City and town life -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
“No, I wouldn't. I'd get Galton to give me back the page. He'd do it
quick--quick,” he said, still with a laugh. “Being poor's nothing,
anyhow. We'd have the time of our lives. We'd be two birds in a nest.
You can look out those eleventh-story windows 'way over to the Bronx,
and get bits of the river. And perhaps after a while Ann would do like
she said, and we'd be three birds.”
“Oh!” she sighed ecstatically. “How beautiful it would be! We should be
a little family!”
“So we should,” he exulted. “Think of T. T. with a family!” He drew his
paper of calculations toward him again. “Let's make believe we're going
to do it, and work out what it would cost--for three. You know about
housekeeping, don't you? Let's write down a list.”
If he had warmed to his work before, he warmed still more after this.
Miss Alicia was drawn into it again, and followed his fanciful plans
with a new fervor. They were like two children who had played at
make-believe until they had lost sight of commonplace realities.
Miss Alicia had lived among small economies and could be of great
assistance to him. They made lists and added up lines of figures until
the fine, huge room and its thousands of volumes melted away. In the
great hall, guarded by warriors in armor, the powdered heads of the
waiting footmen drooped and nodded while the prices of pounds of butter
and sugar and the value of potatoes and flour and nutmegs were balanced
with a hectic joy, and the relative significance of dollars and cents
and shillings and half-crowns and five-cent pieces caused Miss Alicia a
mild delirium.
By the time that she had established the facts that a shilling was
something like twenty-five cents, a dollar was four and twopence,
and twenty-five dollars was something over five pounds, it was past
midnight.
They heard the clock strike the half-hour, and stopped to stare at each
other.
Tembarom got up with yet another laugh.
“Say, I mustn't keep you up all night,” he said. “But haven't we had a
fine time--haven't we? I feel as if I'd been there.”
They had been there so entirely that Miss Alicia brought herself back
with difficulty.
“I can scarcely believe that we have not,” she said. “I feel as if I
didn't like to leave it. It was so delightful.” She glanced about her.
“The room looks huge,” she said--“almost too huge to live in.”
“Doesn't it?” he answered. “Now you know how I feel.” He gathered his
scraps of paper together with a feeling touch. “I didn't want to come
back myself. When I get a bit of a grouch I shall jerk these out and go
back there again.”
“Oh, do let me go with you!” she said. “I have so enjoyed it.”
“You shall go whenever you like,” he said. “We'll keep it up for a sort
of game on rainy days. How much is a dollar, Miss Alicia?”
“Four and twopence. And sugar is six cents a pound.”
“Go to the head,” he answered. “Right again.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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