She reminded
one of a girl just out of school, eager for a game of tennis or golf.
"Are you busy?" asked the voice on the other side of the door. "I can
call again!"
"No, wait--Russ!" replied Ruth, with an obvious effort. "We had the
chain on. We'll let you in!"
The DeVeres had only known their neighbors across the hall since
coming to the Fenmore Apartment. Yet one could not live near motherly
Mrs. Sarah Dalwood and not get to know her rather intimately, in a
comparatively short time. She was what would have been called, in the
country, "a good neighbor." In New York, with its hurry and scurry,
where people live for years in adjoining rooms and never speak, she
was an unusual type. She knew nearly every one in the big
apartment--which was almost more than the janitor and his wife could
boast.
A widow with two sons, Mrs. Dalwood was in fairly good
circumstances--compared with her neighbors. Her husband had left her
a little sum in life insurance that was well invested, and Russ held
a place as moving picture machine operator in one of the largest of
those theaters.
Pages:
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33