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Updated: June 24, 2025
She said nothing for a moment, and he bluntly demanded, "I was wondering what was in your thoughts just then." Miss Terroll bent forward to look up the avenue before she answered. The 'buses were not running close together at this hour and the lamps of the nearest were still two blocks away. "If I tell you, will you tell me why you spoke my name so chidingly?"
"We've both been on our own for some time in a town where there are more Don Juans than Walter Raleighs and we're both straight. To the women of your protected set that wouldn't be so much to brag of about as much as for a millionaire to boast that he'd never picked a pocket. None of those sheltered girls in your own world, where women nibble at life like bon-bons, have anything on Marcia Terroll.
He gathered that the distinguishing difference between triumph and struggle on the stage was that the managers sent for the triumphant and the struggling called uninvited. As Paul helped Miss Terroll out of the 'bus and walked at her side the short distance between the terminal of its route and the south side of the Square he said abruptly: "Some day I want you to do something for me." "What?"
If Mary needed a final twisting of the knife in her wounded life it came when there stood between them and the streets a single asset, and she went to realize on that, haggling with a pawnbroker over her engagement ring. Marcia Terroll came back to town for a brief stay between engagements and stopped with Dorothy Melliss at their old rooms.
So Paul kept flowers on each side of the frame, and made of it a sort of shrine. And yet, sometimes, when he had said good-bye to her after a luncheon or tea together, he would turn his car southward and find himself driving down the avenue to Washington square and the old house on the south side, to invite Marcia Terroll for a spin beside him.
Haswell set down his glass half-empty. "No good," he muttered as he rose and went out again into the streets. "One can't be alone." Yet he felt very much alone. In these days Paul Burton found his thoughts turning often to Marcia Terroll and himself becoming more dependent on her companionship.
"I must see more of Miss Terroll," he informed himself. "She is decidedly interesting." Hamilton Burton shoved back a mass of papers and smiled across his desk at his secretary. "Carl, do you chance to recall what General Forrest of the late Confederate States of America had to say on the subject of strategy?"
It was Miss Terroll and again she was alone. Once more she impressed him as someone purring with pleasure, and when the performance ended he found himself on the sidewalk whimsically waiting for her to come down from her dollar seat, among the gallery gods.
Haswell, but her quick intuition told her he was deeply troubled and her quicker sympathy responded. Sometimes Paul longed to see Loraine, but after each visit to the tiny apartment where Marcia Terroll and a girl who drew fashion illustrations had set up their household gods, the vision of his far-away Cleopatra grew a shade dimmer and a trifle more impersonal.
And though he did not know it, Marcia Terroll, even this soon, saw in him a nature full of tuneful sweetness, but very weak, and realized that he was an instrument upon which a strong hand could play to an end of harmony or discord an instrument upon which his great brother had already played, and which his great brother did not in the least comprehend.
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