Hardy turned his back upon Mr. Plummer, and looked out of the window. It
was a cold, rainy day. The people far below on the street were hurrying
by under umbrellas.
“In that case, Hardy,” said Mr. Plummer, “I’m sorry, but--”
“Yes, sir,” said Hardy.
He couldn’t, at that moment, say anything more. Something had risen into
his throat and silenced him. He would have liked to speak, to tell the
man who had shown so kindly an interest in him that he regretted his
hasty and violent words. He hadn’t meant all that he said. He had come
to tell Mr. Plummer that he wanted to sell his stock. He had listened,
as patiently as he could, while his employer remonstrated with him. He
had endured a pretty stiff lecture upon his recent slackness and lack of
attention to work, because he knew he deserved it; but when Mr. Plummer
undertook to warn him about “entangling” himself with that “young woman
in the auditing department;” all his genuine respect for his chief had
vanished in an overwhelming anger. That “young woman” was his Edith!
He didn’t like, now, to recall what he had said.
“I’m sorry, Hardy,” said Mr. Plummer again. He was looking at the boy
with an odd expression on his lined face, a look half respectful, half
sorrowful. As a man, he liked Hardy the better for his outburst, but as
a business man he deplored it.
“I wish you the best of luck, my boy,” he said. “Refer to me at any
time.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Hardy.
Off he went, with his words of apology unsaid, with five years of
friendly interest unrewarded, and with his own heart like lead. He
walked through the office for the last time, and into the corridor,
leaving so much behind him.
Edith was waiting for him in the lobby.
“Oh, Joe!” she cried. “I found a place uptown where they promised to
deliver the furniture this afternoon. Imagine! And I got the dearest
material for curtains! I brought a sample to show you.”
She was opening her hand bag, but he stopped her.
“No, don’t,” he said curtly. “Not just now.”
Here she was, chattering about curtains, after all that had happened! He
remembered how he had left her the evening before, after a horrible
interview with her aunt. He remembered her pitiful attempts to soothe
and comfort that hysterical old demon, and her anguish when she failed
so utterly, and was told that if she married “that man” she would be
cast off--except for the trifling communications necessary to continuing
her support of the martyr.
“And I couldn’t sleep for worrying about her!” he thought bitterly. “I
thought she’d be ill, and look at her now--perfectly happy, talking
about curtains!”
“Come on!” he said aloud, and then stopped, with a frown. “Haven’t you
any umbrella?” he asked.
“I have one,” she replied, “but not here. It wasn’t raining when I
started.”
“Edith!” he said suddenly. “Don’t you remember?”
How could he have imagined that she was happy, or that her mind was
filled with thoughts of curtains? That small, gallant, smiling thing, so
pale, so troubled, with the shadow of her suffering dark in her eyes!
“It’s nearly twelve, Joe,” she said, looking at her watch. “We haven’t
much time.”
“Oh, yes, we have!” he told her. “We have any amount of time, for I’m
never going back there.”
“Joe!” she cried. “Oh, Joe! Oh, no, no! Don’t tell me you’ve--”
He drew a long breath, and then looked down at her with a grin.
“You’ve got a young man with a remarkably uncertain future,” he said.
“Never mind--we’ll start a new future. Anyhow, I shan’t have to go to
Europe now, and leave you.”
“Oh, Joe! What have I done?”
“I did it myself,” he said sturdily, “and I’m glad. Thank Heaven, we’ve
got time, now, for a nice, peaceful wedding!”
MUNSEY’S
MAGAZINE
JULY, 1924
Vol. LXXXII NUMBER 2