“You know the ropes here,” she said. “Find me a drayman. I’ll go and
bring my things and we’ll begin business right away.”
That was how it happened that an hour later Marcia was back in the house
in the suburbs with a stout drayman standing at her elbow. There was no
possible way in which the drayman could know that Marcia was saying in
her soul as she handed him an article, “Soapsuds,” or that she was
saying as she discarded a certain piece of furniture or attractive
clothing, “Scarlet.” All he realized was that the woman was making a
division of the goods before them, and that the greater number and the
better part of the things he saw, she was leaving.
When Marcia had satisfied herself, she found a sheet of paper and a
pencil and she wrote: “I have bowed my head and passed under the White
Flag. I have taken nothing that was purchased with your money, since you
are far poorer than I.” There was no beginning to the note and no
signature.
When the drayman had carried the last load from the house, Marcia locked
the doors on the inside. She propped the note in a conspicuous place on
one of the pieces of furniture she was leaving and laid the key beside
it. Then going to the kitchen, she raised a window and climbing from it,
closed it behind her and followed down the street to the millinery shop.
There was such a fluttering in the breast of Nancy Bodkin that she could
scarcely breathe. She was scared to death over what she had done. Why
should a woman as attractive as this one, and having as fine clothing,
want to live with her and to share her business? She felt that she had
been wildly impractical. She should have consulted her minister and her
banker and several of her best customers. She should have learned who
the woman was and where she came from. And just when she was in a panic
of uncertainty and nervous doubts, Marcia returned and lifted the hat
from her head. She ran her fingers through her red-gold hair and drew a
deep breath.
“Now, then, in about two shakes we’ll get right down to the business of
straightening you out,” she said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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