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Updated: May 12, 2025
Claire calmed the woman; bound up her hair; washed her face which needed it; and sat on the log doorstep, holding Dlorus's head in her lap, while Dlorus sobbed, "Pinky dead! Him that was so lively! And he was so sweet a lover, oh, so sweet.
Dusk had sneaked up on them; the clearing was full of swimming grayness, and between the woman's screams, the woods crackled. Each time Dlorus spoke, her screech was like that of an animal in the woods, and round about them crept such sinister echoes that Milt kept wanting to look back over his shoulder. "Yes," sighed Claire at last, "perhaps we'd better go." "If you go, I'll kill myself!
Take me to Mr. Kloh! Oh, he was My husband, Mr. Kloh. Oh, so good. Only he didn't understand a lady has to have her good times, and Pink danced so well " Dlorus sprang up, flung into the cabin, stood in the dimness of the doorway, holding a butcher knife and clamoring, "I will! I'll kill myself if you leave me! Take me down to Mr. Kloh, at North Yakima, tonight!" Milt sauntered toward her.
Father would forbid me. Try not to get him just tell Dr. Beach where we're going, and hang up, and scoot!" All night they drove; down the Pacific side of Blewett Pass; down the sweeping spirals to a valley. Dlorus drowsed in the extra seat. Claire's sleepy head was fantastically swaying.
Oh, I was mad; so wrought up by that idiotic chase with Dlorus, and so sure I was a romantic heroine and And I'm simply an indecisive girl in a realistic muddle!"
"Damn you, with your smug-faced husband there, and your fine auto and all, butting into poor folks' troubles!" shrieked Dlorus. Claire stumbled to her feet, stood with her clenched right hand to her trembling lips, cupping it with her nervous left hand. Her shoulders were dejected. Milt pleaded, "Let's hike out. I don't mind decent honest grease, but this place look in at table!
Oh, wait till I get hold of him; just wait!" Claire thought of the still hand so still that she had seen under the edge of the upturned car. She tried to speak, while the woman raved on, wrath feeding wrath: "Thank God, I ain't really his wife! My husband is a fine man Mr. Kloh Dlorus Kloh, my name is. Mr. Kloh's got a fine job with the mill, at North Yakima. Oh, I was a fool!
Kloh came home for lunch, and while Dlorus sat on his lap in the living-room, and repeated that she had been a "bad, naughty, 'ittle dirl what did the fellows say at the mill?" Milt and Claire sat dumpily on the back porch, regarding scenery which featured of seven tin cans, a broken patent washing-machine, and a rheumatic pear tree. "I suppose we ought to start," groaned Claire.
They came into North Yakima at breakfast time, and found the house of Mr. Kloh, a neat, bare, drab frame box, with tight small front and back yards. Dlorus was awake, and when she wasn't yawning, she was enjoying being hysterical. "Miss Boltwood," she whined, "you go in and jolly him up." Milt begged, "Better let me do it, Claire." They looked squarely at each other.
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