</p> - -<p>"You'll see me spending the new parlor wall-paper for railroad fares!" -he promised.</p> - -<p>"Just as well. I don't want wall-paper there, anyway!"</p> - -<p>When the expressman had come and gone, she locked the door of the -bungalow for the last time, with a sense of efficient accomplishment.</p> - -<p>"Now!" she said, "We'll play until time for the very latest train for -San Francisco."</p> - -<p>Their delight in each other seemed all the brighter for the temporary -disagreement, like sunshine after a foggy morning. Her heart ached when -the evening ended and he had to put her on the train.</p> - -<p>"I'll be glad when I'm not saying good-by to you all the time!" he told -her almost fiercely.</p> - -<p>"Oh, so will I!"</p> - -<p>She sprang lightly up the car steps, seeing too late his effort to help -her, and regret increased the warmth of her thanks while he settled her -bags in the rack, hung up her coat, adjusted the footstool for her. -These unaccustomed services embarrassed her a little. She was aware of -awkwardness in accepting them, but for a little while longer they kept -him near her.</p> - -<p>He lingered until the last minute, leaning over the red plush seat, -jostled by incoming passengers, gazing at her with eyes that said more -than lips or hands dared express under the harsh lights and glances of -passengers.</p> - -<p>"Well—good-by."</p> - -<p>"Good-by. And you'll come to see the new house soon?"</p> - -<p>She watched his sturdy back disappear through the car-door. Her fancy -saw the sure, quick motion with which he would fling himself from the -moving train, and with her face close against the jarring pane, she -caught a last glimpse of his eager face and waving hat beneath the -station lights.</p> - -<p>Smiling, she saw the street lamps flash past, vanish. Against rushing -blackness the shining window reflected her own firm mouth, the strong -curve of her cheek, the crisp line of the small hat. The swaying motion -of a train always delighted her; she liked the sensation of departure, -and the innumerable small creakings, the quickening click-click-click -of the wheels, gave her the feeling of being flung through space toward -an unknown future. Her cheek against the cool pane, she shut out the -shimmering lights and gazed into vague darkness.</p> - -<p>Her heart was warm with contentment; her love for Paul lay in it like a -hidden warmth. She thought of the articles she meant to write, of the -brown cottage on Russian Hill, of the little group of women she might -gather there, Marian Marcy's friends. With something of wistful envy -she thought of the affection that held them together; she hoped they -would like her, too. The friendship of women was a new thing to her, -and the bond she had glimpsed among these girls appeared to her special -and beautiful.</p> - -<p>Wondering, she considered them one by one, so widely differing in -temperament and character, and yet so harmonious beneath their heated -arguments. One would say they quarreled at the luncheon table where -they met daily, flinging pointed epigrams and sharp retorts at each -other, growing excited over most incongruous subjects,—the war, poems, -biology, hairdressers,—arguing, laughing, teasing each other all in -a breath. But their good humor never failed, and affection for each -other burned like an unflickering candle flame in all their gusts of -controversy.</p> - -<p>"It's a wonderful crowd," Marian Marcy had said inclusively, and Helen -knew that her invitation to lunch with them indicated genuine liking. A -stranger among them, she felt herself on trial, and a hope of gathering -them all at her fireside and perhaps becoming one of their warm circle -had been her strongest motive in taking the cottage.</p> - -<p>Her days were full of work. With a kind of fury she threw herself into -the task of conquering the strange world before her. There was so much -to learn and so very little time. Her six months became a small hoard -of hours, every minute precious. In the earliest dawn, while the sky -over the Berkeley hills blushed faintly and long silver lines lay -on the gray waters of the bay, she was plunging into her cold tub, -lighting the gas beneath the coffee-pot, tidying the little house. The -morning papers gave her ideas for stories,—already she had learned -to call everything written "a story"—and she rode down the hill on -the early cable-car with stenographers and shopgirls, thinking of -interviews.</p> - -<p>Her business sense, sharply turned upon magazine pages and Sunday -papers, showed her an ever-widening market. She saw scores of stories -on innumerable subjects; they came into her mind dressed in all the -colors of fancy, perfect, clear-cut, alive with interest. Then at her -typewriter she set herself to make them live in words, and through long -afternoons she toiled, struggling, despairing, seeing fruitless hours -go by, knowing at last that she had produced a maimed, limping thing. -Her bookcases now filled her with awe. All those volumes so easily -read, apparently produced so effortlessly, appeared in this new light -tremendous, almost miraculous achievements.</p> - -<p>"I can never write real books," she said. "I am not an artist."</p> - -<p>She was not embarking upon an artistic career; she was learning a -trade. But seeing about her so many newspapers, so many magazines, -carloads of volumes in the department stores, she reflected that it was -a useful trade. These miles of printing brought refreshment and wider -viewpoint to millions. "If I can be only a good workman, producing -sound, wholesome, true things, I will be doing something of value," she -consoled herself.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hayden accepted the first story in the "San Francisco Nights," -series, refused the second. She began on a third, and when her article -on immigration was returned from the East she sent it out again. She -had better fortune with a story on California farming conditions, which -sold to a national farm paper. Establishing a market for her work was -her hope for the future; if she succeeded she could still work in -Ripley, and the work would be something entirely her own.</p> - -<p>She did not analyze this need to keep a fragment of life apart for -herself, but quite plainly she saw the value of having her own small -income. Her relation to Paul had nothing to do with money; in their -love they were equal, and when Paul added the fruit of his work to the -scale the balance would be uneven. She knew too well the difference -between earning money and caring for a house to believe that her tasks -would earn what he must give her.</p> - -<p>Working against time, she poured her energies into building an -acquaintance with editors, into learning their requirements. Meantime -her department in the "Post" gave her the tiny income that met her -expenses. Late at night she sat opening letters and typing prudent -replies for its columns.</p> - -<p>"And the unions are striking for an eight-hour day!" she said to -Marian, encountering her amid clattering typewriters in the "Post's" -local room. "Me, I'd strike for forty-eight hours between sun and sun!"</p> - -<p>"'The best of all ways to lengthen your days is to steal a few -hours from the night, my dear'!" Marian quoted gaily. Her piquant, -kitten-like face, with its pointed chin and wide gray eyes beneath a -tangle of black hair, was white with fatigue. She straightened her hat, -and dabbed at her nose with a powder puff. "The crowd's going over to -the beach at Tiburon for a picnic supper. Come along?"</p> - -<p>"I'd love to!"</p> - -<p>"Then run out and get some pickles and things while I finish this -story. Mother-of-Pearl! If those club women knew what I really think of -most of 'em!" The typewriter keys clacked viciously under her flying -fingers.</p> - -<p>Smiling, Helen obeyed, and while she explored a delicatessen and loaded -her arms with packages, she felt a flutter of pleased anticipation. It -would be good to lie on the beach under the stars and listen to more of -the curious talk of these girls. "But I must contribute something," she -thought. "I must make them like me if I can."</p> - -<p>When they assembled at the ferry, however, she found that they were -not inclined to talk. Almost silently they waited for the big gates to -open, surged with the crowd across the gang-plank and found outside -seats where the salt winds swept upon them.</p> - -<p>"Tired, Marian?" said Anne Lester.</p> - -<p>"Dead!" Marian answered. She rearranged the packages, took off her -coat, put it on again, and began to walk restlessly up and down the -deck.</p> - -<p>"She lives on sheer nerve," Anne remarked. "Never relaxes." Her own -long, thoroughbred body was a picture of reposeful lines. She said -nothing more.</p> - -<p>"How beautifully they let each other alone!" Helen thought, and in -the restful silence she too relaxed, idly studying the others. They -all worked. Beyond that she could see nothing in common; even their -occupations differed widely. She checked them off, startled a little at -the incongruity.</p> - -<p>Anne, high-bred, imperious, with something of untamed freedom in every -gesture—Anne was a teacher of economics! Beside her Willetta, demure, -brown-eyed, brown-haired, knitting busily, had come from unknown labors -in social service work. Across the aisle Sara and Mrs. Austin—they -called her Dodo—were discussing samples of silk. And Sara was a -miniature painter, Dodo executive secretary of an important California -commission.</p> - -<p>"I give it up!" Helen said to herself, marvelling again at the obvious -affection that held them together. Turning her face to the keen cool -wind blowing in through the Golden Gate she watched the thousand -white-capped waves upon the bay and the flight of silvery-gray seagulls -against a glowing sunset sky, drinking in the beauty of it all without -thinking, letting the day's burden of effort slip from her.</p> - -<p>Around the camp-fire on the white half-moon of beach beyond the -fisherman's village of Tiburon the talk awoke again, idle talk, -flippant, serious, bantering, dropping now and then into silence.</p> - -<p>Sara sat on a bit of driftwood, her long, sensitive hands clasped -around her knees, her eyes full of dreams. "How beautiful it is!" she -said at intervals, lifting her face to the dark sky full of stars, or -indicating with a nod the lights flung over the Berkeley hills like -handfuls of jewels. Anne, stretched on the sand, spoke with passion -of labor unions and I. W. W.'s, of strikes and lockouts, and the red -glimmer of her cigarette sketched her gestures upon the darkness. -Argument raged between her and Dodo, cross-legged like a boy, her fine, -soft hair let down upon her shoulders. Hot words were exchanged. "Oh, -you don't know what you're—" "If you'd read the reports of your own -commission!" "Let me tell you, Anne Lester,—where are the matches?" -The twinkling flame lighted Dodo's calm, unruffled brow as a thin -curl of smoke came from her serious lips. "Just let me tell you, Anne -Lester—" In the circle of fire-light Marian was busily gathering up -paper napkins, bits of string, wrapping paper. "Marian's got to tidy -the whole sea-shore!" they laughed, reaching lazily to help her. After -a long silence they spoke of the war.</p> - -<p>"It didn't get me so much at first—it was like an earthquake shock. -But lately—" "One feels like doing something. I know. What is a little -Red Cross work here at home, when you think—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's all too horrible!" Sara cried.</p> - -<p>"Yes. But lots of things are horrible. War isn't the worst one. One has -to—" "Yes, get up and face them. And do something. As much as you can."</p> - -<p>The words echoed Helen's own feeling. In the folds of her coat, curled -against a drift log, she listened, quiet, adding a word occasionally. -She felt now the charm of this companionship, demanding nothing, -unconstrained, full of understanding. It was freedom, relaxation, -without loneliness. Like a plant kept too long in constricting soil -and now transplanted to friendlier earth, she felt stirring within her -innumerable impulses reaching out for nourishment.</p> - -<p>"You know," said Dodo suddenly, putting a warm hand over Helen's. "I -like you."</p> - -<p>Helen flushed with delight.</p> - -<p>"I like you too."</p> - -<p>She remembered the words for long months, remembered the glow of -fire-light, the white, curving line of foam on the sand, the far lights -scattered on a dozen hills, and the cool darkness over the bay. That -evening had made her one of the group, given her the freedom of the -luncheon table reserved for them in the quiet little restaurant, opened -for her the door of a new and satisfying relationship.</p> - -<p>She could always find one or two of the girls at the table, rarely all -of them. They dropped in when they pleased, sure of finding a friend -and sympathetic talk. When she had an idle half hour after luncheon -she might go shopping with Willetta, always hunting bargains in dainty -things for the little daughter in a convent. She learned the tragedy -that had shattered Willetta's home, and the reason for the cynicism -that sometimes sharpened Dodo's tongue. If they wondered about her own -life they asked no questions, and they accepted Paul's Sunday visits -without comment.</p> - -<p>Any other evening in the week might see Willetta running up the steps, -knitting in hand, to spend an hour curled among the cushions on the -hearth or to depart blithely if Helen were busy. Dodo's voice might -come over the telephone. "Tickets for the concert! Want to come down?" -The crackling fire might blaze upon them all, gathered by chance, -chattering like school-girls while Marian speared marshmallows with a -hat-pin, toasting them and her tired, sparkling face at the same time. -But Sunday found Helen tacitly left to Paul.</p> - -<p>His unexpected coming upon the whole group broke ever so slightly the -charm of their companionship. She had felt the same thing in entering -her office when all the salesmen were there. Some intangible current -of sympathy was cut, an alien element introduced. One thought before -speaking, as if to a stranger who did not perfectly comprehend the -language.</p> - -<p>"There is a subtle division between men and women," she thought, -talking brightly to Paul while they climbed Tamalpais together or -wandered in Golden Gate park. "Each of us has his own world." After a -silence, passing some odd figure on the trail or struck breathless by -a vista of heart-stopping beauty, she sought his eyes for the flash -of intimate understanding she expected, and found only adoration or -surprise.</p> - -<p>She felt that the shortening summer was rushing her toward a fate -against which some blind impulse in her struggled. Paul's eager -happiness, his plans, his confident hand upon her life, were -compulsions she tried to accept gladly. She should be happy, she told -herself; she was happy. Searching her heart she knew that she loved -Paul. His coming was like sunshine to her; she loved his sincerity, his -sweet, clean soul, the light in his eyes, the touch of his hand. When -he went away her heart flew after him like a bird, and at the same time -some almost imperceptible strain upon her was gone. Alone in her silent -house she felt herself become whole again and free.</p> - -<p>"You're feeling like a girl again!" she told herself. The watch on her -wrist ticked off the night hours while she sat motionless, staring at -the red embers of the fire crumbling to ashes. She saw the twilight -of a long-dead summer's day and a girl swept by tides of emotion, -struggling blindly against them.</p> - -<p>But it was not Paul's kisses that she shrank from now. She wanted them. -She was no longer a girl caught unawares by love's terrible power and -beauty. She was a woman, clear-eyed, deliberately choosing. Why, then, -did she feel that she was compelling herself to do this thing that she -wanted to do? "It's late, and I'm tired. I'm getting all sorts of wild -fancies," she said, rising wearily, chilled.</p> - -<p>With passionate intensity she wrung all the joy from every moment of -these happy days. She loved the changing colors of the bay, the keen, -cool dawns when she breakfasted alone on her balcony with the morning -papers spread beside her plate and an unknown day stretching before -her. She loved her encounters with many sides of life; the talk of the -Italian waiter in a quaint Latin Quarter café; her curious friendship -with a tiny Chinese mother who lived in the Wong "family house," the -shadowy corridors of which were filled with a constant whispering -shuffle of sandaled feet; the hordes of ragged, adorable Spanish -children who ran to her for cakes when she climbed the crazy stairs -that were the streets of Telegraph Hill.</p> - -<p>And there were evenings at the Radical Club, where she heard strange, -stimulating theories contending with stranger ones, and met Russian -revolutionists, single-taxers, stand-pat Marxian socialists, and -sensation seekers of many curious varieties, while next day at a -decorous luncheon table she might listen to a staid and prosperous -business man seriously declaring, "All these folks that talk -violence—all those anarchists and labor men and highwaymen—ought to -be strung up by a good old-fashioned vigilance committee! I'm not a -believer in violence and never was, and hanging's too good for those -that do." The romance of life enthralled her, and she felt that she -could never see enough of it.</p> - -<p>Best of all she loved the girls, that "wonderful crowd" that never -failed her when she wanted companionship, and never intruded when she -wished to be alone. In the evenings when they gathered around her -fireplace, relaxing from the strain of the day, among her cushions -in the soft light of the purring flames, talking a little, silent -sometimes, she was so happy that her heart ached.</p> - -<p>Sitting on a cushion, she sewed quietly by the light of a candle at -her shoulder. Willetta's knitting needles clicked rhythmically while -she told a story of the department-store girls' picnic; Anne, flung -gracefully on the hearth-rug, kept her finger between the pages of a -"History of the Warfare of Science and Religion in Christendom," while -she listened, and on the other side of the candle Dodo, chin propped -on hands, and feet in the air, obliviously read Dowson, reaching out a -hand at intervals for a piece of orange Sara was peeling with slender, -fastidious fingers.</p> - -<p>"Orange, Helen?" She shook her head.</p> - -<p>"Girls, just look what Helen's doing! Isn't it gorgeous?"</p> - -<p>"Too stunning for anything but a trousseau," Marian commented. "One -of us'll have to get married. I tell you, Helen, put it up as a -consolation prize! The first one of us—"</p> - -<p>"No fair. You've decided on your Russian," remarked Dodo, turning a -page.</p> - -<p>"Mother-of-pearl! I should say not! I don't know why I never seem to -find a man I want to marry—" she went on, plaintively. "One comes -along, and I think,—well, maybe this one,—and then—"</p> - -<p>They laughed.</p> - -<p>"No, really, I mean it." She sat up, the fire-light on her pretty, -serious face and fluffy hair. "I'd like to get married. I want a lovely -home and children, as much as anybody. And there've been—well, you -girls know. But always there's something I can't stand about them. -Nicolai, now—he has just the kind of mind I like. He's brilliant and -witty, and he's radical. But I couldn't live with his table manners! -Oh, I know I ought to be above that. But when I think,—three times a -day, hearing him eat his soup—Oh, why don't radical men ever have good -table manners? <i>I</i>'m radical, and <i>I</i> have."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Marian, you're too funny!"</p> - -<p>"The real reason you don't marry is the reason none of us'll marry, -except perhaps Sara," said Anne.</p> - -<p>Sara's defensive cry was covered by Helen's, "What's that, Anne?"</p> - -<p>"Well, what's the use? We don't need husbands. We need wives. Some one -to stay at home and do the dishes and fluff up the pillows and hold our -hands when we come home tired. And you wouldn't marry a man who'd do -it, so there you are."</p> - -<p>"Oh, rats, Anne!"</p> - -<p>"All right, Dodo-dear. But I don't see you marrying Jim."</p> - -<p>Dodo sat up, sweeping her long, fine hair backward over her shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Of course not. Jim's all right to play around with—"</p> - -<p>"But when it comes to marrying him—exactly. There are only two kinds -of men, strong and weak. You despise the weak ones, and you won't marry -the strong ones."</p> - -<p>"Now wait a minute!" she demanded, in a chorus of expostulation. "The -one thing a real man wants to do is to shelter his wife; they're rabid -about it. And what use have we for a shelter? Any qualities in us that -needed to be shielded we've got rid of long ago. You can't fight life -when you give hostages to it. We've been fighting in the open so long -we're used to it—we like it. We—"</p> - -<p>"Like it!" cried Willetta. "Oh, just lead me to a nice, protective -millionaire and give me a chance to be a parasite. Just give me a -chance!"</p> - -<p>"Willetta's right, just the same," Dodo declared through their -laughter. "It's the money that's at the root of it. You don't want to -marry a man you'll have to support—not that you'd mind doing it, but -his self-respect would go all to pieces if you did. And yet you can't -find a man who makes as much money as you do, who cares about music and -poetry and things. I'm putting money in the bank and reading Masefield. -I don't see why a man can't. But somehow I've never run across a man -who does."</p> - -<p>"Well, that's exactly what I'm driving at, only another angle on it." -Anne persisted. "The trouble is that we're rounded out, we've got both -sides of us more or less developed. It all comes down to the point that -we're self-reliant. We give ourselves all we want."</p> - -<p>"You aren't flattering us a bit, are you?" said Marian. "I only wish I -did give myself all I want."</p> - -<p>"I don't know what you're all talking about," Sara ventured softly. "I -should think—love—would be all that mattered."</p> - -<p>"We aren't talking about love, honey. We're talking about marriage."</p> - -<p>"But aren't they the same things—in a way?"</p> - -<p>"You won't say that when you've been married three years, child," said -Dodo, with the bitterness that recalled her eight-years'-old divorce.</p> - -<p>"Not exactly the same things, I suppose," Helen said quickly. -"Marriage, I'd say, is a partnership. It's almost that legally in -California. You couldn't build it on nothing but emotion—love. You'd -have to have more. But Anne, why can't you make a marriage of two -'rounded out' personalities?"</p> - -<p>"Because you can't make any complete whole of two smaller ones. They -don't fit into—Look here. When I was a youngster down in Santa Clara -we had two little pine-trees growing in our yard. I was madly in love -then—with the music-teacher! Well, I used to look at those trees. They -grew closer together, not an inch between their little stems, and their -branches together made one perfect pinetree. I was a poetic fool kid. -These trees were my idea of a perfect marriage. I fell out of love -with the music-teacher because he was so unreasonable about scales, -I remember! But that's still my notion of marriage, the ideal of the -old, close, conventional married life. And—well, it can't be done -with two complete and separate full-grown trees, not by any kind of -transplanting."</p> - -<p>"Well, maybe—" The fire crackled cheerfully in the silence.</p> - -<p>"But if you break it up—free love and so on,—what are you going to do -about children?" said Marian.</p> - -<p>"Good Lord, I'm not going to do anything about anything! I'm only -telling you—"</p> - -<p>"Any one of us would make a splendid mother, really. We have so much to -give—"</p> - -<p>"Going to waste. When you think of the thousands of women—"</p> - -<p>"Simply murdering their babies!" cried Willetta. "Not to mention giving -them nothing in inspiration or proper environment."</p> - -<p>"I'm not so sure we'd make good mothers. Just loving children and -wanting them doesn't do it. There were six of us at home, and I know. I -tell you, it's a question of sinking yourself in another individuality, -first the husband and then the child. There's something in us that -resists. We've been ourselves too long. We want to keep ourselves to -ourselves. No, not want to, exactly—it's more that we can't help it."</p> - -<p>"If you're right, Anne, it's a poor outlook for the race. Think of all -the women like us—thousands more every year—who don't have children. -We're really the best type of women. We're the women that ought to have -them."</p> - -<p>"We are not!" said Dodo. "We're freaks. We don't represent the mass of -women. We go around and around in our little circles and think we're -modern women because we make a lot of noise. But we aren't. We're of no -importance at all, with our charity boards and our social surveys and -our offices. It's the girls who marry in their teens—millions of 'em, -in millions of the little homes all over America—that really count."</p> - -<p>"In America!" Anne retorted. "You won't find them in their homes any -more in France or England. The girls aren't marrying in their teens -over there, not since the war. They're going to work—just as we did. -They're going into business. Already French women are increasing the -exports of France—<i>increasing</i> them! We may be freaks, Dodo, but we're -going to have lots of company."</p> - -<p>"It's interesting—what the war will do to marriage." They were silent -again, gazing with abstracted eyes at the opaque wall of the future.</p> - -<p>"Just the same," Sara insisted softly, "you leave out everything -that's important when you leave out love."</p> - -<p>Anne's small exclamation was half fond and half weary.</p> - -<p>"We'll always have love. Every one of us has some one around in the -background, sending us flowers. A woman without a man who loves her -feels like a promissory note without an endorsement. But marriage!"</p> - -<p>"And there's always the question—what <i>is</i> love?" Helen roused at the -little flutter of merriment, and after a moment she joined it with her -clear laugh.</p> - -<p>"Why, love is just love," said Sara, bewildered.</p> - -<p>"Of course. There's only one definition. It's something that isn't -there when you're trying to analyze it. And every one of us would," -said Dodo. "Give me an orange, Sara darling, and tell us about the new -pictures."</p> - -<p>It was their last evening together in the little house. Precious as -each moment of it was to Helen, with the coming change in her own life -hanging over it, she had no more premonition than the others of the -events that would so soon whirl them apart.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Marian rushed in upon them at luncheon next day, glowing with -excitement, to announce that she would leave that night for New York on -her way to France.</p> - -<p>"I'm going as a correspondent, of course. I never dreamed that I could -pull it off. But the United Press has come through with credentials. -Girls, when I get over there, stories or no stories, I'm going to do -something to help. I'm going to find a place where I'll be useful."</p> - -<p>"Wait till to-morrow," said Dodo, quietly. "I'll go with you as far -as Washington." Smiling at their stunned faces, she explained, still -unruffled: "I've been thinking about it for some time. My assistants -can keep things going here till I can arrange to put in some one else. -I don't know whether this country's going into the war or not, but if -it does, I want to be in the heart of things. I'd be no good in France, -but I can do something in our own Department of Labor."</p> - -<p>Two days later they were gone. Helen's own wistfulness was echoed in -Willetta's mournful exclamation: "Lucky dogs! What wouldn't I give! But -there's no use. The East is no place to bring up children, even if -I could afford to take a chance, with the infant to think about. Oh, -well, you girls'll come back twenty years from now to find me in the -same old grind."</p> - -<p>"Never mind, Willie dear. I'll be right here the rest of my life, -too," said Helen, and for a moment Paul's name was on her lips. She -felt that speaking of him would be a defense against her own illogical -depression, and these girls would understand. It would not even occur -to them that legally she was still another man's wife. But Willetta's -"Oh, you! You're going to leave all the rest of us a million miles -behind!" silenced her.</p> - -<p>"None of us have developed the way you have in this one year," said -Willetta. "If you knew what I hear everywhere about your work!" Though -she knew in her heart that she would never be a great writer, praise -for her work always gave Helen a throb of deep delight.</p> - -<p>Two weeks later she sat in Mr. Hayden's office listening to a -suggestion that left her breathless.</p> - -<p>"Why don't you go to the Orient?" Mr. Hayden's eyes, usually faintly -humorous, were quite serious. "There's a big field there right now. The -undercurrents in Shanghai, Japan's place in the war, the developments -in Mesopotamia or Russia. France is done to death already. Every one's -writing from there. But the East is still almost untouched. There's a -big opportunity there for some one."</p> - -<p>"Do you think I could handle it?"</p> - -<p>"Of course you could. It's a matter of being on the ground and -reporting. All it needs is the ability to see things clearly and tell -them graphically. You have that. It would take money, of course. I -don't know how you're fixed for that."</p> - -<p>She thought quickly, her pulses leaping.</p> - -<p>"With these last two checks—and I have a little coming in from -deferred land commissions—I'd have not quite a thousand dollars."</p> - -<p>"Hm—well, it's not much, of course. It would be something of a gamble. -If you want to try it, we'll give you transportation and letters and -take a story a month. And I don't think you'd have any difficulty -finding other markets in the East."</p> - -<p>For a moment she tried to consider the question coolly, while pictures -of Chinese pagodas, paper-walled houses of Japan, Siberian prairies, -raced dizzily before her eyes. Then, with a shock of self-accusation, -she remembered.</p> - -<p>"I couldn't go. Other arrangements."</p> - -<p>"Don't decide too quickly. Think it over. There's a great opportunity -there, and I believe you could handle it. It would make you, as a -magazine writer. If you make up your mind to go, let me know right -away? There's a boat on the twentieth. If you sailed on that, it would -give us time to announce the series for the winter, when our renewals -are coming in."</p> - -<p>"I'll think about it," she promised. "But I'm quite sure I can't go."</p> - -<p>She walked quickly down the windy street toward Market. The whirling -dust-eddies over the cobbles, the blown scraps of paper, the flapping -of her skirts, seemed part of the miserable confusion in her own mind.</p> - -<p>How could she have forgotten Paul even for a moment? She had been -heartless, head-strong, foolish to stay on in San Francisco, trifling -so with the most precious thing in her life. Paul had been superhumanly -patient and kind and unselfish to let her do it. She had never loved -him more deeply than at that moment when with a dim sense of fleeing -to him for refuge she hurried toward a telephone. Her voice trembled -unmanageably when at last his came thin and faint across the wires. She -had to speak twice to make him hear.</p> - -<p>"Paul? Oh, Paul! It's Helen.—No, nothing's the matter. Only—I want -to see you. Listen—I want to get away—Can you hear me? I say, I -want to come down there for a while. Would your mother have room -for me?—Right away. I could take the next train.—No, nothing, -only I want to see you." The joy in his voice hurt her. "Why, don't -you know I've always wanted that? You dear!—To-morrow morning, -then.—I'll be glad, too,—so glad! Of course.—Truly, honest and -true.—Foolish!—Good-by—till to-morrow."</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>At the end of a long, warm summer day Helen lay in a hammock swung -between two apricot-trees. From time to time, with a light push of a -slippered foot on the grass, she set the hammock swaying, and above -her head the pale, translucent leaves and ruddy fruit shifted into new -patterns against a steel-gray sky.</p> - -<p>The mysterious, erie hush of twilight was upon her spirit. Murmuring -voices came vaguely through it; across the street two women were -sitting on the porch of a bungalow, and on its lawn a little girl -played with a dog. The colors of their dresses, of the dog's tawny fur, -of geraniums against brown shingles, were sharp and vivid in the cold -light.</p> - -<p>"Mother seems to be staying quite a while at Mrs. Chester's," said -Paul. He moved slightly in the wicker chair, dislodging the ashes from -his cigar with a tap of his finger, and she felt his caressing eyes -upon her. She did not turn her head, saying nothing, holding to the -quietness within her as one clings to a happy dream when something -threatens sleep. A puff of smoke drifted between her and the leaves.</p> - -<p>"It <i>is</i> pleasant outdoors, this time of day," he persisted after a -moment. Her low murmur, hardly audible, left him unsatisfied.</p> - -<p>"Well, did you have a good time this afternoon?" His voice was brisker -now, full of affectionate interest. She felt his demand for her -response as if he had been tugging at her with his hands.</p> - -<p>"Pretty good. Oh, yes, a very good time."</p> - -<p>"What did you do?" She might have said, "Please let me alone. Let's be -quiet." But Paul would be worried, hurt; he would not understand; he -would ask questions. She turned a bright face to him.</p> - -<p>"Oh, your mother and I went down town, and then we came home, and Mrs. -Lamson came in."</p> - -<p>"She's a fine little woman, Mrs. Lamson."</p> - -<p>"Yes? Oh, I suppose so. I don't care much for her."</p> - -<p>"You will. You'll like her when you know her better." The definiteness -of his tone left her no reply. She felt that it was proper to like Mrs. -Lamson, that he expected her to like Mrs. Lamson, that she must like -Mrs. Lamson. A flash of foolish, little-girl anger rose in her; she -would have liked to stamp her foot and howl that she would <i>not</i> like -Mrs. Lamson. The absurdity of it made her smile.</p> - -<p>"What are you smiling at, dear?"</p> - -<p>She sat up, setting the hammock swinging.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't know. Let's go somewhere," she said restlessly. "Let's -take a long walk."</p> - -<p>"All right." He was eager to please her. "I'll tell you something -better than that I'll get the car, and we'll ride down to Merced and -get a sundae. Run put on your coat. You'll need it, with that thin -dress."</p> - -<p>His pride in the new car was deep and boyish. It was quite the most -costly, luxurious car in town; it was at once the symbol of his -commanding place in the community, and a toy to be endlessly examined -and discussed. She would not think of telling him that at the moment -she would rather walk than ride in it. Like an obedient child she went -for her coat.</p> - -<p>The house was dim and quiet. She closed the door of her room behind -her with a little quick gesture, and stood for a moment with her back -against it. She thought that it would be pleasant to stay there. Then -she thought of a long, silent walk under the stars, all alone, quiet, -in the darkness. Then she realized quite clearly that she did not -like Mrs. Lamson, and she thought of the reasons why that amiable, -empty-headed little woman bored her. At that moment the automobile-horn -squawked. Paul was waiting. Hastily she seized her coat and ran out to -the curb.</p> - -<p>When the purring machine turned into the brilliantly lighted business -district and the arched sign, "WELCOME TO RIPLEY," twinkled upon them, -tawdry against the pale sky, she felt that she could not bear to go to -Merced. "Let's just run up the boulevard, where it's cool and quiet, -away from people," she said coaxingly.</p> - -<p>"Well, if you want to." The car ran smoothly up the long gray highway -hedged with ragged eucalyptus trees. Between their gaunt trunks she -caught glimpses of level alfalfa fields, and whiffs of sun-warmed -perfume swept across her face with the rushing air. In the brimming -irrigation canals, shimmering like silver mirrors across the green -fields, bright-colored caps bobbed and white arms splashed. Beside her -Paul talked with enthusiasm of the car.</p> - -<p>"Isn't she a beauty? She'd make eighty miles easy if I wanted to let -her out. And see how flexible! Watch, now."</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear. Wonderful!" She was not accustomed to being with people -all day, that was the trouble. Those hours of making conversation with -women who did not interest her seemed to have drained her of some vital -force. When she had her own house she could be alone as much as she -liked. Poor boy, he had been working all day; of course he wanted her -companionship now. "You must let me take it out some day soon, will -you?"</p> - -<p>"Why, it's a pretty big car, Helen. I'd rather you'd let me drive it."</p> - -<p>She laughed.</p> - -<p>"All right, piggy-wig, keep your old car! Some day I'll get a little -Blix roadster and show you how I drive!"</p> - -<p>She was astonished at the shadow that crossed his face. His smile was a -bit forced.</p> - -<p>"I only meant it would be pretty heavy for a woman to handle. Of course -you can drive it if you want to."</p> - -<p>They ran past the gateway of Ripley Farmland Acres, and gazing at the -little town, the thriving farms, and the twinkling lights scattered -over the land that had been a desolate plain, she forgot his words in a -thrill of pride. She had helped build these homes. When he spoke again -she groped blindly for his allusion.</p> - -<p>"I don't think you realize, Helen. I wish you wouldn't say things like -that."</p> - -<p>"Like what?"</p> - -<p>"About the roadster. I wish you would say 'we' sometimes. Last night at -the minister's you said, 'I think I'll buy a little farm and see what I -can do with apricots.' I know you didn't realize how funny it sounded. -It sort of hurts, you know."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear!" Her cry of pain, her words of miserable apology, made -even more clear to her the chasm between them. How could she apologize -for this, a thing she had done without knowing she was doing it? Gray -desolation choked her like a fog.</p> - -<p>"All right. It's all right. I know you didn't mean to," he said -cheerfully. He took one hand from the wheel to put an arm around her -shoulders. "Never mind. You'll learn." His tone confidently took -possession of her, and in a heartsickening flash she saw his hope of -making her what he wanted his wife to be. She felt his hand upon her -tastes, her thoughts, her self, trying to reshape them to his ideal of -her. "You suit me, sweetheart. I know what you are, my wonderful girl!"</p> - -<p>Her heart stopped, and she felt that her lips were cold under his -forgiving kiss. He talked happily while they swept on through the -gathering darkness, and she responded in tones that sounded strange -to her. Mysterious darkness covered the wide level land, farm-house -windows glowed warmly yellow through it, and a great moon, rising -slowly over the far hills, flooded the sky with pale light and put out -the stars. At last they rode into Ripley, past the piles of raw lumber -and stone that were to be their bungalow, and down the quiet street. -The wheels crunched the gravel of the driveway. Paul's warm hand -clasped hers, and she stumbled from the running-board into his arms. -His lips were close against his cheek.</p> - -<p>"Love me, sweetheart? Tell me. It's been a long, long time since you -said it." She stood rigid, voiceless. "Please?"</p> - -<p>In a passion of pity and wild pain she held him close, lifting her face -to his kiss in the darkness. She felt that her heart was breaking.</p> - -<p>"You do," he said in deep content. "My dear, my dear!"</p> - -<p>When she could reach her room she turned on the full glare of the -electric lights and went softly to the mirror. She stood for a long -time, her hands tight against her breast, looking into the eyes that -stared back at her. "He doesn't love you," she said to them. "He -doesn't want you. It's some one else he wants—the girl you used to -be. O Paul, how can I hurt him so! You'll hurt him more cruelly if you -marry him. You can't be what he wants. You can't. You're some one else. -You couldn't stand it. You can't make yourself over. After all these -years. O Paul, my dear, my dear, I didn't mean to hurt you!"</p> - -<p>Some hours later she remembered that a boat sailed for the Orient on -the twentieth. She would have to act quickly, and it was good that -there was so much to do.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Early on the morning of the nineteenth she climbed the steps to the -little brown house on Russian Hill. She had traveled all night from -Masonville, awake in her berth, and she was very tired. She was so -tired that it seemed impossible to feel any more emotion, and she -looked indifferently at the sunny, redwood-paneled room so full of -memories. A score of disconnected thoughts worried her mind; her -mother's tearful face, the telegram to Washington for her passports, -the steamer-trunk she must buy, Mabel looking at her enviously over the -baby's head.</p> - -<p>Brushing a hand across her blurry eyes, she sat down at her desk. She -must write to Paul. She must tell him that she was going away; make him -understand that their smiling farewell at the Ripley station was her -good-by. She must try to show him that it was best, so that he would -not hold her memory too long.</p> - -<p>When she had finished, she folded the sheet carefully, slipped it into -its envelope, and sealed the flap. It was done. She felt that she had -torn away a part of herself, leaving a bleeding emptiness. Her brain, -wise with experience of suffering, told her that the wound would heal, -would even in time be forgotten, but her wisdom did not dull the pain.</p> - -<p>A thousand memories rushed upon her, torturing, unbearable. She rose, -trying to push them from her, reaching in agony for the anodyne of -work. Her trunks must be packed; there were shelves of books to give -away; she must telephone the tailor and the expressman. A horde of such -details stretched saving hands to her, and a self-control strengthened -by long use took her through them, with her chin up and a smile on her -lips.</p> - -<p>The luncheon table had never seen her gayer, amid the excited -congratulations of the girls, and she rushed through an afternoon of -shopping to meet them all for tea, and to spend a last intimate, warm, -half-tearful evening with them around the fire.</p> - -<p>"The old crowd's breaking up," they said. "Marian in France, and Dodo -in Washington, and now Helen's going. Nothing's going to be the same -any more."</p> - -<p>"Nothing ever is," she answered soberly. "We can't keep anything in the -world, no matter how good it is. And hasn't it been good—all this! The -way we've cared for each other, and our happy times together, and all -you've meant to me—I can't tell you. I don't think there's anything in -the world more beautiful than the friendship of women. It's been the -happiest year of my whole life."</p> - -<p>"It's been lovely, all of it," Sara murmured, curled in a heap of -cushions on the floor by Helen's low chair. She laid her long, -beautiful artist's hand on Helen's. "It's terrible to see things end."</p> - -<p>The fire settled together with a soft, snuggling sound. In the dusk -Willetta's face was dimly white, and the little spark of red on Anne's -cigarette-tip glowed and faded. They sat about the dying fire in a -last communion of understanding that seemed threatened by the darkness -around them. Already the room had taken on something of the forlornness -of all abandoned places, a coldness and strangeness shared in Helen's -mind by the lands to which she was going, the unknown days before her.</p> - -<p>The dull ache at her heart became pain at a sudden memory of Paul's -face. She straightened in her chair, closing her fingers more warmly -around Sara's.</p> - -<p>"I'm sure of one thing," she said earnestly. "It hurts to—to let go -of anything beautiful. But something will come to take its place, -something different, of course, but better. The future's always better -than we can possibly think it will be. We ought to know that—really -<i>know</i> it. We ought to be so sure of it that we'd let go of things more -easily, strike out toward the next thing. Like swimming, you know. -Confidently. We ought to live <i>confidently</i>. Because whatever's ahead, -it's going to be better than we've had. I tell you, girls, I know it -is."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>She arrived breathlessly at the docks next day, rushing down at the -last minute in a taxi-cab jammed with bundles. Sara and Willetta were -part of the mad whirl of the morning, dashing with her to straighten -out a last unexpected difficulty with the passports, hounding a -delaying express company, telephoning finally for a taxi-cab to carry -the trunks to the docks. Willetta had gone with it to see that the -trunks got aboard; Sara had made coffee and toast and pressed them upon -Helen while she was dressing. The telephone had rung every moment.</p> - -<p>It was ringing again when Helen, clutching her bag, her purse, her -gloves, slammed the door of the little house and ran down the stairs -of Jones Street to the waiting cab. Bumping over the cobbles, with -Sara beside her, and the bags, the hat-box, an armful of roses, the -shawl-strapped steamer-rug, jostled in confusion about her, she looked -through the plate-glass panes at San Francisco's hilly streets, -Chinatown's colorful vegetable markets and glittering shops, Grant -Avenue's suave buildings, and felt nothing but a sense of unreality. -Incredible that these would still be here when she was gone! Incredible -that she was going, actually going!</p> - -<p>"You have the keys, Helen dear?" Sara's lips quivered.</p> - -<p>"Yes—I think so." She dug them from her purse. "Give them to Willetta -for me, will you? I'm afraid I'll forget. I hope she'll be happy in the -little house." For the hundredth time she glanced at her wrist-watch. -"If you hear who it was that was telephoning, explain to them that I -simply had to run or I'd miss the boat, won't you dear? And you'll -write." How inadequate, these commonplace little remarks! Yet what else -could one say?</p> - -<p>The taxi-cab stopped in the throng of automobiles about the wharves, -the man must be paid, bags and steamer-rug and flowers pulled out. -Willetta was there, laughing with tears in her eyes. The little Chinese -woman was there and Anne and Mr. Hayden. She was surrounded, laughing, -shaking hands, saying something, anything.</p> - -<p>They were at the gang-plank, across it, on the deck of the steamer now, -in the packed crowd. All around them were tears and laughter, kisses, -farewells. She was shaking hands again. Miss Peterson, the stenographer -from the "Post," was pressing a white package into her hands; two -little girls from Telegraph Hill had come down to bring a hot, wilted -bunch of weed-flowers; Mary O'Brien, from the settlement house she had -written about, and others, acquaintances she had hardly remembered, -men with whom she had danced at the Press Club—"Oh, Mr. Clark! How -good of you to come—! Good-by!—Good-by!" "Hope you have a fine trip." -"Oh, thank you!—Thank you!—Good-by!"</p> - -<p>The whistle blew; the crowd eddied about her. A last hug from Sara, -tremulous kisses, Willetta's damp cheek pressed against hers, a sob in -her throat. The last visitors were being hurried from the ship. Some -one threw a bright paper ribbon, curling downward to the wharf. Another -and another, scores of them, hundreds, sped through the sunshine, -interlacing, caught by the crowd below, while others rose in long -curves to the deck, till the steamer was bound to the shore by their -rainbow colors.</p> - -<p>Another whistle. Slowly, with a faint quivering of its great hulk, the -ship awoke, became a living thing beneath her feet. The futile, bright -strands parted, one by one, curled, fell into the water. The crowd -below was a blur of white faces. Brushing her hand across her eyes, -she found her own little group, Willetta, Anne, Sara, close together, -waving handkerchiefs. Across the widening strip of water she waved her -roses, waved and waved them till the docks were blots of gray and she -could no longer see the answering flutter of white. The ship was slowly -turning in the stream, heading out through the Golden Gate.</p> - -<p>When the last sight of the dear gray city was lost, when the Ferry -Tower, the high cliffs of Telegraph, the castle-like height of Russian -Hill, the Presidio, Cliff House, the beach, had sunk into grayness -on the horizon, she went down to her stateroom. It was piled with -gifts, long striped boxes that held flowers, baskets of fruit, square -silver-corded packages that spoke of bonbons, others large and small -She had not known that so many people cared.</p> - -<p>A blind impulse had brought her into this little place where she could -lock a door behind her and be alone. She had felt that she could give -way there to all the tears she had not shed. But she felt only a sense -of peace. She laughed a little, wiping away the few tears that did brim -over her lashes, thinking of the girls who still loved her and would -love her wherever she was.</p> - -<p>Deliberately she thought of Paul, and already the deep hurt was gone. -He would be reading her letter now; she felt a pang of sharp pain -because she had made him suffer. But he would forget her now. In time -there would be another girl, such a girl as she had been,—the girl he -had loved and that no longer lived in her.</p> - -<p>"That's why it hurt me so!" she thought, with sudden illumination. "Not -because I wanted him, but because I wanted to be all that I had been, -and to have all that I have missed and never will have. Marriage and -home and children. No, I can't ever fit into it now. But—there's all -the world, all the world, outside, waiting for me!"</p> - -<p>Her thoughts turned forward to it.</p> - - -<p class="ph2">THE END</p> - -<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74612 ***</div> -</body> -</html> - diff --git a/old/74612-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/74612-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0d99363..0000000 --- a/old/74612-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null |
