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Show 51 ED G 0 E E, (I 1 Bu BEI1 MIES UJ I L L i n 111 5 Ben Am WIlHnmg. ,C;HAPTER XIV Continued -29- Af ;:lie middle of the first week at business called Phil back to s5i"-: and Linda of course came ';him. That night at home, her sr, watching her, discovering J icreasing distress, spoke doubt- Jcnow how you love Phil, Lin," TRifiid. "Your mother and I under-But under-But we hate to see your roken by it. If he feels that he iK be with his mother why " JLJj wait," she said. shook his head. "That isn't he urged. "Not fair to your-0 your-0 k;or to us, Lin. We've been sym-verrtic, sym-verrtic, but we want you to be ma:;,-, some day. Please." ew"I rather be unhappy, loving even if I never can have him." le 1 isn't even fair to Phil," he lrred; and Linda cried, her self-tc5;'ol self-tc5;'ol for a moment cracking: a":i, be still! What do I care '":s fair? There's no fairness in 'lirway- Fair? Was it fair for to happen to Phil? To all of ? Is it fair to me that I can't Kc:;:him now?" ,ur:'l then, suddenly contrite, see-3 see-3 c:4s sorrow, she was in his arms, y t:ing. "Oh father, father, what 3ok going to do?" ';e - held her close. "There, Lin!" :ld her. "Sorry. I didn't mean ."-ake it harder. Whatever you ar.a ve-re standing by." ,JS am I," she whispered. "So sc But I'm awful sick of it It's , 'ng, long, long" tre 1 with Phil fte office next g ling she managed as always to g -eady, reassuring, calm. While ' "ctated, his eyes rested inatten- y on her head, bowed above her 2ook; but his thoughts were on a .lictation, till as the last letter f j done he stopped in mid- m :nce, staring at the hair above Pfbrow. j-.le looked up inquiringly, and he '''"led the letter; but when she cgone to her typewriter and he i1i;:alone, he was troubled and full deep, protective concern. Un-btJ-akably, in the dark masses of ;a's hair, there were threads of 'e thought, incredulously, that n.; was no older than Barbara. e.'nty-one? Twenty-two? She had through these months, so com-jslijd com-jslijd that it had not occurred to to think of her as suffering, ry and torn and tired from giv- herself without stint so long. must rest, he decided, must up the work here; and he con-;.'.red con-;.'.red how to tell her so. When a u; after noon, in her car, they ted for York again, he began nake an opening for this sug-on. sug-on. IQf Tou know, Lin," he said, "you've -3'ied me through all this. I don't sfc-v what I'd have done without re5rto talk to. It has helped a lot, ''-worrying out loud to you." .ete there was bitterness in her ..e he did not see it. "Of course," jsaid. "That's what I'm here pTtcisn't it, Phil? At least I can do id'-1 much for you." In; said, half-smiling: "You keep IJgoing, and I keep mother going. Vfs what it amounts to." '.fer glance flashed toward him ost angrily. "You enjoy feeling you're indispensable to her. t you?" Her tone was a chal suppose so," he admitted. "Ai t it's a job to do." 'i she told you you were just a r.ance, you'd probably be angry, Pflmrt." fes, probably." MVi'ou know," she said resentful-I resentful-I "J "I think that's often the way. g ghang on and hang on, telling our-a our-a fles we're important, when as a liter of fact we're just boring pie. I'm not at all sure that )! couldn't help more by taking jT-.'i of ourselves, letting other peo- go their own road." si-e smiled. "You can't mean I've fathered mother?" t r.Well. no one can learn to walk c.r:' they get rid of their crutch, 0s;'-L" Her tone was gentle now, yet said: "You've been her crutch. about time she learned to walk of rie." JV'I couldn't leave her, Linda!" 'Oh, I suppose not," she assented ' :fly. They were at the moment rifled in traffic. When now the li'iisn light released them, she ik',jhed the gears with a clashing ire ' jj-emerKe that was somehow elo-nt, elo-nt, and let in the clutch so sharp-hat sharp-hat the car leaped jerkily ahead. rf!j; said, trying to laugh: re Whoa! Trying to break our c;Sks?" Sorry!" But she did not sound -"ry; and she spoke in a sharp de-f de-f ton. "Phil, you'd better tell Miss ndall to find you a new stenogra-'r. stenogra-'r. I'll stay till she gets some-jUj;; some-jUj;; but then I'm through." ,J:e had meant, a while ago, to sher just this; to tell her that he jfcrnd not let her any longer sacri-f sacri-f tr her youth and her happiness to to tell her that she must leave him. But now at her word he felt a deep hurt and loss. "Had enough?" he asked In level tones. "I'm tired, too tired to keep it up. I may go abroad, anywhere." "Well, you're wise," he agreed carefully. "Summer's a hot, hard time. But of course, I'll miss you!" "You'll find somebody easily enough." "Oh yes, don't worry, Lin. We'll get along." "People do, don't they?" "Yes. Yes, somehow." She laughed mirthlessly. "I've been flattering myself persuading myself you couldn't do without me." "Well, you've helped a lot, Lin. Probably I won't realize how much till I have to go it alone."' "Oh, you'll get used to it! And you'll never learn to walk till you throw away your crutch. I'm tired of being a crutch, anyway." They were clear of the worst traffic, came to the straight reaches of the Turnpike, sped a while in silence. "See here, Lin," he protested at "I'm Tired, Too Tired to Keep It L'p. 1 May Go Abroad, Anywhere." last "You sound bitter. Mad. That's not like you." Her lips twisted; he thought they quivered, too, and there was a thickness thick-ness in her tones. "Why shouldn't I be bitter, and mad?" she demanded; and then she said: "Oh, I know I've no one to blame but myself!" She stepped on the throttle viciously; the car leaped ahead. "Goodness knows you didn't encourage me! But like a fool I kept hoping " "You're hitting sixty, Lin!" "I want to hit sixty," she retorted. "I want to hit seventy, eighty!" The car was racing. "Stop it Lin!" he insisted. "Slow down." And he said, "I'll cut the switch, unless you do." "Oh, all right." She dropped to a fifty that by comparison seemed like crawling; and she said: "I've hung on, and hung on, hoping hop-ing some day you'd want me so bad you'd forget your father, and your mother, and how much she needed you, and everything. I guess I was a fool, that's all. Your mother doesn't really need you, and Barbara Bar-bara doesn't Nobody needs you but me " Her voice broke. "I need you awfully, Phil," she pleaded. plead-ed. "Can't you see? And you need me." He said, staring straight ahead: "I love you, Lin, God knows. But it isn't only that mother needs me. It's that nobody that I can't marry mar-ry anybody." She drove on, and he watched the road, and the road sped to meet them mile on mile. Mile on mile, and she was an automaton, like one frozen, at the wheel; and his eyes were bleak on emptiness; and the road raced toward them like a ribbon, rib-bon, dove beneath them, so was gone . . . He watched the traffic light shine green half a mile ahead; saw it yellow yel-low and then red as they drew near. They were close. They were upon it! He cried in quick alarm: "Lin! Red light!" Her brakes bit just in time. They slewed and swerved and skidded to a stop with screaming tires; ana a car slid across in front of tnem with bare inches to spare. The driver bawled something, furiously, and was gone. The lights changed. Linda, stiil in that stony silence, meshed her gears and crossed the intersection. She picked up speed: and then Phil cried suddenly: 'Stop. Lin! Slow down!" She obeyed, staring at him. 'What's the matter?" Phil laughed, and there was a i deep intoxication in his tones. He said, like one awakening, "Why I must be crazy, Lin!" - "Crazy? Phil, what do you " "Sure, crazy! Why, I honestly thought, Lin, that I could let you go!" Her eyes, probing his, quickened at what she saw. Her head rose, her cheeks were bright! She looked ahead, as though searching for something. There was a cross-road, of rough gravel. She swung the car into it drove it bounding up a steep slope till from the crest lowlands spread far and green below them, and they were alone. She stopped there, and stilled the engine, and turned to him, and smiled. "Now what were you saying, Phil?" she suggested politely. "Please " Then her voice broke, and she could no longer smile, and her eyes were full. "Oh Phil, please please go on!" Early in September, Mrs. Sentry suddenly decided to go to Cleveland to see Barbara, and Phil must go along. He and Linda had not told Mrs. Sentry what lay between them. Linda, her point won, yielded to his desire to delay the disclosure for a while. The day of their departure for Cleveland, Phil was in the office in the forenoon, said good-by to Linda there, then went home to finish his packing and go directly from the house to the afternoon train. When old Eli drove him and his mother to the Trinity Place station, Phil was surprised to find Linda waiting on the platform. "Just some papers for you to look over while you're away, Phil," she explained; and she handed him a long envelope, unsealed. He saw that she had written on the outside: Open this when you are alone. And 'she explained: "Routine things. Don't bother with them now." So Phil thrust the envelope into his pocket and they all stayed talking talk-ing together till the train pulled in. Mrs. Sentry went first up the steps, and she did not look back, so Phil was able to kiss Linda before he followed fol-lowed his mother aboard. He saw through the windows Linda move along beside the car, keeping pace with them, smiling, calling words of farewell. Her eyes held his as the train slid away. "Well," said Mrs. Sentry then, "it's nice to have you to myself for a while. Of course Linda's sweet; but she's with us so much." Phil colored, and pretended to look out of the window so that she might not see. "Be nice to see Barb again," he remarked. "And Dan." She chuckled. "I have a few things to say to Dan!" "What about?" "I haven't told you," she confessed, con-fessed, "but Barbara is going to have a baby. She wrote me last week. That's why I decided to go out to Cleveland." "But that's great, mother!" Phil cried. "Is she all right?" "Of course she's all right! Why shouldn't she be? But Dan's salary is ridiculously inadequate. They can't afford a baby." He grinned. "Lots of people do, on less!" "Lots of people do lots of things I don't expect Barbara to have to do." Phil said cheerfully, "You know, you're secretly hoping she'll need you to take care of her for a while." "Don't be absurd! My place is with youl" "Oh, I'd get along," he said, and wished to say, "You know, Linda and I " But his mother's eyes swung shrewdly toward him before he could speak, and his courage failed; and she smiled at nothing and said: "Russian Bank, Phil? It helps pass the time." It was hours later and he was in his berth, undressed and about to turn out his light, when he remembered re-membered that envelope Linda had given him, still in the pocket of his coat on the hanger here beside him. He reached up and got it and drew out the contents. There was a note from Linda herself: Dear-Take Dear-Take all my love with you, Phil. This letter came to the office addressed to you, after you left today. It's from Mary, so I didn't open it. Since it's addressed to you, I thought perhaps she didn't want your mother to know about It That's why I was so mysterious. And my dearest love to my dearest. Come back soon. Lin. ' (TO BE CONTINUED) |