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Updated: May 24, 2025
Charity Coe Cheever was making less progress with her amateur movie-show than Kedzie with her professional cinematic career. Charity telephoned to ask Jim Dyckman to act, but he proved to be camera-shy and intractable. She had difficulties with all her cast. It was impossible to satisfy the people who were willing to act with the roles they were willing to assume.
Cheever, did you ever peel onions?" "Good Heavens, no!" said Mrs. Cheever, recoiling. "Well, there are no onions to peel," said Mrs. Kildair, laughing. "All you'll have to do is to help set the table. On to the kitchen!"
Proximity is said to breed love, but priority has its virtues no less. Skip Magruder was the first New-Yorker to help Kedzie in her hour of dismay, and she thought him a great and powerful being profoundly informed about the city of her dreams. Skip did know a thing or two possibly three. He was a New-Yorker of a sort, and he had his New York as well as Jim Dyckman had his or Peter Cheever his.
"What do you mean nearly alone?" "Well, what he had with him is my idea of next to nothing. I wonder what sinking ship Cheever rescued her from. They tell me she was a cabaret dancer named Zada L'Etoile that's French for Sadie Starr, I suppose." Dyckman's obsession escaped him. "Somebody ought to write his wife about it." "That would be nice!" cried Prissy. "Oh, very, very nice!
Even to bend and lift some one else up alongside involves a risk of falling or of being pushed overboard. But at present Jim Dyckman was thinking of the other girl, Charity Coe Cheever, perched on a peak as cold and high as his own, but far removed from his reach. Even the double seat in the sleeping-car was too small for Jim.
He waited at home and gave me a love of a call-down for my dissipation. It was a treat. I really think he was jealous." Jim Dyckman did not laugh with her. He was thinking hard. He had seen Cheever at the Biltmore, and a little later Cheever vanished. Cheever must have seen Charity Coe then. And if he saw her, he saw him. Then why had he kept silent?
Give it to that wife you love so much and wouldn't suspect no matter what she did. You love her so much that you wouldn't let her go even if she wanted to leave you. So go back to her and take these things to her with my comp'ments." Now it was Cheever who wanted to scream as he had not screamed since he was the purple-faced boy who used to kick the floor and his adoring nurse.
Cheever had a favor to ask; so he put the charge more mildly now than he had in his first bewildered rage. He accepted Charity's silence as pleading guilty. So he went on: "The fact that you chose Dyckman for your authorized thug and bravo proves what I have thought for some time, that you love him and he loves you.
Charity pondered, and then she said, "And where do you toddle off to?" "Does that interest you?" "Anything that concerns your welfare interests me." "I see. Well, don't worry about me." "There's no hurry, of course?" "Not on my part," said Cheever. "But Dyckman must be growing impatient, since he tries to murder me to save the lawyer's fees." "Well, if you're in no hurry, Peter, I'm not.
She had, however, ghastly evidence that Cheever was only now the rake reformed; his marriage had been merely one of his escapades; he had settled down now to monogamy with Zada, and she was his wife in all but style and title. There was more of Darby and Joan than of Elvira and Don Juan in their conversation.
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