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Updated: June 9, 2025
Starratt even grew to fancy that there was a substantial balance left over from these alleged discounts to clients, which Brauer pocketed himself. But he had to smile and pretend that he did not suspect. Were his hands clean, after all? Well, just as soon as it was possible he intended to rid himself of Brauer. But how soon would that be possible?
With all this talk about profiteering and economy and the high cost of living, even Helen Starratt had to admit that one could go without an evening gown at two hundred dollars. But, judging from the shoppers on the street, there didn't seem to be many who intended to do without them. She began to wonder what her chances were for at least a spring tailor-made.
However, there isn't any law against it." The policy was made out and delivered to Brauer, and almost immediately he came back with a check for the premium. "They paid me at once," he exulted. Starratt refused to express any enthusiasm. Brauer sat down at a desk and drew out his check book. "I guess I might as well settle up for the other premiums I've collected," he said, "while I'm about it."
Storch continued to hang upon Fred's arm. "You told me yourself." "I told you? When?" "You were delirious for a good week... Don't you suppose you babbled then?" "How much do you know?" "Nearly everything, Fred Starratt! Nearly everything." "Even my name!" "Yes, even that." Fred stood still for a moment and he closed both his eyes. "Let's go home!" he said, hopelessly.
Still it was decent of Brauer to... "That's very kind, I'm sure. Could you give me say, five dollars?" Brauer thrust two lean, bloodless fingers into his vest pocket and drew out a crisp note. "Thanks, awfully," Starratt said, quickly, as he reached for the money. Brauer's face lit up with a swift glow of satisfaction. Starratt almost shrank back.
"Would you be ... if ... Look at me closely, Mrs. Hilmer! Have you ever seen me before?" He bent toward her. She took his face between her two clawlike fingers. Her eyes were points of greedy flame. When she finally spoke her voice had almost a pensive quality to it. "You might have been Fred Starratt, once," she said, evenly. He rose to his feet. "I knew you were not dead," he heard her saying.
Ford reached for his pen and began where he had left off at Starratt's entrance ... signing insurance policies... Starratt rose and left without a word. The interview was over. Already, in that mysterious way with which secrets flash through an office with lightninglike rapidity, a hint of Starratt's brush with Ford was illuminating the dull routine.
The dormitories were large and light and airy and scrupulously clean, but the usual institutional chill pervaded everything... Yet, for a season, Fred Starratt found all discrimination smothered in his reaction to normal sights and sounds.
The exaltation of the night before had been too violent. A great dreariness oppressed Fred Starratt. He felt the inevitable sadness of a man who had met unveiled Beauty face to face and as speedily found the vision dissolved. The tree still swept the rooms and corridors with its fragrance, but in the harsh daylight its cheap trappings gave it a wanton look.
It had gone down ingloriously in a twisting gale that had swept the garden the night before. In answer to his question, the man intent on clearing away the wreckage said: "The wind just caught it right... It was dying, anyway." Fred Starratt retraced his steps. It was as if the old tree had stood as a symbol of his own life.
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