The Equations of Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

wanted to come out and have a little chat with you about the garden, but he had to rush down to the office.
Such
a lot of things piled up for him!” Mort was not touched by the spectacle of Mr. H. Y. Dunkerley flying through the sky all night, coming home to this fine place of his where people could work themselves to death for all Mr. Dunkerley cared,and driving himself down in a swell limousine to his office, lined with plush I bet you; so he said nothing.
    “I was thinking, Mr. Johnson, that I have to go out to tea about four, and I could give you a lift down the hill to where the bus stops. It’s
such
a hot day! Unfortunately I’m not going to town, I’m driving to Caulfield, or I’d take you into town – oh,” as Mort slapped this pocket, that pocket, in a meaning way, “what is it? a cigarette? matches?” she asked.
    “Just a match. Thank
you
. No. I don’t smoke tailor-mades.”
    Anxious to oblige, Mrs. Dunkerley ran into the house and ran out again, bearing matches. Good relations were reestablished, supported by the matches and by Mrs. Dunkerley’s running about and by a shadowy feeling of Mort’s that perhaps he had been unreasonable and it would be nice to have a lift down the hill.
    Early, before four o’clock, Mrs. H. Y. Dunkerley jumped into her big car, and with her tiny hands and feet and with much popping of her bright dark head in and out of the window, she steered the car out of the garage. It is really wonderful what these little women can do. She smiled gaily, and beckoned Mort to get in beside her, which he did, after putting away the long-handled spade, and they started down the hill.
    “This is very very kind of you, Mrs. Dunkerley,” said Mort politely, enjoying the cool moving air and the pleasant whizz down the long hill, “because I’m kinda anxious to get home to the wife.” Almost unknown to himself, Myrtle was becoming established as ailing, and as lying there, pale and sad, awaiting her husband.
    “Oh, of course, Mort,” said Mrs. Dunkerley in a suitable voice. “You
must
be anxious to get home! There is nothing – serious, I hope!”
    I shall probably, thought Mrs. Dunkerley as she drove, hear about Mrs. Johnson’s liver, or her kidneys, but it is very nice of him to be so devoted and take such an interest, and I shall certainly take an interest too.
    “Not serious,” said Mort. “The doctor says … m … the doctor says that there
might
be a slight touch of cancer, though.”
    “Oh dear me!” said Mrs. Dunkerley, swerving a little. “A slight … well well!” What troubles people have, she thought, and how little we know about each other, and she became quite sententious.
    “Well, here we are!” said Mort, brightly and bravely, getting out at the bottom of the hill. Mrs. H. Y. Dunkerley took her cue from him and dwelt no more on Myrtle’s disease, but said she would see him tomorrow. Then she remembered to pay him, and with a smile and a gesture, she turned to the right and drove rapidly out of sight in the direction of Caulfield.
    Mort stood and waited for the bus. He began to realize that without intending to, and simply because he had been late that morning, he had wished some kind of an illness on to Myrtle, which was too bad. He felt a warm protective feeling for her rising within him and wanted to do some little thing to make up for the disease which he had wished upon her. And so it happened (the feeling rising more and more strongly after he had crossed the Lions’ Gate Bridge into Vancouver) that he got off the bus and instead of going home he went to Eaton’s Store. He thought he would get Myrtle a pair of nylons, and as he had in his pocket the money which Mrs. Dunkerley had already paid him, what could be easier. As he walked into Eaton’s Store he experienced all the joy of the little boy who is getting a valentine for his mother who will exhibit an exaggerated delight. If she doesn’t, she will disappoint her little boy very much indeed. It