The Sick-a-Bed Lady: And Also Hickory Dock, The Very Tired Girl, The Happy-Day, Something That Happened in October, The Amateur Lover, Heart of The City, The Pink Sash, Woman's Only BusinessAbbott, Eleanor Hallowell
General
The Sick-a-Bed Lady: And Also Hickory Dock, The Very Tired Girl, The Happy-Day, Something That Happened in October, The Amateur Lover, Heart of The City, The Pink Sash, Woman's Only Business
Abbott, Eleanor Hallowell
Fiction; Short stories
Drew shook his head and laughed. "No," he said, "you don't even have to
do that; I'm not much of a kisser," and turned abruptly and grabbed at
the handle of the door.
But before he had crossed the threshold she reached out and pulled him
back for a moment, and he had to stoop down very far to hear what she
wanted to tell him. "It's nothing much, Drew," she whispered. "It's
nothing much at all. I just wanted to say that--considering how strong
they are, and how--wild--and strange--I think men are--very--_gentle_
creatures. Thank you." And in another instant she had gone back alone to
face by crass daylight the tragedy that she had brought into three
people's lives.
Certainly in all the days and weeks that followed, Drew never failed to
qualify as a "gentle creature." Not a day passed at his office that he
did not telephone home with the most casual-sounding pleasantry, "Is
everything all right? Any burnt-bridge smoke in the air?" Usually, clear
as his own voice, and sometimes even with a little giggle tucked on at
the end, the answer came, "Yes, everything's all right." But now and
then over that telephone wire a minor note flashed with unmistakably
tremulous vibration: "N-o, Drew. Oh, could you come right home--and take
me somewhere?"
Drew's brown cheeks hollowed a bit, perhaps, as time went on, but always
smilingly, always frankly and jocosely, he met the occasionally
recurrent emergencies of his love-life. Underneath his smile and
underneath his frankness his original purpose never flinched and never
wavered. With growing mental intimacy and absolute emotional aloofness
he forced day by day the image and the consciousness of his personality
upon the girl's plastic mind: his picture, for instance, as a matter of
course for her locket; his favorite, rather odd, colors for her clothes;
his sturdy, adventuresome, fleet-footed opinions to run ahead and break
in all her strange new thought-grounds for her. More than this, in every
possible way that showed to the world he stamped her definitely as the
most carefully cherished wife among all her young married mates.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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