“A young lady left this half an hour ago, Mr. Martin,” he said, “and told me to see as how you got it handed to you personally.”
Jimmy knew the handwriting on the envelope and a queer feeling came over him. He hesitated for a moment before reading it. When Matthews, the house manager, strolled up to him two minutes afterwards vain regret was in his heart and in his eyes there lurked a look of blended bewilderment and futile rage.
“What’s the matter, old man?” inquired Matthews. “Has Bartlett been making things hard for you?”
Jimmy smiled a sickly smile and handed over the letter.
“I don’t mind so much what he says,” he replied, “but this has got under the little old cuticle all right. Read it if you like.”
The manager adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and read the letter, written in the stiff, vertical handwriting of a school-girl.
Dear Jimmy:
This is just to say good-bye. You’ve been very nice and very kind to me and I’m thankful for everything and all that, but I’ve just got to get away from the sinful stage and go back home. The other girls are all quitting, too. I knew weeks ago that it was foolish to pretend I’d ever be anything more than just a fifth or sixth rater and now I’m glad that I’ve been brought to see the wickedness of it all. I guess maybe I’ve got the “Cedar Rapids blues” you spoke about the other night, too. Mother and dad have been writing me for weeks to come home. Thank you again for your kindness and all that and don’t bother trying to look me up for I’m taking a train tonight. Many thanks again—from your little friend,
LOLITA.
“That’s mighty tough,” commented Matthews sympathetically. “Love is a great little gamble.”