He had asked me
to wait with such solemnity that I stuck still in my tracks, waiting.
He disappeared into the big house, to re-emerge with, of all things,
_the coffee percolator_!
"Here!" he exclaimed, holding out the object to me ceremoniously and
seriously, "you can take this to your goddess, this poison-machine, and
lay it on her altar. Tell her I offered this to you. Tell her that it is
a symbol of her never coming back here again."
Here was where I too lacked a sense of humour. I struck the coffee
percolator out of his hands. I stalked off.
* * * * *
On the way to New York I built the full dream of what Hildreth and I
were to effect for the world--a practical example, in our life as we
lived it together, of the rightness of free love....
We would test it out, would rent a cottage somewhere, preferably on the
Jersey coast near the sea shore ... autumn was coming on, and there
would be lovely, crystal-clear weather ... and the scent of pines in the
good air.
* * * * *
Perhaps Penton, Hildreth and I could all three join in amicable accord,
over the solution of our difficulty, along radical and idealistic lines.
* * * * *
I hurried to the address given me by Hildreth. She was not in, but her
mother was ... a plump, rather good looking, fashionably dressed woman.
Pages:
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601