K
Page 66Le Moyne came late to his midday meal. For once, the mental anaesthesia
of endless figures had failed him. On his way home he had drawn his small
savings from the bank, and mailed them, in cash and registered, to a back
street in the slums of a distant city. He had done this before, and always
with a feeling of exaltation, as if, for a time at least, the burden he
carried was lightened. But to-day he experienced no compensatory relief.
Life was dull and stale to him, effort ineffectual. At thirty a man should
look back with tenderness, forward with hope. K. Le Moyne dared not look
back, and had no desire to look ahead into empty years.
Although he ate little, the dining-room was empty when he finished.
kind. But, what with the heat and with heaviness of spirit, he did not
notice her depression until he rose.
"Why, you're not sick, are you, Tillie?"
"Me? Oh, no. Low in my mind, I guess."
"It's the heat. It's fearful. Look here. If I send you two tickets to a
roof garden where there's a variety show, can't you take a friend and go
to-night?"
"Thanks; I guess I'll not go out."
Then, unexpectedly, she bent her head against a chair-back and fell to
"I'm just worried; that's all."
"Let's see if we can't fix up the worries. Come, now, out with them!"
"I'm a wicked woman, Mr. Le Moyne."
"Then I'm the person to tell it to. I--I'm pretty much a lost soul
myself."
He put an arm over her shoulders and drew her up, facing him.
"Suppose we go into the parlor and talk it out. I'll bet things are not as
bad as you imagine."
But when, in the parlor that had seen Mr. Schwitter's strange proposal of
"The wicked part is that I want to go with him," she finished. "I keep
thinking about being out in the country, and him coming into supper, and
everything nice for him and me cleaned up and waiting--O my God! I've
always been a good woman until now."
"I--I understand a great deal better than you think I do. You're not
wicked. The only thing is--"
"Go on. Hit me with it."