right."
"What are you drinking?"
"Beer is okay."
"Thinking about my wallet, huh?"
"All of us have to think about money, don't we?"
"I sure should now. Snelling's going to let me go. I can feel it."
They had a drink, talked about school, made general chitchat, and she found herself moving closer to him, away from the man on her left. When she felt their legs touch, she became determined that she wouldn't move closer.
"How come you're down here?" he wanted to know.
"I was visiting somebody."
"Oh. Well, I'm glad. I've seen you in school, lots of times, but I've never had a chance to talk to you before." He put his beer down and looked at her. "You're nice," he said. "I've wanted to tell you that."
Helen felt funny sitting there beside him. She felt more strange than she had ever felt with a man before. There was something about him—the smell of the pipe, the way he looked at her?—that pushed inside and made her feel warm and decent. Yes, decent. Not because he changed anything that she felt for Peggy, anything that they shared together, but decent because he wasn't buying her. He wasn't like Jerry, he was totally different and somehow clean.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"Running into you was a break."
"Was it?"
"I'd like to see you again."
She said nothing.
"Could I?"
"Well—"
The man on the left gave her a shove and she landed hard up against Harry.
"You'd drink with him," the man said, his breath hot on her neck. "But you wouldn't drink with me. What's the big idea, you little snip?"
She stumbled, grabbed Harry, and almost fell down.
"Leave her alone," the brown haired woman said. "She ain't your kind, Tad."
"Shut up."
Harry, whose beer had been knocked over by Helen's arm, moved away from the bar.
"What's going on?" he demanded.
"None of your business," the big man on Helen's left said sourly. "Why don't you take a course in college about how to keep your nose out of things that ain't none of your business?"
"Look out, Helen," Harry said, pushing Helen aside. "This fellow burns me."
"I'll burn you," the big man said, swinging away from the bar. "I'll burn you good."
The fight didn't amount to much. It was bloody and terrible while it lasted but Harry was no match for the big river man. Blood came from a cut over Harry's eye and from his mouth. He tried to hit back but the assault had been so violent and sudden that his blows had no effect.
"Kill him!" the brown-haired woman was screaming. Kill the bastard!"
Others in the bar were yelling the same thing.
"Kill him!"
"Pound him into the floor, Tad!"
"Smash him, Tad! Smash him!"
And Tad smashed Harry. He drove him along the bar, up against the wall and then he kneed Harry in the stomach. Harry fell forward, his eyes glassy, retching.
The brown haired woman laughed gleefully.
Still hearing the laughter of the woman and the shouts of the men in the bar Helen turned and, half-crying, fled to the door. There was nothing that she could do, nothing. And somehow she had caused it all. Outside, she walked through the storm, crying harder now and bitterly. Harry was a nice young man, a good, sweet kid. And he had gotten himself badly beaten because of someone like her.
When she entered the rooming house on Kennedy Street a few minutes later, the tears had stopped. Her face was set in dull, hard lines, and her eyes were dry and cold.
Somebody was waiting for her near her room.
It was Thelma Reid.
"I hoped you wouldn't be much longer," Mrs. Reid said. "It's as cold as the devil in this hall."
Helen unlocked her door without saying a word. "Come in," she finally said. Her voice was toneless. Mrs. Reid came into the room.
"You know what I want, Helen?" Mrs. Reid inquired softly.
"Yes," Helen murmured.
And she did.
CHAPTER 7
Everybody was talking about parents' night. It was an important event at college, one of those things that came once a year and lasted all weekend.
"We're all one happy family," the dean said. "Let's get to know
"What are you drinking?"
"Beer is okay."
"Thinking about my wallet, huh?"
"All of us have to think about money, don't we?"
"I sure should now. Snelling's going to let me go. I can feel it."
They had a drink, talked about school, made general chitchat, and she found herself moving closer to him, away from the man on her left. When she felt their legs touch, she became determined that she wouldn't move closer.
"How come you're down here?" he wanted to know.
"I was visiting somebody."
"Oh. Well, I'm glad. I've seen you in school, lots of times, but I've never had a chance to talk to you before." He put his beer down and looked at her. "You're nice," he said. "I've wanted to tell you that."
Helen felt funny sitting there beside him. She felt more strange than she had ever felt with a man before. There was something about him—the smell of the pipe, the way he looked at her?—that pushed inside and made her feel warm and decent. Yes, decent. Not because he changed anything that she felt for Peggy, anything that they shared together, but decent because he wasn't buying her. He wasn't like Jerry, he was totally different and somehow clean.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"Running into you was a break."
"Was it?"
"I'd like to see you again."
She said nothing.
"Could I?"
"Well—"
The man on the left gave her a shove and she landed hard up against Harry.
"You'd drink with him," the man said, his breath hot on her neck. "But you wouldn't drink with me. What's the big idea, you little snip?"
She stumbled, grabbed Harry, and almost fell down.
"Leave her alone," the brown haired woman said. "She ain't your kind, Tad."
"Shut up."
Harry, whose beer had been knocked over by Helen's arm, moved away from the bar.
"What's going on?" he demanded.
"None of your business," the big man on Helen's left said sourly. "Why don't you take a course in college about how to keep your nose out of things that ain't none of your business?"
"Look out, Helen," Harry said, pushing Helen aside. "This fellow burns me."
"I'll burn you," the big man said, swinging away from the bar. "I'll burn you good."
The fight didn't amount to much. It was bloody and terrible while it lasted but Harry was no match for the big river man. Blood came from a cut over Harry's eye and from his mouth. He tried to hit back but the assault had been so violent and sudden that his blows had no effect.
"Kill him!" the brown-haired woman was screaming. Kill the bastard!"
Others in the bar were yelling the same thing.
"Kill him!"
"Pound him into the floor, Tad!"
"Smash him, Tad! Smash him!"
And Tad smashed Harry. He drove him along the bar, up against the wall and then he kneed Harry in the stomach. Harry fell forward, his eyes glassy, retching.
The brown haired woman laughed gleefully.
Still hearing the laughter of the woman and the shouts of the men in the bar Helen turned and, half-crying, fled to the door. There was nothing that she could do, nothing. And somehow she had caused it all. Outside, she walked through the storm, crying harder now and bitterly. Harry was a nice young man, a good, sweet kid. And he had gotten himself badly beaten because of someone like her.
When she entered the rooming house on Kennedy Street a few minutes later, the tears had stopped. Her face was set in dull, hard lines, and her eyes were dry and cold.
Somebody was waiting for her near her room.
It was Thelma Reid.
"I hoped you wouldn't be much longer," Mrs. Reid said. "It's as cold as the devil in this hall."
Helen unlocked her door without saying a word. "Come in," she finally said. Her voice was toneless. Mrs. Reid came into the room.
"You know what I want, Helen?" Mrs. Reid inquired softly.
"Yes," Helen murmured.
And she did.
CHAPTER 7
Everybody was talking about parents' night. It was an important event at college, one of those things that came once a year and lasted all weekend.
"We're all one happy family," the dean said. "Let's get to know
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