Burning Daylight by Jack London

atmosphere compounded of the sun and wind and dust of the open

road. And yet, if such a clean, healthy woman as she went in for

naked women crouching on her piano, it must be all right. Dede

made it all right. She could come pretty close to making

anything all right. Besides, he didn’t understand culture

anyway.

She reentered the room, and as she crossed it to her chair, he

admired the way she walked, while the bronze slippers were

maddening.

“I’d like to ask you several questions,” he began immediately

“Are you thinking of marrying somebody?”

She laughed merrily and shook her head.

“Do you like anybody else more than you like me?–that man at the

‘phone just now, for instance?”

“There isn’t anybody else. I don’t know anybody I like well

enough to marry. For that matter, I don’t think I am a marrying

woman. Office work seems to spoil one for that.”

Daylight ran his eyes over her, from her face to the tip of a

bronze slipper, in a way that made the color mantle in her

cheeks. At the same time he shook his head sceptically.

“It strikes me that you’re the most marryingest woman that ever

made a man sit up and take notice. And now another question.

You see, I’ve just got to locate the lay of the land. Is there

anybody you like as much as you like me?”

But Dede had herself well in hand.

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190

“That’s unfair,” she said. “And if you stop and consider, you

will find that you are doing the very thing you

disclaimed–namely,

nagging. I refuse to answer any more of your

questions. Let us talk about other things. How is Bob?”

Half an hour later, whirling along through the rain on Telegraph

Avenue toward Oakland, Daylight smoked one of his brown-paper

cigarettes and reviewed what had taken place. It was not at all

bad, was his summing up, though there was much about it that was

baffling. There was that liking him the more she knew him and at

the same time wanting to marry him less. That was a puzzler.

But the fact that she had refused him carried with it a certain

elation. In refusing him she had refused his thirty million

dollars. That was going some for a ninety dollar-a-month

stenographer who had known better ties. She wasn’t after money,

that was patent. Every woman he had encountered had seemed

willing to swallow him down for the sake of his money. Why, he

had doubled his fortune, made fifteen millions, since the day she

first came to work for him, and behold, any willingness to marry

him she might have possessed had diminished as his money had

increased.

“Gosh!” he muttered. “If I clean up a hundred million on this

land deal she won’t even be on speaking terms with me.”

But he could not smile the thing away. It remained to baffle

him, that enigmatic statement of hers that she could more easily

have married the Elam Harnish fresh from the Klondike than the

present Elam Harnish. Well, he concluded, the thing to do was

for him to become more like that old-time Daylight who had come

down out of the North to try his luck at the bigger game. But

that was impossible. He could not set back the flight of time.

Wishing wouldn’t do it, and there was no other way. He might as

well wish himself a boy again.

Another satisfaction he cuddled to himself from their interview.

He had heard of stenographers before, who refused their

employers, and who invariably quit their positions immediately

afterward. But Dede had not even hinted at such a thing. No

matter how baffling she was, there was no nonsensical silliness

about her. She was level headed. But, also, he had been

level-headed and was partly responsible for this. He hadn’t

taken advantage of her in the office. True, he had twice

overstepped the bounds, but he had not followed it up and made a

practice of it. She knew she could trust him. But in spite of

all this he was confident that most young women would have been

silly enough to resign a position with a man they had turned

down. And besides, after he had put it to her in the right

light, she had not been silly over his sending her brother to

Germany.

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191

“Gee!” he concluded, as the car drew up before his hotel. “If

I’d only known it as I do now, I’d have popped the question the

first day she came to work. According to her say-so, that would

have been the proper moment. She likes me more and more, and the

more she likes me the less she’d care to marry me! Now what do

youbthink of that? She sure must be fooling.”

CHAPTER XIX

Once again, on a rainy Sunday, weeks afterward, Daylight

proposed to Dede. As on the first time, he restrained himself

until his hunger for her overwhelmed him and swept him away in

his red automobile to Berkeley. He left the machine several

blocks away and proceeded to the house on foot. But Dede was

out, the landlady’s daughter told him, and added, on second

thought, that she was out walking in the hills. Furthermore, the

young lady directed him where Dede’s walk was most likely to

extend.

Daylight obeyed the girl’s instructions, and soon the street he

followed passed the last house and itself ceased where began the

first steep slopes of the open hills. The air was damp with the

on-coming of rain, for the storm had not yet burst, though the

rising wind proclaimed its imminence. As far as he could see,

there was no sign of Dede on the smooth, grassy hills. To the

right, dipping down into a hollow and rising again, was a large,

full-grown eucalyptus grove. Here all was noise and movement,

the lofty, slender trunked trees swaying back and forth in the

wind and clashing their branches together. In the squalls, above

all the minor noises of creaking and groaning, arose a deep

thrumming note as of a mighty harp. Knowing Dede as he did,

Daylight was confident that he would find her somewhere in this

grove where the storm effects were so pronounced. And find her

he did, across the hollow and on the exposed crest of the

opposing slope where the gale smote its fiercest blows.

There was something monotonous, though not tiresome, about the

way Daylight proposed. Guiltless of diplomacy subterfuge, he was

as direct and gusty as the gale itself. had time neither for

greeting nor apology.

“It’s the same old thing,” he said. “I want you and I’ve come

for

you. You’ve just got to have me, Dede, for the more I think

about it the more certain I am that you’ve got a Sneaking liking

for me that’s something more than just Ordinary liking. And you

don’t dast say that it isn’t; now dast you?”

He had shaken hands with her at the moment he began speaking, and

he had continued to hold her hand. Now, when she did not answer,

she felt a light but firmly insistent pressure as of his drawing

her to him. Involuntarily, she half-yielded to him, her desire

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192

for the moment stronger than her will. Then suddenly she drew

herself away, though permitting her hand still to remain in his.

“You sure ain’t afraid of me?” he asked, with quick compunction.

“No.” She smiled woefully. “Not of you, but of myself.”

“You haven’t taken my dare,” he urged under this encouragement.

“Please, please,” she begged. “We can never marry, so don’t let

us discuss it.”

“Then I copper your bet to lose.” He was almost gay, now, for

success was coming faster than his fondest imagining. She liked

him, without a doubt; and without a doubt she liked him well

enough to let him hold her hand, well enough to be not repelled

by the nearness of him.

She shook her head. “No, it is impossible. You would lose your

bet.”

For the first time a dark suspicion crossed Daylight’s mind–a

clew

that explained everything.

“Say, you ain’t been let in for some one of these secret

marriages

have you?”

The consternation in his voice and on his face was too much for

her, and her laugh rang out, merry and spontaneous as a burst of

joy from the throat of a bird.

Daylight knew his answer, and, vexed with himself decided that

action was more efficient than speech. So he stepped between her

and the wind and drew her so that she stood close in the shelter

of him. An unusually stiff squall blew about them and thrummed

overhead in the tree-tops and both paused to listen. A shower of

flying leaves enveloped them, and hard on the heel of the wind

came driving drops of rain. He looked down on her and on her

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