Part 45 (2/2)

Which he proceeded to do. When he came back to Lily he was quite calm and self-possessed. As he had never thought of dramatizing himself, nor thought of himself at all, it did not occur to him that drama requires setting, that tragedy required black velvet rather than tooth-brushes, and that a small boy with an aching tooth was a comedy relief badly introduced.

All he knew was that he had somehow achieved a moment in which to steady himself, and to find that a man can suffer horribly and still smile. He did that, very gravely, when he came back to Lily.

”Can you tell me about it?”

”There is not very much to tell. It is Louis Akers.”

The middle-aged clerk had disappeared.

”Of course you have thought over what that means, Lily.”

”He wants me to marry him. He wants it very much, w.i.l.l.y. And--I know you don't like him, but he has changed. Women always think they have changed men, I know. But he is very different.”

”I am sure of that,” he said, steadily.

There was something childish about her, he thought. Childish and infinitely touching. He remembered a night at the camp, when some of the troops had departed for over-seas, and he had found her alone and crying in her hut. ”I just can't let them go,” she had sobbed. ”I just can't.

Some of them will never come back.”

Wasn't there something of that spirit in her now, the feeling that she could not let Akers go, lest worse befall him? He did not know. All he knew was that she was more like the Lily Cardew he had known then than she had been since her return. And that he wors.h.i.+ped her.

But there was anger in him, too. Anger at Anthony Cardew. Anger at the Doyles. And a smoldering, bitter anger at Louis Akers, that he should take the dregs of his life and offer them to her as new wine. That he should dare to link his scheming, plotting days to this girl, so wise and yet so ignorant, so clear-eyed and yet so blind.

”Do they know at home?”

”I am going to tell mother to-day.”

”Lily,” he said, slowly, ”there is one thing you ought to do. Go home, make your peace there, and get all this on the right footing. Then have him there. You have never seen him in that environment, yet that is the world he will have to live in, if you marry him. See how he fits there.”

”What has that got to do with it?”

”Think a minute. Am I quite the same to you here, as I was in the camp?”

He saw her honest answer in her eyes.

CHAPTER XXII

The new movement was growing rapidly, and with a surprising catholicity of range. Already it included lawyers and doctors, chauffeurs, butchers, clergymen, clerks of all sorts, truck gardeners from the surrounding county, railroad employees, and some of the strikers from the mills, men who had obeyed their union order to quit work, but had obeyed it unwillingly; men who resented bitterly the invasion of the ranks of labor by the lawless element which was fomenting trouble.

Dan had joined.

On the day that Lily received her engagement ring from Louis Akers, one of the cards of the new Vigilance Committee was being inspected with cynical amus.e.m.e.nt by two clerks in a certain suite of offices in the Searing Building. They studied it with interest, while the man who had brought it stood by.

”Where'd you pick it up, Cusick?”

”One of our men brought it into the store. Said you might want to see it.”

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