In her letters Athalie never mentioned Captain Dane; not because she
had anything to conceal regarding him or herself; but she seemed to be
aware that any mention of that friendship might not evoke a
sympathetic response from Clive.
So, in her last letter, as in the others, she had not spoken of
Captain Dane. Yet, now, he was the only man with whom she ever went
anywhere and whom she received at her own apartment.
He had a habit of striding in two or three evenings in a week,--a big,
fair, broad-shouldered six-footer, with sun-narrowed eyes of arctic
blue, a short blond moustache, and skin permanently burned by the
unshadowed glare of many and tropic days.
They went about together on Sundays, usually; sometimes in hot weather
to suburban restaurants for dinner and a breath of air, sometimes to
roof gardens.
Why he lingered in town--for he seemed always to be at leisure--she
did not know. And she wondered a little that he should elect to remain
in the heat-cursed city whence everybody else she knew had fled.
Dane was a godsend to her. With him she went to the Bronx Zoological
Park several times, intensely interested in what he had to say
concerning the creatures housed there, and shyly proud and delighted
to meet the curators of the various departments who all seemed to know
Dane and to be on terms of excellent fellowship with him.
With him she visited the various museums and art galleries; and went
with him to concerts, popular and otherwise; and took long trolley
rides with him on suffocating evenings when the poor slept on the
grass in the parks and the slums, east and west, presented endless
vistas of panting nakedness prostrate under a smouldering red moon.
Every diversion he offered her helped to sustain her courage; every
time she lunched or dined with him meant more to her than he dreamed
it meant. Because her savings were ebbing fast, and she had not yet
been able to find employment.
Some things she would not do--write to her sisters for any financial
aid; nor would she go to the office of her late employers and ask for
any recommendation from Mr. Grossman which might help her to secure a
position. Never could she bring herself to do either of these things,
although the ugly countenance of necessity now began to stare her
persistently in the face.
Also she was sensitive lest Dane suspect her need and offer aid. But
how could he suspect?--with her pretty apartment filled with pretty
things, and the luxurious Hafiz pervading everything with his
incessant purring and his snowy plume of a tail waving fastidious
contentment. He fared better than did his mistress, who denied herself
that Hafiz might flourish that same tail. And after a while the girl
actually began to grow thinner from sheer lack of nourishment.