The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1924-02-29

phone from somewhere and let her
know what TO expect.
They left Nicholson's at once, but
the stop at Hickory Hill used uF
good deal more time than they'd count
ed upon.
1t amused Joe to note that there
never 3as the slightest question In
Johns mind as to how their party or
four should be divided up. John, and
nobody else. was going to drive his
precious Dorothy over those tricky de-
tours. Violet. he believed from CLEAN
he caught in her eye, was somewhat
dryly aware of the same thing.
Joe, with Violet, started out ahead;
but the position was reversed as soon
as it began to RAIN for he pulled out
to the side of the road at once and
began putting up the Storm-curtains,
and the others came on by, passing
with a derisive honk from John and
a shouted comment only half audible,
from Dorothy. Her idea seemed to be
! that the storm wasn't going to amount
to anything and that the rain felt
good anyway.
They'll go on like that till they're
soaked" Violet said, discontentedly,
land then they'll put up theicurtains
to keep the wetness in. I'm like cat
about getting wet" she added. II
hate it."
Joe's car had right-hand drive, and
his levers, especially with the hand
brake set and the storm-curtains up,
barred his entrance to the driving
seat. 1t was raining in good earnest
before he'd finished with the curtains,
and, in the light of that last remark
of hers, he hesitated to ask her to get
out so that he could get in.
II can climb in over you," he sug-
gested, "if you don't mind being
squeezed a bit"
II don't mind" she said, and he
clambered in, over her knees. Then
he reached across her and buttoned
| the last curtain fast.
The state of his mind and feeling
toward her, when they had started out
| from Hickory HILL would have salts
| fed the most exacting husband in the
sessed the clairvoyant power to read
it, would probably have smiled over
it as not quite credibly austere. No
human male of virile years could be
expected to set out upon long drive
with as pretty woman as Violet for
his sole companion without little
more disposition to improve the shin
ing hour-oh, in perfectly harmless,
decent way, of course-than could be
read in joss intentions.
Her sensuous appeal to him was
completely in allegiance. She was John
Williamson's wife, and John was. after
all, thoroughly good fellow. She
was also, III way he'd never been
lucky enough to experience before,
willing to make friends with him. He
wanted her for a friend, on Trix's &C
count as well as on his own. And
| then, last and first and all the time,
he was that newly discovered being,
Trix's father. Emotions awakened on
the night Of his quarrel with her hadn't
had time to subside into commonplace
| tepidity. The chance that Trix's IA
| Their should even glance aside at the
amorous possibilities of another om-
an would have been unthinkable to
him-when he left Hickory Hill. But
when he started the car, after that
had been change.
The subtlety of the sense-percep-
lions, when they are trained and re-
lied upon as Joe's were, is beyond lam
guage altogether. 1t was with perfect
innocence that he suggested it mightn't
be necessary for her to get out Of the
car in order to let him in, If she didn't
mind being squeezed bit. But some
quality of her voice when she an
J swered, II don't mind" reused him.
She had inflicted it in thoroughly
matter-of-fact way, too. There was
the same message In the feel of her
body as he crowded across it, in the
non withdrawal of her breast from
contact with his arm as he buttoned
| the curtains, in her discovery of the
wetness of his coat, and in the way
she helped him out of 1t. A series of
acts which could have been described
in precisely the same words might
have told him nothing at all, might
have left him as coolly unconscious of
her sex as he'd been when he stopped
the car. There wasn't the faintest
doubt in him of the authenticity of the
message. Whether she'd meant TO con-
yey ii. or even was aware she had, he
/ couldn't feel sure.
| He called up sullen resistance to
meet 1t. He drove bruskly and hard
through the pounding rain. His left
hand was kept busy sweeping the
windshield clear with the squilgee,
and every time his arm came back to
the driving position it had to crowd
its way in beside her body. There was
nothing tender about the way he did
1t. He talked, doggedly, duly, about
old Nicholson and his flax and his mad
ideas. Anything that would press
back his consciousness-an his
awareness of hers-that they were
shut in together snug and close against
the storm, alone and secure: of their
bodily warmth. the nearness of flesh
to flesh.
She did nothing to help him. She
said little, made no conversation Of
her own. And what she did say was
no longer friendly but curt, preoccu-
/ pied. Well, he knew-he knew too
id well-what her preoccupation
was.
He gave over trying to talk at last.