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She had not dared to offer the necessary money as an outright loan, realising that the girl would have refused it on Tony's behalf peremptorily, so she had inwardly resolved to redeem the bills Brett held without consulting her. She opened a small, ivory-mounted wrist-bag she carried, and withdrew a bundle of crisp Bank of England notes.
"I told you Harry Mansbach would fix you up." She clasped her wrist-bag carefully over the bulk of a thick envelope and turned her shining face full upon him. "On deck A, too, right with the best!" He steered her by a light pressure of her arm into the up-town flux of the sidewalk. "If I was a right smart kind of a fellow I never would have helped you to get those cabins." "Oh, Mr. Shapiro!"
Aunt Hannah, why does a baby think that everything, from his own toes to his father's watch fob and the plush balls on a caller's wrist-bag, is made to eat? As if I could sterilize everything, and keep him from getting hold of germs somewhere!" "You'll have to have a germ-proof room for him," laughed Alice Greggory, playfully snapping her fingers at the baby in Aunt Hannah's lap.
Yet there was a sort of comfortable detachment about him which precluded the belief that it was a mere paralyzing shyness that held him there. Paula abandoned her intention of walking by. She stopped instead as she came up to him and said, "Are you coming in here? If you are, I'll let you in." She fished an explanatory latch-key out of her wrist-bag as she went up the steps.
"We'll give in. Four hundred" he began making out the check, but his hand hung over it a moment "and fifty. How's that?" Rose drew in a long breath. "That's all right," she said. It was just as she turned away with the check made out to Doris Dane in her wrist-bag, that the mystery of that phantom hundred dollars solved itself.
"Well, of all the nerve!" She would not meet his gaze, and swung her little leather wrist-bag back and forward by its strap. "I dare you to get on the Elevated with me and ride out with me to Bronx Park for a sniff of the country." "I should say not! I got to go buy a steamer-trunk and a whole list of things mamma gave me and then hurry home and help. Maybe maybe some other day."
But Miss Stella had stepped forward, put her soft hand on the patient's pulse; and then, with a quick whisper to Father Tom, she had dropped her flowers, opened the little wrist-bag they had concealed, and proceeded to "do things," just what sort of things Dan did not know.
She fumbled in the wrist-bag she carried, and withdrawing a crumpled sheet of notepaper held it out. Magda took it from her mechanically, recognising, with a queer tightening of the muscles of her throat, the boyish handwriting which sprawled across it. "You want me to read this?" she asked. "You've got to read it," replied the other harshly. "It is written to you. I found it after he'd gone."
A court-martial was coming to him and so he had been glum; but not now. He went around decks smiling, with a little steel thing that looked like a wrist-bag but wasn't. It held the keys to the magazines.
Then, with the utmost speed, she did her hair and dressed. She was very cold and shivery, and put on her fur coat and cap. She hunted out two jerseys for the baby, and a certain old camel's-hair shawl. She took a few little things she was fondest of and slipped them into her wrist-bag with her purse, put on her hat and a pair of gloves.
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