.. for Sea Girt.
An old cabman who drove a dilapidated rig hailed us with uplifted whip.
"We are looking for a place to board."
"I'll take you to a nice, quiet place, just suited to two home-loving
folks like you," he replied, thinking he had paid us a compliment, and
whipping up his ancient nag.
Hildreth gave me a nudge and a merry look and it pleased me to see she
still had her sense of humour left.
That night, as I held her in my arms, "Don't let these little, trivial
inconveniences and incidents--the petty persecutions we are undergoing,
have any effect on our great love," I pleaded.
"That's all very well, darling Johnnie, but where are we going to?"
"We'll find a cottage somewhere ... a pretty little cottage within our
means," I replied, visioning a vine-trellised place such as poets and
their brides must live in.
"Our money is giving out ... soon we'll have--to turn back to New York!"
"If we do, that need not part us.... I'll get a job on some newspaper or
magazine and take care of you."
* * * * *
When I called for my mail at the Sea Girt post office, sure of hearing
from Darrie, anyhow,--who promised us she would keep us posted, I found
no letter. And the man at the window was certain he had handed over
several letters addressed to me to someone else who had called for them,
giving my name as his.
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