Larry Moore rose and walked the length of the room. When he came back he
went to the wall and took down a photograph; but with what emotion I
could not say, for his back was to me. I glanced again at the odd
volatile beauty in the woman's face and wondered what was the word Bill
Coogan had said and what was his reason for saying it.
"From that day it was all luck for me," Larry Moore said, settling again
in the chair, where his face returned to the shadow. "She had a head on
her, that little woman. She pulled me up to where I am. I pitched that
season for the Bridgeports. You know the record, Bob, seven games lost
out of forty-three, and not so much my fault either. When they were for
signing me again, at big money too, the little woman said:
"'Don't you do it, Larry Moore; they're not your class. Just hold out a
bit.'
"You know, Bob, how I signed then with the Giants, and how they boosted
my salary at the end of that first year; but it was Fanny Montrose who
made the contracts every time. We had the child then, and I was happy.
The money came quick, and lots of it, and I put it in her lap and said:
"'Do what you want with it; only I want you to enjoy it like a lady.'
"Maybe I was wrong there--maybe I was. It was pride, I'll admit; but
there wasn't a lady came to the stands that looked finer than Fanny
Montrose, as I always used to call her. I got to be something of a
figure, as you know, and the little woman was always riding back and
forth to the games in some automobile, and more often with Paul Bargee.
"One afternoon Ed Nichols, who was catching me then, came up with a
serious face and said: 'Where's your lady to-day, Larry--and Paul
Bargee?' And by the way he said it I knew what he had in mind, and good
friend that he was of mine I liked to have throttled him. They told me
to pitch the game, and I did. I won it too. Then I ran home without
changing my clothes, the people staring at me, and ran up the stairs and
flung open the door and stopped and called: 'Fanny Montrose!'
"And I called again, and I called a third time, and only the child came
to answer me. Then I knew in my heart that Fanny Montrose had left me
and run off with Paul Bargee.