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Kemp, Harry, 1883-1960

"Tramping on Life An Autobiographical Narrative"


"You forget, Mrs. Jenkins, that he is my father."
"You shan't go in ... please, Johnnie ... let him sleep just a little
longer ... as soon as he wakes he asks for another drink!"
"And who put him in this state?" I charged directly, vividly remembering
what Hartman had said....
"What, you don't mean to insinuate?"--she gasped.
"I mean nothing, only that I have come home to take care of my father,
till his lodge takes charge of him, and that, for the present, I want
you to please leave me alone with him."
Her small, black pupils dilated angrily. But she did not press the point
of her staying. She had put her hand on my arm cajolingly, but I had
shook it off with such evident disgust--founded partly and secretly on a
horror of physical attraction for her--that drew my morbid, starved
nature--
"Very well!... but I'll be back this afternoon, early. When he wakes up
and asks for a drink of whiskey ... starts out to get one ... draw him a
glass of water from the faucet, and take your oath that it's whiskey ...
he'll believe you and drink it!"
And she departed, an odor of strong perfume in her wake.
* * * * *
Had this planet of earth been populated from without?... there were
evidently two races on it--the race of men--the race of women--men had
voyaged in from some other world in space women had done the like from
their world .


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