第95章

``You're doing better work than I am,'' said he.``You're eager to be off--aren't you? Will you stay a few days longer? I must get away to the country-- alone--to get a fresh grip on myself.

I'll come back as soon as I can, and you'll be free.There'll be no chance for vacations after you're gone.''

``Very well,'' said she.She felt that he would think this curtness ungracious, but more she could not say.

He was gone four days.When he reappeared at the office he was bronzed, but under the bronze showed fatigue--in a man of his youth and strength sure sign of much worry and loss of sleep.He greeted her almost awkwardly, his eyes avoiding hers, and sat down to opening his accumulated mail.Although she was furtively observing him she started when he abruptly said:

``You know you are free to go--at any time.''

``I'll wait until you catch up with your work,'' she suggested.

``No--never mind.I'll get along.I've kept you out of all reason....The sooner you go the better.I've got to get used to it, and--I hate suspense.''

``Then I'll go in the morning,'' said Selma.``I've no arrangements to make--except a little packing that'll take less than an hour.Will you say good-by for me to any one who asks?

I hate fusses, and I'll be back here from time to time.''

He looked at her curiously, started to speak, changed his mind and resumed reading the letter in his hand.She turned to her work, sat pretending to write.In fact she was simply scribbling.Her eyes were burning and she was fighting against the sobs that came surging.He rose and began to walk up and down the room.She hastily crumpled and flung away the sheet on which she had be scrawling; he might happen to glance at her desk and see.She bent closer to the paper and began to write--anything that came into her head.Presently the sound of his step ceased.An uncontrollable impulse to fly seized her.

She would get up--would not put on her hat--would act as if she were simply going to the street door for a moment.And she would not return--would escape the danger of a silly breakdown.She summoned all her courage, suddenly rose and moved swiftly toward the door.At the threshold she had to pause; she could not control her heart from a last look at him.

He was seated at his table, was staring at its litter of letters, papers and manuscripts with an expression so sad that it completely transformed him.She forgot herself.She said softly:

``Victor!''

He did not hear.

``Victor,'' she repeated a little more loudly.

He roused himself, glanced at her with an attempt at his usual friendly smile of the eyes.

``Is there something wrong that you haven't told me about?'' she asked.

``It'll pass,'' said he.``I'll get used to it.'' With an attempt at the manner of the humorous philosopher, ``Man is the most adaptable of all the animals.That's why he has distanced all his relations.I didn't realize how much our association meant to me until you set me to thinking about it by telling me you were going.I had been taking you for granted--a habit we easily fall into with those who simply work with and for us and don't insist upon themselves.''

She was leaning against the frame of the open door into the hall, her hands behind her back.She was gazing out of the window across the room.

``You,'' he went on, ``are as I'd like to be--as I imagined Iwas.Your sense of duty to the cause orders you elsewhere, and you go--like a good soldier, with never a backward glance.''

She shook her head, but did not speak.

``With never a backward glance,'' he repeated.``While I--'' He shut his lips together firmly and settled himself with fierce resolution to his work.``I beg your pardon,'' he said.``This is--cowardly.As I said before, I shall get myself in hand again, and go on.''

She did not move.The breeze of the unseasonably warm and brilliant day fluttered her thick, loosely gathered hair about her brow.Her strange, barbaric little face suggested that the wind was blowing across it a throng of emotions like the clouds of a driven storm.

A long silence.He suddenly flung out his arms in a despairing gesture and let them fall to the table.At the crash she startled, gazed wildly about.

``Selma!'' he cried.``I must say it.I love you.''

A profound silence fell.After a while she went softly across the room and sat down at her desk.

``I think I've loved you from the first months of your coming here to work--to the old office, I mean.But we were always together--every day--all day long-- working together--I thinking and doing nothing without your sharing in it.So, I never realized.Don't misunderstand.I'm not trying to keep you here.

It's simply that I've got the habit of telling you everything--of holding back nothing from you.''

``I was going,'' she said, ``because I loved you.''

He looked at her in amazement.

``That day you told me you had decided to get married-- and asked my advice about the girls among our friends--that was the day Ibegan to feel I'd have to go.It's been getting worse ever since.''

Once more silence, both looking uneasily about, their glances avoiding each other.The door of the printing room opened, and Holman, the printer, came in, his case in his grimy hand.Said he:

``Where's the rest of that street car article?''

``I beg your pardon,'' said Selma, starting up and taking some manuscript from her desk and handing it to him.

``Louis,'' said Victor, as Holmes was retreating, ``Selma and Iare going to be married.''

Louis paused, but did not look round.``That ain't what'd be called news,'' said he.``I've known it for more than three years.''

He moved on toward his room.``I'll be ready for that leading article in half an hour.So, you'd better get busy.''

He went out, closing the door behind him.Selma and Victor looked at each other and burst out laughing.Then--still laughing--they took hold of hands like two children.And the next thing they knew they were tight in each other's arms, and Selma was sobbing wildly.