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Updated: May 13, 2025
"The little widow mourned for her husband very properly, and the young man was extremely well behaved. Well, they left last night and, after all, they were free to please themselves." Just then the side door of the restaurant, communicating with the passage of the house, opened, and Dede appeared. "Mother, ain't you coming?" she cried. "I'm waiting, you know; do be quick."
She might have met with financial disaster. It might be her way of letting him know she had seen enough of him. Or... "What's the matter?" he managed to ask. "I couldn't afford to keep her with hay forty-five dollars a ton," Dede answered.
Thus he found another card in the hand the mad god had dealt him. How important that card was to become he did not dream, yet he decided that it was a pretty good card. In turn, he doubted. Maybe it was a trick of Luck to bring calamity and disaster upon him. Suppose Dede wouldn't have him, and suppose he went on loving her more and more, harder and harder?
Once only Dede asked him if he ever regretted, and his answer was to crush her in his arms and smother her lips with his. His answer, a minute later, took speech. "Little woman, even if you did cost thirty millions, you are sure the cheapest necessity of life I ever indulged in." And then he added, "Yes, I do have one regret, and a monstrous big one, too.
But he did not know the Dede who so quickly changed from mood to mood, the Dede who refused steadfastly to ride with him and then suddenly consented, the Dede in whose eyes the golden glow forever waxed and waned and whispered hints and messages that were not for his ears. In all such things he saw the glimmering profundities of sex, acknowledged their lure, and accepted them as incomprehensible.
To his homely, frontier-trained mind, it seemed curious that a nice young woman should have such a bold, if not sinful, object on display in her own room. But he reconciled himself to it by an act of faith. Since it was Dede, it must be eminently all right. Evidently such things went along with culture. Larry Hegan had similar casts and photographs in his book-cluttered quarters.
In the first place she was developing a cough, like the one that had killed old Dede Antanas. She had had a trace of it ever since that fatal morning when the greedy streetcar corporation had turned her out into the rain; but now it was beginning to grow serious, and to wake her up at night.
He turned to Dede as soon as Hegan was gone, and took her by the hand. "And now, little woman, you needn't come to the office any more. Consider yourself discharged. And remember I was your employer, so you've got to come to me for recommendation, and if you're not real good, I won't give you one.
The tanning he had done himself, slowly and laboriously, in frontier fashion. He handed the match to Dede, who struck it and lighted the fire. The crisp manzanita wood crackled as the flames leaped up and assailed the dry bark of the larger logs. Then she leaned in the shelter of her husband's arm, and the three stood and looked in breathless suspense.
So they would have eighty-five dollars a month or, supposing that Dede Antanas did not get work at once, seventy dollars a month which ought surely to be sufficient for the support of a family of twelve. An hour before the time on Sunday morning the entire party set out. They had the address written on a piece of paper, which they showed to some one now and then.
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