The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1918-07-16


no temptation of advance had availed, that
no probing had brought to light her reason;
and yet she had said that she didn't want to
go, and had added mystery to confusion by
crying! She-the impersonal Miss Park
man!-had shed several quiet tears. Upper
most in Sue Bonds mind was the tableau
she and Billy Trudell (they had met in the
elevator) had entered upon: Pen, her h1Ls-
band, Pen1eld Bond-standing close to his
stenographer, one of her hands in both his
own while he spoke with unmistakable in
tensity; and she had heard him say: but
to have you go like this! If you'd tell
me-"
There Billy had dropped his cane and the
two had turned. -. What ranked was
that the stenographer person hadn't seemed
i'll at ease or apologize. She had put up her
head trife, bravely disdained concealing
her tear-wet eyes, had spoken civilly and
made her exit almost with dignity. Actually
she had Monneri And Sue Bond had seen,
in that jealous sharpening of vision, that the
girls tailoring and grooming was not merely
in good taste-it was smart" Her i'm
maculate white waist was of fine linen, her
skirt of the latest approved "frottoir" line
and material; her severely-wound sherry
brown braids were shining and exquisitely
tended and the strained abundance thereof
was, beyond guess, all her own. Her
brown eyes were too interesting, her COM
plexion natural and fresh. Shrinking in her
innermost fiber from the sickening usual"
conclusion that had leaped at her in the first
shock, young Mrs. Bond was nevertheless
acutely aware that perilously attractive
woman had been working day after day,
intimately, with Pen; and the consciousness
was not pleasant. She had known, of course,
how valuable Miss Parkman was to him
had seen Miss Parkman more than once;
but unseeingly! And all at once Miss Park
man was become ossibility-intensely an
individual who cried in PENS Office lover
something or other, and let him hold her
hand while he entreated her-something or
other!
Deeper and deeper gnawed the hurt of it,
while Sue held her smile hxedly, made her
self talk endlessly, and Billy Trudell listened
with eyes as expressionless as the aquama-
rine in his tie. She wondered, hungrily,
what was in his mind-how much he knew,
or guessed, that she didn't. Perhaps, even,
he was pitying her! At the spur of the
thought she turned quickly, smiling, to her
husband.
at can stay till you go out, Pen-can you
and we'll"
"Sorry, dear" Pen shook his head.
The one lock of his blond hair that poald
drop over his forehead slipped down with
the motion, and Sue remembered, incense
quently, that she used to s.fasten' it back
with kiss, in their ages-ago counting days.
How young he looked-how clean and
handsomel Why had she let the multiply
ing of everyday things crowd out their pre-
cious fooleries? Perhaps you've noticed, =
he went on, carefully sprinkling paprika
over his crab meat, that I'm not quite my
sunshiny self? Well-Miss Parkman leaves
to-day, and I've got to hunt stenogra-
pher." After the first smothering hope of
the announcement, Sue thought he had
made it too casually. 1t might not mean
/. /. Despite herself she looked at Billy
Trudell; and for the first time in her knowl
edge of him she found his impassive face
crimson from collar to hair. s. So he had
known of the girl-this happening did mean
something to him-he was embarrassed.
She sat back, struggling with faintness.
Home seemed a worlds journey away, but
she wanted to get there-wanted her son
baby in her arms, to feel the sweetness and
innocence of him close to her. 1t would help
her to think more wholesomely and sensibly.
"You don't mind, really, do you, dear3"
Pens eyes were on her, fond and solicitous
as ever. "You understand, don't your"
Understand" she managed, bravely;
but again her eyes went to Billy Trudell;
and he, with an almost imperceptible frown,
looked away. -.
In cab, at last, she let her smile end with
a gasp of relief Another quarter-hour and
she felt she couldn't have kept up the pre-
tense. And she wanted to keep it up!
With man of Pens sort it would be fatal
to any ivable future, openly to admit a
breach; and it was the future-with him as
he had been-for which she was ready to
sacrifice everything, herself included. The
righteous indignation she expected mo-
mentarily to feel, did not come to her. She
felt but yearning love for him, and leaden
disappointment, and singing hurt-and
hope.
At the end of three months Pen declared
that he had nothing left to learn of the
Typist and her infinite variety. One by one
she came to him, sojourned little space,
and went elsewhere. He recognized, of
course, that he was not to expect the perfec-
ton once vouchsafed him; but even as his
standard approached normal, none of the
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