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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (March 18, 1923)
back into her corner of the bench as if instinctively responding to the repudiation of his first glance. His reaction was an apologetic em barrassment. He had startled her. Sl*e looked like a fluttered wild tiling. That would not do at all. He was not tbe sort who alarmed girls. He rushed into .speech. “I’m awfully afraid I frightened you,” he said. “To tell the truth, I didn’t see you when I flopped down. I was thinking of something else." She held her pose in the far cor ner of the bench, but she still star ed at him, and as she did so her slight young figure relaxed and the look of fear left her ey< s. She did not speak, however, and for a long moment their glance held while he waited, expecting her to do so. Then self-consciously and feeling much snubbed, he dropped his glance from her face and it took in the surprising fact that on this cold and stormy day the young girl on the bench be side him wore no coat. What ho now saw was no longer an offended girl, but a shivering fellow enuture, blue with cold, clad In a dark blue gown • cf the sort Dora had called “one piece.” Not even a scarf protected the thin young throat from which the neck of the gown was brh fly cut away in the familiar lines of the popular fashion. Not daring again to raise his eyes to her face in the light of this discovery. David let them drop to the level of the girl's phoes. They had been well 'made and shapely little shoe. Now one of them, the right, ' unconsciously thrust out a little In the girl's quick recoil at his sudden appearance, showed a long split on the side and a glimpse of black stocking. David sat back In his place, closed Ills eyes, and deliberately made him self think, lie had loved his dead mother and adored Ills dead sister. • ITe had learned from them to honor women, nut lie was a city boy. mid lio was not unsophisticated. He knew uuite well the difference l.e tween “nice girls" and the other kind, nnd he realized that the situa tion of this strong, girl on the park bench beside him was. to say the least, anomalous. She might, or might not. be a “nice girl." He re called his one direct look into her wide, frightened eyes. That, certain ly, had been reassuring. Sh<- had shown herself so young and so afraid, and she had not responded when he spoke to her. Also, she was shod like a b- tfgar and dressed hardly better than one, though there was a suggestion of one-time smartness of the right kind about the now shabby frock and the close fitting litt’e hat almost covered her brown hair. Her eyes, he recalled, had been brown, too—beautiful eyes they were, but eyes with an odd look In them—something other than the fright he had caused her His rede, lions ended suddonlv. They had be. n checked by an un expected development. The slight figure, so remote In it. corner though so near, load suddenly drooped, then pitched forward. It would have fallen from the bench but for David s fluick grasp, which caught and steadied it. He settled It back against the benrh, an<l then, springing to his feet, stared at it helplessly. Its eyes were closed. Its face was ghastly. Most obvi ously, even to the mind of a rather suspicious young man, the girl had fainted. Hhe could not simulate that gray pallor, that drawn look around lips and nostrils. Ho bent down, seized a handful Of snow, and vigorously rubbed hep face with It. For a moment he ac tually thought she had died there beside him. There was no pulse that he could detect, and he had much recent experience with a girl’s failing pulse. He stretched the stranger out flat on the bench and continued bis rubbing, sending desperate eyeshots up and down the lonely path ns ho worked, In the hope of seeing a mounted police man or a pedestrian. Hut seem ingly he and the girl were alone In the world. What was done for her must be done by him. He continued to rub her fuec. and st last a little color came Into It and her brown eyes slowly opened. For a few Instants their expres sion remained blank. Then fear again rushed Into them a fear so great that the heart of the young man contracted. It drove him Into swift, reassuring speech. "Flense don’t Is frightened." he said "You see, you fainted, and I'm trying to help you. Are you better now?" •She tried to struggle to a sitting position, but fell back weakly. He put a strong arm behind her and helped her to her old position in the comer of the bench. Better how?” lie repealed cheer fully. “Yesw-I tlrttik so Thank you." The gill's voice was weak, but It was also lovely. Her accent and manner were thoi <• of a well-bred, w-’ll-educated girl of hia.own class. Ib nderson's heart leaped at tin dis covery. In that moment he told himself this gitl was all right, tllrls who wire nut "all right'' did not ■ nk like itint, nor did they ajlow tie tnsco. es to stntve and f-ec«e |l . fo put at nin e the words he knew weald most quickly reassure her. ‘‘You must let me do what I can for you,” he said in a matter of fact way. “I've had a lot of experience with this kind of thing. My sister was an invalid for a long time and I took care of her. So please let me take you safely to your home and turn you over to some one who witl put you to bed for a day or two. Do you think you could walk as far as the nearest park gate?” he added UP she-did not speak. "We can get a car there, or perhaps I can pick up a taxicab.” She shook her head. There w is utter helplessness in the gesture. Then, with a quick breath, she spoke. "No, no,” she said. "Please leave me here. I shall bo quite all right." He began an energetic protest. "But, good heavens, I can’t do that!" he pointed out. "It wouldn't be safe. Anything might happen. Just let me take you to your door and see that you get inside. Then I'll clear out.” For another momea^die hesitat ed. Then bluntly, In flat tones, she gave hint the truth. • "I haven’t tiny home. I was turned out of it this morning be-# cause—because I couldn’t pay my rent. I suppose," she went on un steadily, "you will have to take me to some Institution. Would they take me into a hospital, do you think? I'm not rettlly sick, though.". Ho knew now what was the mat ter. He understood the gray pallor, the pinched lips and nostrils, the terrible look in tho brown eyes. The girl was starving. Hhe had un doubtedly pawned everything she had except, literally, enough gar ments to clothe her nakedness. She had even parted with her coat. He rose. Come,' ho said. “I'm sure you can walk to the park gate. There Is a little restaurant arrows the street where it will he warm and comfort able. We can have some lunch there and talk things over." lie mot her eyes as he spoke, then Ills own dropped again under the unconscious revelation In hers. For an instant the expression In those brown eyes was nothing short of horrible. It was a thing animal like In Its Intensity. As if con scious of It, she turned her face away from him. “No," she said thickly. “No. I'm all right now. Please go." Hut the look had made departure a physical impossibility for Dora Henderson's brother. He could no more leave the girl there alone than if he was bound to her by chuins. “See here," he said desperately. “For Clod's sake look at me and make up your mind to trust me. I>on’t you see that you can? Eet me help you In memory of my sister. She died last week." She slowly turned to him at this, and he went on eager!}-. “It w ill ha she who Is helping you, not I . Can't you see that? Come. It s what she would want.” She rose without another word, but for a moment she stood sway ing unsteadily, evidently t. sting her strength. At last she made a slow step forward and he took her arm, supporting her as much as she would let him. Even weak as he now was, he coubl have carried her slight figure, and he longed to do so, but she was walking more easi ly, evidently buoyed up by thought of the food and warmth to come. The Journey to the gate was not long. In a surprisingly short time they were seated on opposite sides of a small table in one of the ubiquitous chain restaurants where food la good and clean and cheap. The warm, bright room was almost empty, for It was 2 o'clock In the afternoon. In a few moments David's taut nerves relaxed under the satisfying spectacle of his guest eating a thick, hot, nourishing soup and trying to do It slowly ami causually. When she had emptied the dish she smiled at him. It was the first time he had seen her. smile, and his heart contracted un der the pathos of it. “Why aren't you eating?" she asked, observing the fuel fo’r the first, time. I had my lunch before l came uptown.” David told the lie glibly. He was thinking of the amonut of $2 #0, which was oil he had In his pock* <ts. save the wonderful check f<r $500. Two dollars and sixty cents might not cover a substantial lunch eon for two, and this girl must havo. a substantial luncheon. "I think some chops should bo the next thing In order,” he sug gested, picking up the menu. She shook h»r head. "I’d love them,” she confessed, “but T don't dare. You see”- her prmifmttto haul dropped under the humiliation of the confession, and a pale flush stained her * hocJ(s —” I—I— haven't eaten for days. I must begin carefully. If I can have s«*mo bread and milk that’s all I ought to take — and. perhaps, a < up of <mffee.” I Is k vi m,v she was light and ga>e I he orrt#|*. ' V\ • kave m hangup dinner to night,*’ lie cheerfully predicted, re membering his check. As she ate bread and milk he talked keeping resolutely to the facts that would reassure her. "I know all about these tempo rary streaks of hard luck,” ho told the girl, leaning toward her boy ishly, his elbows inelegantly on the little table, his dark grey eyes on her face. "My sister and I went through them. We were still going through them when she died. Then today, when I didn’t ••are what hap pened, I had a streak of luck. I got this.” " lie took the letter and check from his pocket and showed them to her. He touched on the Irony of the belated editorial appreciation. He described his momentary rebel lion, his resolution of the morning. He confessed to the sale of his fur niture and to his own temporary homelessness. Then he said calmly: "So. you see, It was all mtjant to he. Things like this don’t happen by chance. When you started out this morning, imagining yourself homeless, your good angel and mine put their heads together. Mine knew what it would mean to me to have someone else to think about and plan for Just now. So It's settled, and all you and I have to do is to follow the plan. Itight after lunch we will go to the hank and cash this check. We will have Just time before the bank closes. Then we'll take a cab and find the right room for you, and after that we'll go out and buy a coat for you and have a real meal." At this she laughed a little, and David found the sound enchanting. He grinned hack at her boyishly. When she had finished her meal to its last morsel he paid the check, tipped the waitress, and royally de manded a taxicab. At the door of the bank he loft her in the cab's safe shelter while he cashed his check—an enterj rise simplified by the fact that he had cashed hia one hundred dollar check at the same institution and that the paying teller remembered him and the in cident. When he Was back In the cab with his roll of bills distending a trousers p ket the girl made Jur first suggestion. O "I might go back to my own room,” she brought out, hesitat ingly, "If you really are going to lie good enough to—to lend me a few dollars. All my furniture U there, and my trunk, and I know the landlady will take me in if I i an pay a mtie on account. 8he really hated to turn me out this morn ing. but she had given me a lot of time, and. besides, it wasn't snow ing then.” "All light." * Ilavld was immensely relieved Now that things were straightened out for the girl his temporary alertness was leaving him. He felt a return of the odd, dizzy, dreamy, blind sen sation of the hour liefure. He wanted to see the girl settled and provided for, and then he wanted to go somewhere and rest. He passed on to the driver of the taxicab the address she hail given him. and. on a sudden Impulse, took ant his roll, divided It at random, and pressed the bills Into her hand. As she be gan to protest he put liis hand on hers urul crushed her Angers shut over the money. "No time to argue the thing.” he said, nlmiist irritably. "I feel queer I've fi-lt queer ail day. Perhaps I'm going to be sick. Anyway, I want you off my mind. I'll go up with you, if you'll let me, and give your landlady the once over. Tell her I'm your cousin. Just In town for the day. Hhe may not believe It, but it's the best we can do, and she'll never see me again, so it doesn't matter. But I've got to lie zuro you're all right before I go away. Besides, we want some din ner.” subsequent events were a little hazy to Henderson, lie did not take In the simplicity and good taste of tliA girl' little sitting room, but with the last flicker of vitality and intelligence he did take In the iwr sonallty of the landlady. Hi formed the Impression that the woman wag thoroughly respectable and not laid hearted creature, who was genuine ly glad her un renujnera11ve lodger liad returned with enough cosh to pay her way. V’P to this point I>a vtd conducted himself very well. Now. quite suddenly, he demanded a drink of cold water and began to babble In a way that meant noth ing but which Immediately aroused the blackest suspicions of the land lady. He realized this and tried to reassure her by speaking to her slowly and painstakingly. He heard the girl's alarmed voice. "Ho toM me he felt 111," she was Baying. Boon he was again plain ing something, this time to a man with a i>eiemptory manner, who In sisted on his taking off his coat and who kept punching his chest In a way that annoyed him abominably. After this he had a confused sense of voices ntul lights, and flnslly of bed and of racking pain atul burn ing fever, anil of odd processions around a room whose walls kept contracting and expanding. At times he heard a voice—-a fa mlllnr and loauttful voice, speaking sometimes to him, sometimes to someone else. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of brown eyes and brown hair. But it was ail chaotic indeed, until one morning he sud denly heard a surprising weak voice which seemed to come from ids own throat. "Hello," it said. At the word someone rose and bent above him — someone now glori ously familiar, someone with brown eyes and brown hair. The voice that had been part of his dreams, sound ed again, bushed, but oddly excited. “Ito you know me?" it asked. David gazed with deep content at ihe girl who stood beside his bed. The last time he saw her she had been falling off a park bench; no. she had been eating soup; no, she had been paying her landlady. O, it didn't matter what she ha/1 been doing. What she was doing now was offering him something from a cup and tube. “-Drink this," she said urgently. When he had obeyed she repeated her question. "Do you know me?" "X guess so,” said David. He raised something that evidently be longed to hirn and regarded It with strong disfavor. It was his right hand, and It was disgustingly thin and white and shaky. "Have I been sick?'’ he de manded. "Yes." "How long?’’ "Two weeks." - “What was it?” 'Pneumonia. You're all right now, but you must not talk any more.” Am I In a Hospital' “No. Mrs. Jackson look you right in as noon as she realized that you were really 111. Fortunately she had nn empty room, and we helped the doctor to carry you there. I told you she was really a good soul.” David passed lightly over tlm goodness of Mis. Jackson. It did net deeply Interval him. “And. have you nursed me all this time?” he asked faintly. "O, I've been in and out. Mr Jack son has helped, and one of the maids. And the doctor has been kind. But giow you must not say another word. Just go to sleep." He closed his eyes. The ' next time he opened them the dix-tor was there, very breezy, and greatly pleased with himself and his pa tient. "But no talking, mind.” he warn ■si the latter. “You've had a close shave, and you're got to lie mighty careful for another week.” He turned to the brown eyed girl. “If he begins to talk to you. g» t _U[i and leave the room,' ’he di rected. She was an amazingly obedient brown-eyed girl. After that she seemed eternally having the room, while Iktvid caught back the trail ing ends of his remarks to her. Finally he learned his less m and lay watching her contentedly as she waited on him or moved about the sickroom. She was constantly feeding him. Borne form of liquid nourishment was always at his lips. Also he realized with grati tude there was no restriction on her speqrh She talk- d to him when sbe chose, telling him of the dear sunshine outside, of the brae ing air. of the d<-tor's orders, of how. soon, he would lie up and about. On the third day. in answer to one urgent question, she gave him some aulot.il,graphii .il details Yes. she was quite all right now. thanks to hlin. She was not yet looking for work, because she—well, it seemed bet ter for her to be there till he wns well. And Mrs Jack son was letting her have her meals hi the house, which was part of the new and surpassing goodness of Mrs. Jurkson. She wanted David to know she had all his money, locked safely In her desk, and she was paying from It his expenses from week to week, and, tempo rarily, her own But she was keep ing track of every p> nny, and amount she owed him was not large._ Now that she was on her feet again she would soon hav work. Had she told hirn she wa.- " an illustrator? She was, but Just starting out, and three months agt she had lost her position on the art staff of a magazine. But today she had heard of another position, a good one. which would be held open for her a w'eek or two "Work?” he exclaimed weakly. "A position? What's the IdeaT Great Scott! Don't you realize yet that you can't take another pos:- \ tion? You're going to marry tfie 1 and let me take care of you!” M It was at this point that she left the room again She continued to leave the room abruptly as sdfi U ho began to talk about their W rlage, which became his favorite topic, even though he was not per mitted to make more tiian on* re mark at a time. Still, one could make those remarks tell! It was on the fifth day of his con valescence that he made the great discovery. He had known all the time that he was not so well when she was not in the room. Indeed he was not well at all. He was nerv ous, restless, and feverish. His In gratitude for the attentions of Mrs. Jackson and the maid deeply pained those ministering angels. When she came into the room acaln. how ever, he was Immediately better. Ite was even entirely well. He was < strong enough to sit up and talk as he carefully explained to her. Hi.s greatest desire wa« to sit up and talk and he listened to. There were millii ns of th ngs he had to sa/ htr. It would tak- the r- st of lilf” lifeiime to eay them. Yet she was eternally disappearing through that U r. and on the fifth day he had made the great discovery that she was d -liberately keeping away from him. Phe would now hardly np proru h his tied. Phe would not meet his eyes. Ruv late in the afternoon *h. venturi'! too ti-nr. and he • aught her hand and held it close. -Ph-. sii uggled, but she could rot n ve Then she sto 1 very still. nd f ;■ one blinding no mmi looked down at him. The lot k illumined the w orld for Davl.l Henderson. For a moment he wutchid it. gb-t < 1 in U. apd In the - lor that slowly mounted to the very edge of her brown hair. Then she sfsjke. •'You musu't talk, you know"’ » ' I'm going to t Ik to you all day tomorrow,' lie firtniy am.-runced. "I'm going to nuke the d-*"or let 1 t- .|o u We re i i g to i t the ^ ii.fi f. r our wedding and make all •our plan*. l:ut in the meantime,” h- added, siili I - liilug her eyes and her hand, its s.inply be--tally for a fellow to lie here or. his back and not know even the first name of the girl he la going to marry. Po I'm going to have your name right now. Is it Margaret?'' Phe sh<wk le r in hi) head and tried to slip away, but he held her hand tight. "No," she said at last ■ Is It Katherine? Or Maud or Genevieve or ' Iwen.dolyn? "No.” What is it then? ' _ Phe flushed. * "it isn't a fancy name at all. 1 m awfully afraid you won’t like it. It's just a plain ordinary, cvervday name. It's—Dora." "Dora!” lie breathed the name after her, slowly taking In the wonderful, beautiful, incredible fact. 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