Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1940-03-22
CHAPTER 2

gaze flicked her face. $50 you didn't
even catch the name. Trusting soul,
aren't you? How do you know this
isn't a kidnapping?"
March shook her head, letting her
eyes drift shut again. "Terry doesn't
hobnob with kidnappers. All his
friends are horribly respectable" One
corner of her mouth tipped up. "That
was the only reason l hesitated about
coming"
II didn't notice you hesitate"
"How obtuse of you'll" Presently
she asked, "Can't we eat soon? I'd
love to take off my hat and let my
hair blow, but if l do it before we
stop, I'll look too disreputable." She
had Strengthened now and was peer
ing ahead through the darkness.
"Look-there's hamburger PLACED"
Brent asked uncertainty, bringing
the car to a sudden halt. "You mean
you like hamburgers
March said raptly, 81 adore them."
It was quite true, although she had
almost forgotten it. How many years
had passed since she had eaten in such
a place as the tiny, whitetiled cubby-
hole in which she presently found her.
self?
She said warningly, "But no onion!"
L. aLAA 30 Aan S&A
rested her elbows on a polished coun-
ter.
If Brent still cherished fleeting
suspicion that she would have been
more at home in the Empire Room Of
the Palmer House, he refrained from
mentioning it. He said gravely to
the white-coated youth behind the
counter, 1.-TWO hamburgers. No on
ion." He glanced inquiringly toward
March. "Coffee?"
Black"
Brent grinned. "Miraculous!" Then,
to the counter-man, 1.-TWO black cof-
fees"
MARGINS brows rose. Really? 1t
seems we like the same things"
Doesn't it? You know" his
dark young face grew serious, 'it
was funny tonight. Queer, 1 mean."
Now her profile was half hidden
from him by the brim of her hat.
One exquisitely manicured hand, the
nails glazed and warmly tinted, NOV
ed green glass salt shaker round
and round. The hamburgers sizzled,
exuding heavenly aroma.
March asked, "How was it queer?"
And then, as he didn't answer i'm
mediately, "You looked as though you
were waiting for someone there on
the stairs"
She felt his eyes upon her, but she
didn't look up. Somehow she didn't
want to. It was too bright here, too
glazing. The boy set their hamburg
ers before them with clatter, flank
ed the two thick white plates with
two thick mugs of coffee.
Brent said slowly, an unwilling
wonder in his tone, "That was it. l
felt as though 1 were waiting for
someone. 1 went out there and sat
down for no earthly reason. And then
you came" He repeated, cit was
queer"
Out of a frightening silence March
said prosaically, Lets eat. Every
thing will be cold. And the coffee
smells grand"
Eating, they talked only trivialities.
At first it was March who did most
of the talking. She sensed in Brent
hurt withdrawal, an awareness of
having been rebuffed. And she was
sorry, but she couldn't help it. he
hadn't liked the lines that other con-
vrsation seemed bent upon taking any
more than she liked the heavy silence
that threatened to engulf them now.
Apparently Brent, too, disliked the
silence. Soon he was talking COM
monplace as determinedly as she. But
there was stiffness, lack of unity
between them that had been absent
before
March was glad when the meal was
finished and they could exchange the
hot white glare of the little restaurant
for cool outer darkness.
In the roadster once more she said
lightly, Funny how food changes
your outlook on life. I feel so much
better I could almost face that noisy
mob with equanimity. Perhaps we
should go back"
But even as she said it, she real
lied with lucid, unwilling knowledge
newborn within her since she had
climbed the stairs and found him
waiting, that for them there could
be no going back. Not now. Not ever.