Love stories; Unmarried mothers -- Fiction; Women household employees -- Fiction
The fact that Lester had seen this page was made perfectly clear to
Jennie that evening, for he brought it home himself, having concluded,
after mature deliberation, that he ought to. He had told her once that
there was to be no concealment between them, and this thing, coming so
brutally to disturb their peace, was nevertheless a case in point. He
had decided to tell her not to think anything of it—that it did not
make much difference, though to him it made all the difference in the
world. The effect of this chill history could never be undone. The
wise—and they included all his social world and many who were not of
it—could see just how he had been living. The article which accompanied
the pictures told how he had followed Jennie from Cleveland to Chicago,
how she had been coy and distant and that he had to court her a long
time to win her consent. This was to explain their living together on
the North Side. Lester realized that this was an asinine attempt to
sugar-coat the true story and it made him angry. Still he preferred to
have it that way rather than in some more brutal vein. He took the
paper out of his pocket when he arrived at the house, spreading it on
the library table. Jennie, who was close by, watched him, for she knew
what was coming.
“Here’s something that will interest you, Jennie,” he said dryly,
pointing to the array of text and pictures.
“I’ve already seen it, Lester,” she said wearily. “Mrs. Stendahl showed
it to me this afternoon. I was wondering whether you had.”
“Rather high-flown description of my attitude, isn’t it? I didn’t know
I was such an ardent Romeo.”
“I’m awfully sorry, Lester,” said Jennie, reading behind the dry face
of humor the serious import of this affair to him. She had long since
learned that Lester did not express his real feeling, his big ills in
words. He was inclined to jest and make light of the inevitable, the
inexorable. This light comment merely meant “this matter cannot be
helped, so we will make the best of it.”
“Oh, don’t feel badly about it,” he went on. “It isn’t anything which
can be adjusted now. They probably meant well enough. We just happen to
be in the limelight.”
“I understand,” said Jennie, coming over to him. “I’m sorry, though,
anyway.” Dinner was announced a moment later and the incident was
closed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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