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It was all over so quickly that afterward neither the Poetry Girl nor the lawyer could tell how it happened. Dulcie could tell a little more because she watched it from above. Dudley Hamilt went down that narrow stairway in a sort of running leap. He faced the agitated Mr. Graemer squarely but he gave him something less than half a minute in which to defend himself.
The wind blew, raw and cold, but she shook her head when they suggested she let them take her into the cabin. She just lay with closed eyes and cuddled a little black velvet cap, a boy's cap, under her chin and with every chug of the engines her heart echoed, "This is too far for Dudley Hamilt to come he will nevaire find me " She scarcely spoke to the Major. Poor Major!
"There is a man I know," she told him, "a man named Dudley Hamilt. When we were both of us vairee young he liked me vairee much. But I went away. And when I came back and he saw me again he did not know me at all. It was vairee hard for me that time. You see, I looked vairee funny and old. Much more funny than when you saw me. As funny as those little pictures Thad makes so that people will laugh.
"Don't ball things up, Tommy," she murmured under her breath, "Leave it to us get out if you see he's still miffed with you Please come over here, Mr. Hamilt," she called softly. "I want you to meet Mr. Graemer." He looked as blonde as she, almost, ruddy, lithe, but somehow old. He did not smile at her greeting, he merely nodded.
In spite of the "heathen," in spite of taxes and fines in spite of the fatigue that still remained from those days of travel and hunger, in spite of the strangeness of sitting all day stitching, in spite of even the fierce longing, whenever she passed a telephone, to speak with Dudley Hamilt, Felicia found herself happy, happy with the same haunting happiness with which she had long ago untangled the puzzle of the lost garden, happy with the aching happiness that longs to attain and trembles lest it cannot.
Suddenly her rapturous ear caught Dudley Hamilt's resonant voice speaking, "Who is it?" he demanded impatiently. Her low sweet laughter purred over the wires to him. "Can't you remember?" she asked quietly. "I am Felice. Yes, I am Felice. I have been trying to find your house, Dudley Hamilt, but it's gone, they are building a vairee big house there.
They were garbed in the triggest and gayest of spring clothing, they were as impeccably immaculate as the smiling ladies on the perfume bottles in the window. Back of the telephone was a long mirror that reflected their pretty smartness and Felicia's impossible dowdiness. But Felicia did not see anything at all save the round black hole through which she was to speak to Dudley Hamilt.
Why don't you find something that admits the audience has an imagination?" "As for instance?" Graemer put in adroitly. "I don't know " Hamilt sighed, "I haven't the least idea what. Only it ought to be something that everybody is unconsciously hankering for something that we miss all the while something we lack in this machine-age.
It's struck me all the while you were pulling your strings that that sort of work about the stage would wake up the theater-goer the same way you waked up the voter." "It might," agreed Mr. Hamilt cautiously. "There might be ways if you had something to back your statements that the game was worth while I mean to the theater-goer "
I know you know my name because you called it when you were falling. It was so wonderful to have you know my name Oh, Felice, please write me very soon. I can't wait until I get your letter. Your DUDLEY HAMILT. Perhaps you remember the fat boy who teased little Felice through the gate of the rectory yard.
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