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.Trouble, thank you, she had had enough of.She wanted now a peaceful life without worry—any more worries.Friends they could be, in a minor key; she might on a moonlit night even hold hands with him, but beyond that nothing.She should have said something of the sort; he would have saved his presents for a better prospect and she would not now be feeling guilt at having hurt him.Yet in a way he had surprised her by his apparent depth of affection.She had not expected anything to happen so quickly, because, for her, things had happened in reverse order.Usually she fell in love first, then the man, if he wasn’t Nat Pearl, responded.So the other way around was nice for a change, and she wished it would happen more often, but with the right one.She must go, she decided, less to the library; he would then understand, if he didn’t already, and give up any idea of having her love.When he realized what was what he would get over his pain, if he really felt any.But her thoughts gave her no peace, and though she tried often, she could still not concentrate on her books.When Morris and Ida trudged through her room, her light was out and she seemed to be sleeping.As she left the house for work the next morning, to her dismay she spied the carton containing his presents on top of some greasy garbage bags in the stuffed rubbish can at the curb.The cover of the can apparently had been squeezed down on the box but had fallen off and now lay on the sidewalk.Lifting the carton cover, Helen saw the two gifts, loosely covered with the tissue paper.Angered by the waste, she plucked the scarf and book out of the crushed cardboard box and went quickly into the hall with them.If she took them upstairs Ida would want to know what she had, so she decided to hide them in the cellar.She turned on the light and went quietly down, trying to keep her high heels from clicking on the stairs.Then she removed the tissue paper and hid the presents, neither of which had been harmed, in the bottom drawer of a broken chiffonier in their bin.The dirty tissue paper and red ribbons she rolled up in a sheet of old newspaper, then went upstairs and pressed it into the garbage can.Helen noticed her father at the window, idly watching her.She passed into the store, said good morning, washed her hands and left for work.On the subway she felt despondent.After supper that night, while Ida was washing dishes, Helen sneaked down into the cellar, got the scarf and book and carried them up to Frank’s room.She knocked and nobody answered.She considered leaving them at the door but felt he would throw them away again unless she spoke to him first.Tessie opened her door.“I heard him go out a while before, Helen.” Her eyes were on the things in her hands.Helen blushed.“Thanks, Tessie.”“Any message?”“No.” She returned to her floor and once more pushed the gifts under her bed.Changing her mind, she put the book and scarf in different bureau drawers, hiding them under her underwear.When her mother came up she was listening to the radio.“You going someplace tonight, Helen?”“Maybe, I don’t know.Maybe to the library.”“Why so much to the library? You went a couple days ago.”“I go to meet Clark Gable, Mama.”“Helen, don’t get fresh.”Sighing, she said she was sorry.Ida sighed too.“Some people want their children to read more.I want you to read less.”“That won’t get me married any faster.”Ida knitted but soon grew restless and went down to the store again.Helen got out Frank’s things, packed them in heavy paper she had bought on her way home, tied the bundle with cord, and took the trolley to the library.He wasn’t there.The next night she tried first his room, then when she was able to slip out of the house, again the library, but found him in neither place.“Does Frank still work here?” she asked Morris in the morning.“Of course he works.”“I haven’t seen him for a while,” she said.“I thought he might be gone.”“In the summer he leaves.”“Did he say that?”“Mama says.”“Does he know?”“He knows.Why you ask me?”She said she was just curious.As Helen came into the hall that evening she heard the clerk descending the stairs and waited for him at the landing.Lifting his hat, he was about to pass when she spoke.“Frank, why did you throw your two presents into the garbage?”“What good were they to me?”“It was a terrible waste.You should have got your money back.”He smiled in the corners of his mouth.“Easy come, easy go.”“Don’t joke.I took them out of the rubbish and have them in my room for you.They weren’t damaged.”“Thanks.”“Please give them back and get your money.You’ll need every penny for the fall.”“Since I was a kid I hate to go back with stuff I bought.”“Then let me have the sales checks and I’ll return them during my lunch hour.”“I lost them,” he answered.She said gently, “Frank, sometimes things turn out other than we plan.Don’t feel hurt.”“When I don’t feel hurt, I hope they bury me.”He left the house, she walked up the stairs.Over the week end Helen went back to crossing off the days on the calendar.She found she had crossed nothing since New Year’s.She fixed that.On Sunday the weather turned fair and she grew restless.She wished again for Nat to call her; instead his sister did and they walked, in the early afternoon, on the Parkway.Betty was twenty-seven and resembled Sam Pearl.She was large-boned and on the plain side but made good use of reddish hair and a nice nature.She was in her ideas, Helen thought, somewhat dull.They had not too much in common and saw each other infrequently, but liked to talk once in a while, or go to a movie together.Recently Betty had become engaged to a CPA in her office and was with him most of the time.Now she sported a prosperous diamond ring on her stylish finger.Helen, for once, envied her, and Betty, as if she had guessed, wished her the same good luck.“And it should happen soon,” she said.“Many thanks, Betty.”After they had gone a few blocks, Betty said, “Helen, I don’t like to butt in somebody else’s private business but for a long time I wanted to ask you what happened between you and my brother Nat.I once asked him and he gave me double talk.”“You know how such things go.”“I thought you liked him?”“I did.”“Then why don’t you see him any more? Did you have some kind of a fight?”“No fights.We didn’t have the same things in mind.” Betty asked no more.Later, she remarked, “Sometime give him another chance, Helen.Nat really has the makings of a good person.Shep, my boy friend, thinks so too.His worst fault is he thinks his brains entitle him to certain privileges.You’ll see, in time he’ll get over it.”“I may,” Helen said.“We’ll see sometime.”They returned to the candy store, where Shep Hirsch, Betty’s stout, eyeglassed, future husband was waiting to take her for a drive in his Pontiac.“Come along, Helen,” said Betty.“With pleasure.” Shep tipped his hat.“Go, Helen,” advised Goldie Pearl.“Thanks, all, from the bottom of my heart,” said Helen, “but I have some of my underthings to iron.”Upstairs, she stood at the window, looking out at the back yards.The remnants of last week’s dirty snow
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