It had never occurred to her, apparently. And I could see it sink in on her now, sink and build and spread. It pushed the color out of her face, and her lips trembled.
"B-but it wasn't my fault. they can't blame me, Carl! H-how could they-they wouldn't blame me, would they, Carl?"
"They shouldn't," I said. "I don't suppose they would, if they knew how you felt."
"Carl! What can I-My God, honey,! don't know why! didn't see that-"
I laughed softly. It was time to call a halt. Her imagination could talk a lot better to her than! could. "Gosh," I said, "look at the time. Almost eleven o'clock, and we're still fooling around with breakfast."
"But, Carl. I-"
"Forget it." I grinned at her. "What would I know about things like that? Now you run on to town."
I stood up and began clearing away the dishes. After a long moment she got up, too, but she didn't make any move toward the door.
I took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "It's like! said," I told her. "The town's getting on your nerves. You ought to run into the city for the weekend."
She smiled weakly, still pale around the gills. "Run is right. I sure as hell couldn't ride."
"Maybe you could," I said. "You got any kinfolks there? Anyone you ever visit?"
"Well, I have a sister over in the Bronx, but-"
"She'd yes for you? Give you an alibi in case Jake tried to check up?"
"Well, I don't-Why should I-?" She frowned at me, blinking; and! thought maybe I'd figured her wrong or had crowded her too hard. Then she laughed softly, huskily. "Boy!" she said, "Did I say he was slick? But look, Carl. Won't it look kind of funny if we both-?"
"We won't," I said. "You let me figure it out."
"All right, Carl." She nodded quickly. "You don't-you won't think I'm a tramp, will you? It's just that-"
"No," I said, "You're not a tramp."
"I'll go along as long as I can with a person, but when I'm through, well, I'm through. I just don't want any part of 'em any more. You understand Carl?"
"I understand," I said. "Now, beat it, will you? Or you stay here and I'll clear out. It doesn't look good for the two of us to be hanging around here alone."
"All right, honey. I'll go right now. And-oh, yes, don't bother about the dishes. Ruth can do them."
"Will you get out of here?" I said.
And she laughed and kissed me, and got out.
I cleared up the dishes and put them away. I uncovered an old rusty hammer and went out into the back yard. There was part of a packing crate lying against the alley fence. I knocked some nails out of it, walked around to the front, and went to work on that gate.
There hadn't been much of anything wrong with it in the beginning; a couple of nails in the hinges would have fixed it up fine. But just letting it go-trying to slam it when it couldn't slam had damned near wrecked it.
I was still hard at it when Kendall came home from the bakery to lunch.
"Ah," he said, approvingly, "I see you're like me, Mr. Bigelow. You like to keep busy."
"Yeah," I said. "It's something to pass the time."
"I heard about your-uh-little difficulty last night. I'm glad to see you're taking it in your stride. I-uh-don't want to seem presumptuous, but I've taken a strong personal interest in you, Mr. Bigelow. I'd have been very disappointed if you'd allowed your plans to be upset by a drunken bum."
I said, yeah, or thanks, or something of the kind.
"Well," he said, "shall we go in? I think lunch must be ready."
I told him I'd just finished breakfast. "I guess you'll be the only one eating lunch, Mr. Kendall. Mrs. Winroy's gone to town, and I don't imagine Mr. Winroy will be here either."
"I'll tell Ruthie," he said, quickly. "The poor child's liable to go to a lot of trouble for nothing."
He went on inside, and! went back to work. After a moment he came out again.
"Uh, Mr. Bigelow," he called. "Do you know where Ruth might be?"
"I haven't seen anything of her," I said. "I didn't know whether she was supposed to come home at noon."
"Of course she is! Certainly." He sounded a little annoyed. "She gets out of her last morning class at eleven, and she's always here by eleven-thirty to start fixing lunch."
"Well," I said, and picked up my hammer again. He fidgeted on the porch uncertainly.
"I can't understand it," he frowned, "She's always here by eleven-thirty. She has to be to fix lunch and get the beds made before she goes back to school."
"Yeah," I said. "I can see how she would."
I finished working on the gate. I lit a cigarette, and sat down on the steps to rest.
Ruth. Ruthie, I'd dreaded facing her after last night. She'd asked for it, creeping in on me that way, and yeah, yeah, she'd wanted it, and she'd said it was all right. But someone defenseless, someone-a baby…
But now I wanted to see her, I wanted to see her more than anything in the world. It was like part of me was missing.
I puffed at the cigarette. I flipped it away, and lit up another one. I thought about her-me-swinging along on that crutch, head down, afraid to look at people, afraid to see them looking. You do all you can, and it's still not enough. You keep your head down, knocking yourself out. You take all the shortcuts.
I got up and started around the house. I almost ran… Kendall had said she was always here by eleven-thirty. She had to be to do the things she had to do. And she'd have to race to do it. She'd have to take all the shortcuts.
I jerked the alley gate open, and looked up the line pf high board fence. I looked just as she turned into the alley, pulling herself along on the fence, using the crutch as a cane.
For a moment I was sicker than I'd been when I first got up. Then, the sickness went away, gave way to anger. I ran to meet her, cursing the whole world and everybody in it.
"For Christ's sake, honey!" I took the crutch out of her hand, and drew her arm around my shoulder, "Are you hurt? Stop a minute and get your br
"
"N-no!" she panted. "J-just let me 1-lean on you s-so
"
Her face was smudged, and the left side of her coat was all dusty and dirty. Apparently the end piece of the crutch had worked loose, and she'd taken a hell of a fall.
"Where did it happen?"! said. "Why didn't you ask someone for help? My God, baby, you shouldn't
"
"H-hurry," she gasped. "Please, C-carl."
I hurried, letting her use me as a crutch. And I didn't ask any more foolish questions. What difference did it make where the accident had happened, whether she'd been struggling for two blocks or six--two thousand miles or six thousand?
I got her across the back yard and up the steps. Hurrying, hurrying, the two of us one person. And her pounding heart, pounding so hard that it seemed to come right out through the skin, was my pounding heart,
I helped her into the kitchen and pushed her into a chair. She struggled to get up, and I pushed her down into it hard,