Secret Lives by Amoss Berthe;

Author:Amoss, Berthe; [Amoss, Berthe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ig Publishing

When I finished that scene, I rushed to my Photoplay envelope and snatched Jane Whitmore out I was about to tear her up, but I couldn’t do it. Instead, I tore Edmond to little bits. Then I cried. I’d never again draw anything so beautiful as Edmond Hilary de St. Denis.

Chapter XIII

On Friday I got sick. It was easy. I didn’t try to swallow the prunes. I ate them slowly. When I came to the fourth and last, I let it slide down my throat. It came back up, bringing the first three with it. I knew by Aunt Eveline’s look that I had escaped Friday night dancing school.

“I’m not dying, Aunt Eveline,” I finally managed to say.

“Of course not, dear, of course not! To bed immediately! No school for you and no dancing school!”

That done, I had to give the appearance of regaining complete health by Saturday morning so that I could watch Tom at the track meet. It didn’t work.

“Foolhardy!” Aunt Eveline cried when I wanted to get up the next day. “You have to recuperate!”

I had just convinced her that I could recuperate as well at the track meet when Holly came.

“Why don’t you come back after lunch?” I said to Holly. “I have to go somewhere this morning.”

She looked at me carefully. “I have to go somewhere this afternoon,” she said.

“Can’t you go in the morning?”

“No.”

Pause.

“I wrote a story for you. Shall I read it?”

“By all means,” I answered. My sarcasm was always lost on Holly.

“I’ve used Jane Whitmore, of course.”

“Of course.”

“It takes place when your mother—I mean, Jane, has returned home after studying in Italy. Listen! It’s called ‘The Scarves.’ ” Holly cleared her throat and read:

“Jane Whitmore had just gotten back from Florence looking as gorgeous as ever. One afternoon, she was downtown shopping for Christmas presents when she saw George, looking lost, wandering around a counter full of scarves, a saleslady behind him, looking impatient. Jane walked over to him.

“ ‘George,’ she said softly, watching him jump.

“ ‘Oh! Oh, hello, Jane. I was trying to find something for Eveline. They all look alike.’ He picked up a scarf and looked at Jane helplessly.

“ ‘How’s this one, George?’ Jane asked, tying a white silk scarf over her hair so that just a few curls peeped out. She was standing close to him and looked up shyly.

“ ‘You—that’s a lovely scarf, Jane!’ he said.

“ ‘Now, isn’t that a perfect scarf, sir?’ the saleslady said. ‘The young lady does look sweet.’

“ ‘Yes, perfect,’ George said. ‘I’ll take it—and the grey one there. Wrap them as gifts, please. Separately.’ George smiled down at Jane.”

Holly looked at me. “The end,” she said.

“Jane wouldn’t have done that!” I said. I opened my mouth to say more and burst into tears instead.

Holly turned motherly. “Now, that’s good for you,” she said. “Cry it all out, Addie!”

I ran upstairs and threw myself on the bed. By the time I’d pulled myself together, I’d missed the track meet and there wasn’t enough left of the morning to do anything.

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