U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [328]
"It would make me very happy if you could . . . you make me very happy anyway, just to look at you . . . I'm happier at this moment than I've been for years, ex-cept perhaps for the mumumoment when the Covenant for the League of Nations was signed." She laughed again, "Wel , I don't feel like any Peace Treaty, the fact is I'm in terrible trouble." She found her-self watching his face careful y; the upper lip thinned, he wasn't smiling any more.
"Why, what's the mamamatter . . . if there was any wawaway I could . . . er . . . be of any assistance . . . I'd be the happiest fel ow in the world."
"Oh, no . . . I hate losing my job though and having to go home in disgrace . . . that's about the size of it . . . it's al my fault for running around like a little nitwit."
-409-She was going to break down and cry, but suddenly the nausea came on again and she had to hurry to the ladies'
room of the restaurant. She got there just in time to throw up. The shapeless leatherfaced woman there was very kind and sympathetic; it scared Daughter how she immediately seemed to know what was the matter. She didn't know much French but she could see that the
woman was asking if it was Madame's first child, how many months, congratulating her. Suddenly she decided she'd kil herself. When she got back Barrow had paid the bil and was walking back and forth on the gravel path in front of the tables.
"You poor little girl," he said. "What can be the matter?
You suddenly turned deathly pale."
"It's nothing . . . I think I'l go home and lie down
. . . I don't think al that spaghetti and garlic agreed with me in Italy . . . maybe it's that wine."
"But perhaps I could do something about finding you a job in Paris. Are you a typist or stenographer?"
"Might make a stab at it," said Daughter bitterly. She hated Mr. Barrow. Al the way back in the taxi she couldn't get to say anything. Mr. Barrow talked and talked. When she got back to the hotel she lay down on the bed and gave herself up to thinking about Dick. She decided she'd go home. She stayed in her room and although Mr. Barrow kept cal ing up asking her out and making suggestions about possible jobs she wouldn't see him. She said she was having a bilious attack and would stay in bed. The night before she was to sail he asked her to dine with him and some friends and before she knew it she said she'd go along. He cal ed for her at six and took her for cocktails at the Ritz Bar. She'd gone out and bought herself an evening dress at the Gal eries Lafayette and was feeling fine, she was tel ing herself as she sat drinking the champagne cocktail, that if Dick should come in now she wouldn't bat an eyelash. Mr. Barrow was talk--410-ing about the Fiume situation and the difficulties the Pres-ident was having with Congress and how he feared that the whole great work of the League of Nations was in danger, when Dick came in looking very handsome in his uniform with a pale older woman in grey and a tal stout-ish lighthaired man, whom Mr. Barrow pointed out as J. Ward Moorehouse. Dick must have seen her but he
wouldn't look at her. She didn't care anymore about any-thing. They drank down their cocktails and went out. On the way up to Montmartre she let Mr. Barrow give her a long kiss on the mouth that put him in fine spirits. She didn't care; she had decided she'd kil herself.
Waiting for them at the table at the Hermitage Mr.
Barrow had reserved, was a newspaper correspondent
named Burnham and a Miss Hutchins who was a Red
Cross worker. They were very much excited about a man named Stevens who had been arrested by the Army of Oc-cupation, they thought accused of Bolshevik propaganda; he'd been courtmartialed and they were afraid he was going to be shot. Miss Hutchins was very upset and said Mr. Barrow ought to go to the President about it as soon as Mr. Wilson got back to Paris. In the meantime they had to get the execution stayed. She said Don Stevens was a newspaper man and although a radical not connected with any kind of propaganda and anyway it was horrible to shoot a man for wanting a better world. Mr. Barrow was very embarrassed and stuttered and hemmed and