U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [471]
screened porch under the palms facing the purpleblue sea and the green water along the shore and the white
breakers. "Oh, it's too lovely," Agnes said and let herself drop into a Gloucester hammock sighing. "Oh, I'm so tired." Then she began to cry again. Margo went to do her face at the long mirror in the hal . "Wel ," she said when she came back looking freshpowdered and rosy, "how do you like the house? Some little shack, isn't it?"
"Oh, we won't be able to stay here now. . . . What'l we do now?" Agnes was blubbering. "I know it's al the'
wicked unreality of matter. . . . Oh, if he'd only had proper thoughts."
"Anyway the rent's paid for another month," said Margo.
"Oh, but the expense," sobbed Agnes.
Margo was looking out through the screendoor at a big black tanker on the horizon. She turned her head and talked peevishly over her shoulder. "Wel , there's nothing to keep me from turning over a few options, is there? I tel you what they are having down here's a from turning over a few options, is there? I tel you what they are having down here's a boom. Maybe we can make some money. I know everybody who is any-body in this town. You just wait and see, Agnes." Eliza, the black maid, brought in a silver coffeeservice and cups and a plate of toast on a silver tray covered by a lace doily. Agnes pushed back her veil, drank some coffee in little gulps and began to nibble at a piece of toast.
"Have some preserves on it," said Margo, lighting herself
-380-a cigarette. "I didn't think you and Frank believed in mourning."
"I couldn't help it. It made me feel better. Oh, Margo, have you ever thought that if it wasn't for our dreadful unbelief they might be with us this day." She dried her eyes and went back to the coffee and toast. "When's the funeral?"
"It's going to be in Minnesota. His folks have taken charge of everything. They think I'm ratpoison."
"Poor Mr. Anderson. . . . You must be prostrated, you poor child."
"You ought to see 'em. His brother Jim would take the pennies off a dead man's eyes. He's threatening to sue to get back some securities he claims were Charley's. Wel , let him sue. Homer Cassidy's my lawyer and what he says goes in this town. . . . Agnes, you've got to take off those widow's weeds and act human. What would Frank think if he was here?"
"He is here," Agnes shrieked and went al to pieces and started sobbing again. "He's watching over us right now. I know that!" She dried her eyes and sniffed. "Oh, Margie, coming down on the train I'd been thinking that maybe you and Mr. Anderson had been secretly married. He must have left an enormous estate."
"Most of it is tied up. . . . But Charley was al right, he fixed me up as we went along."
"But just think of it, two such dreadful things happen-ing in one winter."
" Agnes," said Margo, getting to her feet, "if you talk like that I'm going to send you right back to New
York. . . . Haven't I been depressed enough? Your nose is al red. It's awful. . . . Look, you make yourself at home. I'm going out to attend to some business.""Oh, I can't stay here. I feel too strange," sobbed Agnes. "Wel , you can come along if you take off that dreadful veil. Hurry up, I've got to meet somebody."
-381-She made Agnes fix her hair and put on a white blouse. The black dress real y was quite becoming to her. Margo made her put on a little makeup. "There, dearie. Now you look lovely," she said and kissed her.
"Is this real y your car?" sighed Agnes as she sank back on the seat of the blue Buick sedan. "I can't believe it.""Want to see the registration papers?" said Margo.
"Al right, Raymond, you know where the broker's office is.""I sure do, miss," said Raymond, touching the shiny visor of his cap as the motor started to hum under the unscratched paint of the hood.
At the broker's office there was the usual wel dressed elderly crowd in sportsclothes fil ing up the benches, men with panamahats held on knees of Palm Beach suits and linen plusfours, women in pinks and greens and light tan and white crisp dresses. It always affected Margo a little like church, the whispers, the deferential manners, the boys quick and attentive at the long blackboards marked with columns of symbols, the click of the telegraph, the firm voice reading the quotations off the ticker at a desk in the back of the room. As they went in Agnes in an awed voice whispered in Margo's ear hadn't she better go and sit in the car until Margo had finished her business. "No, stick around," said Margo. "You see those boys are chalk-ing up the stockmarket play by play on those black-boards. . . . I'm just beginning to get on to this business." Two elderly gentlemen with white hair and broadflanged Jewish noses smilingly made room for them on a bench in the back of the room. Several people turned and stared at Margo. She heard a woman's voice hissing something about Anderson to the man beside her. There was a little stir of whispering and nudging. Margo felt wel dressed and didn't care.