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Updated: June 27, 2025
All they want is to have it over." "I guess I feel the same way." Frank's eyes were downcast. Sometimes Frank met Norah France at Aleta's apartment, but she carefully avoided further mention of the topic they had talked of on election night. Frank liked her poetry. With a spirit less morbid she would have made a name for herself he thought. Aleta was doing more and more settlement work.
Frank, with a strange, empty feeling, retraced his way, fought a path by means of sheer will and the virtue of his police badge across Market street, and struck out toward Lafayette Square. Scarcely realizing it, he was bound for Aleta's apartment. A warped shaft had incapacitated the automatic elevator, so he climbed three flights of stairs and found Aleta packing.
Then, "Aleta's father was a circus rider?" "Acrobat. Yes, he was killed when she was quite a child." "But she remembers him; they were married, her mother" and he." "Why, yes, I suppose so ... naturally." There was another silence. Suddenly he turned on her, perplexed. "Bertha, what is wrong with you tonight?"
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