The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1925-07-16

1
the wedding caught the rumor?
An uncertainty and fear kept
pricking at her mind. But what of
it? Suppose he did know? How
would that affect her?
She thought: ST should write and
thank him." Immediately she de-
cided against this.
Yet she could hardly wait for the
morning so anxious was she to
plunge headlong into activity.
At the office. Edgeman was al
ready waiting. He dictated for three
hours-an unwieldly mass Of sta
tistics. She went to lunch, exhaust
ed-a raw pain in the back of her
neck. but an citation in her heart.
She would have no time now for
broodingsl She would drop to sleep
the moment she touched the pill
lows
Three days it was like this.
Early one afternoon, as Edgeman
sat at roll top desk in an adj
joining room, a telegram came. He
read tt-got up and began walking
back and forth.
He came abruptly to her desk.
Don't go on with that now, Miss
Bryce. Welt have to make a
trip to Detroit. Sorry to leave you
in charge so soon. There won't
be much to do" He pointed to a
corner stacked solid with magazines
relating to agriculture. while I'm
gone-you can go through the last
two years-clip and paste the crop
statistics. Well-that's not very
urgent. You might as well take
1t easy Two or three hours a day
will do :"
He outlined more work. eff you
finish all this you might arrange
these books in some kind of order
You like books?" He took her into
the small room. 1t had a blue rug
and heavy blue linen Grapes. The
walls were lined with books. "They
belong to Luis. He was to send
some one to catalog them, but
they've been here months and moth
Ing done. Try your hand at It,"
She was uneasy with alarm: IF
anything comes in I won't know
what to do"
"It will have to wait. -
He was scarcely gone, yet abrupt
md 1mpersonal as he was, the Of
fee took on a deserted, lonely air,
Chickie wished there were other
girls. For two days she cut and
pasted with relentless speed-and
was suddenly dismayed to find the
work finished.
She went into the small room and
looked at the books. She wondered
also-why his books were here. She
took down a row Of them. They
Mere French and Standardization
and poetry. She recognized some Of
the names.
She stacked them on the floor, at
a loss for some plan Of cataloguing.
On other shelves were histories,
and these were mixed in with biog-
raphies and essays. 1t became ex-
citing figuring out scheme She
was in the midst Of 1t when the door
opened and Luis, his soft eyes dane
ing little yellow rose in his button
hole, came jaunting in. He swept
his hat, half to the ground: Pleased
to meet you, Miss Bryce. What
charming and grateful young lady
you are!'
Chickie blushed, closed the book
slowly on her finger: IT wanted to
be sure would make good first. But
do really thank you, Mr.. La
marck."
"Well-that's to your credit.
Where's the boss?"
He's gone to Detroit"
Luis whistled: "So-those books
are mine. DID you know that? I've
boarded them out for the next year"
I'm cataloguing them
You are" He came anC looked
over her shoulder-''Well-you sweet
little thing! Can you read French?"
No" He took the book from
her hand, read a flaming bit from
Alfred de Musset. The purr1ng tones
colored deeply with passion. His
glance rested on her with a moist
gentleness: do you know what I
said to you, Miss Bryce?"
No" She was annoyed because
her cheeks stained and she was
afraid of the resentment rising in
her mind. She thought hastily.
These foreignersl They mean moth
ing. They think girl expects this"
He put the book back in her
hands, folding his own over hers:
"Shall translate It for your"
She said; NO" and walked back
out to her desk. She was burning
with wish to say: You know
about me- do you? You think you
can look at me so, because of that!
Try it,"
She put sheet of paper in the
machine, her hands chilly. Luis
walked over and surveyed her with
amusement. You're very fiery, Miss
Bryce. What did I do now to dis
please your"
"Nothing-I have work to do"
Perhaps you are angry, then,
that you have the books to cata-
logue?"
mot at all
IT wish you would forgive my Of
| fense-whatever 1t was"
He clasped his hands at his waist
and stood before her, smiling,
Blame it on my French mother
please, Miss Bryce"