Such Is My Beloved Read Online Free Page B

walk up the street a bit and maybe she’ll come out,” he thought, pretending he was not cold and that the weather was very mild, when his ears were actually red and tingling and even his hands thrust deep in his pockets felt cold. His feet, too, were chilled, and hurt him when he moved and the blood began to circulate again.
    He had almost decided it would be better to return to the church and possibly visit the hotel the following afternoon when he saw Midge crossing the road. There was just enough light slanting from the broken sign over the hotel door to shine on her tilted face, which was smiling up coaxingly at the very heavy, respectable, sober-faced man of middle age who was on her arm. She did not go into the hotel furtively. She did not walk ahead of the man as Ronnie had done. She was hanging on his arm as if she had known him intimately for years, and had always given him an abundant happiness out of her own deep love. If it had not been for the anxious expression on the gray middle-aged man’s face they might have looked like a pair of lovers.
    Father Dowling felt a little weary. Midge and her man passed not twenty feet away from him. At first he thought thedisgust in him was for this mean hotel and the girls, but then it became, too, a weariness and disgust for himself as he remembered how he had felt sure that his presence and his eagerness had meant very much that other night to the two girls. It seemed now like a kind of rare conceit that had been making him, even in his prayers, feel joyful and sure of himself. At most he ought only to have dared to hope and prayed very humbly. Instead he had been going around smiling happily at everybody as if he had a secret that neither other priests nor parishioners would ever understand.
    But he waited till he saw the middle-aged man in the gray coat come hurriedly out of the hotel, pull his hat down far over his eyes and start to walk furtively up the street, gradually increasing his pace and almost running as if expecting to be arrested at any moment, or to have some one touch him on the shoulder and point back at the hotel.
    Father Dowling crossed over and entered the hotel. He did not even look at the man at the desk. He went straight to the stair with the bits of brass on the edges. His face was full of sober earnestness and there was a peculiar dignity about the way he carried his head. His scarf was high up around his neck, though he was so little concerned he never wondered whether the desk man noticed him. But Mr. Baer’s glasses were thrust up on the bridge of his nose, the head with heavy woodenly arranged hair shot forward, and grinning with his thick underlip tight against his teeth, he said to himself, “There goes the lamb of God again. I wonder which one he likes. Probably the little one. I’ll ask her about him. He’s the best-looking customer she ever had. More power to her good right arm.”
    Father Dowling rapped on the white door at the head of the stairs, and when it was opened a few inches, he said mildly, “May I come in?”
    â€œLordy, it’s Father. Hello, Father.” He could just see the lower part of Ronnie’s jaw, the lighted tip of a cigarette and a cloud of smoke. “Come on in,” she said.
    He nodded gravely. Midge, who was sitting on the chair where he had sat the other night, had on a very loose blue dress, like a slip. Her hair was done in curls on her neck. As soon as she saw the priest she stood up, making her little bow and putting out her left hand with the elbow extended from her body. “Hello, Father, how are you?” she said.
    â€œYou won’t mind sitting on the bed, will you, Father?” Ronnie said. Both girls were feeling good-humored, almost exhilarated, with their rouged cheeks flushed and their eyes full of animation. Ronnie, standing up with a good-natured grin on her stubborn face, pointed to the bed. “Sit down. How’ve you been, Father?”