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About Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012 | View Entire Issue (May 10, 1952)
A OUICK (lurry of miow shrouded tin: street ^ ^ lump mill swirled close around tin: figure of a woman who walk' d rapidly, her head hent. She puused in from ol a "mail drugstore and atUIU’ied the wet "now olf her shoes. Pushing open the door, "lie "li pped into the loo-warm lirightne-s of l In- over -"locked room. Removing a hlue "ilk handana, "lie "hook the «now from it and carefully spread it over the end of the counter and "lid onto a "tool. “Kvening, Kloiso.” The "light, grey man put aside hi" newspaper and peered at her over Ids glasses. “Hello, Mr. Simmons.” Ih r voice was flat She was not aware that she was Marine at him until hr smiled and said, “good evening. She smiled briefly and turned hack to her cof fer, Nor did »hr look at him when he sat on the stool beside her. She could smell the damp ness of his overcoat, mingled with a faint odor of tobacco and whiskey. She waited until he ordered coffee before "he stole a look at him. His thin shoulders were hunched over the counter and the skin, stretched taut over the angular features of his face, was reddened with cold. Before she could turn her eyes uway, he was smiling at her again. “Some weather, huh To Go ByNigkt By Jo Morton Sujihomorr in l.il/crul Art unil nasal. "Could >uu got nit? wim1 mure of those pills fot \unt Florence and coffee. "Mi/. Henderson not feeling any lirtti-i ." he asked, -ett ing: a steaming runs lie fore fur. .She dumped Inn .spoonfuls of sugar into the t iTflee and stirred savagely . “No,” she said. It vs as the same. It was a re-enaetment of a scene that had changed little now that she was a woman in her late twenties instead of a shy. frightened child of ten who was not yel ac customed to the chronically ill aunt with the lashing tongue and the hard eyes, so different from those of her not-yct-forgottcn mother. Mr. Simmon.' toller©*] behind the prescrip tions filled here” >ipn and returned with a .-•mall Imltle tv*islcd into a piece of hluc wrap ping paper. “Medicine " ninely-hve cents. lie "aid. and "lie handed him the twenty dollar hill her aunt had given her. W hen lie brought her change, he "aid. ' Hear von ipiit your j oh down at I he court If oil."e. “Ye"” she drunk a -ip of coffee. “Aunt Florence needed me. She could feel him looking at her with hi" weak, pitying eye", hut "he stared into her cup until lie moved away and picked tip his news paper. A chill blast turned her attention to the door through which a man had entered, lie was tall and wore a heavy overcoat of gtev tweed. Hi" • ■head was hare and the snow glistened white und dump eu his Jatk he:r s She nodded. “ \nd some town you live here ;’" “Yes,” Kloise said. Il was the fir~t time -he had felt embarrass nient. or any other emotion, concerning the staid \illage. “I suppose it isn't much." “Oh. I diiln't mean that.” he said, sipping at his coffee. “Small towns are all right. I guess I'm just griped because they don’t have train service through here. I hate busses. "Me. too," she said, and wondered if he could tell that she had neser traveled any wav except by bus. and then only to Milton, forty miles away. "Do you travel a lot.'1"’ she asked, and was shocked at her audacity. “Quite a bit." he grinned, setting his cup on the counter. "1 can t seem to stay put—itchy feet. 1 guess. Hut 1 like to travel and sec new places and new people. Someday, 1 suppose. I'll settle down in some quiet town. U ho knows," he laughed, “il might be right here in— “Mayfield." slu' finished for him. Mu' smiled into her cup. lie probably didn t hm>w how ridiculous a picture it was. him set tling down in Mayfield, planting hi' vitalitv in the decaying town and allowing the cloying \ inr' to strangle the life from him. “How about you.''" lie said. "Do you trascl much?" “No. Not much." “That's too bad. I was hoping maybe you were going somewhere tonight, too—on my bus.” Mr. .Simmons was at the far end of the counter. “As a matter of fact," she said suddenly, "I am." Ilis eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. "(rood," he 'aid. “south? How far? She thought of the nineteen dollars in her pll I SC. "Onlv as fat a: Milton." she said. "I 1! take the train from there to—to Chicago, later. Only as far as Milton or all the way to Chi cago—did it matter how far ? Her hands clutched the edge of the counter anil she turned her face slightly away from him. Could lie detect the heating of her pulse? “Milton.” he mused. “Well, it isn't far. hut it’s something. I hope,” he added, "that you won’t go to sleep like everyone else. “No,” she said, “I won’t go to sleep.” “fin not taking any chances.” He laughed and signaled Mr. Simmons to refill their cups. "1 want someone to talk to. ’ She was glad that they drank their coffee without talking. The excitement within her was too great and she wanted only to feel the thrill of it without speaking. There was nine teen dollars in her purse lying there on the counter, and she would get on the hus with this man and he carried away into the night— a- far as nineteen dollars worth. After that, what? But there wa- nothing after that. There was just a 1ms in the darkness and when the sun came up she would look out the windows and she would not see Mayfield or the grey wall- of her room in the red brick house. “Hey,” he said, startling her. “it’s almost a half-hour before bus time. Let’s walk. I like walking in the snow. “Yes. let’s do." He stood waiting while she tied on her ban dana. She picked up tile blue-wrapped pa< k age and, outside, let it fall into a drifted pile of snow. She was surprised to find that the cold did not chill her. It only made her skin tingle ■which added to the fire that burned inside of lier. She yanked the bandana off her head and shook her hair hack from her shoulders. “Hey,” lie said, “you mustn't do that, "’lull'll catch cold." “Oh. no. 1 often walk in the snow like this." He laughed and she laughed with him. He took her hand and swung it as a school boy might have done, and they laughed some more with the snow in their face'. They walked to the end of the block before cither of them -poke. She said, "It must be exciting to travel as you do.” And he said, “Yes. It's good to be moving and free, and part of things without being tied by them. I want to travel and travel till I’ve, sren everything and by that time I II be an old man. ready to die. And I won't have any roots or even anyone to i are." He grinned dow n at her. “Do you mind t’ she said. “No," he answered. “1 don't like roots. ’ They walked several blocks and when they came to the bus station, the bus was loading a line of half-asleep people, who stood and blinked stupidly in the light. The exhaust from the idling motor sent a wisp of vapor into the air. and the vibrations echoed dully in the load ing tunnel. "Do you have your ticket ? lie asked. “No." She felt the laughter go out of her. "1—-i'll get one." “Better hurryhe said. "Aon go ahead and 1 11 save scats for us. ' ( Continued on pu'S'c o i