Part 45 (1/2)

Lily was rather surprised, when she reached the Eagle Pharmacy, to find Pink Denslow coming out. It gave her a little pang, too; he looked so clean and sane and normal, so much a part of her old life. And it hurt her, too, to see him flush with pleasure at the meeting.

”Why, Lily!” he said, and stood there, gazing at her, hat in hand, the sun on his gleaming, carefully brushed hair. He was quite inarticulate with happiness. ”I--when did you get back?”

”I have not been away, Pink. I left home--it's a long story. I am staying with my aunt, Mrs. Doyle.”

”Mrs. Doyle? You are staying there?”

”Why not? My father's sister.”

His young face took on a certain sternness.

”If you knew what I suspect about Doyle, Lily, you wouldn't let the same roof cover you.” But he added, rather wistfully, ”I wish I might see you sometimes.”

Lily's head had gone up a trifle. Why did her old world always try to put her in the wrong? She had had to seek sanctuary, and the Doyle house had been the only sanctuary she knew.

”Since you feel as you do, I'm afraid that's impossible. Mr. Doyle's roof is the only roof I have.”

”You have a home,” he said, st.u.r.dily.

”Not now. I left, and my grandfather won't have me back. You mustn't blame him, Pink. We quarreled and I left. I was as much responsible as he was.”

For a moment after she turned and disappeared inside the pharmacy door he stood there, then he put on his hat and strode down the street, unhappy and perplexed. If only she had needed him, if she had not looked so self-possessed and so ever so faintly defiant, as though she dared him to pity her, he would have known what to do. All he needed was to be needed. His open face was full of trouble. It was unthinkable that Lily should be in that center of anarchy; more unthinkable that Doyle might have filled her up with all sorts of wild ideas. Women were queer; they liked theories. A man could have a theory of life and play with it and boast about it, but never dream of living up to it. But give one to a woman, and she chewed on it like a dog on a bone. If those Bolshevists had got hold of Lily--!

The encounter had hurt Lily, too. The fine edge of her exaltation was gone, and it did not return during her brief talk with w.i.l.l.y Cameron.

He looked much older and very thin; there were lines around his eyes she had never seen before, and she hated seeing him in his present surroundings. But she liked him for his very unconsciousness of those surroundings. One always had to take w.i.l.l.y Cameron as he was.

”Do you like it, w.i.l.l.y?” she asked. It had dawned on her, with a sort of panic, that there was really very little to talk about. All that they had had in common lay far in the past.

”Well, it's my daily bread, and with bread costing what it does, I cling to it like a limpet to a rock.”

”But I thought you were studying, so you could do something else.”

”I had to give up the night school. But I'll get back to it sometime.”

She was lost again. She glanced around the little shop, where once Edith Boyd had manicured her nails behind the counter, and where now a middle-aged woman stood with listless eyes looking out over the street.

”You still have Jinx, I suppose?”

”Yes. I--”

Lily glanced up as he stopped. She had drawn off her gloves, and his eyes had fallen on her engagement ring. To Lily there had always been a feeling of unreality about his declaration of love for her. He had been so restrained, so careful to ask nothing in exchange, so without expectation of return, that she had put it out of her mind as an impulse. She had not dreamed that he could still care, after these months of silence. But he had gone quite white.

”I am going to be married, w.i.l.l.y,” she said, in a low tone. It is doubtful if he could have spoken, just then. And as if to add a finis.h.i.+ng touch of burlesque to the meeting, a small boy with a swollen jaw came in just then and demanded something to ”make it stop hurting.”

He welcomed the interruption, she saw. He was very professional instantly, and so absorbed for a moment in relieving the child's pain that he could ignore his own.

”Let's see it,” he said in a businesslike, slightly strained voice.

”Better have it out, old chap. But I'll give you something just to ease it up a bit.”