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The day before, after paying the butcher, the baker, and the punctual and pertinacious agent, she had scaled the walk-up where she found her father with the violin, on which, an hour earlier, Lennox had loaned her the money. The spectacle flabbergasted her. Then, realising what Lennox had done, his iniquity struck her as hateful.
Four hours later a tired and dispirited young detective was climbing the stairs of an ugly, five-story "walk-up" apartment house in which Penny Crain and her mother had been living since the financial failure and flight of the husband and father, Roger Crain. "Hello, there!" It was Penny's friendly voice, hailing him from the topmost landing of the steep stairs. "All winded, poor thing?"
There it swerved again. From Broadway it barked loudly into a side-street where easily, with a soapy slide, it stopped. Paliser got out, preceded Cassy to the steps of the walk-up and smiled in her face. "When?" Cassy, the revised opinion of him about her, gave him her hand. "Ask the telephone." The hall took her. She was scaling the stairs. On the way Mrs. Beamish accompanied her.
The migratory systems of domestic experience said nothing to her, nor, thus far, had the charts of matrimony either. In the sphere of life to which a walk-up leads, the charts were dotted with but the postman and the corner druggist. Men and plenty of them she had met, but they too said nothing and not at all because they were dumb, but because, as the phrase is, they did not talk her language.
We young married people may have to live in a walk-up in an unfashionable part of town, but the same spirit of daring adventure and the identical will to make a go of things animates us. If you have that spirit, you can afford to get married, and I can assure you that the rewards of facing your problems and seeing them through together are high.
The emperor hopped up. The car leaped. On the front seat was a box with her name on it. In it was a handful of orchids. The luxury of the car, the beauty of the demon-flowers, the flight from the walk-up, yet more, perhaps, the caresses and surrenders of spring, affected her. If, she thought, if only the things that might be could be the things that are! If only
Reaching for the bundle, she stood up and went her way, across the Park, to the subway, from which she got out in Harlem. The loveliness of that land of love seemed to have changed, though the change, she then recognised, was in herself. But at least the walk-up was unaltered. In the grimy entrance was Mrs.
He would be furious of course, though how his fury would change into benedictions when he found himself transported from the walk-up, lifted from Harlem and cold veal! Presently there would be a flower in his button-hole and everything that went with the flower.
Look for any recent pits or trenches; these show where stone or burnt brick has been dug out in modern times, and may give the position and plan of a temple or church. See if any rubbish mounds can be traced outside of the town site; usually marked by a gentle walk-up slope, and a steep thrown-down slope, and mainly consisting of pottery, e.g. Monte Testaccio at Rome, and mounds east of Cairo.
There, before her eyes, within her grasp was that miracle, a rainbow solidified, vapour made tangible, a dream no longer a dream but a palette and a palette that you could toss in the air, put in the bank, secrete or squander, a palette with which you could paint the hours and make them twist to jewelled harps. No more walk-up! Good-bye, kitchy! Harlem, addio!
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