it was the close of summer. the great mountain and lake areas to the north of new york were pouring down their thousands into the hot, sun-parched city. vast throngs were coming back on the steamboats of the hudson. vaster throngs were crowding the hourly trains which whirled and thundered past the long lane of villages which stretches between albany and new york city. the great station at albany was packed with a perspiring mass. the several fast expresses running without stop to new york city were overwhelmed. particularly was the empire state express full. in the one leaving albany at eight in the evening passengers were standing in the aisles.
it was a little, dark, wolf of a man who fought his way and that of his wife behind him to the car steps, and out of the scrambling, pushing throng rescued a car seat. he put his back against those who were behind and stood still until his wife could crowd in. then he took his place beside her and looked grimly around. for her part, she arranged herself indifferently and looked wearily out of the window. she was dark, piquant, petite, attractive.
the close of summer
behind these two there came another person, who seemed not so anxious for a seat. while others were pushing eagerly he stepped to one side, holding his place close to the little wolf man yet looking indifferently101 about him. he was young, ruddy, stalwart, an artist’s ideal of what a summer youth ought to be. and now and then he looked in the direction of the wolf man’s wife. but there appeared to be nothing of common understanding between them.
the train pulled out with a slow clacking sound. it gained in headway, and lights of yard engines and those of other cars, as well as street lamps and houses, flashed into view and out again. then came the long darkness of the open country and the river bank, and the people settled to endure the several hours in such comfort as they could. some read newspapers, some books. the majority stared wearily out of the window, not attempting to talk. they were tired. the joys of their vacations were behind them. why talk, with new york and early work ahead?
in the midst of these stood the young athlete, ruminating. in his seat before him sat the wolf man, studying a notebook. beside him, the young wife, dark, piquant, nervously restless, kept her face to the window, arranging her back hair now and then with a jeweled hand, and occasionally turning her face inward to look at the car. it was as if a vast gulf lay between her and her spouse, as if they were miles and miles apart, and yet they were obviously married. you could see that by the curt, gruff questions he addressed to her, by the quick, laconic, uninterpretative replies. she was weary and so was he.
the train neared poughkeepsie. for the twentieth or more time the jeweled hand had felt the back of her dark piled-up hair. for the fourth or fifth time the102 elbow had rested on the back of the seat, the hand falling lazily toward her cheek. just once it dropped full length along the back ridge, safely above and beyond her husband’s head and toward the hand of the standing athlete, who appeared totally unconscious of the gesture. then it was withdrawn. a stir of interest seemed to go with it, a quick glance. there was something missing. the athlete was not looking.
at yonkers the crowd was already beginning to stir and pull itself together. at highbridge it was dragging satchels from the bundle racks and from beneath the seats. the little wolf man was closing up his notebook, looking darkly around. for the thirtieth time the jeweled hand felt of the dark hair, the elbow rested on the seat-top, and then for the second time the arm slipped out and rested full length, the hand touching an elbow which was now resting wearily, holding the shoulder and supporting the chin of the man who was standing. there was the throb as of an electric contact. the elbow rose ever so slightly and pressed the fingers. the eyes of the wolf’s wife met the eyes of her summer ideal, and there stood revealed a whole summer romance, bright sun-shades, lovely flowers, green grass, trysting-places, a dark, dangerous romance, with a grim, unsuspecting wolf in the background. the arm was withdrawn, the hair touched, the window turned to wearily. all was over.
and yet you could see how it might continue, could feel that it would. in the very mood of the two was indicated ways and means. but now this summer contact was temporarily over. the train rolled into grand central103 station. the crowd arose. there was a determined shuffle forward of the wolf man, with his wife close behind him, and both were gone. the athlete followed respectfully after. he gave the wolf man and his wife a wide berth. he followed, however, and looked and thought—backward into the summer, no doubt, and forward.
