U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [311]
"when you feel that cold wind."
Meanwhile Paul and Mr. Rasmussen had picked up
their bags. "Honestly, we'd better make tracks," said Paul, nervously jiggling Eveline's suitcase. "It's about traintime." They al scampered through the station. Jerry Burnham had forgotten to buy a ticket and couldn't go out on the platform; they left him arguing with the officials and searching his pockets for his presscard. Paul put the bags in the compartment and shook hands hurriedly with Eleanor. Eveline found his eyes in hers serious and hurt like a dog's eyes.
"You won't stay too long, wil you? There's not much time left," he said. Eveline felt she'd like to kiss him, but the train was starting. Paul scrambled off. Al Mr. Rasmussen could do was hand some papers and Jerry's roses through the window and wave his hat mournful y from the platform. It was a relief the train had started.
-307-Eleanor was leaning back against the cushions laughing and laughing.
"I declare, Eveline. You're too funny with your Romeos." Eveline couldn't help laughing herself. She leaned over and patted Eleanor on the shoulder. "Let's just have a wonderful time," she said.
Next morning early when Eveline woke up and looked
out they were in the station at Marseil es. It gave her a funny feeling because she'd wanted to stop off there and see the town, but Eleanor had insisted on going straight to Nice, she hated the sordidness of seaports she'd said. But later when they had their coffee in the diner, looking out at the pines and the dry hil s and headlands cutting out blue patches of the Mediterranean, Eveline felt excited and happy again. They got a good room in a hotel and walked through
the streets in the cool sunshine among the wounded sol-diers and officers of al the al ied armies and strol ed along the Promenade des Anglais under the grey palmtrees and gradual y Eveline began to feel a chil y feeling of dis-appointment coming over her. Here was her two weeks leave and she was going to waste it at Nice. Eleanor kept on being crisp and cheerful and suggested they sit down in the big café on the square where a brass band was play-ing and have a little dubonnet before lunch. After they'd sat there for some time, looking at the uniforms and the quantities of overdressed women who were no better than they should be, Eveline leaned back in her chair and said,
"And now that we're here, darling, what on earth shal we do?" The next morning Eveline woke late; she almost hated to get up as she couldn't imagine how she was going to pass the time al day. As she lay there looking at the stripes of sunlight on the wal that came through the shutters, she heard a man's voice in the adjoining room, that was Eleanor's. Eveline stiffened and listened. It was J.W.'s
-308-voice. When she got up and dressed she found her heart was pounding. She was pul ing on her best pair of trans-parent black silk stockings when Eleanor came in, "Who do you think's turned up? J.W. just motored down to see me off to Italy . . . He said it was getting too stuffy for him around the Peace Conference and he had to get a change of air
. . . Come on in, Eveline, dear, and have some coffee with us."
She can't keep the triumph out of her voice, aren't women sil y, thought Eveline. "That's lovely, I'l be right in, darling," she said in her most musical tones. J.W. had on a light grey flannel suit and a bright blue necktie and his face was pink from the long ride. He was in fine spirits. He'd driven down from Paris in fifteen hours with only four hours sleep after dinner in Lyons. They al drank a great deal of bitter coffee with hot milk and planned out a ride.
It Was a fine day. The big Packard car rol ed