Grace was not happy! Much as she tried to avoid the flat conclusion, the best she could do was to twist it into a question. Love was a worthless thing if its effect was merely to torture, to inflict pain. She had told Trenton that she loved him and had virtually agreed to accept him on his own terms. Why, as the days passed, was she still doubting, questioning, challenging her love for him?
At the end of a rainy day that had been full of exasperations Grace left the store to take the trolley home. The rain had turned to sleet that beat spitefully upon her umbrella and the sidewalks were a mass of slush. She was dreading the passage home in the crowded car and the evening spent in her room, thinking of Trenton, fashioning her daily letter. She had begun to hate her room where every object seemed to be an animate, malevolent embodiment of some evil thought. She had half decided to persuade her father to brave the weather and return down town after supper to go to a picture show when, turning the corner, she heard her name called.
“Hello, there, Grace!”
“Why, Bob, is it you?” she cried peering out at Cummings from under her umbrella.
He took her umbrella and fell into step with her.
“Don’t look so scared; of course it’s I. Frankly this isn’t just chance alone; I’ve been lying in ambush!”
“This will never do!” she cried, but in spite of herself she was unable to throw any resentment into her tone.
“I’ve got a grand idea!” he said. “I’m playing hooky tonight. Evelyn called me up this afternoon to ask if I’d go to dine with an uncle of hers who’s having a birthday. These family parties are bad enough at Christmas and Thanksgiving but when they begin ringing in birthdays I buck. So I told Evelyn I was too tired to go and that I had a business engagement anyhow, and would get my dinner down town.”
“Do you realize that I’m getting wet? You beat it for your family party; I’m going home.”
“Please, Grace, don’t desert me!” he replied coaxingly. “Let’s have a cozy supper together and I’ll get you home early.”