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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Turmoil, a novel"


"If I mean THAT much to you," she cried, "they can't harm you! Go
back to the shop--but come to me when your day's work is done. Let
the machines crash their sixty-eight times a minute, but remember
each crash that deafens you is that much nearer the evening and me!"
He stumbled to his feet. "You say--" he gasped.
"Every evening, dear Bibbs!"
He could only stare, bewildered.
"EVERY evening. I want you. They sha'n't hurt you again!" And she
held out her hand to him; it was strong and warm in his tremulous
clasp. "If I could, I'd go and feed the strips of zinc to the machine
with you," she said. "But all day long I'll send my thoughts to you.
You must keep remembering that your friend stands beside you. And
when the work is done--won't the night make up for the day?"
Light seemed to glow from her; he was blinded by that radiance of
kindness. But all he could say was, huskily, "To think you're there
--with me--standing beside the old zinc-eater--"
And they laughed and looked at each other, and at last Bibbs found
what it meant not to be alone in the world. He had a friend.

CHAPTER XX
When he came into the New House, a few minutes later, he found his
father sitting alone by the library fire.


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