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TALK ABOUT WOMEN — MAN’S PUZZLERev. J. Calvitt Clarke

c. 1935

https://www.academia.edu/8407224

See J. Calvitt Clarke III. Fifty Years of Begging: Dr. J. Calvitt Clarke and Christian Children’s Fund. Bloomington, IN: Archway Publishing, 2018.

Last revised, January 24, 2021

J. Calvitt ClarkeAuthor of “Melissa,” etc.20,000 words5003 Evelyn Byrd Rd.Westover Hills, Richmond VA

Stamped “International Publishing Service Co. Literary Agents, 307 Fifth Avenue, New York City.

The existing manuscript fragment, apparently a novella,abruptly ends with perhaps the last page or two missing. The word count of this fragment is 19,996, just under the word count noted above.

Clarke wrote this draft after publishing Melissa and based on the “etc.,” presumably relatively soon after 1934. See J. Calvitt Clarke. Melissa. New York: William Godwin, 1934.

Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library, University of Virginia. Accession Number 13712, Papers of J. Calvitt Clarke 1918-1970, Series II: Literary Manuscripts, Subseries A: Manuscripts of Dr. J. CalvittClarke, Jr., Folder 5, “Talk About Women” by Dr. J. Calvitt Clarke, Jr., n. d.

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See:J. Calvitt Clarke III. Fifty Years of Begging: Dr. J. Calvitt Clarke

and Christian Children’s Fund. Bloomington, IN: Archway Publishing, 2018.

J. Calvitt Clarke III. Fifty Years of Begging, Revisions. https://www.academia.edu/works/44310902.

J. Calvitt Clarke III. “The Literary Life of Dr. J. Calvitt Clarke.” Paperback Parade: The Magazine for Paperback Readers & Collectors (Mar. 2014): 20-49.

J. Calvitt Clarke III. “Rev. J. Calvitt Clarke’s Published Fiction: Covers and Dust Jackets.” https://www.academia.edu/19064905.

J. Calvitt Clarke III. “The Second Life of the ReverendJ. Calvitt Clarke: Popular Novelist.” Annals: Journal of the Florida Conference of Historians. 22 (June 2015): 59-76, http://fch.ju.edu/fch_vol_22.pdf.

J. Calvitt Clarke III. “The Wreckage of the Great War: Rev. J. Calvitt Clarke’s Inspection Tour with NearEast Relief, 1921.” FCH Annals: Journal of the Florida Conference of Historians. 23 (June 2016): 11-24, https://www.academia.edu/35794784.

J. Calvitt Clarke III. “Fifty Years of Begging: Revisions.” https://www.academia.edu/44310902.”

INTRODUCTIONJ. Calvitt Clarke IIIProfessor EmeritusJacksonville University

Dedicating his life to the welfare of children, Dr. J. Calvitt Clarke (1887-1970) was one of the twentieth century’s most successful charitable fundraisers. An ordained Presbyterian minister, during and after the Great War, Clarke worked with the American Committee for Armenian and Syrian Relief and its successor, Near East Relief. Laboring among

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marooned Russian troops immediately after the war, he spent a few months with the YMCA in France. In the late1920s, he helped set up the Golden Rule Foundation, an outgrowth of Near East Relief’s work, and then the China Child Welfare Association. In 1932, Clarke helpedfound Save the Children, USA. In 1937 and 1938, he worked with Helen Keller and the American Foundation for the Blind. For his crowning success, in 1938, he founded China’s Children Fund, which after World War II, he renamed his organization, Christian Children’s Fund. Today known as ChildFund International, under histutelage, CCF became the world’s largest Protestant, nongovernmental organization dedicated to helping children. After leaving Christian Children’s Fund in 1964 and at an age when others retire, Clarke, with hisdaughter, founded Children, Incorporated, another childwelfare organization that continues to make a significant difference for the world’s needy.1

Clarke had a second life of exceptional merit. He was a successful author, sometimes writing under his own name, often under the pseudonym of Richard Grant, and once as Carol Addison. Republished in paperback, one of his novels carried the name of Richard Lee. While he publicly promoted the works he wrote under hisown name and used them to publicize his fundraising work, he never publicly recognized his significant — and more prurient — production under his pseudonyms.2

His fiction provides insight into Dr. Clarke’s primary life as a minister and professional fundraiser.1 Richmond Times-Dispatch, 18, 19 July 1970; Edmund W. Janss, Yankee Si! The Story of Dr. J. Calvitt Clarke and his 36,000 Children (New York: William Morrow & Co., 1961); John C. Caldwell, Children of Calamity (New York:John Day Co., 1957); Larry E. Tise and Kristin Helmore, A Book aboutChildren: The World of Christian Children’s Fund, 1938-1991 (Falls Church, VA: Hartland Pub., 1993).2 J. Calvitt Clarke III, The Literary Life of Dr. J. Calvitt Clarke,” Paperback Parade: The Magazine for Paperback Readers & Collectors (Mar. 2014): 20-49, see https://www.academia.edu/8321111. J. Calvitt Clarke III, “The Second Life of the Reverend J. Calvitt Clarke: Popular Novelist,” The Annals of the Florida Conference of Historians, 22 (June 2015): 59-76.

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Suspicious of prudery, in his novels, Clarke painted a world in which Protestant-defined, Victorian morality —pummeled by the Great War, the Roaring Twenties, and the Great Depression — had crumbled. Without blushing, the Presbyterian minister openly discussed prostitution, premarital sex, adultery, group sex, out-of-wedlock pregnancy, abortion, sterilization, male andfemale masturbation, divorce, rape, and — at some length — male and female homosexuality.

Clarke’s writings continued his preaching ministrylong after he had left the pulpit. They reaffirmed muchof the Social Gospel movement, a Protestant Christian intellectual movement prominent in the early twentieth century in the United States and Canada. The Social Gospel applied Christian ethics to social problems, such as economic inequality, poverty, inadequate labor unions, and poor schools — all themes in Clarke’s work.

There was also a more secular flip side to this religious coin. While on his way home after his inspection tour with Near East Relief in 1921, Clarke occupied himself on his long train ride through the Balkans by reading Henry Van Dyke’s Camp Fires and Guide Posts.3 He declared to his journal, “I am a meliorist.”4

In the tradition of American Pragmatism, Meliorism holds that progress is a concrete reality and that humans can intervene to induce progress beyond what natural processes can. Meliorism is at the foundation of liberal democracy and human rights and provided fuelfor his welfare work.

While keeping changes to a minimum, in “Talk AboutWomen — Man’s Puzzle,” I have corrected misspellings and some grammar, for example, his comma usage. I have annotated the text, especially to highlight how much Clarke was writing about what he knew — in this case, his adopted home city of Richmond, VA, and even his

3 Henry Van Dyke, et al., Camp-Fires and Guide-Posts: A Book of Essays and Excursions (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1921).4 J. Calvitt Clarke, “Rev. Clarke’s Journal: NER Inspection Tour, 1921,” accessed June 6, 2019, https://www.academia.edu/9925915.

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neighborhood. In this draft toward the end, Clarke substituted “Westcott” for “Westover.” Clearly a mistake, Clarke did use the surname “Westcott” in another novel fragment I am calling “The Richest Girl in the World.5 This manuscript in tone and content fitsnicely into Clarke’s published romance and love novels of the 1930s.

By any measure, Dr. Clarke was a successful writer, having published about twenty-five pulp novels and some short stories. Yet, he suffered so many rejections, including “Talk about Women.” I marvel at his capacity to absorb that rejection and to sit down again to scribble words on pages — and to offer his egoagain to the whims of his literary agents and publishers. Almost every American football coach has quipped more than once, “It doesn’t matter how many times you get knocked down, but how many times you get up.” Clarke lived that aphorism.

5 The Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library, University of Virginia, holds the fragment. See Accession Number 13712, Series II: Literary Manuscripts, Subseries A: Manuscripts of Dr. J. Calvitt Clarke, Jr. Box 9, Folder 8, Untitled by Dr. J. Calvitt Clarke, Jr. about Dr. Westcott, n. d. and Folder 9, Westcott Manuscript notes from Dr. J. Calvitt Clarke, Jr. (about Dr. Westcott), n. d. See “The Richest Girl in the World,” accessedJune 6, 2019, https://www.academia.edu/8321460.

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TALK ABOUT WOMEN — MAN’S PUZZLERev. J. Calvitt Clarke

Chapter One

Phyllis was blue. Since the store opened at nine, the old familiar little devils of misery had been pulling at her. She tried not to permit them to get herdown. She edged over toward Paula.

Paula was scowling. “That triple-chinned rhinoceros!” Her eyes glared at the broad back of a departing customer.

“What did she do?” Phyllis asked, mechanically watching the floorwalker one aisle over by the toilet soaps.

“The dear, little, three-hundred-pound Cinderella trying to tell me I didn’t give her a full dram of Venetian Waltz Dream. You know some of ‘em buy it a dram at a time and try to scare us into giving them an over measure. They think they can get an extra dram that way. The cheapskates!”

“A dollar and a half a dram,” Phyllis murmured listlessly.

“Cripes,” Paula snorted, “what man would care if she smelled sweet? The old hen.”

Phyllis looked sympathetic. She lingered, hoping Paula might tell her about her last night’s date. She supposed Paula had had a date. She usually had. She certainly envied Paula with her boys every night, always going places — dances, movies, sometimes even toa legitimate show with three-dollar seats.

Paula was saying, “Yes, madam, the odor is very lingering. It’s imported and all the rage.”

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The floorwalker was coming. Phyllis moved five feet away from Paula and set the Coty6 sign at a slightly different angle. Every time the floorwalker approached, she shifted the sign a little or straightened up the perfume boxes.

The floorwalker’s small, pinkish eyes darted suspiciously at Phyllis and the other girls behind the counter. He moved on, disappointed. There was nothing he could complain about.

Phyllis looked at her wristwatch. Eleven o’clock. If only something exciting would happen for once, but every day the same boring, old store. A flicker of interest came into her eyes. A young man was talking toPaula. The young man would be stopping to talk to Paula. But if he had stopped to talk to her, she probably would have acted so frustrated and bashful that he would have grunted his disgust and left her cold.

While she waited on a customer, Phyllis, out of the corner of her eye, watched Paula and her good-looking boyfriend. It was the same old story — boys always acting eager around Paula and passing her right by. Of course, Paula was pretty but no more so than shewas. More flashy, though, with her shining blond hair. Paula was skillful in touching it up. Phyllis got a bitof Paula’s conversation. “Yes, you would, you sheik devil, always breaking some little girl’s heart.”

That was it, Phyllis decided, Paula had a line, and she didn’t. Paula knew just how to handle a boy to keep him half-laughing and half-teased all the time. Ifshe just weren’t so afraid and scared. It didn’t pay tobe too modest.6 Coty, founded by François Coty in Paris in 1904, sold perfume and beauty products. Before the First World War, Coty established its U.S. headquarters at 714 Fifth Avenue in New York City,

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Paula was making little signs to her to come over.Phyllis’s heart missed a beat. She glanced around. The floorwalker was gone. She felt herself blushing. Darn it, she would blush. She moved over, timid but eager.

“Meet Bobbie Clay. Miss Phyllis Green, Bob.”“Howdy.” Bob gave a little, short jerk of his

head. “I was just telling the little blond home wreckerhere that you would make a swell blind date for my buddy, Drake Blackwell. How about it for tonight, beautiful?”

“Why — er — tonight?”Paula was watching her, a half-sarcastic grin on

her face. “You haven’t a date, have you, Phyllis?” she asked.

“Oh, break it,” Bob injected. “Tell the guy your brother is being hung for murdering a policeman, and you promised not to miss seeing his execution.”

“It wasn’t a policeman, “Phyllis said, trying desperately to sound interesting. “He threw a bomb at the Statue of Liberty in New York and blew it up because he said he didn’t like the lady’s looks.”

“Say, baby, if you were as old as the Statue of Liberty, you wouldn’t be so good looking yourself.”

“It’s dissipation,” Paula chimed in. “She gets litup every night, honest to —,” Paula started fingering her sales book. “I’m sorry,” she said in a quite different tone of voice than she had been using, “but Inever heard of that make of perfume. Are you sure that I can’t interest you in some other kind?”

“Eight o’clock, Broad and Fifth streets,”7 Bob

7 Called Broad Street in the city of Richmond, Virginia, US Route 250 runs from Richmond to Sandusky, Ohio. It is a main road, connecting Richmond’s western reaches to its downtown where the street was home to much of the city’s customer businesses. Fifth and Broad streets are at the heart of downtown Richmond. Clarke

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said out of the corner of his mouth as he moved away.The floorwalker stopped at the counter and

coughed. Phyllis shook her head. “I never heard of thatbrand. I’m sorry.” She edged toward her end of the counter. She straightened the Coty sign. She could feelher heart thumping under her blue silk dress. A date! Drake Blackwell — she liked the name. She was dying to get back to Paula and ask her if she knew anything about the boy, but the floorwalker was lingering nearby.

Phyllis sold a box of powder, a jar of cold cream,and a lipstick before she was able to get back to Paula.

“Say. Paula, thanks a lot for suggesting me for the date tonight. I sure appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me,” Paula answered, “he lamped you and suggested it himself.”

“Thanks anyway. Do you know Mr. Blackwell?”“Nope, only met Bob at a dance about a week ago.

You don’t have many dates, do you, Phyllis?”“No,” she responded apologetically, “I wish I were

popular like you.”“You’re too much like these Richmond8 girls — that

is, some of them. You’re too slow. If you’d worked in New York like I have, you’d be wise to yourself. Honestnow, Phyllis, you still do believe in Santa Claus, I’llbet.”

“I guess I’m still a country girl at heart,” Phyllis answered deprecatingly.

“For crying out loud, don’t start that stuff. Don’t let this Drake guy know you’re from Franklin.9 Boys like a girl to act as if she knew her groceries.”attended the famous Second Presbyterian Church on Fifth Street, three blocks south of Broad.8 Richmond, VA.

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“What kind of a dress shall I wear?”“The best you have, boob. They are going to pick

us up in a car and take us to the Westover Club.10 We’ll have some drinks and dance and then the usual necking on the way home, I suppose.”

Phyllis saw a customer waiting impatiently at her end of the counter. She went to her. She waited on her with a troubled mind. It dawned upon her that there wasan additional reason for Paula’s popularity. Drinks andnecking — Phyllis’s black eyes looked thoughtful and troubled.

In the little town of Franklin, Phyllis’s widowed mother had struggled to put her through high school. The summer of the year Phyllis had been graduated, her mother had died. Phyllis stayed for six months at the home of an aunt. Then she had come to Richmond. She made fifteen dollars a week. Her room and board were eight dollars. She managed to get along alright, but she was lonely. She told herself that she shouldn’t be.If not beautiful, she was pretty with her naturally curly blue-black hair, her large expressive eyes, and her good complexion.

She had been in Richmond for two months, and she had only had two dates. One was hardly a date. A boy had shared her lunch with her on her Sunday school picnic. Maybe he had just been hungry, she thought ruefully. Then that boy who boarded at the same house had asked her to go to a show. She had thought he was nice until on the way home. He had spoiled it all then by suddenly stopping on the sidewalk under the shadow of a tree. Before she had realized what he was up to, 9 The independent and small city of Franklin lies in rural Southeast Virginia, near the border with North Carolina.10 Clarke lived in the Westover Hills neighborhood in ChesterfieldCounty, across the James River from the city of Richmond.

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he had his arms about her and was raining wet kisses onher mouth.

She had cried a little that night, remembering howshe had planned, if the boy asked her, to permit him tokiss her goodnight when they got to the house. Even that had seemed like a big concession to her, but she didn’t want to be a prude and different from other girls. He had acted so mean when she had protested against his kisses. “Oh, all right,” he had sneered, and although she saw him every day at the dinner table,he ignored her completely.

What was a girl going to do? A girl that wanted tobe a nice girl and had dreams of coming to some man fresh and unspoiled? She didn’t want cheap love. She wanted romance, respect. When the right man came, and love entered her heart, and she married, she wanted to give herself untarnished. That was her dream, and now Paula talked of drinking and necking. She could still get out of the date. She thought of the long evenings she had spent in the boarding house alone. She wanted this date. She had heard of the Westover Club. Dancing,lights, music, laughter — she did want good times. Well, she would go. She would try and not act too prissy and prudish. She would see.

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Chapter Two

Paula had told Phyllis to meet her at the apartment, which she shared with another girl. Phyllis hurried through her dinner. She was too excited to be hungry. She ran upstairs to her room. It was nice to know she was really going somewhere instead of spendingthe evening alone. She was dressed by seven o’clock. She walked slowly over to Franklin Street, where Paula lived. She didn’t want to arrive too soon. She walked around the block a couple of times and then rang the bell.

A plump, dark-haired girl in a torn kimono opened the door. “Hello, you’re early,” she said ungraciously.“Paula isn’t dressed yet. Coming in?” she added as Phyllis stood uncertainly at the door.

“Yes, thanks. I’ll sit and wait.”The girl shrugged and sat down heavily in a Morris

chair by the side of a floor lamp. She reached for a tin box and extracted a file. She busied herself, manicuring her nails.

Phyllis looked around the apartment with curiosity. One of her ambitions was to have an apartment of her own someday. It would be a lot of fun buying furniture and fixing one up. She didn’t like thelook of the place much. For one thing, it was slovenly with clothes thrown around on the backs of chairs, tables, and on the studio couch, which hadn’t been madeup and showed wrinkled sheets, and a blanket with a bigtear in it.

Through an open doorway leading into a bathroom, Phyllis could see Paula still wearing the dress she hadworn at the store. Phyllis looked down at her own greensilk evening gown and wondered if she had made a

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mistake in wearing it. She felt reassured when she saw Paula pull her dress over her head, but she was afraid that they were going to be late. Paula sat down on the edge of the bathtub and removed her stockings. She turned on the bath faucet. A vision of the boys waitingfor their dates and then getting disgusted and driving off without them flashed through Phyllis’s head.

Paula seemed to have all the time in the world. “Hey, Myrtle,” she called to the plump girl, still working on her nails, “come on and wash my back.”

“I’m busy.” Myrtle did not look up from her fingers.

“I — I’ll wash your back, Paula,” Phyllis offered.“A boy told Myrtle once she had pretty hands, and

now, she spends all her time working on them.”“It don’t cost you nothing if I do, so what are

you crabbing about?”“They are pretty hands,” Phyllis said as she

passed Myrtle.Myrtle straightened up. “Yep, see.” She held her

hands out.“They’re nice.” Phyllis was trying to be pleasant,

although she did not like the girl.“For crying out loud, Phyllis, are you coming or

not?” Paula grumbled*Phyllis hurried. She gave a glance at an alarm

clock on a table.A quarter to eight. They should be on their way to

keep their engagement. She rubbed Paula’s back briskly.“Our date is at eight, isn’t it?” she asked anxiously.

“Aw, it’s a good thing to keep a man waiting. Makes ‘em more anxious.”

Phyllis helped all she could with the dressing. There was some difficulty in finding one of Paula’s

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pumps. It was finally located on the floor quite away under the couch. It was a quarter after eight when Paula was ready to start.

She turned to Myrtle. Clean the place up a bit. Wemight bring the boys up here.” She winked at Myrtle. Phyllis wondered about the wink. She was still thinkingabout it on the way over to Fifth and Broad streets. She decided that it was because Paula didn’t want her to be going on a date with her. If Bob himself hadn’t suggested her, Paula would have brought Myrtle along. Even yet, she was planning to have Drake Blackwell meether roommate.

The men were not at the corner when the girls arrived. Phyllis was very disappointed. If they had left without waiting, it might be months before she would have a date again. She didn’t think Paula liked her well enough to share double dates unless the men especially asked for her.

Honk — honk.”“There they are,” Paula exclaimed, becoming

suddenly animated.Phyllis followed her as she hurried over to the

small sedan.Bob jumped out. “Thought you two had met a couple

of other guys. Drake and I were here on time. We shouldhave known better.”

“Aw, I’ll bet you just got here,” Paula said, glancing beyond Bob to the man sitting at the wheel.

“Nope, been by the comer two or three times. This is Drake. Here’s your girl, Drake. What did you say your name was?”

“Phyllis.”“Jump in, Phyllis,” Drake invited.Bob was helping Paula into the back seat. Two

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doors slammed, and with a jerk, they were off.“You’re all right for a blind date, Phyllis, my

friend. For once, Bob picked something that I can look at without getting indigestion.”

“Thanks — er — you — you’re all right yourself.”“Reach in that pocket in front, and you’ll find a

drink. Take a swig and then pass it on to me, will you?Bob and I are way ahead of you two girls. You’ll have to catch up.”

“I — I’ll drink later. Here.”“Make her take a drink, Drake.” Paula leaned

forward. “She’s just a country kid from Franklin. Imagine that!”

Phyllis blushed. Why was Paula so mean? The very thing she had warned her not to tell she had splutteredout the first thing.

Drake handed the bottle back to Phyllis silently. She whipped the top off with her hand as she had seen Drake do and raised it toward her lips.

“Make her take a big swig.” Paula put her hand on Drake’s shoulder.

Drake half turned around toward Paula. “You’re so darn anxious to see the stuff drunk, drink it yourself.” He seized the bottle out of Phyllis’s hand and passed it back angrily to Paula.

“You needn’t get huffy over it,” Paula complained tilting, the bottle to her lips.

Phyllis wasn’t quite sure what caused Drake to seize the bottle from her. He had done so roughly, and his roughness pleased her. It was nice to be bossed a little by a man like Drake. He was certainly good looking. The light from the dashboard revealed his broad shoulders. She could fancy how hard and strong his muscles must be under his neat, well-pressed suit.

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She thought his hair was brown, either dark brown or black, and he had a dimple in his chin. Queer that he should have a dimple. He certainly looked very masculine.

Phyllis was half-afraid to admit to herself how thrilled she was to be with him. If he was anywhere near as nice as he looked, she certainly was lucky.

“Aren’t afraid of me, are you, Phyllis?” “So, why?”

“The way you are hugging that door, I thought maybe I was an escaped leper or something.”

She moved up close to him.“Go gunning for men much with Paula?” He jerked

his head backwards. “No,” she answered in a low voice, “this is my first double date with her.”

“I’m just trying to figure you out.”“I’ve been trying to figure you out, too.”“That’s what I like about a blind date. First, you

wonder what the girl is going to look like. Then when your curiosity is satisfied on that score, you wonder if she’s got brains or is just dizzy.”

“And after you find out all those things, what then?”

“I get tired of them by that time.”“There are plenty more?”“Richmond is full of them. I’ll bet I could date a

different girl every night.”“Do you?”“Oh, I won’t now, of course, after meeting you.

I’ll devote every night to parking on your doorstep.”“That will be nice. I can say ‘hello’ every night

when I get home from my dates.”Phyllis hugged herself for this answer. She had

been so afraid that she was going to act bashful with

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her date, and she was surprised to find herself feelingso free.

Drake did not answer. He settled back more comfortably in his seat. They were driving through the park on their way to the river. They paid a toll on thebridge.11 Halfway across, Bob threw the whiskey bottle out of the car. It sailed over the bridge rail.

Phyllis turned around. Paula was sprawled out, herhead resting on Bob’s shoulder.

“You must have liked the whiskey,” Phyllis said.“Nurse your own man. I’ll take care of mine,”

Paula sneered.Phyllis turned and faced the road again. She stole

a glance at Drake. He was staring straight ahead. She had a feeling that he was thinking about his work and had forgotten her. She studied his face. Gosh, she liked his looks. If she could get a man like him crazy about her, it would be wonderful. She wished that she could think of something bright and smart to say that would arouse his interest. She glanced into the mirror again. Paula’s arms were around Bob’s shoulders. Her lips were buried in the hollow of his neck.

Phyllis’s eyes met Drake’s in the mirror. He smiled. “That was good liquor,” he chuckled. “I wish I had made you drink it.”

11 Completed in 1925, a private corporation financed and owned theBoulevard Bridge, which crossed the James River to give residents of the new Westover Hills neighborhood free access to the city of Richmond. Officially named for The Boulevard, a main north-south route through Richmond that ends just north of the bridge in Byrd Park, but widely known as the “Nickel Bridge,” for many years, non-residents of Westover Hills had to pay a five-cent toll at a booth midway on the span.

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Chapter Three

Without reducing its speed, Drake swung the car off the road and ran it between two small yellow stuccobuildings. He turned around toward the backseat. “Break,” he shouted, “time to come up for air.”

Paula straightened up and began patting her clothes. She kept the three others waiting while she snapped on the dome light and applied more powder and lipstick.

Bob reached for Paula. “Soups on, blondie, and it will be getting cold. Shut up your vanity case on that man bait stuff and move your bones.”

“For crying out loud, where’s the fire?” Paula’s voice was disagreeable.

Phyllis was surprised. To kiss a man ardently one minute and to spit out angrily at him the next? She guessed there wasn’t much sentiment to Paula’s lovemaking. She looked at Bob. His face was unruffled. Her thoughts were broken off by Drake putting his arm around her waist and marching her toward one of the yellow buildings.

Although she would not have admitted it at threat of death, Phyllis had never been in a nightclub before.She looked around curiously. She had entered a cozy room with a low ceiling and dim lights. Modernistic tancurtains with brown stripes hung at the windows. The material looked like fishnets. She thought they were very pretty. At one end of the room was a bar. At an opposite corner on a raised platform was an orchestra. The center of the room was cleared for dancing. It wasn’t a large place. There was something friendly, intimate, and pleasant about it.

The orchestra began a selection just as the four

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seated themselves at a table by one of the windows. Theselection began with a long roll on the drum. Phyllis found herself smiling at the fat, droll looking drummerwho rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose. All of the members of the orchestra were young men, slick in theirtuxedos. “Everyone a sheik, even fatty,” she thought.12

Drake got up and pulled Phyllis’s chair out. “How about you and me using this music?”

As he guided her around the smooth floor to the contagious music, Phyllis smiled inwardly. What would he think if he knew that lots of evenings alone in her room at the boarding house, she had danced with a pillow? She would dance around, inventing new steps to the imaginary music and conversing wittily and with sophistication to her pillow partner. It all helped heras Drake led her gliding feet around the other dancers.He was easy to follow. The selection seemed to come to an end so quickly. She was flushed, and her eyes sparkled with happiness as he led her back to their table.

Paula and Bob had not danced. They had finished anOld Fashioned instead, and Bob was ordering more from the waiter. Phyllis saw the full glass at her plate. Drake was already sipping his drink. With inner trepidation, Phyllis put hers to her lips. It tasted pleasant. She wondered if she would get drunk. She wished she weren’t supposed to drink. She didn’t quite know her own mind about some things. To drink or not todrink, to kiss or not to kiss — that was the question. She wasn’t a little country bumpkin in Franklin anymore. She was a city girl in a nightclub — her first12 A couple of years after writing this fragment, Clarke’s son, J.Calvitt Clarke Jr., while first in college and then in law school at the University of Virginia, was the leader and drummer for a similar band.

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nightclub. She had her ideals, but she didn’t want to be squeamish about them.

The music started again as she drained her glass. Drake came to her chair. She was glad to dance. She wassupremely happy in his arms. She found herself wishing that he cared for her, that they were engaged. She tried to put the thought from her. She might get hurt if she didn’t. Drake’s good-looking face did not look sentimental. “I’m just a date to him,” she reasoned. “If I’m good fun and — and not too stiff, he may suggest another evening together.”

She started to leave the floor when the selection was over. Drake reached for her. “They’ll play again ina second.” Almost immediately, the orchestra began “June in January.”13

Several selections were played in succession. Phyllis and Drake danced them all. He led her into somenew steps, which she caught onto quickly. Once, Bob broke in, and Drake danced with Paula. Bob was a good dancer, but it did not seem the same. She was glad whenhe released her to Drake again. Finally, at the end of a piece, the pianist touched two keys, which seemed to say as plainly as though spoken, “That’s all.” Drake led her back to their table.

A floorshow followed. There was a blues singer, a dancing team, and a girl in bare feet who danced alone.Phyllis drank a gin rickey. Her head was beginning to feel very light. When a fresh glass was set before her with still a different kind of drink, she let it stand for a while. The floorshow came to its conclusion. Paula went to the ladies’ room to apply more powder and13 Published in 1934, “June in January” was a popular song with music by Ralph Rainger and lyrics by Leo Robin. Bing Crosby introduced the song in the movie, Here Is My Heart. Many artists havesince recorded the tune.

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rouge. Bob went over to talk to the drummer.“Do you come here often?” Phyllis asked Drake in

an effort to make conversation.“A lot. Queer, I never saw you here before.”“I’ve never been here before.”“You haven’t? It’s the best place in town. Say,

you had a funny look on your face when we were standingby the car waiting for Paula to finish applying her warpaint.”

“Did I? I guess I was thinking it was funny how cranky Paula was with Bob when just a few minutes before she acted as if — as if she was in love with him.”

“Paula has her soft moments. She loves to be loved. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I mean — I — Well, I’m from Franklin, you know. Only a country girl.”

“Sure, I know innocent, never been kissed and all that. That line went out when your grandmother heard her boyfriend beneath her bedroom window and threw downher knitting to slide down the waterspout and swap kisses under the old apple tree.”

“What would you have done if you had been on the backseat with Paula, Drake?”

“What do you think? Do I look sappy? Paula is a good kisser.”

“You ought to know.”“Well, I’m not revealing any confidences. Paula

doesn’t make any bones about the fact that she is a live number.”

Phyllis drank a little from her glass. She felt unhappy. Drake would have been the kind of a man she had dreamed about if he weren’t so — so typical. She supposed all men were the same. Out for kisses — kisses

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that had no sentiment in back of them. As long as a girl was pretty and kissed — that was all he wanted. Could he ever care seriously for any girl? Did he ever think about marriage? She drank a big gulp of the liquor. She mustn’t be such a downright, silly fool.

The music started. Bob claimed her for several dances. She put Drake out of her mind. Bob was a good dancer. What did it matter?

Bob was holding her very close. He bent and whispered into her ear, “How about you and I sneaking out to the car? You’re a pretty thing, Phyllis.”

“I love to dance so, Bob. Besides, I don’t want Paula to get sore at me. Tell me about Drake. What doeshe do?”

“You haven’t fallen for him, have you?”“No, just curious.”“Listen, you, I don’t know much about you. Paula

told me you never had dates. She said that you were an old stick-in-the-house. Better not fall for Drake.”

“Why?”“He’ll break your heart and laugh when he hears it

crack. He takes ‘em and leaves ‘em. Now me — I’m different.”

“In what way?”“I believe in giving a girl a break. Drake’s

edging over this way now. Tell me that you will have a date with me sometime.”

“Sometime.”Bob started to say something and then looked up at

Drake. He handed Phyllis over to him without a word.“It’s all set,” Drake remarked after he and

Phyllis had been dancing a while.”“Yes? What Is?”“We are to go over to Paula’s apartment. The state

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stores14 are closed, but I know a confectionery where Ican get a bottle, and we can all get drunk over at Paula’s.”

“I — I like it here.”“This place is all right, of course, but you can’t

raise whoopee here. At the apartment, we can have a sell time. You can’t have real fun in a public place, and I could make use of a few of your kisses, little chicken.”

Phyllis’s heart sank.

14 After 1934 and the end of Prohibition, in Virginia, only state-run Alcoholic Beverage Control stores could legally sell liquor.

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Chapter Three15

Drake and Bob were in a confectionery store on Broad Street. Phyllis turned around to speak to Paula. Her eyes were closed. Phyllis wondered if she were drunk or only asleep. She glanced toward the glass doorof the store. She couldn’t see either of the men. She partly opened the door of the car and half got up from her seat. Her boarding house was only three blocks away. She was worried about the apartment. She thought she knew just what would happen. Paula and Bob would start their lovemaking, and Drake would expect her to be equally affectionate.

Phyllis bit her lip. It wasn’t that the thought ofDrake’s kisses was unpleasant. She wanted his kisses but not in the way he would give them. She could care alot for Drake. She knew she did already. But she didn’twant him to hold her as lightly as he did scores of other girls who kissed easily. She had better run away while she could. She put her hand on the door.

Paula stirred in the backseat, shifted her position slightly, and then became unconscious again. What would Paula say the next day at the store? She would tell all the other girls, and they would laugh ather. And she would never see Drake again or, if she did, he would cut her dead. He would be through with her. There was something hard about Drake. She thought that maybe he could be a bit cruel, but she couldn’t help it, she liked him just the same. He was coming outof the store carrying a paper bag. He walked with the suspicion of a swagger. He was an arrogant devil. Phyllis’s heartbeat quickened. She was glad that she hadn’t run away.

15 This is the second “Chapter Three” in Clarke’s manuscript.

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The apartment looked quite different than when Phyllis had left it. All the clothes had been picked up, the studio couch was made, and the numerous pillowson it arranged neatly. The greatest change was in Myrtle. She had on a low-cut evening gown that hugged her pleasingly plump body. She no longer appeared fat. Dolled up in the dark red evening gown, she was seductive. She smiled a welcome to the two men, but Phyllis noticed that her eyes lingered on Drake. Of course, she was planning to take him away from her. Sheand Paula probably had agreed on that earlier in the evening.

Phyllis watched Drake. She felt sick over the appreciative gleam in his eyes and the way his hand continued to hold Myrtle’s. A little of the primitive that is in all women rose up in Phyllis. The cheap, over-painted, obvious thing — Phyllis felt like pullingher hair and scratching her.

In the comer was a radio. Phyllis turned the dialsand got a dance orchestra. She went over to Drake and Myrtle, smiling. “Let’s dance,” she cried, putting her arm on Drake’s shoulder.

“We want a drink first,” Myrtle said, pulling Drake over toward the table.

With a hopeless feeling, Phyllis watched Myrtle lead her man away from her.

Paula and Bob already had filled their glasses andwere making their way to the couch where they ensconcedthemselves. Phyllis felt her old bashfulness returning.She had been remarkably free from it all evening. How she didn’t know quite what to do with herself. She didn’t want to sit down on the couch with Paula and Bob. Paula was sliding herself into Bob’s arms. Phyllisbecame suddenly conscious of her hands. They were

26

pretty enough hands, but when she became conscious of them, they seemed big, dangling things to her. She feltas if they were two big hams fastened to her wrists.

She walked back to the radio and bent with her back to the others. She pretended to be busy with the dials.

When Phyllis turned around, Myrtle was sprawled inthe Morris chair. Drake was sitting on the arm of it. They were chattering away. Myrtle laughed loudly and put her hand playfully on Drake’s knee. Phyllis went over to the table and pretended to mix herself a drink.She poured ginger ale into a glass. They would think that she had a highball. She spent as long as she couldat the table. She made her way over to a chair by the door and sat down.

“Say, Phyllis, what’s the idea?” Drake called. “Don’t be so exclusive. Come here.”

Phyllis got up gratefully. Myrtle pulled on Drake’s arm. Without resisting, he allowed himself to slide closer. His cheek rested against Myrtle’s hair. Phyllis half stopped on her way to Drake and then, withsudden inspiration, got a pillow from the couch. She threw it on the floor at Drake’s feet. She sat down on it and leaned her head against his knees. Myrtle started relating a long story of how she was in a nightclub the winter before that had been raided.16 Phyllis decided that she told the same story to every new man she met. Phyllis tried to make little remarks that would bring her into the conversation.

“Phyllis, do a fellow a favor and fix me another

16 Presumably, the raid was to enforce Prohibition made possible by the Eighteenth Amendment which prohibited the manufacture, sale, and transportation of alcoholic beverages in the United States from 1920 to December 1933. Doubtless, this conversation took place in late 1934 or early 1935.

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highball, will you?” Drake handed down his glass.“Hey, you, make me one, too,” Myrtle called. She

handed the glass to Phyllis without looking at her.When Phyllis finished mixing the drinks and turned

around, she almost dropped them. Drake was bending overMyrtle, his lips on hers.

“Here’s your drinks,” Phyllis tried to make her voice natural.

Drake reached for the glass without removing his arm from around Myrtle.

“Hey, aren’t you going to give me my glass, stupid?” Myrtle asked.

Phyllis handed it to her, and then as there did not seem to be anything else to do, she sank down on the pillow again. She did not lean her head against Drake’s knees, however. She sat there with her back to the couple in the chair. With indignation and misery, she could hear their frank kisses. How could a girl deliberately steal a man away from another that way? And how could Drake let her do it? She wished with all her heart that she had run away. This was too humiliating.

They paid no attention to her whatever. She tried to console herself with the thought that if she were willing to throw herself at Drake like Myrtle was doing, she could hold him. She could see the alarm clock across the room from her. She sat silently, looking at the clock. Two o’clock. Finally, hours later, five minutes after two. She stood it until two-thirty and then, without a word, got up.

She put on her coat and hat and went to the door, determined to leave without saying goodbye to anybody.

She had her hand on the doorknob when Drake called, “What are you leaving so soon for, Phyllis?”

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“I’m a working girl. It’s real late.”“Wait until I get my hat, and I’ll go with you,”

Drake answered to her surprise.He untangled himself from Myrtle and stood up.

“See you again sometime, old playmate. Got to see my girl home.”

Myrtle’s face pouted. She got up angrily and went over to Paula and Bob. “You two gotta move. I need my sleep.”

“So, sleep in the bathtub,” Paula grunted.“Like fun, I will. You’ve gotta —”Drake reached for Phyllis’s arm. “Come on, let’s

beat it.”“Aren’t you going to say goodnight to Myrtle?”“Goodnight,” he sang out in a disinterested voice

and pushed the hall door open.They rode to Phyllis’s boarding house in silence.

He parked the car and reached his arm toward her.“You have been awfully quiet,” he said. “What’s

wrong?”“What’s wrong? Oh, nothing.”“Aren’t sore about me and Myrtle?”“You forgot I existed at all, didn’t you?”“No, but Myrtle was feeling that way, so I thought

I might just as well take advantage of it.”“And that’s all that it means to you?”“What more should it?”“You acted as if you were in love with her.”“Cripes, you aren’t the jealous kind, are you?

Still, I did treat you sort of raw at that. Sorry.” Phyllis looked at him unbelievingly. Did he think

that she should accept his conduct as a matter of course and not feel hurt?

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“It was all right,” she said lamely.“How about a date Friday night, Phyllis?”“You really want me?”“Of course. I think you’re a swell kid.”“But I’m not like Myrtle and Paula. I mean. I

don’t think I’m better than they, but I’m not so free.”“I don’t believe you are,” he said slowly.“So, I don’t think you want a date with me.”He pulled her over to him and kissed her. He

shoved her a little away and held her arms, looking at her. “Give me a kiss now, Phyllis.”

Slowly she bent toward him and dutifully kissed his lips.

“Say, I do like you. I’ll honk on the curb here Friday night at eight. No, let me take you to dinner first. We’ll make it six-thirty. Right?”

“Right, Drake,” she answered, feeling happy again.She jumped up and opened the car door. She ran up the steps of the house and turned and waved. He waved back and started the car. It shot forward. She stood watching it until the car’s red lights disappeared downthe street.

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Chapter Four

Phyllis climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She puther foot on the first step — Friday, then drew up her other foot — night.” She proceeded up the stairs in that manner, her feet in rhythm with “Friday night.” Drake liked her well enough to make a date with her instead of Myrtle. She was tickled.

Undressing in her room, she laid plans. She simplywould have to get a new dress. It must be the sort thatwould look all right for dinner in a restaurant and still do if he later took her someplace to dance. Maybehe would just take her to a movie. It didn’t matter just so long as he took her.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he —. But she mustn’t be silly. Having a man ask a girl for a second date andhaving him ask her to be his wife — well, there was a lot of difference.

The big store where Phyllis worked, with its gongsand time clocks, its rules and floorwalkers, seemed confining, almost like a prison. She did not like beinga clerk. The store hours dragged in spite of all that she tried to do to shove them along. Few of the customers interested her. She talked with the three other girls behind the counter when the floorwalker wasn’t near. Mostly, however, she daydreamed. Even whenshe waited on her customers, and she was polite and pleasant with them, her thoughts were usually a way offsomeplace. Most of the younger girls, she found, were using the store as a stopgap until the right man came along, and they could get married and cease punching the time clock.

Phyllis told herself that she didn’t want to get married in order to get out of working. She wanted to

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be in love and be loved. She thought of love without romance to her was as flat as the bread pudding her landlady served in her boarding house. So often her mind was far away from the store.

She was at Virginia Beach lying on the sand in a most fetching bathing suit, and beside her was a big, handsome fellow that looked like a combination lifeguard, football player, and soldier of fortune. Phyllis wanted her man to be the sort that when anothergirl caught sight of him, she would catch her breath and sigh, “Oh my!”

Sometimes, she would be in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia in the duckiest little sport outfit and attentively helping her over a big rock would be the same handsome devil in suede jacket, riding breeches, and boots.

After meeting Drake, Phyllis’s daydreaming centered on him. She thought that he was even better looking than her dream man. So, she was with him at Virginia Beach, in the Blue Ridge Mountains — swimming,mountain climbing, talking, and making love.

Watching her opportunity, she slid over toward Paula. “Hello.”

“Hello, yourself.”“Have a good time last night, Paula?”Paula did not trouble to look at Phyllis. She

shrugged. “Yep.”Disappointed, Phyllis moved away. Evidently, Paula

was feeling mean. It was too bad when Phyllis was dyingto bring up Drake’s name and see if Paula could tell her anything about him that she did not know herself.

Later Paula herself edged over toward Phyllis. “You look as if you were thinking about Drake.”

Phyllis flushed guiltily. She was. “What do you

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think of him?” she asked.“All right, I suppose. Myrtle says he is a swell

guy.”“Did he tell her what he does for a living?”“Sure. Didn’t he tell you? He’s a stunt flier.”“A stunt flier! You mean he is an aviator? Has an

aeroplane? Makes his living that way?” Phyllis’s heart leaped upward. She was thrilled.

“Certainly. He’s a highflier, all right. He dated Myrtle up for Wednesday night.”

“He dated Myrtle up for Wednesday night?” Phyllis’s heart plunged downward.

“You didn’t think just because he met you that he wasn’t going to date anybody else, did you?”

“No. Nope, of course not.”“Not much use your trying to compete with Myrtle.

She has a way with a man. You might look grand sitting at home knitting a baby’s sweater, Phyllis, but what men want nowadays is a girl that swings a saucy shoulder on a dance floor.”

“You ought to know.”“Huh?”“Oh, I’m not getting sarcastic, Paula. You have a

dozen dates to my one. I guess a girl wanting to be a real friend and sort of helpful to a man doesn’t count much.”

“A pretty dress will get you a lot further. Listen, kid, it’s better for a girl to know her groceries than to have a heart of gold. B-e-l-i-e-v-e me!”

The floorwalker’s approach put an end to Paula’s philosophical discourse. Phyllis straightened the Coty sign again.

Phyllis bought a new dress, although much of the

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pleasure she had anticipated in the purchase of it was gone because of the information Paula had given her. So, Drake had dated Myrtle up for a night before his date with her. Even the glamour connected with his being an aviator was dimmed by this disagreeable fact.

It was more than simply pique or hurt pride with Phyllis. Even though she only had spent one evening with Drake, and he had ignored her most of that evening, she nevertheless knew that she had fallen and fallen hard for him. She fought against this feeling. She told herself that she was only one of many girls asfar as he was concerned. She even contemplated breakingthe date rather than to get to care still more for him — no use throwing herself in the path of a steamroller that was bound to crush her.

Nevertheless, on Friday, she hurried home from thestore and dressed as though the house were on fire and a fireman pounding at her door. She was ready five minutes before time. She looked out the window and thenwent back to her dresser and looked into the mirror. She gave her hair an extra pat or two and her hat a little jerk to get it at the precise angle she wanted.

She heard his horn. She slipped on her summer coatand dashed down the stairs.

He got out’ of the car when he saw her coming and helped her in. “You look good enough to eat, Phyllis.”

She smiled, wondering if he had said the same thing to Myrtle Wednesday night.

He took her to Kirsch’s restaurant. He pulled out a chair for her and helped her remove her coat. She liked a man to be polite that way. That was the trouble. She liked everything about Drake except his indifference. He was almost too smooth. She had a feeling that he was so used to being out with girls

34

that he was bored with them.“Paula told me you were an aviator.”“She did? That’s right, you work at the same

counter as Paula.”“I suppose Myrtle told her.”He looked at her quizzically. “Paula must have

told you that I had a date with Myrtle.” He lit a cigarette laconically.

“I guess she is good fun.” Phyllis tried to keep any hint of cattiness out of her voice.

“Why discuss her? Tell me about yourself.”“There isn’t much to tell. I’m just a small-town

girl trying to get along in a big city. I would rather hear about you. I think it is wonderful that you are a flier. Please tell me about it.”

“Ever been up?”“Never.”“Want to?”“Crazy to.”“I’ll take you up Sunday. It will have to be in

the morning because I take passengers up in the afternoon at three dollars a ride. Most of the money I make is on Sunday afternoons.”

“Do you do that every Sunday?”“Except when I am away on trips. I enter some of

the air meets. I’m a stunt flier by profession. I’ve got a two-month contract starting July fifteenth with acarnival company to do tricks in the air. Travel up north in Pennsylvania and around.”

“Honest? What tricks do you do?”“Sweep down in a nosedive as though you were going

to crack the earth open, and then pull her up again. Ride upside down and do tailspins. Any old thing to give the crowd a thrill. Of course, if I would break my

35

neck, it would give them the biggest thrill of all, butI’m not that accommodating.”

“Don’t you get scared?”“No, when I get up there in the sky, I feel that I

belong. I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”“I don’t believe you would.” She was awed. She

felt almost as if she were having dinner with Lindy.He noticed her admiration and straightened his

shoulders almost imperceptibly. His interest in her deepened. She was prettier than he thought. She didn’t take a fellow’s breath away at first, but after you were with her awhile, you saw that there was something to her prettiness. She wasn’t just a lot of loud paint and powder. He was glad that he had impulsively asked her to go up with him.

“Say,” he glanced at his wristwatch, “I’d rather take you for a ride out in the country and park along the river than to go to a movie.”

“Just as you say,” she answered gaily. Inside, shewondered if he were going try and get fresh with her.

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Chapter Five

Drake turned the car into a short, rough road thatran down to the banks of the James River. Without saying anything, he reached in the back of the car for a blanket. He got out and opened the door on Phyllis’s side. “Come on.”

She followed him dubiously. He spread the blanket out on a flat rock that protruded into the river. “Sit down.”

Meekly she obeyed. She felt powerless to protest the arrogant, assured way he had of ordering her around.

“Like it?” His hand swept over the scene before Phyllis. Out in the center of the river was a silver path that the moon made. Across the river was a dark fringe of trees, above were shining stars. The water gurgled and washed against the rock. The night wind wassoft and languid.

She sighed.His arm reached around her waist. He pulled her

toward him, and his lips closed over hers. He held her small mouth to his for a half moment.

Then he released her. He studied her face in the moonlight. It was a severe face, troubled and yet with a glow of happiness in it. “You haven’t kissed many boys, have you?”

“Why? Didn’t I do it right?” Her lips trembled a little in spite of herself. His kiss had meant so very much to her. “I can tell. I won’t kiss you anymore.”

“Why?”“You’re a regular question box. Why? Why?”“Well, why?”“Want me to?”

37

“No.”“Why not?”“Now I have you saying it. Why? Why?”“Well, why?”“Because,” she answered slowly, “it’s — it’s too

beautiful out here for you to kiss me like you did Myrtle the other night.”

“She must have been bragging. Jealous of Myrtle?”“I haven’t the right to be. I didn’t mean it that

way. It wasn’t jealousy. It — oh, you will laugh at me.”

“No, I won’t, honey, tell me.” He played with her slim, little hand.

She clutched his fingers unconsciously. “I’m old fashioned, I guess. Kisses mean something to me.”

He was silent. She watched his face. She loved theway he looked out across the water. He seemed so much as if he belonged to the river and the woods. She was thinking that perhaps years before, some Indian had satwith his blanket on that very same rock. Some Indian maid had sat beside him. Had those two, long ago, watched the river for a while and then parted and nevercome back to the rock again?

“Phyllis,” he spoke abruptly, “what do you make inthe store?”

“Fifteen dollars a week.”“I suppose if I had asked Myrtle or Paula, they

would have said twenty-five. Yea, you’re that kind - honest and straight.”

“I suppose I am the kind that Paula would say doesn’t know my groceries.”

“I make about forty dollars a week,” he said thoughtfully.

“Yes?” An eager hope came into her heart, a hope

38

that meant so much to her that it hurt. There was no use pretending to herself otherwise. If Drake proposed to her, she would be the happiest girl in the world. Hewas the sort of a man that she had always dreamed about. His strong fingers that held her hand filled herwith a longing stronger than anything she had ever thought it was possible for her to feel. She wanted himso. She wanted to be his. Not for one passionate night,not to commit a sin there beside the river and under the trees and moon, but she wanted him as the man who really loved her — as her husband. To be his wife — thethought was sweet pain.

His next words chilled her heart. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“All right,” she answered dully. She stood up.He still sat on the rock. He was not looking at

her. His eyes were on the river. She waited and then quietly sat down beside him again.

Without looking at her, he spoke. “Suppose I should tell you that I wanted you?” His voice sounded harsh and surly. “Suppose I told you that I was going to take you. What would you say?”

“I — I would be terribly sorry and disappointed, Drake.”

“You would fight me, I suppose.”“I would try to. Oh, Drake, let’s go home, please.

I’m sorry, I’m not the kind of a girl you like. Please.” She started to get to her feet.

He put out a restraining hand. “No, stay here. I have something to say to you.”

She waited. The glamour of the river and night wasgone. She thought bitterly that the next day she would be back in the store with its gongs and slow hours, itsfloorwalkers, and fussy customers. And the next

39

evening, she would be alone in her room. Drake would probably be out, maybe on this same rock with Myrtle. Well, she didn’t know her groceries. She only knew things like love and romance and marriage and having a husband.

“Phyllis, I guess a fellow struggles against something. I always thought I was a wise guy. One of those ‘kiss ‘em and forget ‘em’ fellows. I could take ‘em and leave ‘em. No girl was going to get me.”

“Sure, I understand. Why should you let them tie you up for life? Why — it would spoil your fun and yourfreedom and give you responsibilities. I understand perfectly.”

“No, you don’t understand at all. I’m just beginning to see that some responsibilities aren’t so bad at that. Why, darn it, the very things I thought I didn’t want I do. Sure, I want those things. It’s queer,” he laughed and faced her. “Darn, I’m lucky. Here, where are those lips of yours? Bend that sweet head of yours over this way.”

“No, please. Drake, let me go.”She struggled against him. He held her tight, a

smile on his face. She tried desperately to release herself. His arms were like iron.

“Listen, Phyllis, listen, dear, I’m asking you to marry me!”

She stopped struggling. Her face was so close to his, she could only see his laughing mouth. He partially released her. Her eyes sought his. She lookedinto his eyes for a long minute.

“You do mean it,” she breathed, almost as if it were a prayer.

“I do, dear.” Oh, Drake, dear man, I do love you. I —”

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His lips smothered the words she would have uttered.

He kept his arms about her. Her cheek pressed against the hollow of his shoulder. His lips were buried in her hair.

“Wait, Drake, my precious,” she whispered, “let meget my head down so I can look up into your face. “She studied him. “You had no idea you were going to proposeto me when you brought me out here tonight.”

“Not an idea in the world. The last thing I ever expected to do was to propose to any girl. When fellowsI know have told me that they have become engaged, I have felt sorry for them. I thought what jackasses theywere to get roped in that way.”

“Er — maybe, Drake, you will think that about yourself tomorrow morning.

“Your hair is naturally curly, isn’t it, you little dear. Darn it, I love it. It’s so heavy. Sort ofbelongs to me now — this hair. Smells like sweet hay. I’m glad I own it.”

“I’m glad you do, too. It will be very nice being owned by you, big man. Say you won’t change your mind.”

“What would you do if I did?”“I would walk right out there in the river until

it got deep enough to be over my head. Then I would sitdown on the bottom and wait until I got drowned.”

“You would be wet all over if you did that. What you should do is to fight to get me back. What’s more, Phyllis, you want to get over holding yourself so cheap. I want my wife to have more confidence in herself,”

“Now that we are engaged, I will.” She gave a short laugh. “I thought Paula and Myrtle had it all over me, and here it is me you want. From now on, I am

41

going to strut around like a peacock. Why shouldn’t Mrs. Drake Blackwell strut like a peacock?”

“Go to it, honey. Of course, if you strut too much. I may have to spank you once in a while to show you who’s boss in our house.”

“I would love to have you spank me. Our house! Oh,Drake, I’m so happy I would like to sing.”

“Go ahead. You’ll probably scare the squirrels.”“I won’t. I’ve got a nice voice. See, I’m starting

to brag already.”“What about your folks, Phyllis? What will they

say?”“I haven’t any folks, Drake, only an aunt in

Franklin.”“I haven’t any either.”“Two orphans all alone on a rock in the river.”“I’m glad we haven’t any in-laws to worry about. I

never saved much, Phyllis. Have you?”“I have twenty-two dollars in the savings bank.”“Why didn’t you tell me the other night?If I had known, I would have proposed to you

then.”“Wish I had.”“Wish I had saved my money. Then we could get

married right away. Guess now we will have to wait.”“Not long, will we?”“What are you trying to do, rush me?” He laughed.

“I’ll make quite a little this summer on the carnival trip. As soon as it is over, you must quit your job, and we’ll get married.”

“That will be in September,” she murmured, completely happy.

“Sure, about the fifteenth.”They talked for a while longer, and then he

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suddenly lifted her off the rock. She hugged her arms around his neck. He reached down with one hand and swept up the blanket. She thrilled in his strength as he carried her with ease to the car and set her on the front seat. He kissed her and then went around to his aide and climbed in beside her.

She was so deliciously happy as she snuggled beside him. She was rather surprised when they arrived in front of her boarding house that he immediately got out. She handed him the front door key. He unlocked thedoor. She stepped inside.

“Coming in?” she whispered.He shook his head. “You need your sleep.”Disappointment surged through her. She didn’t want

him to leave her. She wanted to stand in the hall with him and have his kisses. She wanted to hear him say again that he loved her.

“I want you to get your sleep. Run along to bed.”“Goodnight then, Drake.”“Goodnight.” He kissed her. “Little wife,” his

lips murmured in her ear.“Big husband,” she breathed. She buried her face

in his rough coat and then gave him a little push, turned, and ran up the stairway.

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Chapter Six

Phyllis undressed quickly and jumped into bed, butshe didn’t go to sleep. She was so happy she didn’t want to go to sleep. It didn’t seem possible to her that she was actually an engaged woman. That in a few months, she would be married! She couldn’t quite understand why a man like Drake should have fallen in love with her, and so quickly. She knew that he had hadlots of girls. He wasn’t the kind that could have very well kept from having girls. Any girl would like Drake.

She readied for the extra pillow beside her on thebed. In her exuberance, she threw it up in the air. Shecaught it as it descended and hugged it. “It is late,” she murmured aloud. “It’s already Saturday. He’ll surely telephone me today. He’ll make a date for tonight and Sunday. I’m to go flying with him. I had better try and go to sleep. I hope I dream about him.”

One of the most difficult things that Phyllis everfaced was for her to talk with Paula the next day at the store and not tell her that Drake and she were engaged. She felt that there was no good reason why sheshouldn’t tell Paula, but she wanted to hug the precious secret to herself for a while.

Once Paula said to her. “You sure wear your heart on your sleeve. When you speak Drake’s name, a person would think you were praying. He isn’t that marvelous. Besides, take it from me, Phyllis, a guy like him, wants them more frisky than you.”

“You don’t think that Drake could care for me seriously then?”

“For laughing out loud, of course not. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, kid. You mean all right, but I don’t want to see you get your fingers burnt.

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Drake, in the first place, isn’t the marrying kind, andfurthermore, if he were, he wouldn’t pick a girl like you. He wants more flash than you’ve got.” Paula gave aglance at a little mirror she kept below the counter. She always had the mirror there, and a hundred times a day, she glanced at it.

Phyllis almost burst. She wanted to tell Paula a few things so badly. She checked the desire. Summer hours had not yet started at the store, and it was five-thirty before the store closed that Saturday afternoon. She went straight home. She left her hall door open so that she could hear her landlady call her to the telephone. She expected that Drake would call her, and she hoped that he would invite her to dinner.

He didn’t, and disappointed, Phyllis went down to her place in the dining room. On Saturdays, her landlady always had a steak dinner. It sounded good — steak smothered in onions. But it was round steak and so tough that Phyllis, glancing about the long table, saw her fellow boarders and their working jaws that reminded her of a lot of cows chewing their cuds. Her own jaws ached with the effort. She decided there was nothing worse than tough steak unless it was to expect your fiancée to telephone you and then for him not to do so.

She still was certain that he would call her afterdinner, and she sat in her room near the open door, waiting and waiting to hear her landlady’s complaining voice summoning her to the telephone. At nine o’clock, she shut her door and undressed for bed with a heavy heart. She tried not to think of what Paula had said about a man like Drake wanting a girl with more flash.

Surely, Drake had been sincere the night before. Certainly, he hadn’t been overcome by the moon on the

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river and said things that he now regretted. He couldn’t break a girl’s heart that way. Talk of marriage so sincerely and then the very next day changehis mind. But why hadn’t he called her? Men who fell inlove with girls and proposed marriage were anxious to spend as much time as they could with their fiancées.

She tossed and murmured in her sleep. She had a perfectly miserable dream. Drake, Paula, and she were at Paula’s apartment. Drake was talking to her, and then Myrtle came in with Bob. Drake stopped talking to her as soon as he saw Myrtle. He went right up to her and kissed her. Paula began to laugh. “See,” she taunted Phyllis, “he doesn’t care for you. He likes them flashy and wise like Myrtle.”

Drake had said that he would call for Phyllis in his car at nine-thirty and take her to the flying field. She dressed to go a prayer on her lips that he would not disappoint her. She had her breakfast of fishroe and scrambled eggs — a typical Virginia breakfast —at eight o’clock. She lingered over the meal, but by eight-thirty, she was climbing the stairs to her room. She stood at the window, watching and waiting. She keptglancing at her wristwatch. The hour went by even slower than the last hour before closing at the store.

Coming down the street — her heart leaped — Yes, it was Drake’s car. He had called for her. She resistedthe impulse to fly down the stairs. She waited until her landlady’s voice came rasping up the stairs to her.Then with one last, swift glance at her dresser mirror and a final downward shove on her sports skirt, she made for the stairway.

A broad, welcoming grin was on Drake’s good-looking face. How big and tall he looked, standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for her. He reached for

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her arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze as if to say, “We understand each other, don’t we, honey? We belong to one another.”

Mrs. Randolph, the landlady, stood in the hall watching them. A surge of happiness swayed Phyllis. Forthe first time in the six months that she had boarded with Mrs. Randolph, she felt sorry for the poor soul. She did have a hard time. She would spend the whole daydirecting that sloppy colored maid that made the beds and cleaned — after a fashion — the rooms. She would hurry downstairs into the kitchen and investigate what the colored cook was doing. Some of the boarders didn’tpay promptly. Mr. Randolph was dead, and Mrs. Randolph was thin with long, unbecoming lines in her face and big, black rings under her tired eyes. No aeroplane flights and romance for poor Mrs. Randolph. Phyllis forgave her for the tough steak and watery milk that she served and those innumerable bread puddings.

“Still love me, Phyllis?” Drake asked after he hadseated her beside him and taken the wheel.

“You’re the air in the tires and the gas in the tank. You’re what makes me go, Drake.”

“So, I’m only air and gas, hey?”“You’re the answer to this girl’s prayer.”“You haven’t any wings along, have you?”“No camels. They’re a little slower, but they get

you there just the same.”I meant real wings.”“Think I’m an angel?”“No — yes. What I mean is that when I get you up

in the sky, I’m liable to kiss you, and if you haven’t your wings along, how can you help yourself?”

“Don’t want to help myself. Want to be kissed.”“You do, do you?”

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“Watch that lamp post. Heavens, I thought it was my last kiss.”

“Take it from me, Phyllis, it wasn’t. If you knew how many kisses I have all wrapped up ready for delivery!”

“Are they all addressed to me?”“To Miss Phyllis Green. Pardon me, I meant to Mrs.

Drake Blackwell.”“That’s better. Darn, I love you a lot, you big

aviator you.”“I’m just air and gas, darling.”“You do have an air about you, Mr. he-man, and as

for the gas, it’s a high test, chuck full of ethyl.”“You mean Phyllis.”“Scared?” he asked a little later as he helped her

into his plane.“It’s my first time up, of course, but I’m not a

bit. I have a great deal of confidence in you.”Her heart did seem to drop down to her stomach

when she saw the ground sinking from under her. It was only a momentary fear. She looked at Drake and decided that she wasn’t the least bit scared. She thrilled at the wonder of it all. Richmond, back and below her, thestore where she worked, her boarding house — how unimportant all those things seemed. There was something about being up in the limitless sky that madeher feel big. Perhaps it was flying that made Drake seem so strong and assured of himself. There was an arrogance about him. She loved that sort of a man.

He was leaning his head toward her to speak. She bent in his direction. Phyllis,” he shouted, “reach in my pocket. Feel something? Pull it out.”

She pulled out a small, plush jewelry case.“Open it,” he yelled.

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She did and gasped. A ring with a nice sized diamond sparkled in the case.

He took the ring out of the case. “Hold your hand.”

She held out her left hand, her ring finger extended. He slipped the ring on, and quickly raised itto his lips, and kissed it.

Her eyes dimmed with tears of happiness. She kissed the ring and looked at him, her face transformedwith radiance.

“I shopped around for it last night,” he shouted. “Finally found the one I liked best at nine o’clock just as they were closing the store where I bought it. like it?”

She nodded, flashing it before her eyes. “I just love it — love it and you.”

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Chapter Seven

That Sunday was the happiest day Phyllis ever had had in her life. When Drake brought her down to the ground again, she told him she was still up in the clouds. He asked her to stay with him all day, and she,of course, consented.

He had a customer shortly after they landed. He made altogether that day ten flights. He told her she was bringing him good luck. Phyllis figured that he wasmaking a good deal of money. She thought of it with pride as “our” money. When he took people up in his plane, she waited for him, stretched out on a steamer chair in front of a small shack. It was pleasant to look upward at his silver ship sailing in the blue sky.

A little after noon, they ate in a nearby farmhouse where he told her he always had his Sunday dinners. Everything tasted delicious to her. Many timesafterward, she wondered just what they had had for their Sunday dinner that had tasted so good, and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember. She surely was up in the clouds all that day.

He made his last flight about seven o’clock, and then they drove back to town. He took her to supper at a restaurant, and it was midnight before he kissed her for the last time and told her to scoot upstairs to bedand go to sleep like a good girl. She fell asleep with the diamond pressed to her lips.

It was nine o’clock. Phyllis had been in the storefor a half hour. She had been surprised when she woke up that morning to find it raining. There would not be many customers. She looked down toward Paula. She walked over to her, holding her hand with the ring under the counter.

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“Hello, Paula,” she said carelessly, “did you haveany fun over the weekend?”

“So-so. Myrtle and me were out with a couple of fellows Saturday night. Then yesterday, we took a walk out in Maymont Park17 and picked up a couple of the grandest guys. Hot dog, that Myrtle is a card! She can get anybody she wants crazy about her.”

“I guess the boys do like her pretty well.”“Well, they like me, too.” Paula glanced down at

her mirror under the counter. “You ought to get wise toyourself, Phyllis, and not be such a flop. Mind, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings none. I’m just tellingyou a girl —”

“Has to know her groceries.”“Well, yes. You see, Phyllis, you can’t blame the

men for liking girls like Myrtle and me. I know that sounds conceited, but —”

“No, not at all. I’m sure that you and she have great times and lots of fellows.” Phyllis tried to lookwistful.

“Sometime, we’ll take you along,” Paula spoke magnanimously. “I suppose you stayed home all-day Sunday and dreamed about that Drake of yours. Better forget him, kid.”

“I didn’t stay home.“Didn’t you?”“No, Drake took me out to the flying field and up

in his plane.”“Did he?” Paula shot her a suspicious glance as if

she doubted that Phyllis was telling the truth.

17 In 1893, Major James H. Dooley and his wife completed an elaborate, 100-acre, Gilded Age estate high, Maymont, above the James River and adjacent to what would become Byrd Park. At their deaths, they left the Victorian mansion and grounds to the people of Richmond as a public park.

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“Yes, we were out all day together,” Phyllis spokenonchalantly. “You see, Drake and I are engaged.”

“You’re what?”“Engaged.”“Oh, come now, Phyllis, don’t try and hand out

that line. Drake would get mad if I told Myrtle, and she spilled it that you were going around with a story like that. Say, Helen.” Paula motioned to a tall girl who was leaning back against the shelf behind the counter with a bored expression.

Helen came over. “What is it?”Paula laughed. “The little girl from Franklin is

trying to tell me that she is engaged to a chap by the name of Drake Blackwell. He’s an aviator and a swell looker, the kind any girl would fall for. Phyllis has had a couple of dates with him, and she’s been going around looking like a sick cow.”

Helen looked at Phyllis as If she had never seen her before. Phyllis expected some cutting remark. Instead, Helen said, “Maybe she’s telling the truth.” Helen’s voice sounded dubious, however.

“I am,” Phyllis said quietly.“Say, he isn’t the marrying kind.” Paula’s voice

was scornful. She turned her face from Phyllis and looked around the store as if she couldn’t be bothered with a girl that told such ridiculous things.

Slowly, Phyllis drew her hand up with the diamond flashing on it. She flipped her fingers before Paula’s eyes.

Paula gasped and swallowed, “G-o-s-h,” she finallymurmured.” Say, why, you really are, aren’t you?”

“She’s got pretty good proof.” Helen reached for Phyllis’s hand and examined the ring. “It’s a nice one,Phyllis, big, too. I suppose you will be leaving the

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store some one of these days.”“We’re to get married in September,” Phyllis

answered and then suddenly and foolishly felt as if shewanted to put her head on Helen’s shoulder and cry. Thelittle victory she had planned and executed on the bragging Paula seemed insignificant by comparison with the overwhelming happiness she felt because she was in love and loved.

Paula, watching Phyllis, partly read the girl’s emotions. The resentment and jealousy that had filled her a moment before vanished. She smiled at Phyllis. “I’m glad, kid, honest I am. Drake seems like a real guy.”

“He is. He’s wonderful, but then, of course, I would think so. I want both of you girls to come to ourwedding.”

“And Myrtle?” Paula asked, mischief in her eyes.Phyllis nodded. She felt very sure of Drake. She

didn’t fear Myrtle.Drake saw Phyllis practically every evening.

Sometimes they went to a movie, but generally, they drove out to their rock by the river and spent hours there. Drake was saving his money for their approachingwedding. Phyllis didn’t care especially about nightclubs and dances. She enjoyed them, but Drake seemed closer to her when others were not around. She was as deeply in love as ever, if anything more in love, but she could think more calmly about it.

She realized that he was not perfect. He was very masculine in his attitude toward her. She could see that he believed that there were many things that men could do that women couldn’t. He had met Myrtle one dayby accident. Phyllis was sure the meeting was not premeditated — at least on his part. Myrtle had hinted

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that she was on her way to lunch. So, he had taken her to a tearoom. It was a place where they danced, and he danced with her. Phyllis did not resent this, especially as Drake had told her frankly enough. But she knew that he would have reseated it very deeply if she had gone to lunch with Bob or some other man and had danced with him.

Drake had decided opinions about things, and sometimes Phyllis knew that they were wrong. She had tocircumvent the issue in such a manner as to make him unaware that she was responsible for his change in opinion.

He was very ambitious and talked about a big housewith servants. Phyllis did not see how he could afford it for a long time to come. She knew better than to tell him so.

She was glad, however, that he was ambitious. Sometimes she thought that he was too worshipful of Virginia’s first families.18 She liked people for what they were rather than what their ancestors were. At thesame time, she was enough of a Virginian herself to appreciate his admiration for such things. She smiled over his masculine conceits. She wouldn’t have him any different. Her big, strong, self-assured man was still a boy needing a woman to help and guide him. To guide him — never forgetting to keep her hand hid.

They spent every hour they could together. Soon hewas to leave for his trip with the carnival company. They agreed that they would write to one another every 18 First Families of Virginia (FFV) were those families, European,socially prominent, and wealthy, descended from 17th-century English colonists who primarily settled at Jamestown, Williamsburg, and along the James River and other navigable watersin Virginia. These elite families generally married within their social class and carried their social and economic prestige well beyond the mid-20th century.

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day and that as soon as he returned, they would be married.

Their love affair ran smoothly. There were no quarrels and misunderstandings. Their relationship seemed ideal, and always before them was the promise ofthe fulfillment of their dreams — their marriage with all that it was to mean.

Then into the picture, changing everything, stepped Mrs. Georginia Westover.

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Chapter Eight

Mrs. Georginia Westover, of one of Virginia’s First Families,19 was twenty-four, as handsome and aristocratic-looking as a highly-bred horse and almost as high a stepper. She had been a debutant, a Junior Leaguer, had graduated from a fashionable Richmond school, and had had two years’ study abroad.

She married into a family as old as her own and much more wealthy. Her husband was a junior partner in a New York law firm founded by a famous Virginia judge who had seen his fortune wrecked in the Civil War and then had gone north to get it back again from the Yankees. He had succeeded very well. The Yankees had made him rich.

Young Westover had met Georginia, or Georgia, as all her friends called her, at a dance at the Commonwealth Club in Richmond.20 They had promptly become engaged and soon married. He had gained a very attractive, very popular wife if a somewhat frivolous and spoiled one.

Mrs. Westover was visiting her family in Richmond.On a Saturday afternoon, a long-distance telephone callhad come to her from New York. Tom, her husband, had been stricken with acute appendicitis and was in the hospital. The appendix had ruptured as it was being removed. His condition was serious. Would she return at

19 “Westover” does not seem to be an actual FFV name. Clarke presumably took the name from the colonial-era Westover Plantationlocated on the north bank of the James River between Richmond and Williamsburg.20 The Commonwealth Club, Virginia’s most prestigious, all-men’s, private organization. Its architecturally significant clubhouse was completed in 1891. Especially in its early years, the Executive Board of Clarke’s China’s Children Fund frequently met there.

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once to New York?There was the night train that would get her into

New York at seven in the morning, but that might be toolate. She called up Byrd Airport21 and found that the last plane had left for New York. She then tried to hire a special plane. In the midst of her negotiations,someone mentioned Drake to her. She called his shack down at the field.

Certainly, Drake said, he could take her to New York. Quickly she told him that she was coming at once to the field. He hung up the receiver and gazed anxiously at his wind indicator. The weather had been threatening all afternoon. He shook his head. He did not like the looks of the sky.

Drake knew who Mrs. Westover was. He had seen her pictures in the society columns. He knew that he could make more flying her to New York than he could hope to pick up around his flying field. Besides, he would be back by noon on Sunday and still have the best part of the day left to take up passengers.

He was curious about Mrs. Westover. He was accustomed to women passengers. Most of his customers were young women who had romantic ideas about flying. Mrs. Westover was different. She was the real thing. Tohim, she represented a world that he had always wanted to enter. Like all Virginians, Drake considered himselfas good as anybody and perhaps, deep down, a little better than those unfortunate enough to have been born in other states. At the same time, he knew there were 21 Dedicated as Richard Evelyn Byrd Flying Field in 1927 in honor of aviator Richard E. Byrd, brother of Harry F. Byrd, then governor of Virginia and Honorary Chairman of China’s Children Fund’s Executive Committee. The facility was in Henrico County, although owned by the City of Richmond. In 1932, Eastern Airlines began the first regularly scheduled passenger service at Byrd Field.

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homes in Richmond that he could not enter. There were drawing rooms and doors locked against him. He always had felt that someday he was going to breakdown a few of those doors, if for no other reason than to show himself that he could. Mrs. Westover represented the sort of people who lived on the other side of those doors.

A long, black car drove into the field. The chauffeur lifted out a smart pigskin bag and set it on the ground. Then he opened the car door, and Drake found approaching him with quick, alert steps, a girl that reminded him of Phyllis. But Mrs. Westover looked smarter. Drake felt a little ashamed of this disloyal thought. He didn’t realize that her clothes cost ten times what Phyllis did and that it was the clothes and the knowledge on Mrs. Westover’s part of the clothes that made the difference.

“Mr. Blackwell?” a rich voice questioned.“Yes, Mrs. Westover. I’ll have to help you in.” As

he extended his hand to assist her, a whiff of fragrance greeted his nostrils. “I’ll fetch your bag.” He ran for it and placed it in the plane. The colored boy who acted as a sort of general assistant whirled the propeller, and quickly the journey was begun.

Drake frequently glanced toward his attractive passenger during the first hour’s flight. She did not speak to him, although once she caught him looking at her. She stared at him, coolly and appraisingly. He resented the stare.

But she smiled later when he again glanced in her direction. He was pleased with the smile. She might be “society” and rich, but she appreciated good looks. He knew he was good looking. He didn’t think that he was conceited about it. Plenty of girls had told him that

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he was good looking.North of Baltimore, Drake ceased to think of Mrs.

Westover in any personal way. Sudden, unusual puffs of wind made him conscious of her only as a human life entrusted in his care and whom he must get safely to the Newark Airport22 outside of New York. They plunged into a driving rain. Drake did not mind it except that it was so heavy that he had trouble to peer through it.He mounted higher for safety’s sake. As abruptly as they had entered the rain zone, they cleared it. He looked about for guide lights. He knew the route well. He had flown it often.

He stole a glance at his passenger. He knew that as soon as they landed in Newark, she would pay him andhurry off to New York in a taxicab.

He wished that there were an opportunity to talk to her. He would like to get a slant on the sort of ideas a girl like her had. Then his plane dropped alarmingly. He called to her, afraid that she was frightened. “It was only a deep air pocket.”

Suddenly the strongest wind that Drake had ever experienced in all his flying crashed against the plane. It seemed to him as though the heavens had suddenly opened, and all the winds in the sky had fallen through to shove with mighty hands against the frail aluminum bird in which he and his passenger had entrusted their lives.

Drake realized that it was no usual sort of storm.He tried to rise above it. The wind was so strong the 22 The first major airport serving passengers in the metro area ofNew York, Newark Metropolitan Airport opened in 1928, on reclaimedland along the Passaic River. Built in 1934, the Art Deco-styled administration building was adorned with murals by Arshile Gorky. Amelia Earhart dedicated the structure in 1935. Until LaGuardia Airport opened in 1939, Newark was the busiest commercial airport in the world.

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plane seemed almost unable to make its way against it. The higher he mounted, the wilder the wind howled. He dropped lower. He was afraid to fly too low. He wanted room to fight this demon bent upon destroying his ship.

His face became stern and set. He believed that hewas in some sort of wind whirlpool. He thought it was local. He decided in desperation to ride with it. He veered toward the sea. He quickly calculated the amountof gas he had in his tank. Plenty, he was sure. He thought that he could keep on for most of the night if necessary.

The plane was an old one. Drake had purchased it second hand. He had taken good care of it. He loved every inch of the ship. For himself, even his own life,he didn’t care greatly. He had often thought that when his time came to go, he would like to die “with his wings on,” as he expressed it. He did care for his plane and for his passenger. His face set more grimly.

For hours he fought the elements. At times, his lips parted in a smile as he kept her flying. Mrs. Westover sat tense with a white face. She was frightened. She expected every minute to be her last, but she did not whimper.

She even shot encouraging glances toward Drake that he was too busy to see in the dim light from his instrument board. She admired the strength his face showed. Frightened as she was, she was still a woman who could admire courage and grit in a man.

Suddenly Drake caught a new sound in the roar of his propeller. He darted a frightened glance at his passenger. He believed his propeller was working loose.Any moment it might drop, and then there would be nothing left but to whisper a swift prayer and the end!

The propeller continued to hold, although the

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whirling sound grew worse. He began gliding downward. He could see lights down to the left of him but underneath, and on all other sides, only darkness. He knew what it meant. They were at sea! He headed toward the lights. There was a chance in a hundred that through the darkness, he might find some field. Fortunately, the storm was much less severe. The propeller could not stand much more. It was a matter ofminutes. The land was not far away. He steered a littlenorth of the lights. He prayed that they might not crash in some city street, destroying others as well asthemselves. There flashed through his mind a remembrance of Phyllis, poor kid. She loved him. All their plans to get married —

He put the thought out of his mind. He wasn’t killed yet, and for the sake of his passenger, he must not give up as long as he had a thousandth part of a fighting chance.

The lights, at last, were behind him. Below was a black patch. The night was so dark he could not see whether it was a field or woods. The propeller shrieked. It was working loose very fast. His only chance was to glide down upon that dark patch and trustthat it was not trees.

In the next couple of minutes, he saw that it was a field. He half circled. The ground rose rapidly to meet him. He moved his stick. The nose pointed upward, then slightly down again. A series of hard bumps, getting softer, the plane tilted, righted itself, and stopped!

“We’re here!” he yelled. “It’s all right. We’ve landed!”

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Chapter Nine

“We’ve landed?” Drake repeated and clambered down to the ground. “We are here safe.”

“We are where?” she asked quite calmly.He laughed. “You’ll have to ask a traffic cop.”She joined his laughter. She kept on laughing,

losing control of herself.He pulled himself up toward her. “Aw, I say,

please —”She stood up in the plane. “I’m all right now.

Forgive the hysterics.”“I think you are entitled to them. I’m sorry.”“For what?” she asked. “You were marvelous. Help

me out, please.”It was rather difficult to get out of the plane.

There was, of course, no landing platform. He held out his arms. “Jump.”

She jumped. For just a second or two, he held the warm, fragrant girl in his arms. Then he set her down gently.

They stood, staring at one another. “Just a minute,” he panted. He ran to his propeller. “It’s loose,” he shouted, “but I don’t think the plane is hurt much.”

“You and your plane,” she answered in a friendly voice. “I’m more interested in getting out of this field. Where do you suppose we are?”

He looked around. There was darkness on all sides.He judged that the lights that they had passed were hidden by trees. “We’ll start out this way and find a road.”

“All right,” she answered cheerfully. “It is up toyou, Mr. Aviator.”

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They were in a pasture. They moved along briskly, Drake carrying her bag. They came to a fence. He helpedher across. There was a rip. “Heavens,” she exclaimed, “that barbed wire has ruined my skirt.”

“I’m sorry.” He tripped against a corn hill. “Thisis plowed and full of ridges. I hope it doesn’t extend far.”

They stumbled and slipped over the plowed ridges. “He grumbled good-naturedly. “They are certainly tight with their roads around here.” He was really enjoying the experience. He felt pretty sure that he could fix the plane himself in the morning. He was proud of his skillful landing.

“Do you think we are far from New York?” Her voicewas jerky with the effort of walking over the plowed land.

“I’m afraid that we are. I was just figuring. I imagine we are in New Jersey, probably around Cape May or Wildwood.”

“But that’s miles away. What happened to the storm?”

“Got me. Except for those heavy clouds, you would never know that a half-hour ago, we were in a tornado.”

“Oh — ouch —” she cried and fell over a large rock. ‘

He helped her to her feet. “Darn, I should have seen that, Mrs. Westover. Hurt yourself?”

“No — ouch. I — I’m afraid I have broken my ankle or something, it hurts like everything when I put it down. Wow! How stupid of me.”

He knelt and felt above the small, smart shoe she wore. “It must be just strained. You can’t walk, though, wait, there is something over there. See that dark smear? It must be a house of some kind. Here.” He

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hesitated and then picked her up and carried her to a nearby log beside a fence. He set her down gently.

“Thanks, nurse. What next?”“Be right back.” He stumbled toward what he soon

realized was a small cabin. He wondered if she really had clung to him a brief second as he set her on the log or if it were only his imagination.

The cabin was a rude, home-built affair. He pushedopen a door and struck a match. There was a table with a lantern on it. He shook the lantern. There was oil init. He lit it and looked around. There was a bunk built-in one wall with a mattress and a couple of blankets. There were two chairs in addition to the table. At one end of the cabin was a small fireplace built half of bricks and half of stones. Drake concluded that some of the boys in the nearby town had built the cabin as a hangout. There were wood and old newspapers near the fireplace, and after a good deal ofcoaxing, he got a fire started. He decided to get Mrs. Westover and leave her in the cabin while he went to the town for help.

He hurried back to her. “I found a cabin. I’ll take you there and then go for help back where we passed the lights. How’s the ankle?”

“It hurts abominably.”“Mind if I carry you?”She held out her aims. They closed about his neck.

Her hair was in his mouth. It smelled fragrant. A mild intoxication filled Drake. He thought he was in luck tobe carrying this smart, clever girl. It would be something to tell Phyllis that he had held the rich society girl in his arms. That they had been alone in such a friendly relationship. A guilty feeling went through him. He knew that he wasn’t loyal to Phyllis.

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His lips had silently been kissing Mrs. Westover’s hair.

He reached the cabin and shoved the door open withhis foot.

“My, what a cute, little place we have, comrade. Where are you going to set me?” Her arms tightened about him, and then she moaned.

“Hurt?”“Like the dickens. Can’t you — can’t you examine

it? It does hurt a lot.” She gave a little groan.He was loathed to set her down. She felt so warm

and soft in his arms. He could feel his blood throbbingin his temples. He moved toward the bunk and laid her down. Her arms were still about his neck as he bent downward. Without quite realizing what he was doing, impelled almost by instinct, his mouth closed on her lips. She returned his kiss.

Almost immediately, she shoved against him. “Let me go,” she said angrily.

He released her, not at all worried over the sharpway she had spoken to him. He removed her shoe. Her skirt had a big rip in it. One stocking was torn. “Shall I take it off — the stocking?” His voice trembled slightly.

“Please, if you could bathe it.” She searched his face. She knew that she was playing with fire, but she felt confident in handling her good-looking pilot. She could put him in his place if necessary.

He found a rusty pan, but there was no water. Above the fire was a crude mantel on which reposed somecans and several bottles. He reached for one of the bottles and, with a half-smile, read its label, “beer.”With a shrug, he yanked the top off the bottle and poured the beer into the pan. He set the pan on top of

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a log. He extracted a clean handkerchief from his pocket and dropped that into the pan. As his unusual liniment was getting warm, he turned back to Mrs. Westover. “Cigarette?” he asked.

She nodded. She made no effort to reach for the cigarette. He put it between her smiling lips. He held a lighted match for her. She drew in the smoke with a deep pull. He stood undecided and then sat down on the cot beside her. He bent toward her.

“Isn’t your bandage ready?” she asked quickly.He got up and returned to the fire. He stuck a

finger into the pan. The beer was warm, almost hot. He removed the pan from the fire and returned to his patient.

“Don’t you dare scald me,” she murmured as he stood above her, holding the pan and looking at her snow-white ankle.

She laughed when he clumsily applied the handkerchief. “You think that beer will help?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “Is it really sprained?”

“Of course it is,” she answered crossly. “Aren’t you going to find transportation? I can’t stay here allnight.”

“I’ll go at once. Will you be all right here alone? I’ll hurry right back.”

“Yes, I’ll be all right.” Her voice was immediately kind again. “Could you telephone the hospital and ask about my husband?”

“Of course.”“Hurry back,” she called as he opened the door.

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Chapter Ten

Drake gave a harried look about as he stood outside the cabin door. The night had brightened some. He discovered a road surprisingly close.

He ran to it and then turned as he saw a few lights down a hill. He entered a small town. A short string of streetlights and dark houses. He would have to waken somebody.

“Hey, you,” a voice shouted. A man came toward him. They met under a streetlight. “I’m the constable. Anything wrong?”

Drake explained.“My house is just around the corner. You can

telephone from there, and I guess my son could drive you to Wildwood. There’s a train that leaves there at four o’clock for New York. It carries milk and stuff.”

Drake got the hospital on the telephone. He learned that Mr. Westover had passed the danger point and was much improved. Meanwhile, the constable had gotten his son out of bed. He was a tall, gangling youth, but he had an almost new Chevrolet car, and quickly, the three started back to the cabin.

Mrs. Westover was sitting before the fire drinkingbeer when they arrived. She greeted them with the remark, “I found another bottle. As a liniment, it isn’t so good, and as a drink, it is rather warm, but it could be worse.”

Drake explained that the young man would take her to the Wildwood Station and that she could get a train for New York from there. He told her what the hospital nurse had said.

“I was sure that Tom would pull through. Nothing ever, but good luck happens to him. But I can’t ride

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the train in this skirt and stocking. Young fallow, you’ll have to drive me to New York.”

“But it will cost a lot — clear to New York.”“How much?”The boy saw his chance. “A hundred dollars. You

see, I have to come back.”“O. K.” Mrs. Westover stood up. She gave Drake a

mischievous glance as she walked toward the door, although she did limp a little.

Drake judged that she had sprained her ankle but not to the extent that she had pretended. She invited him to ride with her to New York. He wanted to, but there was the plane. He would have anyway if thoughts of Phyllis had not interfered.

Mrs. Westover did not insist. She held out her hand. “I’ll be back in Richmond in a week or two and look you up. I owe you some money.”

Drake and a garage mechanic worked over the plane early the next morning. Drake was a little dubious about clearing the fringe of trees at the end of the pasture. At ten o’clock, he attempted it, however, and was successful. That afternoon he was telling Phyllis all about his adventure — that is, almost all about it.

Phyllis wondered about Mrs. Westover. She could see that Drake was intrigued by her. She judged that the adventure had not been without its romantic setting. She did not realize how romantic, however.

Ten days later, Drake received a telephone Messagefrom Mrs. Westover. She was back in Richmond, and she was driving out to the field. “How was the propeller? She wanted him to take her for a flight.

Georginia Westover was frankly searching for a thrill. All her life, she had sought thrills. She remembered her experience with Drake with considerable

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relish. He was just the sort that she liked to play with — dangerous but not unmanageable. He seemed so virile to her by comparison to the man she knew. Georginia had chosen her husband for reasons of economics and society. She liked but did not love him. In deciding to look Drake up again, she meant no real harm. She planned a mild flirtation with a good-lookingchap who had handled his plane in an emergency like a war ace. He was different — a pleasing change from her own set.

When Mrs. Westover drove into the field, she did not get out of the car. “Come here,” she called to Drake. “Sit beside me. Tell me how you got your plane fixed.”

He climbed in and sank into the luxurious springs of the front seat. They talked for an hour. Drake thought it was just a few minutes. He asked her if she was ready to trust herself with him for another flight.

“I’m afraid you’ll carry me to some lonely cabin and tear my skirt and stacking and pour beer on me, youimpossible man.”

He promised not to.“Do we have to go up?” she asked. “I’d so much

rather sit comfortably here and get acquainted.”“No.”“I’ll pay you your regular rate for just sitting

here with me.”“Nonsense. I won’t accept pay for just talking.”“Very well. Come on, we’ll fly.”He took her on the usual short flight over the

city and back again. They returned to her automobile. There were no customers that afternoon, as was often the case on weekdays. She stayed until six and then left him. The next afternoon she appeared again. She

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missed the day following and then arrived the morning after. She brought a basket with an elaborate lunch in it and announced that she was staying the whole day.

It hadn’t been easy for her to arrange to spend the whole day with Drake. She had broken two engagements to do it, and she knew her parents were wondering about her. She could hardly believe the fact herself, and she couldn’t understand the reason why or how it had happened — but she was in love with Drake. The day before, she had missed him abominably. Only by sheer willpower had she put down the impulse to telephone him. That night, as she tossed in her bed, unable to sleep, she gave up the struggle and admitted to herself that cost what it would, she wanted Drake.

Before she left him at the field that afternoon — and she didn’t leave him until seven o’clock, which meant that she would be late to her dinner and he to his — She had said sufficient for him to know that she cared rather desperately.

He struggled against temptation. He knew that, although she was the sort that would flirt, she wasn’t the sort that would humble herself by admitting that she cared for him unless she felt it deeply. He told himself that he was in love with Phyllis, that he wasn’t playing fair with her. Phyllis was the girl he had planned to marry. She still believed that he wantedto marry her. Well, he did really only — only Georginiahad such a fascination for him. She represented the sort that hitherto had been inaccessible to him. It wasa big puff to his pride to think a member of one of thefirst Virginia families was in love with him. He told himself he should break with her, but he didn’t want to.

After she left, saying she would see him the next

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day, he tried to reach some conclusion in his thinking about their relationship. That night with Phyllis, he was absentminded. She guessed a lot. She was dreadfullyhurt and unhappy. Finally, she accused him of being more interested In Mrs. Westover than in her.

He gave typical masculine reasons for his friendship with Mrs. Westover. She could help him. She had said she would introduce him to some of her friends. She would make possible social contacts that would be helpful to Phyllis and him after they were married. A man couldn’t refuse to have anything to do with other women simply because he was engaged. Even ifhe were married, it would be all right for him to have a friend like Mrs. Westover. He owed it to himself, to Phyllis, too, for that matter.

“But what will her husband say, Drake? You know itisn’t just impersonal interest on her part.” She searched his face. “You know it isn’t on yours. Oh, Drake!”

“Of course, it is impersonal,” he lied. “She knowsI saved her life the way I handled the plane, and she’sgrateful and wants to help me get ahead. I can’t affordto let a chance like this slip.”

Phyllis saw the lines of his mouth harden. She tried to talk of other things. A deep fear was in her that if she talked further about Mrs. Westover, she would lose Drake completely. She was afraid of what further talk might divulge. Pathetically she endeavoredto make the rest of the evening the same as those happyhours together before Mrs. Westover had come between them. The old intimacy and understanding seemed gone regardless of Phyllis’s efforts. She accepted his goodnight kiss with a smile, but inwardly her heart wasbreaking.

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Phyllis saw Drake every evening. She felt certain he was continuing to see Mrs. Westover, but she pinned her hopes on his leaving for the carnival engagements. By the time he returned, Mrs. Westover might have foundsome other interest.

It was two days before the date set for Drake’s departure. Phyllis knew that she would miss him, but under the circumstances, she was glad he was going. They were at their favorite place, the big rock that projected into the river. Conversation had dragged, andPhyllis had finally given up the attempt to continue it. Her head rested on his shoulder. His arms were about her. They were sitting as close to one another asthey ever had, but both felt a difference. They were constrained.

Phyllis swallowed, frightened at what she was determined to do. “Drake, are you going to write to Mrs. Westover while you are on your trip? Don’t you think that she has been a distracting influence on us? I mean to be broad-minded, but she — she does seem to have come between us.”

“I’m not going to write to her. Well, that is, I’ve decided not to go on that carnival trip.”

“You’re not going?” She sat bolt upright and looked at him in alarm.

“I arranged for an old buddy of mine who is now inChicago to go in my place.”

“But why, Drake?”“Oh, I decided that in the end, it would be better

to stay here. You see, prospective customers would comeout, and I wouldn’t be here, and then when I came back,I would have to start all over again.”

“Drake,” her voice was heavy with disappointment, “you let Mrs. Westover persuade you not to go.”

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“She’s right about it, Phyllis. She can help me a lot. Get me in touch with the right people and —”

“The right people — can’t you see, Drake, the really right people, can’t approve of what she, a married woman, is doing?”

“You are narrow and jealous. Just because a man isengaged, it doesn’t mean that he can’t have women friends. If I thought marrying you meant that I had to make a hermit of myself, I wouldn’t —” He stopped.

“Go on, Drake, say it. You wouldn’t marry me. You don’t want to marry me. All those beautiful things you said here right on this rock didn’t mean a thing, not athing. You are so infatuated with that — that woman yousit here all evening mooning about it. Take me home.”

“Be reasonable now, Phyllis. I didn’t say I wasn’tgoing to marry you. Why, of course, I want to marry you.”

“Even as you say it, you don’t believe it.”“Listen, Phyllis, use your head. Mrs. Westover

isn’t going to divorce her husband to marry me. She’s society, and after all, I’m only an aviator.”

“Society has turned your head, Drake. You are likea child in some things. The thought of Mrs. Westover’s swell home and friends has made you drunk.”

“I never thought you would talk this way. I thought — well, I thought you loved me.”

“I love you enough to talk this way. I’m desperate, Drake. I see our love going and all because you think Mrs. Westover represents society.”

“The trouble with you is that you lack ambition.”“Do I? I suppose so. I’m only a perfume counter

girl. I haven’t any money. I haven’t a lot of expensiveclothes. I only live in a boarding house with bread pudding for dessert, it seems like every night. I

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haven’t any rich friends either. I’m not good enough for you, Drake. I can’t help you get along. I can only love you and work to keep the sort of home you could afford comfortable and pleasant for you. I’m not good enough. Here, take your ring. Take it, do you hear, or I’ll throw it in the river.” She was sobbing out her words. “Go to your Georginia Westover. Tell her you arefree. Ask her to divorce her husband and marry you.” She jumped up and ran blindly toward the road.

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Chapter Eleven

Drake stood watching Phyllis. He thought that she would stop at the car, but when she didn’t, he ran after her. “Let me take you home, Phyllis.”

She leaned against a tree trunk, fighting to conquer her tears.

“You know you didn’t mean what you said, Phyllis.”“I did mean it, and when she makes excuses and

turns you down, just remember that I did love you enough at one time to have been willing to do more thanthat. I loved you enough to have died for you. I’m not the kind that marries one man today and steals another girl’s man the next.”

He stood looking at her, his anger melting. She looked so pitiful, leaning against the tree. She couldn’t understand how he felt about Georginia. A man could love one woman and like another a lot. Of course,Phyllis and he were engaged. Oh, darn it all, he hated to see her cry. He picked her up bodily and carried herback to the rock. He set her down a little roughly. “Now behave.”

She fought against the wish to throw herself into his arms and close her eyes to everything. Being carried by him had been such sweet pain. “I meant what I said, Drake.” She forced herself to be cold to the potent charm he had for her. “Propose to Mrs. Westover.Maybe she will have you.”

She got to her feet wearily. Drake pulled her downagain, but he did not caress her. “You are hysterical and silly. You talk nonsense. Now I’m running this show. We’ll get married in September as we planned, andI want you to be nice to Mrs. Westover. I want to get you in with those people, too,”

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She broke loose from him. “Don’t talk to me of marriage when you continue to plan your affair with Mrs. Westover.”

“What do you mean — affair? You needn’t start slamming Georginia, either. Why can’t you be a lady?”

Phyllis whitened. “I see. Perhaps it was only a quarrel before, Drake. Maybe we could still have been friends. I might have forgiven your head being turned by this woman. After all, you are only a man, and I suspect all men are fools when flattered by a well-dressed woman. I can’t and never will forgive you for what you just said.”

“What did I say?”“Enough to make me know that you compared me with

her. She is a lady in your mind, and I am not.”“You make me a little sick, Phyllis. All this fuss

simply because I see Mrs. Westover occasionally.”“You know it is more than that. You were to make

enough on the carnival trip to enable us to get married. How could we now?”

“I’ll make more staying here. In the end, I will, at any rate. Mrs. Westover is only going to be here fortwo weeks.”

“And you threw over your stunt flying and chance to make real money for two weeks of her company.”

“No — I — I —”“It’s no use, Drake. You know you did. Why didn’t

you go out with her tonight instead of me? But then you’ll see her in the morning. You’ll both be together all day while I work in the store. That’s where I belong — in the store.”

“Maybe you do,” he said, getting angry. The very feeling he had that he was being unjust to her made himwelcome his anger. “Maybe I will ask Georginia to

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divorce her husband and marry me. I will ask her.”White-lipped, Phyllis stood up. She walked to the

car. They rode back to town in silence. In front of herboarding house, he attempted to keep her from getting out of the car. She struggled and protested. A passing pedestrian slowed his steps and then moved toward the car to come to her assistance. With a muttered “damn,” Drake flung open the door and let her go. He started the car with an angry jerk.

At the top step of the porch, she stopped and watched the car’s disappearing red light. She wondered why she had deliberately sent him to Mrs. Westover. He meant it when he said that he would ask her to divorce her husband. In the morning, he would ask her. Well, Mrs. Westover would refuse him, and then he might come back to her. Did she want him to come back under those conditions? Maybe she didn’t, but the thought of livingwithout him was terrifying.

Suppose Mrs. Westover didn’t refuse? Suppose she really cared enough for Drake to give up everything forhim. Phyllis knew that she would if conditions were reversed. What did it matter? He had proven rather conclusively that his love was a shoddy, weak affair. She had lost him. It had only been a dream. The store, the boarding house were the only realities — those things and her unhappiness. Paula was right. She didn’tknow her groceries.

Drake drove recklessly to his apartment building. The garages were in an alley. He jumped out and unlocked the door to his and then shot his car in. It banged into the rear wall. He felt like backing and running into the rear wall again, like smashing clear through it.

He told himself that he could just bet his life he

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was going to ask Georginia to divorce her husband. She had told him that the only thing that mattered to her was her love for him. She had asked him to give Phyllisup. He would be a fool not to. Phyllis would just be a burden to him. She had never been used to anything, andshe would never expect anything. All she wanted was a little apartment at first and later a cottage in the suburbs when — when the babies came. Why, she hadn’t even encouraged him when he had talked of a big place. She had said that that would come in time — in the future.” He wanted things like that now, and with Georginia, he could have them.

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Chapter Twelve

“Yea, madam,” Phyllis’s smile was mechanical, “there is a free bottle of perfume enclosed with the face powder. You really get a dollar and a half value for ninety-five cents. You’ll take it. Charge or cash, madam?”

As the young woman left with her purchase, Phyllis’s eyes followed her enviously. The woman was undoubtedly married. She was free to shop, take in a movie, and later, she would go home and prepare dinner for her husband. Phyllis had dreamed of doing just suchthings when she was married to Drake. They were empty dreams now. Life was always to be one of standing behind a counter as the world moved past her.

Phyllis didn’t think that she would ever get married now. Any man would seem tame after Drake. She couldn’t ever love anybody else. She didn’t want to ever love anybody else. “Oh, Drake,” she breathed as she looked into the crowded aisle without seeing the streams of shoppers, without hearing the hum of the store, “Oh, Drake, why couldn’t your love be like mine?If it been me, no one on earth could have come between us. I wouldn’t have given you up for the owner of this store, for the king of England. I only wanted you, Drake.”

The slow hours dragged on. The last gong sounded. The other girls were already pulling covers over the showcases. Paula called to her. “Hey, Phyllis, dreamingof your future husband? Snap out of it, you lucky devil.”

Listlessly, Phyllis laid flat on the counter the Coty sign and spread the cover over her section of the counter. Slowly she made her way to the dressing room.

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She punched in her timecard at the clock and stepped into the street.

A hand grasped her arm. She looked up. “You, Drake.”

“What are you so white about?” he asked gruffly. “I’m no ghost. The car’s around the corner. Come on.”

“But why aren’t you at the field? What are you doing here?”

“I came to tell you I am going on that carnival trip after all. Here, climb in.”

“I am glad you are going, Drake. I think it would have been a mistake for you not to.”

“They wouldn’t accept Bill. Wired that I had signed a contract and that they were going to hold me to it. My rep wouldn’t be worth a nickel if I didn’t gounder the circumstances.”

“What did — what did Mrs. Westover say?”“Nothing about this. The wire came after she

left.”“I want to be big, Drake. I want to be sorry that

she turned you down. You shouldn’t feel hurt. You see, it would mean an awful lot for a girl to give up the sort of life she is accustomed to and get a divorce andall. I’m sorry for you, Drake.”

“She told me that she would give it all up for me.She is willing to divorce her husband.”

“Oh, then — then you had better tell her about your change in plans. That you are to go on that carnival trip.”

“You know, Phyllis, I was thinking that a carnivaltrip would make a dandy honeymoon, traveling in all those towns. Having a wife along would keep me from getting lonesome.”

“Yes, Drake, of course. I guess you love her a

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lot. But, dear — Drake, I mean, do you think Mrs. Westover would like that? You said she’s used to big hotels and —”

“You would like it with me, wouldn’t you?”“Please, Drake.”“Well, wouldn’t you?”“I would have loved it.”“Then let’s do it.”“I don’t understand. You — you said that she was

willing to marry you.”“Yes, she was. That’s just it. I guess I never

really thought she would, and when she did and started discussing plans for leaving her husband and marrying me, I — I — It was awful, but I realized suddenly that I didn’t want to give you up, that it was you I wanted.”

“But —”“I almost agreed that she should go ahead with the

divorce. I didn’t see how I could turn her down when she was giving up so much, but as she talked about our going abroad to live, I realized something. Georginia wasn’t really planning to leave her husband and run away with me because her love of me was so great. She is spoiled. All her life, she has looked for thrills, something new to arouse her. She has always been so protected by her social position and money that nothingthat she has done has ever been able to hurt her. I know she wouldn’t be happy with me after the first. . ..

The existing manuscript fragment, written as a novella,ends here and seems almost complete, with only the lastpage or two missing.