Bobbie, General Manager: A NovelProuty, Olive Higgins
General
Bobbie, General Manager: A Novel
Prouty, Olive Higgins
Families -- Fiction; New England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
I felt like a traitor that night at dinner. Ruth never seemed sweeter.
She had explained as she sat down to our evening meal that she was
going to visit with Will and me alone that night. She was returning to
Hilton in two days and she had told Breck that one evening at least,
she intended to devote to her sister. I felt dreadfully guilty. But
for me, her long-looked-for, much-coveted note of welcome from Mrs.
Sewall would now be on its way to her; but for me, her bright visions
of a social position being placed upon her head like a crown would have
become a reality. I wished she wouldn't keep on piling coals of fire
upon my head. She started in on her appreciation of my hospitality
right after dinner. She said she would always remember her nice little
breakfasts that I had served her in bed, whatever her future life might
be (and she implied that it promised to be rather grand); she remarked
she hoped I didn't believe all that she said to Will the first night
she was with us; she assured me that my quiet and gracious acceptance
of Breck had made an impression that she would never forget. She kissed
me good-night of her own accord.
I told Will about my call on Mrs. Sewall as soon as we were safely in
our room. I wanted to get the secret knowledge of it off my mind. I was
beginning to feel a little apprehensive and doubtful. I really don't
know what right I have to snatch Ruth's life away from her and treat it
as if it were mine. But Will always reassures me.
"Well," he said, "if you do succeed in breaking off this disreputable
affair, Lucy, I'll take off my hat to you, and so will Ruth--some day."
"Oh, do you think she will?" I asked relieved.
"Know it. My, but what a girl I did marry! You _do_ take the bull by
the horns. If you had had a son what a staver he would have been."
I forgot Ruth and her affairs in a twinkling.
I wilted like a flower plucked from its stem.
"You used to say that in the simple future, and now it's past
subjunctive," I trembled.
Will laughed at me. "Don't like my tenses! What a particular person!
Well, how's this? Here's a sentence in the simple present. It always
has been present tense, always will be present." He leaned and
whispered something in my ear.
"Pooh!" I scoffed, smiling for his sake. "That's too easy. It's the
first tense of the first verb given in every grammar of every language
in the world!"
CHAPTER XXIV
It was five months later, sometime during the last of September, that
I again heard directly from Ruth and her love-affair with Breckenridge
Sewall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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