Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"All over and I've won out, Flossie! Whew! Three months ago
things looked so squally, I couldn't even write. If I'd gone
under, I'd just have quietly dropped out, and, Kid, you'd never
known what had hit me! But, bless the luck, I'm It! Clear the
tracks for me! I'm coming East with the bells on! Listen! Six
thousand eight hundred fifty-two dollars in the bank, salted
away. Prospects, sixteen karat fine. Got a cracker-jack
proposition; six cinematograph shows, one-fifth interest. In a
year, Flossie, it's a gasoline buggy for you! I'm beating it to
you, hot-foot. One stop in Des Moines to pick up some easy money,
and me for the gay White Way! Watch for me about March
fourteenth. Say, we're going to be rich, and don't you forget it!
It's all for you, bless your pretty eyes! Do I love you? Well,
say! I'm sitting up, talking to your little photo, foolish as a
kid! I'm daffy about you. If you're still strong for Josh, why,
set the date. Go the limit on the clothes--the best isn't too
good for you! Don't keep me waiting, and don't go for to tease
me, honey, for my heart's been true to you!
"JOSH.
"P. S. If you've got any foolish thinks in your sassy head that
you care for any cane-bearing dude, dismiss them! You don't!
Sweep the porch and cut the hammock-strings. Don't fool yourself
one minute--we're the team!"
She gave a cry of horror. The worst had come! The past was rising up to
claim her, stretching out its cruel tentacles to drag her back, as it
had done to Winona. How could she escape him? What could she say to him,
after all these months of weak postponement? If only she could stop him
by a letter or a telegram! But there was no address. All she knew was
that somewhere, out on the cold brown sky-line, he was hurrying toward
her, resolute, confident, a terribly earnest lover. All that night, in
the midst of hideous dreams, where Brennon pursued her with his
vindictive grin, she had the feeling of something advancing over the
horizon, black, swelling like a tornado, roaring toward her, obscuring
everything with its expanding darkness.
CHAPTER XXVII
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account