It was all
dark; the windows had the blind, sightless appearance imparted by
vacant, untenanted rooms. A rusty iron rod projected mournfully from one
of the window ledges.
"There's where our sign hung once," said Trina. She turned her head and
looked down Polk Street towards where the Other Dentist had his rooms,
and there, overhanging the street from his window, newly furbished and
brightened, hung the huge tooth, her birthday present to her husband,
flashing and glowing in the white glare of the electric lights like a
beacon of defiance and triumph.
"Ah, no; ah, no," whispered Trina, choking back a sob. "Life isn't so
gay. But I wouldn't mind, no I wouldn't mind anything, if only Mac was
home all right." She got up from the horse-block and stood again on the
corner of the alley, watching and listening.
It grew later. The hours passed. Trina kept at her post. The noise of
approaching footfalls grew less and less frequent. Little by little
Polk Street dropped back into solitude. Eleven o'clock struck from the
power-house clock; lights were extinguished; at one o'clock the cable
stopped, leaving an abrupt and numbing silence in the air. All at once
it seemed very still.
Pages:
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411