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Updated: August 3, 2024
"If you will go back I will show it to you from the inside, Miss Wayland." Cherry enjoyed her start at the name and the look of cold hostility that followed. "You have the advantage of me," said Mildred. "I did not think we had met. You are ?" She raised her brows, inquiringly. "Cherry Malotte, of course." "I remember. Mr. Marsh spoke of you." "I am sorry." "I beg your pardon?"
There were facts which it was imperative she should know, and immediately; therefore, a few minutes later, she knocked at the door of Cherry Malotte. When the girl appeared, Helen was astonished to see that she had been crying. Tears burn hottest and leave plainest trace in eyes where they come most seldom.
The president of the Trust turned, and, followed by his lieutenant, left the room without another word. Cherry Malotte, coming down to the cannery on her daily visit, saw Willis Marsh and Mr. Wayland leaving it. Wondering, she hurried into the main building in search of Boyd.
"Whiskey!" he said, thickly, to the waiter. "Bring it to me fast. Don't you hear? Whiskey!" Across the theatre Cherry Malotte had seen him enter and jerk the curtains together. She arose and went to him, entering without ceremony. "What's the matter, boy?" she questioned. "Ah! I am glad you came. Talk to me." "Thank you for your few well-chosen remarks," she laughed.
To Cherry Malotte this had been a voyage of dreams; for once away from land, Boyd had become his real self again that genial, irrepressible self she had seen but rarely and his manner had lost the restraint and coolness which recently had disturbed their relations. Of necessity their cramped environment had thrown them much together, and their companionship had been most pleasant.
Well, but for Miss Malotte some of your fishermen would have starved this winter, and you might have been short- handed next year." "We give them work. Why should we support them?" "I don't know of any legal reason, and ethics don't count for much up there. Nevertheless, Cherry Malotte has seen to it that the children, at least, haven't suffered.
The forms she had seen approached, speaking earnestly. Instead of passing, they stopped abreast of her hiding-place; then, as they began to talk, she saw that her retreat was cut off and that she must not stir. "What brings her here?" Glenister was echoing a question of Dextry's. "Bah! What brings them all? What brought 'the Duchess, and Cherry Malotte, and all the rest?"
He spun the cylinder of his blackened Colt, while his face grew hard and vulture-like. Meanwhile, Cherry Malotte watched the hunted look in Glenister's face grow wilder and then stiffen into the stubbornness of a man at bay. The posse was at the door now, knocking. The three inside stood rigid and strained. Then Glenister tossed his burden on the bed.
If Struve talked to that other woman, why wouldn't he talk to her? She paused, changing her direction towards Front Street, revolving rapidly in her mind as she went her course of action. Cherry Malotte believed her to be an actress. Very well she would prove her judgment right.
Now she stared at her visitor inhospitably and without sign. "Will you let me come in?" Helen asked her. "I have something to say to you." When they were inside, Cherry Malotte stood and gazed at her visitor with inscrutable eyes and stony face. "It isn't easy for me to come back," Helen began, "but I felt that I had to. If you can help me, I hope you will.
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