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Updated: June 29, 2025
It was considerable satisfaction to think that Sprudell had had to pay for his perfidy and she would benefit by it. The last thing that Helen had expected to do was to cry, but the money meant so much to her just then; her relief was so great that the tears welled into her eyes.
To marry Sprudell meant immunity from freezing on street corners, from mental and physical exhaustion, from the rebuffs which were a part of her work and which hurt far worse than anyone guessed because she could never regard them as impersonal. Women were making such exchanges every day and with less excuse for luxury or position merely but could she do it?
"It did look as though he wanted to give that impression." Bruce was absurdly pleased to find himself alone with her, but Helen's eyes did not soften and her voice was distant as she said, moving toward the nearest parlor: "If you have anything to say to me, please be brief. I must be going." "I want to know what Sprudell has told you that you should look at me almost as if you hated me?"
It was disappointing to Sprudell nothing like the Western plays at tragic moments; no long handshakes and heart-breaking speeches of farewell from the "rough diamonds." "S' long," said Uncle Bill. He polished a place on the window-pane with his elbow and watched Burt's struggle with the cold and wind and snow begin. "Pure grit, that feller," when, working like a snowplow, Bruce had disappeared.
Although Sprudell was impaled on the thick, sharp thorns like a naturalist's captive butterfly, he scarcely breathed, much less attempted to get up. "Bill, I was near the gates," said Sprudell solemnly when Griswold, at no small risk to himself, had snaked him back to solid ground. "Fortuna audaces juvat!"
She never had heard from him directly since, but she had kept her childish, unreasoning faith that he would make good his boast and compensate her for her share of the fortune which it had cost to save him from his evil deeds. She had not realized until Sprudell had told her of his death how strongly she had counted upon him.
Besides" she glanced at the wrist watch beneath the frill of her coat sleeve "the first edition goes to press at eleven-forty-five, and I would like to have time to do your story justice." Mr. Sprudell reluctantly folded his oratorical pinions and dived to earth.
She had intended to tell him of Sprudell, to show him Smaltz's confession, and the options which would defeat Sprudell's plotting, but in the face of his narrow obstinacy, his deep prejudices, she felt the futility of words or argument. She had not for a moment counted upon such opposition; now she felt helpless, impotent before this armor of hardness. "I don't care what he's had to fight.
He lingered a moment to watch Bruce walk across the office and he noticed how he towered almost head and shoulders above the clerk at the desk: and he saw also, how, in spite of his ill-fitting clothes so obviously ready-made, he commanded, without effort, the attention and consideration for which, in his heart, Sprudell knew that he himself had to pay and pose and scheme.
But mostly his thoughts were a jumble of Sprudell, of his insincere cordiality and the unexpected denouement when Abe Cone's call had forced his hand; of Dill and his mission, and disgust at his own carelessness in failing to record his claims.
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