Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/278

 "Nothing," he had answered … "nothing you'd understand."

It had been a discordant instant and it had broken unpleasantly into the morning. He had thought of Gaylord again, and Gaylord was suddenly more real to him than the calf in front of him.

Glenn Rogers could still recall the glow he had felt on this occasion and the sudden moment of elation. It came to him again now …

The blue eyes, the wavy hair, the soft hands … everything came together into sudden focus.

Though common sense told Rogers that he should get up, some other inner impulse made him stretch and sink his head into his pillow. He saw the sunlight hit the wings of a plane that must be on its way to Mexico City. He lay there gazing out of his window and watched the plane … I wonder where Gay was last night, he thought … his mother said she didn't even know where he was …

"Glenn," a voice rang out.

"Yes, mother."

"Six o'clock."

"All … right … I'm awake …"

He jumped out of bed onto the bare floor. He was quite happy, and hummed to himself as he dressed. He thought of his father and was sorry for the thoughts that had passed in his mind about him. His father had really needed him … the old home, the place where he was born had needed him …

"Gosh, I wish I could have gone to New Orleans," he said combing his hair, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He laid down the comb and left his room.

If a roaring storm had been raging outside instead of the warm gentle breeze, it would not have changed the expression on Joy Clay's face as she got out of bed and walked to her dresser. The air was full of earth odors, and smelt of leaves and damp wood, but it meant nothing to her. Her heart was heavy as she picked up a comb and ran it carelessly through her hair. Always before she had been happy, now it hurt to think of the future hours. She glanced into the blank mirror.

"It's my fault," she said. "I have no one to blame but myself. Only myself … Why did I do it?" 268