Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
They had to pass him, still waiting and curious, half revealed under the
pale region of a near lamp-post. She waited breathlessly, hoping that
Massingale would not perceive him. Vain hope! He leaned forward
abruptly, saying:
"Who is that man?"
"I'll tell you everything! Just a moment!"
She drew nearer to him, fastening her fingers, like a lonely child, in
the collar of his coat; laying her head against his arm, very quiet;
tired, with a longing for strength and petting. But, stiff and
resentful, he did not put his arm about her. Suddenly he burst out:
"Dodo! I can't stand it! This is driving me crazy! What do I know of
you? What do you want me to think? You go and come. You tell me one
minute you love me, and the next, where are you? Where do you go? Whom
do you see? What is your life? Who is this man who comes as far as your
door, and then waits on the corner? Whom are you with until three
o'clock in the morning? And Harrigan Blood, and Sassoon, and how many
others? Dodo, I tell you, you are driving me wild. I suffer! If you knew
what I've been going through these days, in every way!"
He stopped abruptly; he hardly recognized himself in this frantic
complainant.
"Dodo, I tell you, I can't stand this any longer! You have disorganized
everything in my life. I'm half mad!"
"Yes, I am very wicked, very cruel to you!" she said, with a lump in her
throat, pressing his arm convulsively. "I know it! I know it! I've said
it to myself a hundred times over. I can't help it! Why am I so? I don't
know! Perhaps it were better if you went away, if you never saw me
again. At least, you wouldn't hate me. Yes, go! You had better go!
That's it. Go! Go!"
She stopped, and each was seized with the chill of this awful thought.
He gave a deep sigh and put his arm around her. She crowded close to
him, feeling so little, of such small consequence, staring out at the
battling currents of brutal thoroughfares. The clamor of the city came
roaring at their windows--immense glaring cars with strident bells, iron
masses above shattering the air, even the earth below periodically
shaken with the rumble of multitudes tearing through the bowels of the
city. Confusion, riot multiplied, echoed and reechoed; masses of
sky-cleaving prisons; millions of lights, blinding and bewildering; and
everywhere the multitude, humanity in thousands on thousands, crowding
their path, spying on every action, drowning out sigh and laughter! What
peace or tranquillity was there? What fragile thing could endure against
the buffeting? What mattered? By Massingale's side, shivering, clinging,
she felt the weak tears suddenly rising, seized by a horror of this life
which had to be lived, some way or other, in fear of what might follow.
"Be honest! Tell me all you've hidden! Let me know the truth, at least!"
he said suddenly.
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