The circle banner. [volume] (Circle, Mont.) 1914-1939, 1917-08-31

|
} ment:
/ 'Rod's been trying to get me to g
) to Rose and say that it was all hi
fault, and 1 won't"
"Why not?" said Harriet. "Wha
earthly thing does it matter who's,
; fault it is? He can have it his faul
if he likes"
| "You know it isn't" Frederick NUT
tered rebelliously.
Harriet seated herself delicately ant
deliberately in one of the curving ends
of little Victorian sofa, and stretched
her slim legs out in front of her.
Certainly I don't care whose fault
it is" she said. "You never get any.
where by trying to decide a question
like that. What I'm interested in is
what can be done about it. It's not a
very nice situation. Nobody likes it
at least / should think Rose would
be pretty sick of it by now. She may
have been crazy for stage career, but
she's probably seen that the chorus OF
her anywhere. The things simply a
mess, and the only thing to do is to
clear it up as quickly and as decently
as we can-and it can be cleared up If
we go at it right. OF course the thing
to do is to get her out of that horrible
place as soon as we can. And / sup
pose the best way of doing it will be
to get her into something else-take
her down to New York and work her
into small part in some good COM
pany. Almost anything, if it came to
that, so long as it wasn't music. Oh,
and have her use her own name, and
let us make as much of it as we can.
Face it out. Pretend we like it.
don't say it's ideal, but it's better than
this"
'Her own name?' he echoed blank
ly. "Do you mean she made one up?"
Harriet nodded. Constance men
toned it," she said, ''but that was be-
fore I knew what she was talking
about. And of course 1 couldn't go
back and ask. Daphne something, I
think. 1t sounded exactly like chorus
name, anyhow" And then: swell,
how about it? Will you play the
gamer
"Oh, yes" he said, with a docility
that surprised Frederick. "I'll play it.
1t comes to exactly the same thing,
what we both want done, and our rea-
sons for doing it are important to no.
body but ourselves"
She turned to Frederick. "You, too,
Freddy" she asked. "Will you give
your moral principles a vacation and
take Rods message to Rose, even
though you may think it's Quixotic
nonsense?"
"Ill see Rose myself" said Rodney
quietly.
= 3
He was standing near the foot of the
stairs when she came down, with a
raincoat on and newspaper twisted !
up in his hand, and at sight of her, he |
took off his soft, wet hat, and crushed |
it up along with the newspaper. He
moved over toward her, but stopped
two or three feet away. "It's very
good of you to come" he said, his
voice lacking a little of the ridiculous
oLiilhCoo VI Iio WOluoy loL 10
there some place where we can talk
little more-privately than here?
shan't keep you long"
"There's a room here somewhere"
she said.
The room she led HIM to was an ap-
preposterous setting for
the altogether preposterous talk that
ensued between them. 1t had mosaic
floor with a red plush carpet on it, two
windows in yellow and
green, f1anking an oak mantel which
framed an enormous expanse of mot
tied purple tile, with a diminutive gas
og in the middle. A glassy-looking
md the chairs that were crowded in
around it were upholstered in highly
polished coffee-colored horse-hide, with
yery ornate nails.
"Its dreadfully hot in here" Rose
aid. you'd better take off your coat"
She squeezed in between the table and
me of the chairs and seated herself.
Rodney threw down his wet hat, his
newspaper, and then his raincoat, on
he table, and slid into a chair oppo-
lite her.
81 want to tell you first" Rodney
'aid,. and his manner was that of
reciting to his teacher an
pology which has been rehearsed at
lome under the sanction of paternal !
want to tell you how
eeply sorry / am for :"
He had his newspaper in his hands
gain and was twisting it up. His eyes
idn't once seek her face. But they {
night have done so in perfect safety,
ecause her own were fixed on his {
ands and the newspaper they crum- {
led.
He didn't presume to ask her for
iveness, he told her. He couldn't ex- S
ect that; at least not at present. He
vent on lamely, in broken sentences,
epeating what he'd said already in s
till more inadequate words. He was
nable to stop talking until she should S
ay something, it hardly mattered V
7hat. And she was unable to say any
hing. ~
The formality of his phrases got I
tiffer and finally CONCEALED into a '
10 nj silonoo II