Carolina watchman. [volume] (Salisbury, N.C.) 1871-1937, 1932-11-11

ooWed StlIly and dropped back. 1t
was a deadly business. But John
did look rather trim. He walked
easily, he had an air about him.
For the first time the humor of the
situation dawned upon Josephine,
She almost laughed, she was so Ger
tain of her ability; but he would
have to pay her for this, pay her
well, and, of course, he WOULD
never know what he was making
up for.
John crossed Thirty-fourth
Street, hesitated a moment, as if
about to enter the Waldorf. Jose
phine, on the north side of the
street shuddered. Thank heaven he
had not entered that place. Of
course she would have followed
him, but the necessity was thank
fully past.
At Twenty-ffth Street he again
stopped and read the iron valve
top covers. CATsKILL WALTER,
Then he bought a paper, and, for
a moment, seemed interested. He
walked across into the park. Jose
phine also bought~a paper. She Was
getting intensely wrought up in
the chase. A picture caught her
eye. "Almon Strauss Definitely
Abandons Bureau of City Plan"
There was not much else. She
wondered what John was SO upset
about. His jaunty step was gone.
He had tossed the paper into a can
and it was Immediately retrieved
by a bum. Josephine dropped her
paper behind a low rail, on the
half-dead grass. 1.-THE city is al
ways being abondened," she re-
marked thoughtfully. Soon she
would abondon it herself. She
smiled at the thought.
Josephine was a good stout
walker, the air was cool, it was
getting a bit dusky. John YVES on
Third Avenue, and strolleI along.
He har1ly knew where he was go
ing. So A]mon Strauss was quit
ting. Well, he was quitting too.
] The London crowd'nad cabled him
only. a few days before All he had
to do was say "yes." Five years
work at least, in Manchuria. lie
felt better, even n his lonesome
ness,
At Ninth Street, he walked East
to St. Mark 's-in-the Bouwerie, and
then he was near the site of the
old Cafe Boulevard.
"Oh, john" Josephine called to
him. She was running toward him.
ri saw you a block away. | was
going home. Where in the name
of common sense have you been?"
There she was, before him.
There they stood. The whole
neighborhood had changed, since
-since-well, it was no use talk
ing He was glad to see her, doub-
ly glad. 1t was all SO sudden and
unexpected. Only the day before
Judge Kelly had net him at
luncheon, and had suggested that
he owed her a call, at least. "A
fine woman, John, a good woman"
Night was stealing over the
city, chill night. The rackety old
East Side ratified away. Strangers
were passing. Mean streets are
doubly mean in cold weather.
1t was six o'clock. They turn
ed west, toward the subway. Il
usually leave my car, when I'm
down here" She told the plain
truth, but not much of it. They
were near the Aston Place station.
"You must come home with me,
John, you look tired. Do"
"Thanks, Josephine, if you will
have me. l was about to suggest
dinner somewhere
We'll dine at home, just you
and me. Oh, l am SO glad to see
you, John"
He changed a coin, they were
clapped through the turnstile. a
crowd covered the platform. They
were wedged together.
"I have been wondering, just
now, what is to become of us
you and me?" She looked up at
him, her long lashes dropped. She
was, young, SO very young it SEEM
ed.
They were crushed into a train,
he tried to shield her, his arm over
her shoulder against a column.
Her presence was grateful, COM
forting, as if he had always been
with her, as if she was, we'll, was
what a wife should be, safe, reas-
surfing, lovable. At Fourteenth
Street the greater part Of the crush
squeezed out, attempting to enter