🎧 272: Herb stood . . .

HERB STOOD at a window in the Chacallit House, smoking, looking at the moon, thinking of Lorna, trying to remember everything she had said and done, every move she’d made, the way she’d looked in every slant of light, especially the way she’d looked when she’d made him lose track of what he’d meant to say.

     How does she do that? It’s some trick she has with the way she turns her head, or the way she tilts her chin. Something. I don’t know. And quick-witted? You’ve got to hand it to her. That business with her parents. She had her mother and father thinking I was somebody else. What did she say? “They were sure they should know you, so they decided they did know you.” Something like that. I’m not sure how she did it. Maybe they had been expecting someone else, but I don’t think so. It was the way she conducted herself, as if they ought to know who I was, and she confused them. She does that to many people, I imagine. She must have the fellows in Chacallit following her in a line. How many, I wonder? Too many for her to bother with me, I guess. Why not me, though? There’s nothing wrong with me. Mr. Huber liked me; I’m sure of that. He seemed sorry for me somehow. He made me wonder whether my coat was torn or something. Still, I could tell he liked me. The mother, too. Why shouldn’t she, then? I’ve got good prospects. I probably make more money than most fellows my age in this town. Oh, don’t be foolish. She doesn’t know anything about me. I can call her Cinderella. Cinderella. Why did I let her get away with that? Aaaah, because it wasn’t worth pursuing. I’ll be gone tomorrow, and there isn’t much chance that I’ll ever be back. Good God, I didn’t mean that. I’ll be back. Knock on wood. You look out for yourself, you keep your eyes open, and you do just what you have to do, chances are good you’ll get through all right. I might get killed. I might get hurt, lose something, lose a leg, a hand, fingers. Suppose I do get killed. Suppose I do? I might. Here I am about to get killed, and I don’t have the courage to go back and talk to her, ask her to write to me. I will go back, first thing in the morning.

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