Dangerous Days

"Listen, Rudolph," she said. "I'll tell you all about it. He did come

up, but he left right away. We quarreled. He threw me over, Rudolph.

That's what he did."

Her own words reminded her of her humiliation, and tears came into her

eyes.

"He threw me over! Honest he did. That's why I threw his watch out of

the window. That's straight, Rudolph. That's straight goods. I'm not

lying now."

"God!" said Rudolph. "The dirty pup. Then--then you're through with him,

eh?"

"I'm through, all right."

Her tone carried conviction. Rudolph's face relaxed, and seeing that,

she remembered her half-dressed condition.

"Throw me that waist," she said.

"Come around and get it."

"Aw, Rudolph, throw it. Please!"

"Getting modest, all at once," he jeered. But he picked it up and

advanced to the table with it. As she held out her hand for it he caught

her and drew her forward toward him, across the table.

"You little devil!" he said, and kissed her.

She submitted, because she must, but she shivered. If she was to save

Graham she must play the game. And so far she was winning. She was

feminine enough to know that already the thing he thought she had

done was to be forgiven her. More than that, she saw a half-reluctant

admiration in Rudolph's eyes, as though she had gained value, if she

had lost virtue, by the fact that young Spencer had fancied her.

And Rudolph's morals were the morals of many of his kind. He admired

chastity in a girl, but he did not expect it.

But she was watchful for the next move he might make. That it was not

what she expected did not make it the less terrifying.

"You get your hat and coat on."

"I'll not do anything of the kind."

"D'you think I'm going to leave you here, where he can come back

whenever he wants to? You think again!"

"Where are you going to take me?"

"I'm going to take you home."

When pleading made no impression on him, and when he refused to move

without her, she threw her small wardrobe into the suitcase, and put

her hat and coat on. She was past thinking, quite hopeless. She would

go back, and her father would kill her, which would be the best thing

anyhow; she didn't care to live.

Rudolph had relapsed into moody silence. Down the stairs, and on the

street he preceded her, contemptuously letting her trail behind. He

carried her suitcase, however, and once, being insecurely fastened, it

opened and bits of untidy apparel littered the pavement. He dropped the

suitcase and stood by while she filled it again. The softness of that

moment, when, lured by her bare arms he had kissed her, was gone.