Vigil in the Night Read Online Free

march. The loud note of a motor horn drew her up sharply, and in the same instant a much-used sedan circled on the wet cobblestones and splashed to rest at the curb beside her. Next minute Joe Shand was beside her, a short, fair-haired figure in soiled overalls, his round good-natured face drawn into an unusual and almost pathetic expression of concern.
      “I thought I’d find you making for the six-thirty.”
      Anne considered the full implication of Joe’s stammered remark. She said slowly:
      “You knew I was going then?”
      “Why, the whole town knows—”
      Joe caught himself up, but not before Anne had completely understood. The whole of Shereford knew of her dismissal, had undoubtedly been gossiping about it up and down the streets.
      It was a bitter dose for Anne. She caught her lip between her teeth. “I must hurry, Joe. I’ve barely time to get the train.”
      “No, no,” he protested confusedly. “That’s why I’m here. I can’t let you carry your case. Besides, if you’re taking the six-thirty local, you’ll have fifty minutes to wait at Grimthorpe Junction. Listen, Anne! Let me drive you to the Junction in the car. It’s dead easy for me, only thirty miles. And it’ll save you such a lot of bother.”
      Anne considered his homely, honest face. What he said was true. His plan would save time, spare her some awkward encounters at the local station.
      “Thank you, Joe,” she assented with quiet gratitude. “It’s like you to think of a thing like that.”
     
    CHAPTER 8
      The next minute they were in the car and bowling along in the direction of Grimthorpe; Joe drove beautifully; it was his one accomplishment, a quite superb knowledge of the mechanics and movements of motorcars. It was, in fact, his job. In all else he was clumsy and uncertain. And now he drove in silence. Studying his profile, which though pleasant was inclined to weakness, Anne saw that something was worrying him intensely. That worried her, too. She had known Joe Shand since her childhood. She and Joe and Lucy had gone to school together, gone bird’s-nesting in the woods together, sung in the church choir together, grown up together. And Joe had asked her to marry him so often that the question was a perpetual embarrassment.
      They were five miles out of the town before Joe darkly exploded his worry.
      “Anne! I can’t get the hang of this thing at all. It just doesn’t make sense. The things they say. Amos Green, for instance, he came to our house last night. I don’t believe him. For pity’s sake, Anne, tell me about it.”
      Anne shook her head firmly. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “It’s over. I’ve made up my mind to put it behind me—for good.”
      With Joe, Anne’s word was law. This time, however, he was not content.
      “But this going away,” he broke out again. “I hate it. There’s no sense in it. Why in the name of heaven are you doing it?”
      “Why should I stay?” she answered, realizing too late it was the wrong thing to have said.
      He was quick to take advantage of it. “Because I want you to stay. Because I want you to marry me. I need you, Anne. I could do things with you—build up a great old business. I could get somewhere and besides—” Joe flushed and floundered lamely—“I love you. Maybe I could help you in this fix you’re in.”
      Touched at this loyalty, Anne was silent, almost tempted, despite herself, to throw up everything and find a home and security with Joe. Yet something held her back, something intangible, something strange and deep.
      “Don’t press me just now, Joe,” she temporized. “You can see I’m rather upset. Some other time, perhaps, if you feel like asking me again—”
      Joe’s face colored more vividly, his mouth opened and shut. With a most unusual effort he restrained himself. Anne had given him more cause for hope than ever before. He would not spoil it by an ill-chosen word. He