Catholics -- United States -- Fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
THE CABLE
THE CABLE
A Novel
BY
MARION AMES TAGGART
_Author of “No Handicap”_
[Illustration: BENZIGER BROTHERS]
NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO
BENZIGER BROTHERS
PUBLISHERS OF BENZIGER’S MAGAZINE
1923
COPYRIGHT 1923, BY BENZIGER BROTHERS
Printed in the United States of America
Dedicated
ex voto
to
THE LITTLE WHITE CHURCH
of
ST. MARY OF THE MOUNT
at
Mount Pocono
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I Enter Miss Cicely Adair 9
II The Rôle of Perseus 24
III Miss Jeanette Lucas 39
IV Transplanting 56
V The Pinch of Necessity 72
VI Beginning 88
VII Codes 104
VIII Cable Strands 121
IX Atalanta’s Pause 137
X Public Franchise and Private Thraldom 154
XI The Weakness of Strength 171
XII The Strained Cable 188
XIII Darkness 204
XIV Indecision 221
XV Decision 236
XVI Witnessing 252
XVII Good-bye 268
XVIII Orientation 283
XIX The New Year 298
XX The Old Bottle for New Wine 314
XXI The Weaving 329
XXII Entangled Threads 344
XXIII The Next Step 360
XXIV The Beacon 375
XXV Port 390
THE CABLE
CHAPTER I
ENTER MISS CICELY ADAIR
A group of small boys stood on the corner, looking anxiously down the
shaded street. They ranged from eight to twelve years in age; from
grimy hands to universal griminess in uncleanliness; from comfortable
meagreness to ragged poverty in clothing, while in race they were
polyglot, but they were identical in the impatience with which they
scanned the sidewalk, vision-length, and found it empty though there
were frequent passers-by.
“Gee! What’s the matter wid her?”
“Say! She wouldn’t go th’ udder way?”
“Th’ odder way nothin’! Don’t she know we’re waitin’?”
The tallest, but also the raggedest, boy of the group made a fine
gesture, drawing a nickel watch from somewhere between his bagging
shirt and tight trousers. “’Tain’t so late,” he said, displaying the
watch’s candid face. “Twenty to one by mine, an’ I set her by the city
hall when de ball dropped’t noon. She ain’t so late.”
“Whatjer bet she’s got, sour balls ’r peanuts?” asked the smallest boy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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