 1 But to leave like such a fool, of course, your board, draw the older man rummaging listlessly through his pockets for the ever-illusive match. 2 Well, I like your nerve, protested the younger man with unmistakable asperity. 3 Do you, really, mocked the older man, still smiling very faintly? For a few minutes then both men resumed their cigars, staring blinkishly out all the while from their dark green piazza corner into the dazzling white tennis courts that gleamed like so many slippery pine planks in the afternoon glare and heat. The month was August, the day typically handsome, typically vivid, typically caloric. It was the younger man who recovered his conversational interest first. So you think I'm a fool? He resumed at last, quite abruptly. Oh no, no, not for a minute. Denied the older man. Why, my dear sir, I never even imply that you were a fool. All I said was that you lived like a fool. 4 Starting to be angry, the younger man laughed instead. You're certainly rather an amusing sort of chap, he acknowledged reluctantly. A gleam of real pride quickened most ingeniously in the older man's pale blue eyes. Why, that's just the whole point of my argument, he beamed. Now you look interesting, but you aren't, and I don't look interesting, but it seems that I am. You've got a nerve, reverted the younger man. Altogether serenely the older man began to rummage again through all his pockets. Thank you for your continuous compliments, he mused. Thank you, I say. Thank you very much. Now for the very first time, sir, it's beginning to dawn on me just why you have honored me with so much of your company the past three or four days. I truly believe that you like me, eh? But up to last a Monday, if I remember correctly, he added dryly, it was that show, young Philadelphia crowd, that was absorbing the larger part of your valuable attention, wasn't it? What in thunder are you driving at, snapped the younger man? What are you trying to string me about, anyway? What's the harm, if I did say, that I wished to glory I'd never come to this blasted hotel? Of all the stupid people, of all the stupid places, of all the stupid everything, the mountains here are considered quite remarkable by some, suggested the older man blandly. Mountains, snarled the younger man, mountains, do you think for a moment that a fellow like me comes to a godforsaken spot like this for the sake of mountains? A trifle noisily, the older man jerked his chair round and, slouching down into shabby gray clothes, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his feet shoved out before him, sat staring at his companion. Furrowed abruptly from brow to chin, with myriad infinitesimal wrinkles of perplexity, his lean, droll face looked suddenly almost muckish in its intentness. Does a fellow like you come to a place like this for, he asked bluntly, why tennis conceded the younger man, a little tennis, and golf, a little golf, and, and, and girls asserted the older man with precipitous conviction. Across the younger man's splendidly tailored shoulders, a little flicker of self-consciousness went crinkling. Oh, of course, he grinned. Oh, of course I've got a vacationist's usual partiality for pretty girls, but great heavens, he began all over again, of all this stupid. But you leave like such a fool, of course your board, resumed the older man. There you are at it again, stormed the younger man with tempestuous resentment. Why shouldn't I be at it again, argued the older man mildly, always and forever picking out the showiest people that you can find, and always and forever being bored to death with them eventually, but never learning anything from it, that's you. Now, wouldn't that just naturally suggest to any observing stranger that there was something radically idiotic about your method of life? That Miss Fawn Eaton looked like such a peach, protested the younger man worriedly. That's exactly what I say, droned the older man. Why, she's the handsomest girl here, insisted the younger man arrogantly. That's exactly what I say, droned the older man. And the best dresser, posted the younger man stubbornly. That's exactly what I say, droned the older man. Why, just that pink paradise hat alone would have knocked almost any chap silly. Grinned the younger man a bit sheepishly, mused the older man still droningly. When a chap falls in love with the girl's hat at a summer resort, what he ought to do is to hike back to town on the first train he can catch, and go find the milliner who made the hat. Hike back to town? Gipped the younger man, ha, he sneered, a chap would have to hike back a good deal farther than town these days to find a girl that was worth hiking back for. What in thunder's the matter with all the girls? He queried petulantly, they catch stupider and stupider every summer. Why, the peachiest debutante you meet the whole season can't hold your interest much, but be on the stage where you once begin to call her by her first name. Irritably, as he spoke, he reached out for a bright-covered magazine from the great pile of books and papers that sprawled in the wicker table clothes at his elbow. Where, in blazes, do the storybook writers find their girls, he demanded. Noisily, with his knuckles, he began to knock through page after page of the magazine's big-typed advertisements concerning the year's most popular storybook heroines. Why, here are no end-of-storybook girls, he complained, that could keep a fellow guessing till his hair was nine shades of white. Look at the corking things they say, but what earthly good are any of them to you? They're not real. Why, there was a little girl in the magazine's story last month. Why, I could have died for her, but confounded, I say, what's the use? They're none of them real, nothing but moonshine, nothing in the world, I tell you, but just plain, made-up moonshine. Absolutely improbable. Slowly, the older man drew in his long, rambling legs, and crossed one knee adroitly over the other. Improbable, your grandmother, said the older man. If there's one person on the face of this earth who makes me sick, it's the nitty who calls a thing improbable, because it happens to be outside his own special, puny experience of life. Tempestuously, the younger man slammed down his magazine to the floor. Great heavens, man, he demanded. Where in thunder would a fellow like me start out to find a storybook girl? A real girl, I mean. Almost anywhere, outside yourself, murmured the older man blandly. Eh, jerked the younger man. That's what I said, trolled the older man with unruffled suavity. But what's the use? He added a trifle more briskly. Though you searched a thousand years, a real girl, bah. You wouldn't know a real girl if you saw her. I tell you I would, snapped the younger man. I tell you you wouldn't, said the older man. Prove it, challenged the younger man. It's already proved, confided the older man. Ha, I know your type. He persisted frankly. You're the sort of fellow at a party who, just out of sheer fool instinct, will go trampling down every other man inside just for the sheer fool joy of trying to get the first dance with the most conspicuously showy-looking, most conspicuously artificial-looking girl in the room, who always and invariably bores you to death before the evening is over. And while you and the rest of your kind are battling together, year after year for this special privilege of being bored to death, the real girl that you're asking about, the marvelous girl, the girl with the big, beautiful, unspoken thoughts in her head, the girl with the big, brave, undone deeds in her heart, the girl that stories are made of, the girl whom you call improbable, is moping off alone in some dark cold corner, or sitting forlornly partnerless against the bleak wall of the ballroom, or hiding shyly up in the dressing room waiting to be discovered. Little miss still waters, deeper than ten thousand seas, little miss gunpowder, milder than the dusk before the moon ignites it, little miss sleeping beauty waiting for her prince. Oh yes, I suppose so, conceded the younger men impatiently. But that miss Fawn Eaton, oh it isn't that I don't know pretty face, or hat when I see it, interrupted the older men nonchalantly. It's only that I don't put my trust in him. With a quick gesture, half audacious, half apologetic, he reached forward suddenly and tapped the younger men's coat sleeve. Oh I knew just as well as you, he affirmed, oh I knew just as well as you, at my first glance that your gorgeous young miss Fawn Eaton was excellingly handsome. But I also knew, not later certainly than my second glance, that she was presumably rather stupid. You can't be interesting, you know, my young friend, unless you do interesting things, and handsome creatures are proverbially lazy. If beauty is excuse enough for being, it sure makes plainness than to feel the real necessity for doing. So speaking of hats, if it's stimulating conversation that you're after, if you're looking for something unique, something significant, something really worthwhile, what you want to do, my young friend is, to find a girl with a hat you'd be ashamed to go out with and stay home with her. That's where you'll find the brains, the originality, the vivacity, the sagacity, the real ideas. With his first sign of genuine amusement, the younger men tipped back his head and laughed right up into the green-lined roof of the piazza. Now, just whom would you specially recommend for me, he demanded merthly, among all the feminine galaxy of boars and frumps that seem to be congregated at this particular hotel? Just whom would you specially recommend for me? The stoop-shouldered school-marmie botany dame with her incessant garden gloves? Or, or, his whole face brightened suddenly with a rather extraordinary amount of humorous malice. Or how about that duddy-looking little Edgerton girl that I saw you talking with this morning, he asked delightfully. Heaven knows she's colorless enough to suit even you, with her winter before spring, before summer, before last. Close, and her voice, though, Meek, you'd have to hold her in your lap to hear it. And her... That duddy-looking little Miss Edgerton, Meek, mused the older men in sincere astonishment. Meek! Why, man alive, she was born in a snow shack on the Yukon River. She was at Beijing in the Boxer Rebellion. She's roped stairs in Oklahoma. She's matched her embroidery silks to all the sunrise tints on the Himalayas. Just what in creation should she seem Meek, do you suppose, to a... To a twenty-five dollar a week clerk like yourself? A twenty-five dollar a week clerk like myself? The younger men fairly gasped. Why? Why? I'm the junior partner of the firm of Barton and Barton stockbrokers. Why? We're the biggest. Is that so? queased the older men with faint surprise. Well, well, well, I beg your pardon, but now doesn't it all go to prove just exactly what I said in the beginning, that it doesn't behoove a single one of us to judge too hastily by appearances? As if fairly overwhelmed with embarrassment, he sat staring silently off into space for several seconds. Then, speaking of this Miss Edgerton, he resumed genially, have you ever exactly sought her out, as it were, and actually tried to get acquainted with her? No, said Barton shortly. Why? The girl must be thirty years old. So, moves the older men, just about your age? I'm thirty-two, growled the younger men. I'm sixty-two, thank God. Acknowledge the older men, and your gorgeous Miss Vaughn Eaton, who bore you so, all of a sudden, is about twenty from to the younger men. Poor senile babe, ruminated the older men soberly, eh, gasped the younger men, edging forward in his chair, eh, senile, twenty. Sure, grinned the older men, twenty is nothing but the seer and yellow leaf of infantile caprice, but thirty is the jacquant youth of character. On land or sea the Lord Almighty never made anything as radiantly, divinely young as thirty. Oh, but thirty is the darling age in a woman, he added with sudden exultant positiveness. Thirty is the birth of individuality. Thirty is the twenty has got quite enough individuality for me, thank you, asserted pardon with some courteness. But it hasn't, cried the older man hotly, you've just confessed that it hasn't. In an amazing impulse of protest, he reached out and shook his freckled fist right under the younger man's nose. Twenty, I tell you, hasn't got any individuality at all, he persisted vehemently. Twenty isn't anything at all except the threadbare cloak of her father's idiosyncrasies, lined with her mother's made-over tact, trimmed with her great aunt's somebody's short-lipped smile, shrouding a brand new frame of God-nose-what, eh, what, questioned the younger man uneasily. When a girl is twenty, I tell you, persisted the older man, there's not one marrying man among us, Heaven help us, who can swear whether her charm is love's own permanent food, or just nature's temporary bait. At twenty, I tell you, there's not one man among us who can prove whether vivacity is temperament, or just plain kiddishness, whether sweetness is real disposition or just coquetry, whether tenderness is personal discrimination or just sex, whether dumbness is stupidity or just brain hoarding its immature treasure, whether indeed coldness is prudery or just conscious passion banking its fires. The dear daredevil sweetheart whom you worship at eighteen will evolve, likelier than not, into a mighty sour prig at forty. And the dove grey lass who led you to church with her prayer book ribbons twice every Sunday will very probably decide to go on to the vaudeville stage. When her children are just in high school, and the doll eyed wallflower whom you dodged at all your college dances will turn out ten chances to one, the only really wonderful woman you know. But at thirty, oh ye gods, Barton, if a girl interests you at thirty, you'll be utterly mad about her when she's forty, fifty, sixty. If she's merry at thirty, if she's ardent, if she's tender, it's her own established merriment, it's her own irreducible ardor, it's her. Why, man alive, why, why, oh for heaven's sake, gaffst Barton, whoa there, go slow, how in creation do you expect anybody to follow you? Follow me, follow me, moosed the older man perplexedly. Staring very hard at Barton, he took the opportunity to swallow rather loudly once or twice. Now speaking of Miss Edgerton, he resumed persistently, now speaking of this Miss Edgerton, I don't presume for an instant that you're looking for a wife on this trip, but are merely hankering a bit now and then for something rather specially diverting in the line of feminine companionship? Well, what of it? Conceded the younger man. This of it, argued the older man, if you are really craving the interesting, why don't you go out and rummage around for it? Rummage around was what I said, yes, the real hundred cent to the dollar treasures of life, you know, aren't apt to be found labelled as such in lying around very loose on the smugly paved general highway. An astonishingly good looks and astonishingly good clothes are pretty nearly always equivalent to a sign saying, I've already been discovered, thank you. But the really big sport of existence, young man, is to strike out somewhere and discover things for yourself. Is it scoffed, Barton? It is assert the older man, the woman, I tell you, who fathoms heroism in the fellow that everyone else thought was a nave, she's got something to brag about, the fellow who shrewd enough to spy on utterable loveliness in the woman that no man yet has ever even remotely suspected of being lovable at all, God, it's like being Adam with a whole world virgin. Oh, that may be all right in theory, acknowledged the younger man with some reluctance, but now, speaking of Miss Edgerton, resumed the older man monotonously. Oh, hang Miss Edgerton, snap the younger man, I wouldn't be seen talking to her. She hasn't any looks, she hasn't any style, she hasn't any anything of all the hopelessly plain girls of all the, now see hair, my young friend, begged the older man blandly, the fellow who goes about the world judging women by the sparkle of their eyes or the pink of the cheeks or the sheen of their hair runs a mighty big risk of being rated as just one of two things, a sensualist or a fool. Are you trying to insult me? Demanded the younger man furiously. Freakishly the older man twisted his thin licked mouth and one glowering eyebrow into surprisingly sudden and irresistible smile. Why, no, you drawled, under all existing circumstances I should think I was complimenting you pretty considerably by rating you only as a fool. Eh? Jumped Barton again. Hmm, news the older man thoughtfully. Now believe me Barton, once and for all there's no such thing as a hopelessly plain woman. Every woman I tell you is beautiful concerning the thing that she's most interested in and a man's an everlasting dullard who can't ferret out what that interest is and summon its illuminating miracle into an otherwise indifferent face. Is that so? Sniffed Barton. Laisly the older man struggled to his feet and stretched his arms till his bones began to crack. Bah! What's beauty anyway? He complained except as a question of where nature has concentrated her supreme forces in outgrowing energy which is beauty or ingrowing energy which is brains. Now I like a little good looks as well as anybody, he confided still yawning. But when I see a woman living altogether on the outside of her face I don't reckon too positively on there being anything very exciting going on inside that face. So by the same token when I see a woman who isn't squandering any centric fires at all on the contour of her nose, arch of her eyebrows, or the flush tints of her cheeks it surely does became my curiosity to know just what wonderful consuming energy she is busy about. A face isn't meant to be a living room anyway Barton, but just a piazza where the seething preoccupied soul can dash out now and then to bask in the breeze and refreshment of sympathy and appreciation. Surely then it's no particular personal glory to you that your friend Miss Vaughn Eaton's energy cavorts perpetually in the gold of her hair or the blue of her eyes because rain or shine, congeniality or non-congeniality, her energy hasn't any other place to go. But I tell you it means some compliment to a man when in a bleak, dour, work worn personality like the old botany dames for instance he finds himself able to lure out into occasional facial ecstasy the amazing vitality which has been slaving for science alone these past 50 years. Mushrooms are what the old botany dames interested in Barton. Really Barton I think you'd be surprised to see how extraordinarily beautiful the old botany dame can be about mushrooms gleam of the first faint streak of dawn freshness of the wildest woodland dell verve of the long day's strenuous effort flush of sunset and triumph zeal of the student's evening lamp puckering daredevil's smile of reckless experiment say are you a preacher mocked the younger man sarcastically no more than any old man conceded the older man with unruffled good nature old man repeated Barton skeptically in honest if reluctant admiration for instance he set a prizing his companions extraordinary lightness and agility ha he laughed it would take a good deal older head than yours to discover what that miss edgerton's beauty is or a good deal younger one perhaps suggested that older man judicially but but speaking of miss edgerton he began all over again oh dread miss edgerton snarled the younger man viciously you've got miss edgerton on the brain miss edgerton this miss edgerton that miss edgerton who in blazes is miss edgerton anyway miss edgerton miss edgerton mused the older man thoughtfully who is she miss edgerton why no one special except just my daughter like a fly plunged all unwittingly upon a sheet of sticky paper the younger man's hands and feet seem to shoot out suddenly in every direction good heavens he gasped your daughter your daughter every other word or phrase in the English language seem to be stricken suddenly from his lips your your daughter he began all over again why I I didn't know your name was edgerton he managed to finally to articulate an expression of ineffable triumph and of triumph only flickered in the older man's face why that's just what I've been saying he reiterated amiably you don't know anything fatuously the younger man rose to his feet still struggling for speech any old speech a sentence a word a cuff anything in fact that would make a noise well if little miss edgerton is little miss edgerton he babbled idiotically who in creation are you who am I stammered the older man perplexedly as if the question really worried him he said to back a trifle against sustaining wall of the house and stood with his hands thrust deep in his pockets once more who am I he repeated blandly again one eyebrow lifted again one side of his thin lipped mouth twitched over so slightly to the right why I'm just a man mr. Barton he greened very faintly who travels all over the world for the sake of whatever amusement he can get out of it and some afternoons of course I get a good deal more amusement out of it than I do others day furiously the red blood mounted into the young man's cheeks oh I say edgerton he pleaded ruthlessly wretchedly a green began to spread over his face oh I say he faltered I am a fool the older man threw back his head and started to laugh at the first cackling syllable of the laugh with appalling faithfulness Eve edgerton herself loomed suddenly on the scene in her old slouch hat her gray flannel shirt her weather-beaten khaki norfolk and riding breeches looking for all the world like an extraordinarily slim extraordinarily shabby little boy starting out to play up from the top of one riding boot the butt of a revolver protruded slightly with her heavy black eyelashes shadowing sombrely down across her olive tinted cheeks she passed Barton as if she did not even see him and went directly to her father I am riding she murmured almost inaudibly in this heat groaned her father in this heat echoed Eve edgerton there will surely be a thunderstorm protested her father there will surely be a thunderstorm acquiesced Eve edgerton without further parlaying she turned and strolled off again just for an instant the older man's glance followed her just for an instant with quizzically twisted eyebrows his glance flashed back sardonically to Barton's suffering face then very leisurely he began to laugh again but right in the middle of the laugh as if something infinitely funnier than a joke had smitten him suddenly he stopped short with one eyebrow stranded half way up to his forehead Eve he called sharply Eve come back here a minute very laggingly from around the piazza corner the girl reappeared Eve said her father quite abruptly this is Mr Barton Mr Barton this is my daughter listlessly the girl came forward and proffered her hand to the younger man it was a very little hand more than that it was an exceedingly cold little hand how do you do sir she murmured almost inaudibly with an expression of ineffable joy the older man reached out and tapped his daughter on the shoulder it has just transpired my dear Eve he beamed but you can do this young man here and an inestimable service tell him something teach him something I mean that he very specially needs to know as one fairly teeming with benevolence he stood there smiling blandly into Barton's astonished face next to the pleasure of bringing together two people who like each other he persisted I know of nothing more poignantly diverting than the brain together of people who who mockingly across his daughter's unconscious head malevolently through his mask of utter guilness and peace he challenged Barton staring helplessness so taking all in all he drawled still beamingly there's nothing in the world at this particular moment Mr Barton that could amuse me more than to have you join my daughter in her ride this afternoon ride with me gassed little Eve Edgerton this afternoon floundered Barton oh why yes of course I'd be delighted I'd be be only only I'm afraid that deprecatingly with uplifted hand the older man refuted every protest no indeed Mr Barton he insisted oh no no indeed I assure you it won't inconvenience my daughter in the slightest my daughter is very obliging my daughter indeed if I may say so in all modesty my daughter indeed is always a good deal of a philanthropist then very grand eloquently like a man in an old-fashioned picture he began to back away from them bowing low all the time very very low first to Barton then to his daughter then to Barton again I wish you both a very good afternoon he said really I see no reason why either of you should expect a single dull moment before the sickly green on Barton's face he's on smile deep and into actual unctuousness but before the sudden wouldn't he said of his daughter's placid mouth his unctuousness twisted just a little bit riley on his lips after all my dear young people he asserted hurriedly there's just one thing in the world you know that makes two people congenial and that is that they both shall have arrived at exactly the same conclusion by two totally different routes it's got to be exactly the same conclusion else there isn't any sympathy in it but it's got to be by two totally different routes you understand else there isn't any talkie talk to it laboriously one eyebrow began to jerk its way up to his forehead and with a purely mechanical instinct he reached up drawly and pulled it down again so as the initial test of your mutual congeniality this afternoon he resumed I would therefore respectfully suggest as a special topic of conversation the consummate cheek of yours truly Paul Reymouth Edgerton starting to balance more he backed instead into the screen of the office window without even an expletive he turned pushed in the screen clambered adroitly through the aperture and disappeared almost instantly from sight very faintly from some far upstairs region the thin faint single syllable of a laugh came floating down to the piazza corner then just as precipitous as a man steps into any other hole Barton stepped into the conversational topic that had just been so aptly provided for him is your father something of a of a practical joker miss Edgerton he demanded with the slightest possible tinge of shrillness for the first time in Barton's knowledge of little Eve Edgerton she lifted her eyes to him great hazel eyes great bored dreary hazel eyes set broadly in a too narrow olive face my father is generally conceded to be something of a joker I believe she said Dali but it would never have occurred to me to call him a particularly practical one I don't like him she added without a flicker of expression I don't either snapped Barton a trifle it uneasily little Eve Edgerton went on why once when I was a tiny child she drone I don't know anything about when you were a tiny child affirmed Barton with some vehemence but just this afternoon in striking contrast to the cool plasticity of her face one of Eve Edgerton's boot toes began to tap tap tap against the piazza floor when she lifted her eyes again to Barton their sleepy sullenness was shot through suddenly with an unmistakable flash of temper oh for heaven's sake Mr Barton she cried out if you insist upon writing with me couldn't you please hurry the afternoons are so short if I insist upon writing with you gasped Barton disconcertingly from an upper window the older man's face beamed suddenly down upon him oh don't mind anything she says drawled the older man it's just her cunning meek little ways precipitate Barton bolted for his room one safely ensconced behind his closed door a dozen different decisions a dozen different indecisions rioted tempestuously through his mind to go was just as awkward as not to go not to go was just as awkward as to go over and over and over one silly alternative chased the other through his adult senses then just as precipitately as he had bolted to his room he began suddenly to hurl himself into his riding clothes yanking out a bureau drawer here slamming back a closet door there rummaging through a box tipping over a trunk yet in all his fuming haste his raging irritability showing the same fastidious choice of shirt tie collar that characterized his every public appearance immaculate at last as a tailor's equestrian advertisement he came striding down again into the hotel office only to plunge most inopportunity into Miss Von Eaton's languorous presence why Jim gasped Miss Von Eaton exquisitely white and cool and fluffy and dainty she glanced up perplexedly at him from her lazy deep seated chair why Jim she repeated just a little bit edgely riding riding well of all things you who wouldn't even play bridge with us this afternoon on account of the heat well who in the world who can it be that has caught us all out teasingly jumped up and walked to the door with him and stood there peering out beyond the cool shadow of his dark blue shoulder into the dazzling road where like so many figures thrust forth all unwittingly into the merciless flare of a spotlight little shabby eve edgerton and three sweating horses waited squintingly in the dust oh cried miss von eaton why stammered miss von eaton good gracious giggled miss von eaton then hysterically with her hand clapped over her mouth she turned and fled up the stairs to confide the absurd news to her mates with a face like a graven image barton went on down the steps into the road in one of his 30 dollar riding boots a disconcerting two cent sort of squeak merely intensified his unhappy sensation of being motivated purely mechanically like a doll two of the horses that win it cordially at his approach were rusty roans the third was a chunky gray already in one of the roans eve edgerton sat perched with her riddle rain oddly slashed in two and knotted each raw end to a stirrup living her hands and arms still perfectly free to hug her mysterious books and papers to her breast good afternoon again miss edgerton smiled barton consensuously good afternoon again mr barton echoed eve edgerton listlessly with frank curiosity he nodded toward her armful of papers surely you're not going to carry all that stuff with you he questioned yes i am mr barton trawled eve edgerton scarcely above a whisper wordly he pointed to her stirrups but great scott miss edgerton he protested surely you're not reckless enough to ride like that just guiding with your feet i always do mr barton sing song to the girl monotonously but the extra horse cried barton with a sudden little chuckle of relief he pointed to the chunky gray there was a side saddle on the chunky gray who's going with us almost insolently little eve edgerton narrowed her sleepy eyes i always take an extra horse with me mr barton thank you she on be the faintest possible tinge of disparity oh stammered barton quite helplessly oh heavily as he spoke he lifted one foot to stirrup and swung up into his saddle through all his mental misery through all his physical discomfort a single lovely thought sustained him there was only one really good riding road in that vicinity and it was shady and thank heaven it was most inordinately short but eve edgerton falsified the thought before he was half through thinking it she swung her horse around reared him to almost a perpendicular height merged herself like so much fluid khaki into his great towering threatening neck reacted almost instantly to her own balance again and went plunging off toward the wild rough untraveled foothills and certain destruction any unbiased onlooker would have been free to affirm snortingly the chunky gray went tearing after her a trifle sulkily barton's roan took the chase shade oh ye gods if eve edgerton knew shade when she saw it she certainly gave him a possible sign of such intelligence wherever the galloping grass grown road hesitated between green roofed forest and devastated wood lot she chose the devastated wood lot wherever the trotting treacherous pasture faltered between hobbly rock strewn glare and soft lush carpeted spots of shade she chose the hobbly rock strewn glare on and on and on till dust turned sweat and sweat turned dust again on and on and on with the riderless gray thudding madly after her and barton sulky roan balking frenziedly at each new swerve and turn it must have been almost three miles before barton quite overtook her then in the scutting transitory shadow of a growly thundercloud she ran in suddenly waited patiently till barton's panting horse was nose and nose with hers and then pushing her slouch head back from her low curl fringed forehead jogged listlessly along beside him with her pale olive face turned inquiringly to his drenched beet colored bisage what was it that you wanted me to do for you mr barton she asked with a laborious sort of courtesy are you writing a book of something that you wanted me to help you about is that it is that what father meant am i writing a book gasped barton desperately he began to mop his forehead writing a book am i writing a book heaven forbid what are you doing persisted the girl bluntly what am i doing repeated barton why writing with you trying to ride with you he called out grimly as taking the lead impetuously again eve edgerton's horse shied off at a rabbit and went settling down a sand bank into a brand new area of rocks and stubble and breast hide blueberry bushes barton liked to ride and he rode fairly well but he was by no means an equestrian acrobat and quite apart from the girl's unquestionably disconcerting mannerisms the foolish floppy presence of the riderless gray rattled him more than he could possibly account for it yet to save his life he could not have told which would seem more childish to turn back in temper or to follow on in the same more in helplessness than anything else he decided to follow on on and on and on would have described it more adequately blacker and blacker the huddling thunder cap spotted across the brilliant sunny sky gaspier and gaspier in each lulling treetop in each hushing bird song in each drooping grass blade the whole torrid earth seemed to be sucking in its breath as if it meant never never to exhale it again once more in the midst of a particularly hideous glare the girl took occasion to reign wait for him turning once more to his flushed miserable countenance a little face inordinately pale and serene if you're not writing a book what would you like to talk about mr barton she asked consensuously would you like to talk about peat bog fossils what gasped barton peat bog fossils repeated the mild little voice are you interested in peat bog fossils or would you rather talk about the mississippi river pearl fisheries or do you care more perhaps for politics would you like to discuss the relative financial conditions of the south american republics before the expression of blank despair in barton's base her own base fell a trifle no she ventured wordly no oh i'm sorry mr barton but you see you see i've never been out before with anybody my own age so i don't know at all what you would be interested in never been out before with anyone her own age gasped barton to himself merciful heavens what was her own age there in her little khaki norfolk an old slouch had she looked about 15 years old and a boy at that altogether wretchedly he turned and grinned at her miss edgerton he said believe me there's not one thing today under god's heaven that doesn't interest me except the weather the weather mused little eve edgerton thoughtfully casually she spoke she glanced down across the horses leathered sides and up into barton's crimson face the weather oh she hastened anxiously to firm oh yes the meteorological conditions certainly are interesting this summer do you yourself think it's a shifting of the gulf stream or just a just a change in the path through the cyclonic areas of low pressure she persisted drearily eh gassed barton the weather heat was what i meant miss edgerton just plain heat damned heat was what i meant if i may be so explicit miss edgerton it is hot conceded eve apologetically in fact snapped pardon i think it's the hottest day i ever knew really droned eve edgerton really snapped barton it must have been almost half an hour before anybody spoke again then pretty hot isn't it barton began all over again yes said eve edgerton in fact he is to barton through clenched teeth in fact i know it's the hottest day i ever knew really droned eve edgerton really choked barton creakily under their hot chafing saddles the sweltering roans lurched off suddenly through a great snarl of bushes into a fern shaded spring hole and stood ankle deep in the boggy grass guzzling noisily at food and drink with a chunky gray crowd and greedily against first one rider and then the other quiet against all intention barton groaned aloud his son's scorched eyes seemed fairly shriveling with the glare his wilted linen collar slopped like a stale poultice around his tortured neck in his sticky fingers the bridal rain itched like so much poisoned ribbon reaching up one small hand to drag the soft flannel collar of her shirt a little farther down from her slim throat eve edgerton rested her chain on her knuckles for an instant and surveyed him plaintively aren't aren't we having an awful time she whispered even then if she had looked womanly girly even remotely effectively feminine barton would doubtless have floundered heroically through some protesting lie but to the frank blunt little boyishness of her he succumbed suddenly with a beatic green of relief yes we certainly are he acknowledged ruthlessly and what good is it questioned the girl most unexpectedly not any good granted barton to anyone persisted the girl not to anyone exploded barton with an odd little gasp of joy the girl reached out dartingly untouched barton on his sleeve her face was suddenly eager active transcendently vital then oh won't you please please turn around and go home and leave me alone she pleaded astonishingly turn around and go home stammered barton the touch on his sleeve quickened a little oh yes please mr barton insisted the tremulous voice you you mean i'm in your way stammered barton very gravely the girl nodded her head oh yes mr barton you're terribly in my way she acknowledged quite frankly good heavens thought barton is there a man in this is it a trist well of all things jerkly he began to back his horse out of the spring hole back back back through the intricate overgrown pathway of flapping leaves and sharp scratchy twigs i am very sorry miss edgerton to have forced my presence on you so he murmured ironically oh it isn't just you said little eve edgerton quite frankly it's all father's friends almost threateningly as she spoke she jerked up her own horses drizzling mouth and rode right at barton as if to force him back even faster through the great snarl of underbrush i hate clever people just asserted passionately i hate them hate them hate them i hate all father's clever friends i hate but you see i'm not clever grand barton inspired himself oh not clever at all he reiterated with some grimness as an alder branch slapped him stingingly across one eye indeed he dodged and ducked and floundered still backing backing everlastingly backing indeed your father has spent quite a lot of his valuable time this afternoon assuring me and reassuring me that that i'm altogether a fool unrelentingly little eve edgerton's horse kept right on forcing him back back back but if you're not one of father's clever friends who are you she demanded perplexedly and why did you insist so on riding with me this afternoon she cried accusingly i didn't exactly insist green barton with a flush of guilt the flush of guilt added to the flush of heat made him look suddenly very confused across eve edgerton's thin little face the flash of temper faded instantly into mere sulky on we again oh dear oh dear chitron you didn't want to marry me did you just for one mad panic a stricken second the whole world seemed to turn black before barton's eyes his heart stopped beating his eardrums cracked then suddenly astonishingly he found himself grinning into that honest little face and answering comfortably why no miss edgerton i hadn't the slightest idea in the world of wanting to marry you thank god for that gasp little eve edgerton so many of father's friends do want to marry me she confided plaintively still driving barton back through that horrid scratchy thicket i'm so rich you see she confided with equal simplicity and i know so much there's almost always somebody petro zavod or broken hill or bash colomboi who wants to marry me in where stammered barton why in russia said the eve edgerton with some surprise and australia and africa were you never there i've been in jersey city babbled barton with a desperate attempt at facetiousness i was never there admitted little eve edgerton regretfully vehemently with one hand she launched forward and tried with her tiny open palm to push barton's horse a trifle faster back through the intricate thicket then once in the open again she drew herself up with an absurd air of dignity and finality and bowed him from her presence goodbye mr barton she said goodbye mr barton but miss edgerton stammered barton perplexedly whatever his own personal joy and relief might be the surrounding country nevertheless was exceedingly wild and the girl an extravagantly long distance from home but miss edgerton he began all over again goodbye mr barton and thank you for going home she added consensuously but what will i tell your father worried barton oh hang father draw the indifferent little voice but the extra horse argued barton with increasing perplexity the gray if you've got some date up your sleeve don't you want me to take the gray home with you and get him out of your way with sluggish resentment little eve edgerton lifted her eyes to his what would the gray go home with you for she asked tursley why how silly why it's my mother's horse that is we call it my mother's horse she hastened to explain my mother's dad you know she's almost always been dead i mean so father always makes me buy an extra place for my mother it's just a trick of ours a sort of a custom i play around alone so much you know and we live in such wild places casually she bent over and pushed the protruding butt of her revolver a trifle farther down into her riding boot so long mr barton she called listlessly over the other and started on stumblingly clatteringly up the abruptly steep and precipitous mountain trail a little dust colored gnome on a dust colored horse with a beautiful gray pinking cautiously along behind her by some odd twist of his bridal rain the gray's chunky neck arched slightly a skew and he pranced now and then from side to side of the trail as if guided thus by an invisible hand with an uncanny pucker along his spine as if he found himself suddenly deserting two women instead of one barton went fumbling and squinting out through the dusty green shade into the expected glare of the open pasture and discovered to his further disconcerting that there was no glare left before his astonished eyes he saw sunscorched mountaintop sunscorched granite sunscorched field stubble turned suddenly to shade no cool translucent miracle of fluctuated greens but a horrid plushy purple dusk under a horrid plushy purple sky with a rip of lightning along the horizon a galloping gasp of furiously oncoming wind an almost strangling stench of dust scented rain but before he could whirl his horse about the storm broke heaven fell hell rose the sides of the earth caved in chaos and speakable torn north east south and west snortingly for one single instant the roans panic-stricken nostrils went blooming up into the cloud burst like two parched scarlet point such as then man and beast as one flesh as one mind went bolting back through the rain drenched wind ravished thick to find their mates up up up everlastingly up the mountain trail twisted and scrambled through the unholy darkness now and again a slippery stone tripped the roans fumbling feet now and again a swaying branch slapped barton stingingly across straining eyes all around and about them tortured forest trees moaned and writhed in the gale through every cavernous vista gray sheets of rain went flapping madly by them the lightning was incredible the thunder like the snarl of a glass sky shivering into inestimable fragments with every gasping breath beginning to rip from his poor lungs like a knifed stitch the roans still faltered on each new ledge to winnie desperately to his mate equally futilely from time to time barton with his hands cupped to his mouth hallowed hallowed hallowed into the thundering thunderous darkness then at a sharp turn in the trail magically in a pale transient flicker of light loomed little eve edgerton's boyish figure drenched to the skin apparently wind driven rain battered but with her hands in her pockets slouch hat rakeishly askew strolling as nonchalantly down that ghastly trail as a child might come strolling down a stained glass persian carpeted stairway to meet an unexpected guest in a in vaguely silhouetted greeting for one fleet instant a little khaki arm lifted itself full length into the air then more precipitately than any rational thing could happen more precipitately than any rational thing could even begin to happen could even begin to begin to happen without shock without noise without pain without terror or turmoil or any time at all to fight or pray a slice of living flame came scaling through the darkness and cut barton's consciousness clean in two end of chapter one part one chapter two of little eve edgerton this is LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Little Eve Edgerton by Illinois Hallowell Abbott part one chapter two when Barton recovered the severed parts of his consciousness again and tried to pull them together he found that the present was strangely missing the past and the future however were perfectly plain to him he was a young stockbroker he remembered that quite distinctly and just as soon as the immediate dizzy mystery had been cleared up he would of course be a young stockbroker again but between the snug conviction as to the past this smug assurance as to the future his mind lay tugging and shivering like a man under a split blanket where in creation was the present alternately he tried to yank both past and future across the chili and terrum there was a green and white piazza corner vaguely his memory reminded him never again some latent determination left to mock him and there had been some sort of an argument with a drawlish old man concerning all homely girls in general and one very specially homely little girl in particular and the very specially homely little girl in particular had turned out to be the old man's daughter never again his original impulse hastened to reassure him and there had been a horse back ride with the girl oh yes out of some strange sense of of parental humor there had been a forced horseback ride and the weather had been hot and black and then suddenly very yellow yellow yellow dizzily the world began to work through his senses a prism of light a fume of sulfur yellow yellow what was yellow what was anything what was anything yes that was just it what was anything whimperingly like a dream day's dog the soul of him began to shiver with fear oh ye gods if returning consciousness would only manifest itself first by someone indisputable proof of a still undisintegrated body some crisp reassuring method of outlining one's corporeal edges some sensory roll call as it were of head hands feet sides but out of oblivion out of space abysmal out of sensory annihilation to come vaporing back back back headless armless legless trunkless conscious only of consciousness uncertain yet whether the full awakening prove itself this world or the next as sacred of heaven as of hell as then very very slowly with no realization of eyelids with no realization of lifting his eyelids martin began to see things and he thought he was lying on the soft outer edges of a gigantic black pansy staring blankly through its glowing golden center into the drawl sketchy little face of the pansy and then suddenly with a jerk that seemed almost to crack his spine he sensed that the blackness wasn't a pansy at all but just a round early sort of blackness in which he himself lay mysteriously prone and he heard the wind still roaring furiously away off somewhere and he heard the rain still drenching and sowsing away off somewhere but no wind seemed to be tugging directly at him and no rain seemed to be splashing directly on him and instead of the cavernous golden crater of a supernatural pansy there was just a perfectly tame yellow farm lantern balanced adroitly on a low stone in the middle of the mysterious round blackness and in the sallow glow of that pleasant lantern light little eve edgerton sat cross-legged on the ground with a great pulpy clutter of rain-soaked magazines spread out all around her like a giant's pack of cards and diagonally across her breast from shoulder to waistline her little gray flannel shirt hung gashed into innumerable ribbons to barton's blinking eyes she looked exceedingly strange and untidy but nothing seemed to concern little eve edgerton except that spreading circle of half-drowned paper or heaven's sake what are you do mumbled barton out from her flickering aura of yellow lantern light little eve edgerton peered forth quizzically into barton's darkness why i'm trying to save my poor dear books she drawled what struggled barton the word dragged on his tongue like a weight of lead what he persisted desperately where for heaven's sake what's the matter with us solicitously little eve edgerton lifted a soggy magazine page to the lantern's warm curving cheek why we're in my cave she confided in my very own cave you know that i was headed for all the time we got sort of struck by lightning she just started to explain we struck by lightning gasped barton mentally he started to jump up but physically nothing moved my god i'm paralyzed he screamed oh no really i don't think so crewed little eve edgerton with the faintest possible tinge of reluctance she put down her papers picked up the lantern and crawling over to where barton lay sat down cross-legged again on the ground beside him and began with mechanically alternate fist and palm to rub a dub dub and thump thump thump and stroke stroke stroke across his utterly helpless body oh of course you've had an awfully closed call she drummed resonantly upon his apathetic chest but i've seen three lightning people a lot more soft than you she needed reassuring into his insensate neck muscles and they came out of it all right after a few days she slept mercilessly into his faintly conscious sides very slowly very sluggishly as his circulation weakened again a hoared suspicion began to stir in barton's mind but it took him a long time to voice a suspicion in anything as loud and public as words miss edgerton he plunged at last quite precipitately miss edgerton do i seem to have any shirt on no you don't seem to exactly mr barton conceded little eve edgerton and your skin from head to foot barton's whole body strained and twisted in a futile effort to raise himself to at least one elbow why i'm stripped to my waist he stammered in real horror why yes of course drawl little eve edgerton and your skin imperturbably as she spoke she pushed him down flat on the ground again and began with her hands edged vertically like two slim boards to slash little blissful gashes of consciousness and pain into his frigid right arm you see i had to take both your shirts she explained and what was left of your coat and all of my coat to make a soft strong rope to tie around or under your arm so the horse could drag you did the wrong drag me way up here roamed barton a bit hazyly with the faintest possible gasp of surprise little eve edgerton stopped slashing his arm and picked up the lantern flashed disconcertingly across his blinking eyes and naked shoulders the roans are in heaven she said quite simply it was mother's horse that dragged you up here as casually as if he had been a big doll she reached out one slim brown finger and drew his underlip a little bit down from his teeth my but you're still blue confided frankly i guess perhaps you'd better have a little more vodka again barton struggled vainly to raise himself on one elbow vodka he stammered again a lifted lantern light flashed disconcertingly across his face and shoulders why don't you remember anything draw little eve edgerton not anything at all why i must have worked over you two hours artificial respiration you know and all that sort of thing before i even got you up here my but you're heavy she reproached him frowningly men ought to stay just as light as they possibly can so when they get into trouble in things it would be easier for women to help them why last year the china sea with father and five of his friends a trifle shiveringly she shrugged her shoulders oh well never mind about father and the china sea she retracted soberly it's only that i'm so small you see and so flexible i can crawl around most anywhere through portholes and fangs even if they're capsized so we only lost one of them one of father's friends i mean and i never would have lost him if he hadn't been so heavy hours gasped barton irrelevantly with a right twist of his neck he peered out through the darkness to wear the freshening air the steady monotonous slush slush slush of rain the pale intermittent flare of stale lightning proclaimed the opening of the cave for heaven's sake what what time is it he faltered why i'm sure i don't know so little eve edgerton but i should guess it might be about eight or nine o'clock are you hungry with infinite agility she scrambled to her knees and went darting off on all fours like a squirrel into some mysterious clattery corner of the darkness from which she merged at last with one little grave flannel arm crooked inclusively around a whole elbow full of treasure there she dropped there there there only the soft earthy thud that accompanied each there point to the slightest significance to the word the first thud was a slim queer stone flag in a vodka wonly like some far pinnacle on some far russian fortress its grim shape loomed in the sallow lantern light the second thud was a dust colored basket of dates from some green spotted arabian desert vaguely its soft curving outline merged into shadow and turf the third thud was a battered old drinking cup dully silver mysteriously chinese the fourth thud was a big glass jar of frankly american beef familiarly reassuringly its sleek sides glinted in the flickering flame supper announced little eve edgerton as tomboyishly as a miniature began she crawled forward again into the meager square of lantern tinted earth and yanking a revolver out of one bootleg and a pair of scissors from the other settled herself with unassailable girlishness to jab the delicate scissor points into the stubborn tin top of the meat jar as though the tin had been his own flesh the act goaded barton half upright into the light a brightly naked young viking to the waist a vaguely shadowed equestrian fashion plate to the feet well i certainly never saw anybody like you before he glowered at her with equal gravity but infinitely more deliberation little eve edgerton returned the stair i never saw anybody like you before either she said enigmatically barton wants to back into the darkness oh i say he stammered i wish i had a coat i feel like a like a why why droned little eve edgerton perplexedly out from the yellow heart of the pansy blackness her small grave nomish face peered after him with pristine frankness why why i think you look nice said little eve edgerton with a really desperate effort barton tried to clothe himself in facetiousness if in nothing else oh very well he grinned feebly if you don't mind there's no special reason i suppose why i should vaguely blurishly like a figure on the wrong side of a stained glass window he began to loom up beginning to the lantern light there was no embarrassment certainly about his hunger nor any affectation at all connected with his thirst chokingly from the battered silver cup he gulped down the scorching vodka ravenously he attacked the salty meat the sweet clawing dates watching him solomide from her own intermittent nibbles the girl spoke out quite simply the thought that was uppermost in her mind this supper will come in mighty handy won't it if we have to be out here all night mr barton if we have to be out here all night faltered barton oh ye gods if just their afternoon ride together had been hotel talk as of course it was within five minutes after their departure what would their midnight return be or rather their non-return already through his adult brain he heard the monotonous creak creak of rocking chair gossip the slide jest of the smoking room the whispered excitement of the kitchen all the sophisticated old worldlings hoping indifferently for the best all the unsophisticated old prudes yearning ecstatically for the worst if we have to stay out here all night he repeated wildly oh what oh what will your father say miss edgerton what will father say draw little eve edgerton thudingly she sat down the empty beef jar oh father will say what in creation is eve out trying to save tonight a dog a cat a three-legged deer well what do you expect to save squeezed barton a bit tartly just you acknowledged little eve edgerton without enthusiasm and isn't it funny she confided placidly that i've never yet succeeded in saving anything that i could take home with me and keep that's the trouble with boarding in a vague gold colored flicker of appeal her lifted face flared out again into barton's darkness too fugitive to be called a smile a tremor of reminiscence once scutting across her mouth before the brooding shadow of her old slouch hat blotted out her features again in india once persisted the dreary little voice in india once when father and i were going into the mountains for the summer there was a there was a sort of faker at one of the railway stations doing tricks with a crippled tiger cub a tiger cub with a shot of paul and when father wasn't looking i got off the train and went back and i followed that faker two days till he just naturally had to sell me the tiger cub he couldn't exactly have an english woman following him indefinitely into indistinctness but the people at the hotel were were indifferent to him she rallied whisperingly and i had to let him go you got off a train in india alone snapped barton and went following a dirty sneaking faker for two days well of all the crazy indiscreet indiscreet mused little eve edgerton again out of the murky blackness her tilted chin caught up the flare of yellow lantern light indiscreet she repeated monotonously who i yes you grunted barton traipsing around all alone after but i never am alone mr barton protested the mild little voice you see i always have the extra saddle the extra railway ticket the extra whatever it is and and caressing the little gold tipped hand reached out through the shadows and padded something indistinctly metallic my mother's memory my father's revolver she drawled why what better company could any girl have indiscreet slowly the tip of her little nose tilted up into the light why down in the trans vile two years ago she explained painstakingly why down in the trans vile two years ago they called me the best chaperone girl in africa indiscreet why mr barton i never even saw an indiscreet woman in all my life men of course are indiscreet sometimes she conceded conscientiously down in the trans vile two years ago i had to shoot up a couple of men for being a little bit indiscreet but in one jerk barton raised himself to a sitting posture you shot up a couple of men he demanded preemptorily through the crook of a mud smooth elbow shoving back the sudden brim of her hat the girl glanced toward him like a vaguely perplexed little ragamuffin it was messy she admitted softly out from her scenario of storm blown hair tattered battered by wind and rain she appeared up suddenly with her first frowning sign of self-consciousness if there's one thing in the world that i regret she faltered deprecatingly it's it's a it's an untidy fight altogether violently barton burst out laughing there was no mirth in the laugh but just noise oh let's go home he suggested hysterically home faltered little eve edgerton with a sluggish sort of defiance she reached out and gathered the big wet scrapbook to her breast why mr barton she said we couldn't get home now in all this storm and darkness and wash out to save our lives but even if we're moonlight she's sing song and starlight and high noon even if there were chariots at the door i'm not going home now till i've finished my scrapbook if it takes a week hey jerk barton what laboriously he edged himself forward for five hours now of reckless riding of storm and privation through death and disaster the girl had clung tenaciously to her books and papers what in creation was in them for heaven's sake mr edgerton he began oh don't fuss so said little eve edgerton it's nothing but my paper doll book your paper doll book stammered barton with another racking effort he edged himself even farther forward miss edgerton he asked quite frankly are you crazy no but very determined draw little eve edgerton with unruffled serenity she picked up a pulpy magazine page from the ground in front of her and handed it to him and it would greatly facilitate matters mr barton she confided if you would kindly begin drying out some papers against your side of the lantern what gasp barton very gingerly he took the pulpy sheet between his thumb and forefinger it was a full page picture of a big gas range and slowly as he scanned it for some hidden charm or value it split into and fell soggily back to its mates once again for sheer nervous relief he burst out laughing out of her diminutiveness out of her leanness out of her extraordinary lightness little eve edgerton stared up speculatively at barton's great hulking helplessness her hat looked humorous her hair looked humorous her tattered flannel shirt was distinctly humorous but there was nothing humorous about her set little mouth if you laugh she threatened i'll tip you over backward again and trample on you i believe you would said barton with a sudden sobriety more packed with mirth than any laugh he had ever laughed well i don't care conceited the girl a bit sheepishly everybody laughs at my paper doll book father does everybody does when i'm rearranging their old mummy collections and cataloging their old south american birds are shining up their old geological specimens they think i'm wonderful but when i tried to do the teeniest tiniest thing that happens to interest me they call me crazy so that's why i come way out here into this cave to play she whispered with a flicker of real shyness in all the world she confided this cave is the only place i've ever found where there wasn't anybody to laugh at me between her placid brows a vindictive little frown blackened suddenly that's why it wasn't specially convenient mr barton to have you ride with me this afternoon she affirmed that's why it wasn't especially convenient to to have you struck by lightning this afternoon tragically with one small brown hand she pointed toward the great water soaked mess of magazines that surrounded her you see she mourned i've been saving them up all summer to cut out today and now now we're sailing for melbourne saturday she added conclusively well really stammered barton well truly well of all damned things why what do you want me to do apologize to you for having been struck by lightning his voice was fairly righteous with astonishment and indignation then quite unexpectedly one side of his mouth began to twist upward in the faintest perceptible sort of a real grin when you smile like that you're quite pleasant murmur little evad gritton is that so green barton well wouldn't hurt you to smile just a tiny bit now and then wouldn't it said little evad gritton thoughtfully for a moment with her scissors poised high in the air she seemed to be considering the suggestion then quite abruptly again she resumed her task of prying some pasted object out of her scrapbook oh no thank you mr barton she decided i'm much too bored all the while to do any smiling bored snapped barton staring perplexedly in her dreary meek little face something deeper something infinitely subtler than mere curiosity vacant precipitately in his consciousness for heaven's sake miss edgerton he stammered from the arctic ocean to the south seas if you've seen all the things that you must have seen if you've done all the things that you must have done why should you look so bored flutteringly the girl's eyes lifted and fell why i'm bored mr barton draw little eve edgerton i'm bored because i'm sick to death of seeing all the things i've seen i'm sick to death of doing all the things i've done with little metallic snips of sound she concentrated herself and her scissors suddenly upon the mahogany colored picture of a pianola well what do you want quizzed barton in a sullen torgent sort of defiance the girl lifted her somber eyes to his i want to stay home like other people and have a house she wailed i want to house and the things that go with the house a cat and the things that go with a cat kittens and the things that go with kittens saucers of cream and the things that go with saucers of cream ice chests and and surprisingly in her language sing song tone broke a sudden note of passion she snapped think of going all the way to india just to plunge her arms into spooky foamy ganges and make a wish what do you wish asks father please is that chessy plus i wish it was a soap set in my own wash tub or gallivanting down to british guinea just to smell the great blows the water lilies in the canals i'd rather smell burnt crackers in my own cook stove but you'll surely have a house sometime argued barton with real sympathy quite against all intention the girl's unexpected emotion disturbed him a little every girl gets a house sometime he insisted resolutely no i don't think so mused if edgerton judicially you see she explained with a soft slow deliberation you see mr barton only people who live in houses no people who live in houses if you're a nomad you meet only nomads campers mate just naturally with campers and ocean travelers with ocean travelers and red velvet hotel dwellers with red velvet hotel dwellers well of course if mother had lived it might have been different she added a trifle more cheerfully for of course if mother had lived i should have been pretty just her did calmly or interesting looking anyway mother would surely have managed it somehow and i should have had a lot of bows young man bows i mean like you father's friends are all so great oh of course i shall marry sometime she continued evenly probably i'm going to marry the british consulate non canono he's a great friend of father's and he wants me to help him write a book on the geologic relationship of milanesia to the australian continent dolly her voice rose to its monotone but i don't suppose we shall live in a house she moaned apathetically at the best it will probably be only a mustive room or two up over the consulate and more likely than not it won't be anything at all except a nipah hut and a typewriter table end of part one chapter two