Read Online The Girl Next Door (Crimson Romance) by Peggy Gaddis - Free Book Online
Authors: Peggy Gaddis
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to be needed — and used. Love wants to serve.”
He heard Peter’s little movement of protest, and waited tensely for his voice. But Peter made no comment.
“Of course,” Professor Hartley went on, after a moment, “I suppose if I’d had enough money to support us both, I’d have gone through with it. But I knew she’d have to work to earn enough for us to live on. And to see her saddled with a husband who would be more helpless than a baby — well, I just couldn’t take it. I hadn’t learned, you see, that being blind doesn’t necessarily mean being helpless.”
He paused, as if waiting for Peter to speak, but the young man still remained silent, so he continued:
“For the first five years of my blindness I played the part of a coward. I even tried to destroy myself. All that helped me to keep sane was a friend. He took care of me, shared his small earnings with me. And when he died, I found he had left me this cottage with two acres of land and a little annuity. It was the death of my friend that proved to me that my disability was a challenge, and that I had to face up to it. After a friend had sacrificed so much to me — ”
“But at least you hadn’t sacrificed the woman you loved,” said Peter.
“No, but it wasn’t until years later that I realized it wouldn’t have been a sacrifice,” said the old man. “It wouldn’t be a sacrifice for the woman who loves you, Peter. At least there would not be the economic problem. You could still have a rich, full life, children — ”
“No, thanks!”
The professor made a little gesture of futility. “Forgive me, Peter,” he said. “I know I’ve seemed presumptuous. Forgive an old man’s concern.”
“Sure. It’s all right, sir, thanks,” said Peter hurriedly, because he had heard the sound of Betsy’s footsteps on the flagged path.
She was carrying a laden tray. There were three tall glasses of iced tea, tangy with fresh mint, and a platter of little cakes. As she put the tray down on the table, she looked anxiously from one to the other, and said:
“All right, gentlemen, your favorite tipple! And some cakes I swiped from Esther this morning. Mother’s having a bridge-fight this afternoon, and Esther made some grand-looking stuff, I thought we might as well have some of the party!”
With her coining, the tension left the two men. Betsy was gay and amusing, and they followed her every movement with sightless eyes. But when she saw a warm, friendly grin on Peter’s face she had hard work not to burst into happy tears.
When at last they rose to go, and Betsy whistled to Gus, Peter said to their host, “Thanks for everything, sir. I’d like to come again, if I may.”
“I hope you will, my boy, as often as you can endure the company of an old man! You will be more than welcome.”
As he followed Betsy to the car and felt his way to the seat, Peter said, “You’ve got some nice friends, chick. The professor’s tops.”
“He’s a darling,” said Betsy simply. “I adore him.”
“And he loves you,” said Peter.
There were little flags of color in her cheeks, but she managed to say in a casual voice, “Sure. Love begets love. Didn’t you know that? He’d have to love me, because I love him. It always works out like that — or didn’t you know?”
She all but held her breath for his answer. She fixed her eyes on his face, causing the car to wobble a little as she failed to give it proper attention. But Peter was thinking, and for the moment unconscious of the car’s swerve.
“‘Love begets love’ eh?” he repeated. “Where’d you read that, Betsy?”
Betsy caught the note of tension in his voice, and her heart did a crazy little upward surge. “Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere. Anyway, it’s a universal fact, recognized by — oh, by people like Freud, and such,” she answered him with unconvincing airiness.
Peter was sitting with his sightless eyes turned straight ahead, his hands clenched on the top of his
He heard Peter’s little movement of protest, and waited tensely for his voice. But Peter made no comment.
“Of course,” Professor Hartley went on, after a moment, “I suppose if I’d had enough money to support us both, I’d have gone through with it. But I knew she’d have to work to earn enough for us to live on. And to see her saddled with a husband who would be more helpless than a baby — well, I just couldn’t take it. I hadn’t learned, you see, that being blind doesn’t necessarily mean being helpless.”
He paused, as if waiting for Peter to speak, but the young man still remained silent, so he continued:
“For the first five years of my blindness I played the part of a coward. I even tried to destroy myself. All that helped me to keep sane was a friend. He took care of me, shared his small earnings with me. And when he died, I found he had left me this cottage with two acres of land and a little annuity. It was the death of my friend that proved to me that my disability was a challenge, and that I had to face up to it. After a friend had sacrificed so much to me — ”
“But at least you hadn’t sacrificed the woman you loved,” said Peter.
“No, but it wasn’t until years later that I realized it wouldn’t have been a sacrifice,” said the old man. “It wouldn’t be a sacrifice for the woman who loves you, Peter. At least there would not be the economic problem. You could still have a rich, full life, children — ”
“No, thanks!”
The professor made a little gesture of futility. “Forgive me, Peter,” he said. “I know I’ve seemed presumptuous. Forgive an old man’s concern.”
“Sure. It’s all right, sir, thanks,” said Peter hurriedly, because he had heard the sound of Betsy’s footsteps on the flagged path.
She was carrying a laden tray. There were three tall glasses of iced tea, tangy with fresh mint, and a platter of little cakes. As she put the tray down on the table, she looked anxiously from one to the other, and said:
“All right, gentlemen, your favorite tipple! And some cakes I swiped from Esther this morning. Mother’s having a bridge-fight this afternoon, and Esther made some grand-looking stuff, I thought we might as well have some of the party!”
With her coining, the tension left the two men. Betsy was gay and amusing, and they followed her every movement with sightless eyes. But when she saw a warm, friendly grin on Peter’s face she had hard work not to burst into happy tears.
When at last they rose to go, and Betsy whistled to Gus, Peter said to their host, “Thanks for everything, sir. I’d like to come again, if I may.”
“I hope you will, my boy, as often as you can endure the company of an old man! You will be more than welcome.”
As he followed Betsy to the car and felt his way to the seat, Peter said, “You’ve got some nice friends, chick. The professor’s tops.”
“He’s a darling,” said Betsy simply. “I adore him.”
“And he loves you,” said Peter.
There were little flags of color in her cheeks, but she managed to say in a casual voice, “Sure. Love begets love. Didn’t you know that? He’d have to love me, because I love him. It always works out like that — or didn’t you know?”
She all but held her breath for his answer. She fixed her eyes on his face, causing the car to wobble a little as she failed to give it proper attention. But Peter was thinking, and for the moment unconscious of the car’s swerve.
“‘Love begets love’ eh?” he repeated. “Where’d you read that, Betsy?”
Betsy caught the note of tension in his voice, and her heart did a crazy little upward surge. “Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere. Anyway, it’s a universal fact, recognized by — oh, by people like Freud, and such,” she answered him with unconvincing airiness.
Peter was sitting with his sightless eyes turned straight ahead, his hands clenched on the top of his
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