Page 92
Story: The Breaking Point
"Right away. First the door slammed, and then he dropped."
Poor old David! Dick had not the slightest doubt now that David had
received some unfortunate news, and that up there in his bedroom ever
since, alone and helpless, he had been struggling with some secret dread
he could not share with any one. Not even with Lucy, probably.
Nevertheless, Dick made a try with Lucy that evening.
"Aunt Lucy," he said, "do you know of anything that could have caused
David's collapse?"
"What sort of thing?" she asked guardedly.
"A letter, we'll say, or a visitor?"
When he saw that she was only puzzled and thinking back, he knew she
could not help him.
"Never mind," he said. "I was feeling about for some cause. That's all."
He was satisfied that Lucy knew no more than he did of David's visitor,
and that David had kept his own counsel ever since. But the sense of
impending disaster that had come with the letter did not leave him. He
went through his evening office hours almost mechanically, with a part
of his mind busy on the puzzle. How did it affect the course of action
he had marked out? Wasn't it even more necessary than ever now to go to
Walter Wheeler and tell him how things stood? He hated mystery. He liked
to walk in the middle of the road in the sunlight. But even stronger
than that was a growing feeling that he needed a sane and normal
judgment on his situation; a fresh viewpoint and some unprejudiced
advice.
He visited David before he left, and he was very gentle with him. In
view of this new development he saw David from a different angle, facing
and dreading something imminent, and it came to him with a shock that
he might have to clear things up to save David. The burden, whatever it
was, was breaking him.
He had telephoned, and Mr. Wheeler was waiting for him. Walter Wheeler
thought he knew what was coming, and he had well in mind what he was
going to say. He had thought it over, pacing the floor alone, with the
dog at his heels. He would say: "I like and respect you, Livingstone. If you're worrying about what
these damned gossips say, let's call it a day and forget it. I know a
man when I see one, and if it's all right with Elizabeth it's all right
with me."
Things, however, did not turn out just that way. Dick came in, grave and
clearly preoccupied, and the first thing he said was: "I have a story to tell you, Mr. Wheeler. After you've heard it, and
given me your opinion on it, I'll come to a matter that--well, that I
can't talk about now."
Poor old David! Dick had not the slightest doubt now that David had
received some unfortunate news, and that up there in his bedroom ever
since, alone and helpless, he had been struggling with some secret dread
he could not share with any one. Not even with Lucy, probably.
Nevertheless, Dick made a try with Lucy that evening.
"Aunt Lucy," he said, "do you know of anything that could have caused
David's collapse?"
"What sort of thing?" she asked guardedly.
"A letter, we'll say, or a visitor?"
When he saw that she was only puzzled and thinking back, he knew she
could not help him.
"Never mind," he said. "I was feeling about for some cause. That's all."
He was satisfied that Lucy knew no more than he did of David's visitor,
and that David had kept his own counsel ever since. But the sense of
impending disaster that had come with the letter did not leave him. He
went through his evening office hours almost mechanically, with a part
of his mind busy on the puzzle. How did it affect the course of action
he had marked out? Wasn't it even more necessary than ever now to go to
Walter Wheeler and tell him how things stood? He hated mystery. He liked
to walk in the middle of the road in the sunlight. But even stronger
than that was a growing feeling that he needed a sane and normal
judgment on his situation; a fresh viewpoint and some unprejudiced
advice.
He visited David before he left, and he was very gentle with him. In
view of this new development he saw David from a different angle, facing
and dreading something imminent, and it came to him with a shock that
he might have to clear things up to save David. The burden, whatever it
was, was breaking him.
He had telephoned, and Mr. Wheeler was waiting for him. Walter Wheeler
thought he knew what was coming, and he had well in mind what he was
going to say. He had thought it over, pacing the floor alone, with the
dog at his heels. He would say: "I like and respect you, Livingstone. If you're worrying about what
these damned gossips say, let's call it a day and forget it. I know a
man when I see one, and if it's all right with Elizabeth it's all right
with me."
Things, however, did not turn out just that way. Dick came in, grave and
clearly preoccupied, and the first thing he said was: "I have a story to tell you, Mr. Wheeler. After you've heard it, and
given me your opinion on it, I'll come to a matter that--well, that I
can't talk about now."
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