Part 34 (1/2)
”Now I'm really going,” she said. ”Good-bye for sure this time....”
Her words trailed away. Cornish had laid his hand on her arm.
”Don't say good-bye,” he said.
”It's late,” she said, ”I--”
”Don't you go,” said Cornish.
She looked at him mutely.
”Do you think you could possibly stay here with me?”
”Oh!” said Lulu, like no word.
He went on, not looking at her. ”I haven't got anything. I guess maybe you've heard something about a little something I'm supposed to inherit.
Well, it's only five hundred dollars.”
His look searched her face, but she hardly heard what he was saying.
”That little Warden house--it don't cost much--you'd be surprised. Rent, I mean. I can get it now. I went and looked at it the other day, but then I didn't think--” he caught himself on that. ”It don't cost near as much as this store. We could furnish up the parlour with pianos--”
He was startled by that ”we,” and began again:
”That is, if you could ever think of such a thing as marrying me.”
”But,” said Lulu. ”You _know_! Why, don't the disgrace--”
”What disgrace?” asked Cornish.
”Oh,” she said, ”you--you----”
”There's only this about that,” said he. ”Of course, if you loved him very much, then I'd ought not to be talking this way to you. But I didn't think--”
”You didn't think what?”
”That you did care so very much--about him. I don't know why.”
She said: ”I wanted somebody of my own. That's the reason I done what I done. I know that now.”
”I figured that way,” said Cornish.
They dismissed it. But now he brought to bear something which he saw that she should know.
”Look here,” he said, ”I'd ought to tell you. I'm--I'm awful lonesome myself. This is no place to live. And I guess living so is one reason why I want to get married. I want some kind of a home.”
He said it as a confession. She accepted it as a reason.
”Of course,” she said.