Never Love a Stranger by Harold Robbins Read Free Book Online Page B

followed Jerry into the library. His mother and father were there. His father still had the same ready smile and crinkly eyes. I was struck by the way Jerry looked like him when he smiled. But Jerry had the quiet, sensitive mouth of his mother, and her gentleness.
    “So there you are, son!” his father exclaimed. “We have been waiting luncheon for you.”
    “Thanks, Dad,” Jerry said, and indicating me, “This is my friend Frankie, I have been telling you about.”
    His father and mother turned and looked at me. Suddenly I was very conscious of the patched shirt and trousers I was wearing.
    “Glad to know you, boy,” said his father, coming over and shaking hands with me.
    I don’t remember what I said, but the butler came in and announced luncheon and we all went into the dining-room.
    The table was a big, square thing and in the centre of it was a big bowl of flowers. If you wanted to say anything, you would have to look up over it, around the side of it, or under it. There were more knives, forks, and spoons than I knew what to do with, but I watched Jerry and got along all right. We had ice-cream for dessert. Then we went back to the library.
    “Jerry told me he wants you to come to the country with him,” Mr. Cowan said to me. “Yes, sir,” I replied. “I’m very thankful to you but I can’t go.”
    “You can’t?” asked Mr. Cowan. “Is it against the rules of the uh—orphanage?” “Oh, no, sir, but I’ve got a job for the summer and I can’t leave it.”
    “But the country’s much better for you than working in the hot city all summer,” said Mrs. Cowan.
    “Yes, ma’am, I know, ma’am.” I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I liked her. “But I need things. And I’m going to high school in September and some dough—I mean— money would come in handy. You know what I mean, I want to be … a little like the others—not taking charity all the time. I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t mean to be rude.”
    She came over to me and took my hand. “I don’t think you’re rude, Frankie; I think you’re a very fine boy.”
    I didn’t know what to say to her. A few minutes later Mr. and Mrs. Cowan left. They had an appointment somewhere, and we went up to Jerry’s room.
    We idled around a little while. Then Jerry said: “How about coming up to the attic. It’s all fixed up as a playroom. We can have some fun.”
    The first thing I knew when we got into the room I saw a big electric-train set. It was terrific: bridges and tunnels and switches and three locomotives. “Oh, boy!” I said, “that’s somethin’!”
    “Yes,” said Jerry, “Dad bought it for me three years ago before we went to Florida.
    Want to play with it?”
    I looked at it quietly for a minute, feasting my eyes on it. Almost instinctively I moved towards it. Suddenly something stopped me. A thought flashed through my mind. At least he didn’t forget his own son’s present.
    “No,” I said aloud, my voice trembling foolishly. “It’s too hot here. Let’s go swimming.”
    Chapter Eight ‌

    I WAS going to start high school the next term. Jerry was going up to George Washington High on the Heights, and I decided to go there too. Marty also planned to go there. I didn’t think very much about what I wanted to take up, because I regarded school as a necessary evil. I would leave as soon as I was seventeen and legally permitted. My only ambition was to be a gambler and a bookie—and rich.
    Graduation at St. Thérèse was a simple, quiet affair. We were all assembled in a great hall with parents and friends and teachers, and were given three speeches and a diploma.
    My name was called. I went up to the platform and took my diploma from the Monsignor who had come especially for the presentation. Then I went back and sat down with the rest of my class. After the ceremony I stood around watching the kids and their parents, laughing and proud.
    I guess I felt kind of funny at being left so alone. I saw Jerry and his