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Updated: May 2, 2025
"I poured gasoline into the ants' nests and set them on fire and now look at them!" There were a few survivors toiling among the ruins. "They are taking out the dead bodies," Jane explained. "It's so human that it's tragic. I'll never do it again." "You can't let them eat you up." "I know. It's one of the puzzles." She sat looking down at them. "How busy they are!" "Too busy," O-liver stated.
And now as he ate his sandwich there was the savor of all the gastronomic memories of a healthy and happy childhood. "It's delicious," he said, "but she'd better not mix with that crowd." "She doesn't mix," said Tommy. "She'll have to." O-liver had in mind a red-haired woman, raw-boned, with come-hither eyes. Her kind was not uncommon. Tommy's infatuation would of course elevate her to a pedestal.
First from the college, and then as the years passed from the beach resort where she had opened a tea room. She was more beautiful than ever, more wonderful. Her tea room and shop were most exclusive and artistic. "Sandwich Jane!" said O-liver. "How long ago it seems!" It was five years now and he had not seen her. And next month he was to go to Washington.
Two drunken loafers stumbled in the other day, straight from the hotel. And when I telephoned to Tillotson to come and get them he laughed at me." Tillotson was the sheriff. It was an office which he did not honor. In a month or two his term would be up. O-liver riding alone into the mountains stated the solution: "I've got to beat Tillotson." But first he had things to say to Jane.
Jane would go now and then and look at her and wonder what sort of woman this was who had laughed at O-liver. Then one day a telegram came to O-liver in his suite of rooms.
It was Tommy who found out first about Fluffy Hair. She had never cared to have the world know of her marriage. She had felt that those who loved her on the screen would prefer her fancy free. But it was known at the studio, and some one drifting up to Tinkersfield recognized O-liver and told Tommy. Tommy for once in his life was stern. "He oughta of told Jane. Somebody's got to tell her."
It was at this moment that O-liver stopped under the pepper tree. The bright light fell directly on Jane's distressed face. He saw the swept-back brightness of her hair, her clear-cut profile, her white skin, her white teeth. But he saw more than this. "By Jove," he said, "she's a lady!" If he had been talking to the men he would have said "Gosh!"
If they weren't they couldn't marry, or if they were married they had to be rich so that their wives could keep up with the wives of the other fellows who were getting rich. They had to have cars and money to spend at big hotels and for travel, money for diamonds and furs, money for everything. But here was O-liver Lee, who said lightly that money weighed upon him. He didn't want it.
Some day he expected to marry and set his wife up in a mansion in San Francisco, with seasons of rest and recreation at Del Monte and Coronado and the East. If the shoe business kept to the present rate of prosperity he would probably have millions to squander in his old age. He tried to say something of this to O-liver. "Well, will you be any happier?" asked the young man with the bare head.
Far down on the terrace two Jap gardeners clipped and cut and watered and saw nothing. "You are younger than ever," Jane said when they had clasped hands. "Will you ever grow old, O-liver?" "The men say not." He seated himself opposite her. "Jane, Jane, it's heavenly to see you. I've been starved!" She had hungered and thirsted for him. Her hand shook a little as she poured him a cup of coffee.
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