As she walked down the broad platform her eyes unconsciously searched
the loaded trucks for her own trunks. She'd have recognized them in
the hold of a Nile steamer--those grim, travel-scarred sample-trunks.
They had a human look to her. She had a way of examining them after
each trip, as a fond mother examines her child for stray scratches and
bruises when she puts it to bed for the night. She knew each nook and
corner of the great trunks as another woman knows her linen-closet or
her preserve-shelves.
Columbus, Ohio, was a Featherloom town. Emma McChesney had a fondness
for it, with its half rustic, half metropolitan air. Sometimes she
likened it to a country girl in a velvet gown, and sometimes to a city
girl in white muslin and blue sash. Singer & French always had a
Featherloom window twice a year.
The hotel lobby wore a strangely deserted look. December is a slack
month for actors and traveling men. Mrs. McChesney registered
automatically, received her mail, exchanged greetings with the affable
clerk.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178