Part 17 (2/2)

As she pa.s.sed Chestnut Street they were going into the ”movie”

theatre. There was a long queue stringing out on the pavement. She was hardly aware of it but kept on walking straight north. More than one head was turned to watch her as she plunged resolutely on. Her apparent fixity of purpose was incongruous for that time of the evening.

The preposterousness of the whole affair kept hammering at her thoughts. To think that she had tied herself up with such a creature.

To think that she had been so blind to the coa.r.s.eness, the commonness that must have been there all along. What would Aunt Susie think about it? What would they all think? And in her own room! The brazen, callous nerve of the creature! Like a big, fat, lumbering ox. She trembled all over with sensitiveness.

Before she knew it she had come to Main Street. Beyond her dipped the hill that led to the river. The lamps were dim, and spa.r.s.ely lighted the alleyways and loading platforms of the dark, forbidding warehouses. She realized suddenly that she must make some decision.

She could not go back to the room. Slowly and thoughtfully she crossed the street and retraced her steps on the other side. What was she to do? She could not go back. Not under any circ.u.mstances. The friends she had were mere casual acquaintances; she could not call on them.

She pa.s.sed out into the more crowded district again. She began to be a little perturbed, forgot her anger; at least it was dimmed. Coming to Spruce Street she saw the usual crowd of men hanging about the door of the Ardmore. They always stood there, cl.u.s.tered about on the steps, with their cigarettes and their half-burned cigars and their flashy clothes and their burnt-out eyes and their appraising looks. For a moment she contemplated crossing the street to avoid running the gauntlet of their inspection. Where would she go then? Farther south it was darker and more unfriendly, with great stretches of shade and silence. She paused for a moment on the corner and watched the throng about the steps across the street. People were hurrying in and out; motors were humming; trolley gongs were clanging. She felt a sudden fear of it, that familiar neighbourhood with the tea room less than a block away. Hot, flushed, nervous, excited, she wanted to run somewhere, slink down into a cool, quiet shelter as had the cat she had seen from the window earlier in the evening. The world was a cruel place. One had to know how to get along in it. Every sc.r.a.p of a.s.surance seemed to have left her.

Suddenly she turned to the right and walked down Spruce Street. She came to the lobby of the Patterson and walked boldly in. With her pulses hammering she went up to the desk, took the pen, and signed her name to the register.

A level-eyed man with a very naked head came forward and considered her. His face was as cryptic as the outline on a mummy case. It was as easy to read his thoughts. He merely inclined his head and looked slightly away, suggesting that his ear was hers if she so desired.

”Single room with bath,” faltered Mary Louise.

The clerk resumed his upright position. He looked at her gravely as though she had said, ”What will you take for your hotel?” He looked past her into the vast stretches of the lobby and found there much for philosophic speculation. Thus absorbed, he asked vacantly, ”Any luggage?”

”No,” said Mary Louise. ”I--it will be here in the morning.”

He turned and stepped back into the sanctum of interwoven grilles and part.i.tions.

Mary Louise was desperately nervous. It seemed that a thousand eyes were watching her; her back felt peppered with them. She s.h.i.+fted one foot and leaned slightly against the desk. All about her men were pressing up for mail, keys, reservations, information. She dared not look around. There were no women in the constricted circle of her vision except the telephone operator over to her left.

The clerk was taking a long time. She was getting even more anxious.

Suddenly she heard her name called. It startled her even while it brought a tremendous sense of relief. She turned and Claybrook was standing by her elbow.

”How's tricks?” he inquired.

For a moment she could not answer, only look at him gratefully.

”I've been out of town. Just got back. Was going to call you up this evening, but I didn't have the chance,” he went on.

She murmured something unintelligible.

”Waiting here for something?” At her nod of a.s.sent he came and stood beside her, leaning his elbow on the desk, his gaze idly and comfortably sweeping the lobby. ”Hot to-night,” he said.

The inscrutable clerk returned. Mary Louise felt his inspection before she actually saw him. She turned, expectant.

”Sorry,” he murmured. ”Can't do anything for you.”

Mary Louise received the blow standing. ”But,” she faltered, ”Later on?--I'm not in a hurry. Are you really all filled up?”

The clerk gravely smiled and shook his head.

She stared at him in desolate appeal. Her thoughts went rocketing off.

What was she going to do?

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