Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise., 1940-08-02
CHAPTER 21

cerity. Yet he would not give in, he
would not wholly credit the evidence
of his senses. He was fighting, a
bruptly he realized it, for his own fu-
ture, his own barely possible happi-
ness. Lately he had dared to hope.
More and more in her confusion, her
uncertainty, March had turned to him.
If she saw Brent now Clay's
mouth twisted with kind of wry
humor. Well, he wasn't egotist E.
nough to doubt the outcome.
And yet, what could he do? He
could hinder for a little while their
almost inevitable reconciliation, al
though every vestige of decency, of
honor within him drew back from
the idea. But March wouldn't remain
in hiding forever. And Clay felt
queerly fantastic conviction that no
power on earth could keep those two
apart very long.
Like the gallant gentleman he was,
Clay Saunders faced defeat. He told
Ou III llIlu IIcI SISCCICo QII-
der the name of Mary Ransome at"
he named the hotel where March was
staying, gave Brent the address He
explained, Reporters have been on
her trail ever since young Morgan's
death. But she's managed to elude
them and the affairs just about lost
it's news value now. I don't think
she'll be bothered much longer"
Brent put out his hand. He said,
81 don't know how to thank you. You
could have made this very hard for
me-"
The two men shook hands. Clay's
grin was crooked. He said, 81 hope
you lose, Randolph. I'd be more than
human if I didn't. But at least you
have the right to see her."
"You love her, too" 1t was state
ment, not question. you've always
loved her."
II want her to be happy" Clay told
him, more than anything in the
world. If you can make her happy.
then you're the man for her"
They said goodbye, not as enemies,
but as friends Not until the door was
closed behind Brent's departing form
did Clay say to himself, succinctly,
"You fool, there goes your hope of
happiness"
But somehow, thinking of March,
the knowledge didn't hurt so much
as it might have.
March came into the hotel lobby
and stood for a moment, trying to ad.
just her eyes to the dimness after
the sunny glare outside. Her cheeks
were rosy with cold, her soft fair hair
wind-tumbled beneath her tiny dark
hat. She had been walking in Lincoln
Park for want of something better to
do. The days were so long, so empty,
the mornings worse than the after
moons, because one could at least see
a movie in the afternoon. March had
seen four movies in as many days and
they had begun, definitely, to pail.
The evenings weren't so bad. Clay
was very faithful. But it would be
long time until evening. March slid
down one glove, consulted her wrist
watch. 1t was barely eleven, she had
been out less than an hour
The clerk at the desk signaled her
and she moved acress the lobby, her
heels silent on the faded rug.
"There was.a gentleman to see you,
Miss Ransome. He came in just after
you left. rather think he went out
to look for YOU"
March nodded, smiling. "Thank you.
He'll probably be back. You may send
him up when he comes."
She wondered gratefully, crossing
to the elevators, how Clay had man
aged to get away at this hour. Per-
haps they could have lunch together.
In her small, rather stiff sitting room,
she slipped out of her coat, put her
hat aside. She went on through to the
bedroom and applied fresh lipstick be-
fore the dresser mirror, brushed her
shining hair smooth.
There was knock at the door and
March went eagerly to open it, her
lips framing welcome. But it wasn't
Clay who stood there, who came into
the little room as March stepped back
dazedly. The sight of Brent's tall
form, the sight of his dear dark, face,
brushed aside all thought and memory
of Clay.
Above the pounding tumult of her
heart, March managed to murmur his
name. But Brent stood silent, star