Magnificent Obsession by Lloyd C. Douglas

Author:Lloyd C. Douglas [Douglas, Lloyd C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Near death experiences -- Fiction, Philanthropists -- Fiction, Physicians -- Fiction
Publisher: Standard Ebooks
Published: 2025-01-01T09:01:00+00:00

* * *

The crisp blast of cold air swept Joyce back to partial consciousness.

A waiting taxi drove up under the porte-cochère. Bobby lifted her in, told the grinning driver to head east on the boulevard and he’d let him know presently where they wanted to go, and seated himself beside her.

Confusedly she recognized him, looked up dully into his face and mumbled thickly, “Oh, Bobby, you came at last, didn’t you? I’ve waited so long! I’ve wanted you so!”

She nestled her head against his shoulder, and he put his arm around her, spared the necessity of replying, for her revival was brief. In a moment she slumped and slept.

Now he’d got her, what should he do with her? It occurred to him he might take her some place and sober her up before presenting her at home, an idea he instantly rejected. She wouldn’t be even approximately normal for hours. Joyce was drunk, and no mistake! … Had he really done her a good turn with his swashbuckling excursion into her affairs? Perhaps it would result in more damaging notoriety for her than had she been left to go her own gait … Could he and Tom Masterson ever be friends again? … Doubtful.

The driver turned his head for definite instructions, and Bobby gave Joyce’s address. He’d have to take her home. Maybe he could put her into the house without stirring it up. He shook her awake as they neared the corner.

“Joyce! Where is your house-key?”

She began to fumble with her coat, and, acting on the clue, he discovered it in an inside pocket. The taxi drew up at the kerb and the driver obeyed his fare’s order to shut off the engine and wait.

Rousing, as the cold air rushed in through the opened door, Joyce twined her arms about Bobby’s neck and kissed him on the cheek. He was bleeding, but she was too far gone to notice.

It was easier to carry than drag her. The front door was quickly reached, opened and closed quietly. He remembered the appointments of the house. Depositing her on the davenport in the living-room, he drew off her slippers and covered her with a heavy steamer rug. Her face was bloody. That would undoubtedly call for explanations which would drag out the whole story, adding even more discredit to her plight and more chagrin to someone else whose dignity better deserved protection.

Presuming there must be a lavatory on the main floor, he looked about for it, and having made experimental forays into two coat closets, finally discovered the little wash room off the library; dampened a towel, and was on his way back with it when he heard a throaty voice that had never quite left his consciousness. It so completely bridged the weeks that it seemed to take on exactly where it had left off, “Good night, then—and thank you so much!”—“Joyce, you’ve been hurt!”

There was no reply … and a moment’s silence. Doubtless she was noticing the light in the library. Perhaps she had observed his coat, tossed across a chair.

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