I don't care what she does with it. I want her
to know that I think of her, that I am crazy for her."
It was Friday evening when I returned to New York, having been
on the road since the preceding Monday morn- ing. I first went to
my place of business and then to a restaurant for supper. I would
not make my appearance at the house until half past 10, when the
coast was sure to be clear. With thrills of anticipation that verged
on physical pain I was looking forward to the moment when I
should close the bracelet about her slender white wrist
At the fixed minute I was at the door of the Clinton Street
apartment. I pulled the bell. I expected an excited rush, a violent
opening of the door, a tremulous: "My loved one! My loved one!"
There was a peculiar disappointment in store for me. She received
me icily, not letting me come near her
"Why, what's the matter? What's up?" "Nothing," she muttered
When we reached the light of the Sabbath candles in the
dining-room I noticed that she looked worn and haggard
"What has happened?" I asked, greatly perplexed.
Pages:
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470