Ladies In The Parlor Read Free Page B

that all right.”
    “But I don’t want anyone to know I came to you—I want to pay you sometime.”
    He laughed softly, saying, “All right, Leora, let us see.”
    He pondered for a moment, then asked, “Which part hurts the most?”
    “Every part,” was her answer.
    He placed her on a small table and left the room for a moment and returned with a large bath towel. Turning the girl on her face, he unbuttoned her dress so that her back was exposed. He rubbed it gently; then allowed his hand to stray over her body. Buttoning her dress, he turned the girl over, and touched her knees. She lay quite still as his hand touched her thighs.
    “Does it hurt?” he asked.
    She touched his forearm and answered, “No, Doctor.”
    His hand went further and lingered.
    The girl did not move.
    Suddenly he leaned over, pressed his hand more firmly against her body, and kissed her fervently.
    Then putting her in a sitting position, he said quickly,
    “It will be all right in a few days; just have your mother rub you with witch-hazel and alcohol.” He thought a moment, “and you might cut a lemon in half, then dip it In glycerine, and rub your body every day for about a week—that will whiten it.”
    He again put his hands on her hair and held her face to him, “Come at this time tomorrow,” he said as she clung to him.
    He watched her down the street and returned to his private office.
    “She’s been a woman two years,” he thought. “We’ve drifted together like two lost clouds.”
    An impulse tugged at his throat. “Why in hell did I ever get married?” he asked himself, “with new apples growing every year—I’m stuck in an orchard with one.”
    He nursed the thought of Leora. He had watched her grow up with the feeling that perhaps some day— He shrugged his shoulders.
    His wife knocked at the door and said, “Jonas, your lunch is ready.”
    “Thank you, Mary,” was the return, “I’ll be there in moment.”
    He mixed a solution to steady his churning brain. He watched the purple liquid roll into the white, then set it on a table. Taking a small grain, he placed it in a glass of water and watched rivulets of purple arise to the top.
    He stood in deep thought for a few seconds and then said, “Oh, well, it’s all too damn much for me,” and went to join his wife.
    “Did you have an interesting morning?” she asked him.
    “Oh, so, so,” was the reply. “Little Leora Blair came in—a slight ailment—that’s about all.”
    “She’s a beautiful little thing,” said the wife. “How will she ever end in such a home?”
    “God will watch over her,” the doctor replied, with slight mocking.
    “Jonas, dear—why do you make light of what you don’t understand?”
    The doctor did not answer for some time. Then, as one would address a child, he said, “That’s all right, dear.”
    Farway’s wife was a beautiful, ailing woman. She was the daughter of a prosperous farmer. While attending college in Cincinnati, she had met her husband. She was still under thirty, with yellow hair, sunken white cheeks, and a slight figure. The doctor had no sex desire for her. It had died within a few months after their marriage, five years ago.
    A miscarriage had made her anemic and fretful.
    The doctor soon had an affair with a nurse. It lasted three years. To his dismay, she had married an osteopath, while other women went in and out of his life.
    He would often see the nurse who had married the osteopath. Though her marriage had not broken the intimacy, it had made it more inconvenient. After each affair, he would smile grimly, as he did not respect osteopaths.
    He would always say, “Dr. Milligan,” the name of the cheated husband, with a slight sneer.
    To gain more freedom he encouraged his wife to spend weeks with her parents. His mother-in-law considered him an ideal husband for such thoughtfulness.
    He now said, “It must be lovely in the country, Mary. I’m sure your mother would be glad if you paid her a