Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1940-07-26
CHAPTER 20

March out, had bothered her. She had
done, Immediately and without hesita-
ton, what she could. She had denied
the very possibility of suicide and
Richie had managed, finally, to quiet
Cherry.
It had been, Pat reflected, so bru-
tally unnecessary. 1t couldn't help
Griff. He was past help. And it was
barbaric to try to saddle any living
person with the blame for his death.
Pats breath caught and throbbed in
her white throat. But her sad eyes,
staring straight ahead, were wide and
fearless. She had cried at first, storm
lily, heart-brokenly. Now she was
through with weeping. A feeling of
terrible fatality had gripped her after
that first grief-stricken outburst. 1t
was as though she had always known
that this must happen, this, or some
thing very like it. Griff, who turned
a mask of gayety and laughter for the
world to see, had never been, in any
true sense, happy. Perhaps he never
could have been. Now death had laid
a quiet hand on his shoulder . and
he would never know pain again, nor
Illustration
Pat sat there, slim and straight in
her dark frock, waiting. There was a
last duty she must do, in fairness to
Griff and to the woman he had loved,
whose happiness had lain so close to
his tormented heart. She had told no
one of her intention, not even Nito.
She had asked to be left alone. And
she had instructed a servant that
when Brent Randolph came, he was
to be brought to her at once
She hadn't very long to wait. Soon
there was sound of voices in the hall
and footsteps approaching. Brent
came in, looking tall and ill at ease.
His dark head was bare, but he still
wore his heavy mackinaw. There was
little snow on his high laced boots
and this seemed to bother him.
But Pat said quietly, at doesn't
matter. Please sit down."
She indicated a chair beside her,
near the fireplace, and Brent sat, a
trifle gingerly. His dark young face
was grave and his eyes held a ques-
ton.
"You sent for me? / wasn't home
when you called, but I came as soon
as got the message"
Pat nodded. "There was something
I had to tell you-and we're leaving
today"
She hesitated momentarily, wonder
ing just where to begin. And in the
brief silence Brent said, "I'm terribly
sorry about what happened. Every
one around here is. Your brother was
well liked'
Pat said, "Thank YOU" And then
she said, "It was about my brother ]
had to see you, Brent. Do you mind
if l call you that? ? I've always thought
of you as Brent-since talked with
March,"
March . :" Pain flared up sud
denly in his dark eyes, there was a
tenseness along the line of his jaw.
II saw her not so long ago." Pat
admitted. 81 want to speak to you of
her, too, but first 1 must tell you a.
bout my brother :. think he killed
himself. l.. :"
Brent's frown was questioning. "But
didn't you deny"
II did," Pat told him gravely. 81
would deny it again, under similar
circumstances. But surely 1 can tell
you the, truth. Griff knew they were
cutting ice in that particular spot. We
had been skating that morning-just
the two of us. And coming home we
stood on hill overlooking the lake
and watched the men" her voice
roughened, broke, but after a moment
she continued quietly. "He didn't want
to live, Brent. He loved March so
greatly that he couldn't face the pros
pect of future without her. When
he finally realized that there was no
hope"
Her voice trailed off and the sun
ny room was quiet. Except for the
crackle of flames and the roar of wind
in the chimney.
Brent sat there, staring. After a
time he said, his voice barely above
a whisper, "No hope"
Pat shook her head. "Do you think
if there had been the slightest chance
for him, he would have chosen death
March loves you, Brent. AS 1 think
you still love her. 1 don't know what
you quarreled about. I don't want to
know. But was it important enough,
vital enough, to ruin your lives? If it
was Griff, Brent, you had no grounds