The Dust [33]
thought of all that?" rejoined Tetlow bitterly. "But I can't help myself. It's useless for me to say I'll try. I shan't try."
"Don't you want to get over this?" demanded Norman fiercely.
"Of course-- No--I don't. Fred, you'd think better of me if you knew her. You've never especially noticed her. She's beautiful."
Norman dropped to his chair again.
"Really--beautiful," protested Tetlow, assuming that the gesture was one of disgusted denial. "Take a good look at her, Norman, before you condemn her. I never was so astonished as when I discovered how good-looking she is. I don't quite know how it is, but I suppose nobody ever happened to see how--how lovely she is until I just chanced to see it." At a rudely abrupt gesture from Norman he hurried on, eagerly apologetic, "And if you talk with her-- She's very reserved. But she's the lady through and through-- and has a good mind. . . . At least, I think she has. I'll admit a man in love is a poor judge of a woman's mind. But, anyhow, I KNOW she's lovely to look at. You'll see it yourself, now that I've called your attention to it. You can't fail to see it."
Norman threw himself back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "WHY do you want to marry her?" he inquired, in a tone his sensitive ear approved as judicial.
"How can I tell?" replied the head clerk irritably. "Does a man ever know?"
"Always--when he's sensibly in love."
"But when he's just in love? That's what ails me," retorted Tetlow, with a sheepish look and laugh.
"Billy, you've got to get over this. I can't let you make a fool of yourself."
Tetlow's fat, smooth, pasty face of the overfed, underexercised professional man became a curious exhibit of alarm and obstinacy.
"You've got to promise me you'll keep away from her--except at the office--for say, a week. Then-- we'll see."
Tetlow debated.
"It's highly improbable that anyone else will discover these irresistible charms. There's no one else hanging round?"
"No one, as I told you the other day, when you questioned me about her."
Norman shifted, looked embarrassed.
"I hope I didn't give you the impression I was ashamed of loving her or would ever be ashamed of her anywhere?" continued Tetlow, a very loverlike light in his usually unromantic eyes. "If I did, it wasn't what I meant--far from it. You'll see, when I marry her, Norman. You'll be congratulating me."
Norman sprang up again. "This is plain lunacy, Tetlow. I am amazed at you--amazed!"
"Get acquainted with her, Mr. Norman," pleaded the subordinate. "Do it, to oblige me. Don't condemn us----"
"I wish to hear nothing more!" cried Norman violently. "Another thing. You must find her a place in some other office--at once."
"You're right, sir," assented Tetlow. "I can readily do that."
Norman scowled at him, made an imperious gesture of dismissal. Tetlow, chopfallen but obdurate, got himself speedily out of sight.
Norman, with hands deep in his pockets, stared out among the skyscrapers and gave way to a fit of remorse. It was foreign to his nature to do petty underhanded tricks. Grand strategy--yes. At that he was an adept, and not the shiftiest, craftiest schemes he had ever devised had given him a moment's uneasiness. But to be driving a ten-dollar-a-week typewriter out of her job --to be maneuvering to deprive her of a for her brilliant marriage--to be lying to an old and loyal retainer who had helped Norman full as much and as often as Norman had helped him--these sneaking bits of skullduggery made him feel that he had sunk indeed. But he ground his teeth together and his eyes gleamed wickedly. "He shan't have her, damn him!" he muttered. "She's not for him."
He summoned Tetlow, who was obviously low in mind as the result of revolving the things that had been said to him. "Billy," he began in a tone so amiable that he was ashamed for himself, "you'll not forget I have your promise?"
"What did I promise?" cried Tetlow, his voice shrill with alarm.
"Not to see her, except at the office, for
"Don't you want to get over this?" demanded Norman fiercely.
"Of course-- No--I don't. Fred, you'd think better of me if you knew her. You've never especially noticed her. She's beautiful."
Norman dropped to his chair again.
"Really--beautiful," protested Tetlow, assuming that the gesture was one of disgusted denial. "Take a good look at her, Norman, before you condemn her. I never was so astonished as when I discovered how good-looking she is. I don't quite know how it is, but I suppose nobody ever happened to see how--how lovely she is until I just chanced to see it." At a rudely abrupt gesture from Norman he hurried on, eagerly apologetic, "And if you talk with her-- She's very reserved. But she's the lady through and through-- and has a good mind. . . . At least, I think she has. I'll admit a man in love is a poor judge of a woman's mind. But, anyhow, I KNOW she's lovely to look at. You'll see it yourself, now that I've called your attention to it. You can't fail to see it."
Norman threw himself back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "WHY do you want to marry her?" he inquired, in a tone his sensitive ear approved as judicial.
"How can I tell?" replied the head clerk irritably. "Does a man ever know?"
"Always--when he's sensibly in love."
"But when he's just in love? That's what ails me," retorted Tetlow, with a sheepish look and laugh.
"Billy, you've got to get over this. I can't let you make a fool of yourself."
Tetlow's fat, smooth, pasty face of the overfed, underexercised professional man became a curious exhibit of alarm and obstinacy.
"You've got to promise me you'll keep away from her--except at the office--for say, a week. Then-- we'll see."
Tetlow debated.
"It's highly improbable that anyone else will discover these irresistible charms. There's no one else hanging round?"
"No one, as I told you the other day, when you questioned me about her."
Norman shifted, looked embarrassed.
"I hope I didn't give you the impression I was ashamed of loving her or would ever be ashamed of her anywhere?" continued Tetlow, a very loverlike light in his usually unromantic eyes. "If I did, it wasn't what I meant--far from it. You'll see, when I marry her, Norman. You'll be congratulating me."
Norman sprang up again. "This is plain lunacy, Tetlow. I am amazed at you--amazed!"
"Get acquainted with her, Mr. Norman," pleaded the subordinate. "Do it, to oblige me. Don't condemn us----"
"I wish to hear nothing more!" cried Norman violently. "Another thing. You must find her a place in some other office--at once."
"You're right, sir," assented Tetlow. "I can readily do that."
Norman scowled at him, made an imperious gesture of dismissal. Tetlow, chopfallen but obdurate, got himself speedily out of sight.
Norman, with hands deep in his pockets, stared out among the skyscrapers and gave way to a fit of remorse. It was foreign to his nature to do petty underhanded tricks. Grand strategy--yes. At that he was an adept, and not the shiftiest, craftiest schemes he had ever devised had given him a moment's uneasiness. But to be driving a ten-dollar-a-week typewriter out of her job --to be maneuvering to deprive her of a for her brilliant marriage--to be lying to an old and loyal retainer who had helped Norman full as much and as often as Norman had helped him--these sneaking bits of skullduggery made him feel that he had sunk indeed. But he ground his teeth together and his eyes gleamed wickedly. "He shan't have her, damn him!" he muttered. "She's not for him."
He summoned Tetlow, who was obviously low in mind as the result of revolving the things that had been said to him. "Billy," he began in a tone so amiable that he was ashamed for himself, "you'll not forget I have your promise?"
"What did I promise?" cried Tetlow, his voice shrill with alarm.
"Not to see her, except at the office, for