The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best e reader for epub .txt) 📕

  Saura-T-Elle Repondre A L'attente Des Connaisseurs Et Realiser

  L'ideal? Elle Parait,  Vetue D'une Simple Tunique D'ecorce Qui

  Semble Cacher Sehim,  "So

Damned Sweet."

"It's Damned Good To See You," He Replied Gruffly. "Come On While I

Check This Bag. I've Only Got A Little Over Two Hours,  Cynthia; I've

Got To Get The Five-Ten Back. My Folks Will Be In Haydensville To-Morrow

Morning,  And I've Got To Get Back To Meet Them."

Her Face Clouded For An Instant,  But She Tucked Her Arm Gaily In His And

Marched With Him Across The Rotunda To The Checking Counter. When Hugh

Had Disposed Of His Bag,  He Suggested That They Go To A Little Tea Room

On Fifty-Seventh Street. She Agreed Without Argument. Once They Were In

A Taxi,  She Wanted To Snuggle Down Into His Arm,  But She Restrained

Herself; She Felt That She Had To Play Fair.

Hugh Said Nothing. He Was Trying To Think,  And His Thoughts Whirled

Around In A Mad,  Drunken Dance. He Believed That He Would Be Married

Before He Took The Train Back,  At Least Engaged,  And What Would All That

Mean? Did He Want To Get Married? God! He Didn't Know.

When At Last They Were Settled In A Corner Of The Empty Tea-Room And Had

Given Their Order,  They Talked In An Embarrassed Fashion About Their

Recent Letters,  Both Of Them Carefully Quiet And Restrained. Finally

Hugh Shoved His Plate And Cup Aside And Looked Straight At Her For The

First Time. She Was Thin,  Much Thinner Than She Had Been A Year Ago,  But

There Was Something Sweeter About Her,  Too; She Seemed So Quiet,  So

Gentle.

"We Aren't Going To Get Anywhere This Way,  Cynthia," He Said

Desperately. "We're Both Evading. I Haven't Any Sense Left,  But What I

Say From Now On I Am Going To Say Straight Out. I Swore On The Train

That I Wouldn't Kiss You. I Knew That I Wouldn't Be Able To Think If I

Did--And I Can't; All I Know Is That I Want To Kiss You Again." He

Looked At Her Sitting Across The Little Table From Him,  So Slender And

Still--A Different Cynthia But Damnably Desirable. "Cynthia," He Added

Hoarsely,  "If You Took My Hand,  You Could Lead Me To Hell."

She In Turn Looked At Him. He Was Much Older Than He Had Been A Year

Before. Then He Had Been A Boy; Now He Seemed A Man. He Had Not Changed

Particularly; He Was As Blond And Young And Clean As Ever,  But There Was

Something About His Mouth And Eyes,  Something More Serious And More

Stern,  That Made Him Seem Years Older.

"I Don't Want To Lead You To Hell,  Honey," She Replied Softly. "I Left

Prom Last Year So That I Wouldn't Do That. I Told You Then That I Wasn't

Good For You--But I'm Different Now."

"I Can See That. I Don't Know What It Is,  But You're Different,  Awfully

Different." He Leaned Forward Suddenly. "Cynthia,  Shall We Go Over To

Jersey And Get Married? I Understand That One Can There Right Away.

We're Both Of Age--"

"Wait,  Hugh; Wait." Cynthia's Hands Were Tightly Clasped In Her Lap.

"Are You Sure That You Want To? I've Been Thinking A Lot Since I Got

Your Telegram. Are You Sure You Love Me?"

He Slumped Back Into His Chair. "I Don't Know What Love Is," He

Confessed Miserably. "I Can't Find Out." Cynthia's Hands Tightened In

Her Lap. "I've Tried To Think This Business Out,  And I Can't. I Haven't

Any Right To Ask You To Marry Me. I Haven't Any Money,  Not A Bit,  And

I'm Not Prepared To Do Anything,  Either. As I Wrote You,  My Folks Want

Me To Go To Harvard Next Year." The Mention Of His Poverty And Of His

Inability To Support A Wife Brought Him Back To Something Approaching

Normal Again. "I Suppose I'm Just A Kid,  Cynthia," He Added More

Quietly,  "But Sometimes I Feel A Thousand Years Old. I Do Right Now."

"What Were Your Plans For Next Year And After That Until You Saw Me?"

Her Eyes Searched His.

"Oh,  I Thought I'd Go To Harvard A Year Or Two And Then Try To Write Or

Perhaps Teach. Writing Is Slow Business,  I Understand,  And Teaching

Doesn't Pay Anything. I Don't Want To Ask My Father To Support Us,  And I

Won't Let Your Folks. I Lost My Head When I Suggested That We Get

Married. It Would Be Foolish. I Haven't The Right."

"No," She Agreed Slowly; "No,  Neither Of Us Has The Right. I Thought

Before You Came If You Asked Me To Marry You--I Was Sure Somehow That

You Would--I Would Run Right Off And Do It,  But Now I Know That I

Won't." She Continued To Gaze At Him,  Her Eyes Troubled And Confused.

What Made Him Seem So Much Older,  So Different?

"Do You Think We Can Ever Forget Prom?" She Waited For His Reply. So

Much Depended On It.

"Of Course," He Answered Impatiently. "I've Forgotten That Already. We

Were Crazy Kids,  That's All--Youngsters Trying To Act Smart And Wild."

"Oh!" The Ejaculation Was Soft,  But It Vibrated With Pain. "You Mean

That--That You Wouldn't--Well,  You Wouldn't Get Drunk Like That Again?"

"Of Course Not,  Especially At A Dance. I'm Not A Child Any Longer,

Cynthia. I Have Sense Enough Now Not To Forfeit My Self-Respect Again. I

Hope So,  Anyway. I Haven't Been Drunk In The Last Year. A Drunkard Is A

Beastly Sight,  Rotten. If I Have Learned Anything In College,  It Is That

A Man Has To Respect Himself,  And I Can't Respect Any One Any Longer Who

Deliberately Reduces Himself To A Beast. I Was A Beast With You A Year

Ago. I Treated You Like A Woman Of The Streets,  And I Abused Norry

Parker's Hospitality Shamefully. If I Can Help It,  I'll Never Act Like A

Rotter Again,  I Hate A Prig,  Cynthia,  Like The Devil,  But I Hate A

Rotter Even More. I Hope I Can Learn To Be Neither."

As He Spoke,  Cynthia Clenched Her Hands So Tightly That The Finger-Nails

Were Bruising Her Tender Palms,  But Her Eyes Remained Dry And Her Lips

Did Not Tremble. If He Could Have Seen _Her_ On Some Parties This Last

Year....

"You Have Changed A Lot." Her Words Were Barely Audible. "You Have

Changed An Awful Lot."

He Smiled. "I Hope So. There Are Times Now When I Hate Myself,  But I

Never Hate Myself So Much As When I Think Of Prom. I've Learned A Lot In

The Last Year,  And I Hope I've Learned Enough To Treat A Decent Girl

Decently. I Have Never Apologized To You The Way I Think I Ought To."

"Don't!" She Cried,  Her Voice Vibrant With Pain. "Don't! I Was More To

Blame Than You Were. Let's Not Talk About That."

"All Right. I'm More Than Willing To Forget It." He Paused And Then

Continued Very Seriously,  "I Can't Ask You To Marry Me Now,

Cynthia--But--But Are You Willing To Wait For Me? It May Take Time,  But

I Promise I'll Work Hard."

Cynthia's Hands Clenched Convulsively. "No,  Hugh Honey," She Whispered;

"I'll Never Marry You. I--I Don't Love You."

"What?" He Demanded,  His Senses Swimming In Hopeless Confusion. "What?"

She Did Not Say That She Knew That He Did Not Love Her; She Did Not Tell

Him How Much His Quixotic Chivalry Moved Her. Nor Did She Tell Him That

She Knew Only Too Well That She Could Lead Him To Hell,  As He Said,  But

That That Was The Only Place That She Could Lead Him. These Things She

Felt Positive Of,  But To Mention Them Meant An Argument--And An

Argument Would Have Been Unendurable.

"No," She Repeated,  "I Don't Love You. You See,  You're So Different From

What I Remembered. You've Grown Up And You've Changed. Why,  Hugh,  We're

Strangers. I've Realized That While You've Been Talking. We Don't Know

Each Other,  Not A Bit. We Only Saw Each Other For A Week Summer Before

Last And For Two Days Last Spring. Now We're Two Altogether Different

People; And We Don't Know Each Other At All."

She Prayed That He Would Deny Her Statements,  That He Would Say They

Knew Each Other By Instinct--Anything,  So Long As He Did Not Agree.

"I Certainly Don't Know You The Way You're Talking Now," He Said Almost

Roughly,  His Pride Hurt And His Mind In A Turmoil. "I Know That We Don't

Know Each Other,  But I Never Thought That You Thought That Mattered."

Her Hands Clenched More Tightly For An Instant--And Then Lay Open And

Limp In Her Lap.

Her Lips Were Trembling; So She Smiled. "I Didn't Think It Mattered

Until You Asked Me To Marry You. Then I Knew It Did. It Was Game Of You

To Offer To Take A Chance,  But I'm Not That Game. I Couldn't Marry A

Strange Man. I Like That Man A Lot,  But I Don't Love Him--And You Don't

Want Me To Marry You If I Don't Love You,  Do You,  Hugh?"

"Of Course Not." He Looked Down In Earnest Thought And Then Said

Softly,  His Eyes On The Table,  "I'm Glad That You Feel That Way,

Cynthia." She Bit Her Lip And Trembled Slightly. "I'll Confess Now That

I Don't Think That I Love You,  Either. You Sweep Me Clean Off My Feet

When I'm With You,  But When I'm Away From You I Don't Feel That Way. I

Think Love Must Be Something More Than We Feel For Each Other." He

Looked Up And Smiled Boyishly. "We'll Go On Being Friends Anyhow,  Won't

We?"

Somehow She Managed To Smile Back At Him. "Of Course," She Whispered,

And Then After A Brief Pause Added: "We Had Better Go Now. Your Train

Will Be Leaving Pretty Soon."

Hugh Pulled Out His Watch. "By Jingo,  So It Will."

He Called The Waiter,  Paid His Bill,  And A Few Minutes Later They Turned

Into Fifth Avenue. They Had Gone About A Block Down The Avenue When Hugh

Saw Some One A Few Feet Ahead Of Him Who Looked Familiar. Could It Be

Carl Peters? By The Lord Harry,  It Was!

"Excuse Me A Minute,  Cynthia,  Please. There's A Fellow I Know."

He Rushed Forward And Caught Carl By The Arm. Carl Cried,  "Hugh,  By

God!" And Shook Hands With Him Violently. "Hell,  Hugh,  I'm Glad To See

You."

Hugh Turned To Cynthia,  Who Was A Pace Behind Them. He Introduced Carl

And Cynthia To Each Other And Then Asked Carl Why In The Devil He

Hadn't Written.

Carl Switched His Leg With His Cane And Grinned. "You Know Darn Well,

Hugh,  That I Don't Write Letters,  But I Did Mean To Write To You; I

Meant To Often. I've Been Traveling. My Mother And I Have Just Got Back

From A Trip Around The World. Where Are You Going Now?"

"Oh,  Golly," Hugh Exclaimed,  "I've Got To Hurry If I'm Going To Make

That Train. Come On,  Carl,  With Us To Grand Central. I've Got To Get The

Five-Ten Back To Haydensville. My Folks Are Coming Up To-Morrow For

Commencement." Instantly He Hated Himself. Why Did He Have To Mention

Commencement? He Might Have Remembered That It Should Have Been Carl's

Commencement,  Too.

Carl,  However,  Did Not Seem In The Least Disturbed,  And He Cheerfully

Accompanied Hugh And Cynthia To The Station. He Looked At Cynthia And

Had An Idea.

"Have You Checked Your Bag?"

"Yes," Hugh Replied.

"Well,  Give Me The Check And I'll Get It For You. I'll Meet You At The

Gate."

Hugh Surrendered The Check And Then Proceeded To The Gate With Cynthia.

He Turned To Her And Asked Gently,  "May I Kiss You,  Cynthia?"

For An Instant She Looked Down And Said Nothing; Then She Turned Her

Face Up To His. He Kissed Her Tenderly,  Wondering Why He Felt No

Passion,  Afraid That He Would.

"Good-By,  Cynthia Dear," He Whispered.

Her Hands Fluttered Helplessly About His Coat Lapels And Then Fell To

Her Side. She Managed A Brave Little Smile. "Good-By--Honey."

Carl Rushed Up With The Bag. "Gosh,  Hugh,  You've Got To Hurry; They're

Closing The Gate." He Gripped His Hand For A Second. "Visit Me At Bar

Harbor This Summer If You Can."

"Sure. Good-By,  Old Man. Good-By Cynthia."

"Good-By--Good-By."

Hugh Slipped Through The Gate And,  Turned To Wave At Carl And Cynthia.

They Waved Back,  And Then He Ran For The Train.

On The Long Trip To Haydensville Hugh Relaxed. Now That The Strain Was

Over,  He Felt Suddenly Weak,  But It Was Sweet Weakness. He Could

Graduate In Peace Now. The Visit To New York Had Been Worth While. And

What Do You Know,  Bumping Into Old Carl Like That I Cynthia And He Were

Friends,  Too,  The Best Friends In The World,  But She No Longer Wanted To

Marry Him. That Was Fine.... He Remembered The Picture She And Carl Had

Made Standing On The Other Side Of The Gate From Him. "What A Peach Of A

Pair. Golly,  Wouldn't