Valley Of The Moon. Jack London

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СКАЧАТЬ Mary said, with a harshness that her free hand belied as it caressed his hair with soothing strokes. "Buck up, Bert. Everything's all right. And now it's up to Bill to say something after your dandy spiel."

      Bert recovered himself quickly with another glass of wine.

      "Kick in, Bill," he cried. "It's your turn now."

      "I'm no hotair artist," Billy grumbled. "What'll I say, Saxon? They ain't no use tellin' 'em how happy we are. They know that."

      "Tell them we're always going to be happy," she said. "And thank them for all their good wishes, and we both wish them the same. And we're always going to be together, like old times, the four of us. And tell them they're invited down to 507 Pine Street next Sunday for Sunday dinner.-And, Mary, if you want to come Saturday night you can sleep in the spare bedroom."

      "You've told'm yourself, better'n I could." Billy clapped his hands. "You did yourself proud, an' I guess they ain't much to add to it, but just the same I'm goin' to pass them a hot one."

      He stood up, his hand on his glass. His clear blue eyes under the dark brows and framed by the dark lashes, seemed a deeper blue, and accentuated the blondness of hair and skin. The smooth cheeks were rosy-not with wine, for it was only his second glass-but with health and joy. Saxon, looking up at him, thrilled with pride in him, he was so well-dressed, so strong, so handsome, so clean-looking-her man-boy. And she was aware of pride in herself, in her woman's desirableness that had won for her so wonderful a lover.

      "Well, Bert an' Mary, here you are at Saxon's and my wedding supper. We're just goin' to take all your good wishes to heart, we wish you the same back, and when we say it we mean more than you think we mean. Saxon an' I believe in tit for tat. So we're wishin' for the day when the table is turned clear around an' we're sittin' as guests at your weddin' supper. And then, when you come to Sunday dinner, you can both stop Saturday night in the spare bedroom. I guess I was wised up when I furnished it, eh?"

      "I never thought it of you, Billy!" Mary exclaimed. "You're every hit as raw as Bert. But just the same…"

      There was a rush of moisture to her eyes. Her voice faltered and broke. She smiled through her tears at them, then turned to look at Bert, who put his arm around her and gathered her on to his knees.

      When they left the restaurant, the four walked to Eighth and Broadway, where they stopped beside the electric car. Bert and Billy were awkward and silent, oppressed by a strange aloofness. But Mary embraced Saxon with fond anxiousness.

      "It's all right, dear," Mary whispered. "Don't be scared. It's all right. Think of all the other women in the world."

      The conductor clanged the gong, and the two couples separated in a sudden hubbub of farewell.

      "Oh, you Mohegan!" Bert called after, as the car got under way. "Oh, you Minnehaha!"

      "Remember what I said," was Mary's parting to Saxon.

      The car stopped at Seventh and Pine, the terminus of the line. It was only a little over two blocks to the cottage. On the front steps Billy took the key from his pocket.

      "Funny, isn't it?" he said, as the key turned in the lock. "You an' me. Just you an' me."

      While he lighted the lamp in the parlor, Saxon was taking off her hat. He went into the bedroom and lighted the lamp there, then turned back and stood in the doorway. Saxon, still unaccountably fumbling with her hatpins, stole a glance at him. He held out his arms.

      "Now," he said.

      She came to him, and in his arms he could feel her trembling.

      BOOK II

      CHAPTER I

      The first evening after the marriage night Saxon met Billy at the door as he came up the front steps. After their embrace, and as they crossed the parlor hand in hand toward the kitchen, he filled his lungs through his nostrils with audible satisfaction.

      "My, but this house smells good, Saxon! It ain't the coffee-I can smell that, too. It's the whole house. It smells… well, it just smells good to me, that's all."

      He washed and dried himself at the sink, while she heated the frying pan on the front hole of the stove with the lid off. As he wiped his hands he watched her keenly, and cried out with approbation as she dropped the steak in the fryin pan.

      "Where'd you learn to cook steak on a dry, hot pan? It's the only way, but darn few women seem to know about it."

      As she took the cover off a second frying pan and stirred the savory contents with a kitchen knife, he came behind her, passed his arms under her arm-pits with down-drooping hands upon her breasts, and bent his head over her shoulder till cheek touched cheek.

      "Um-um-um-m-m! Fried potatoes with onions like mother used to make. Me for them. Don't they smell good, though! Um-um-m-m-m!"

      The pressure of his hands relaxed, and his cheek slid caressingly past hers as he started to release her. Then his hands closed down again. She felt his lips on her hair and heard his advertised inhalation of delight.

      "Um-um-m-m-m! Don't you smell good-yourself, though! I never understood what they meant when they said a girl was sweet. I know, now. And you're the sweetest I ever knew."

      His joy was boundless. When he returned from combing his hair in the bedroom and sat down at the small table opposite her, he paused with knife and fork in hand.

      "Say, bein' married is a whole lot more than it's cracked up to be by most married folks. Honest to God, Saxon, we can show 'em a few. We can give 'em cards and spades an' little casino an' win out on big casino and the aces. I've got but one kick comin'."

      The instant apprehension in her eyes provoked a chuckle from him.

      "An' that is that we didn't get married quick enough. Just think. I've lost a whole week of this."

      Her eyes shone with gratitude and happiness, and in her heart she solemnly pledged herself that never in all their married life would it be otherwise.

      Supper finished, she cleared the table and began washing the dishes at the sink. When he evinced the intention of wiping them, she caught him by the lapels of the coat and backed him into a chair.

      "You'll sit right there, if you know what's good for you. Now be good and mind what I say. Also, you will smoke a cigarette.-No; you're not going to watch me. There's the morning paper beside you. And if you don't hurry to read it, I'll be through these dishes before you've started."

      As he smoked and read, she continually glanced across at him from her work. One thing more, she thought-slippers; and then the picture of comfort and content would be complete.

      Several minutes later Billy put the paper aside with a sigh.

      "It's no use," he complained. "I can't read."

      "What's the matter?" she teased. "Eyes weak?"

      "Nope. They're sore, and there's only one thing to do 'em any good, an' that's lookin' at you."

      "All right, then, baby Billy; I'll be through in a jiffy."

      When she had washed the dish towel and scalded out the sink, СКАЧАТЬ