Part 35 (2/2)
”My only solace in all this bungling mess I have made is that I have brought Jo and Marta together.
”With you at the ranch and Hebler in town, I don't know how I could make my getaway but for Larry. I have telephoned him and he is to meet me near here, and by the time my little carrier dove delivers this, I shall be en route--for France. I'm weary of movies, and life is a delusion anyway.
”I admit it was wrong to deceive you--after the necessity for so doing had pa.s.sed. You were kind--in intent; still, you might have been a wee bit nicer, don't you think?
”Regretfully, ”PENELOPE.”
”P. S. Does it hurt _now_ that I use your mother's name?”
He read this letter as one who dreams and is but half conscious that it is a dream. He read it again and again, each time grasping bit by bit the realization of its contents and what they meant to him.
”She was right,” he thought. ”I didn't know what love meant. I do now--now that I missed it. I've lost her more surely than if she were a 'hardened, young criminal.' I shall never try to find her.”
It was hardly sunrise when he went down to the office.
”I should like to speak to Mr. Lamont when he comes down,” he said to the clerk.
”He has gone,” was the reply. ”He came down before his call and has gone to the train.”
”Maybe it is just as well,” thought Kurt. ”There is really no message I could send to her.”
”See the picture last night?” asked the clerk chattily. ”The Thief, or Meg O' The Prairies. Great picture!”
”Yes; I saw it,” replied Kurt dismally.
”I always go to see Bobbie Burr. She's my favorite. There was a girl here the other day who was a dead ringer for her. She had dinner with Lamont here. I read in a magazine that she gets a big salary. I forget the figures, but it was more per week than some folks earn in a lifetime.”
Kurt's heart registered more downward beats.
He hung about the office until the dining-room was open and then went in and perfunctorily consumed some food. Later he called up an acquaintance and asked the loan of his car. It was sent around to the hotel, and he was just about to start for the ranch when a well-known voice behind him said:
”May I ride out to Top Hill with you?”
For a moment the blood left his heart and then returned so rapidly it left him quite pale.
”Larry said you were here. I came back on the train just now. I want to go to the ranch for--my things. Will you take me?”
”Yes,” he said abstractedly.
CHAPTER XVII
”Kurt!”
He looked up with a start. As on that first ride, long ago, his eyes had been fixed on the road ahead.
”Let's talk a bit,” she said. ”What did you think--”
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