She hung up
slowly, and went back to her work. Never since their first meeting,
and they had not been exempt from lovers' quarrels, had Jack Barrow
ever spoken to her like that. Even through the telephone the resentful
note in his voice grated on her and mystified her.
Something in the papers lay at the bottom of it, but she could
comprehend nothing, absolutely nothing, she told herself hotly, that
should make Jack snarl at her like that. His very manner of conveying
the message was maddening, put her up in arms.
She was chained to her work--which, despite her agitation, she managed
to wade through without any radical errors--until noon. The
twelve-to-one intermission gave her opportunity to hurry up the street
and buy a _Gazette_. Then, instead of going home to her luncheon, she
entered the nearest restaurant. She wanted a chance to read, more than
food. She did not unfold the paper until she was seated.
A column heading on the front page caught her eye. The caption ran:
"Andrew Bush Leaves Money to Stenographer." And under it the subhead:
"Wealthy Manufacturer Makes Peculiar Bequest to Miss Hazel Weir."
The story ran a full column, and had to do with the contents of the
will, made public following his interment.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50