Nothing Can Rescue Me by Elizabeth Daly Read Free Book Online Page B

about that,” said Miss Hutter, smiling her dry smile. “I live in Erasmus. I’m one of the librarians in the Erasmus library.”
    â€œLook here; my name’s Gamadge, and I’m up here on some business for Florence Mason. I have to talk to everybody in the house. Shall I see you at lunch?”
    â€œOh, no. I never eat with the house-parties. I had my lunch before I came over.”
    â€œCan I talk to you now? This may be my only chance.”
    â€œCome on up.”
    Gamadge climbed the stairs and followed her into the little south-west corner room. He remembered it well as a cubbyhole into which last-minute guests had often been crammed; a neat little place, with muslin curtains at the windows—one of them now had a long rent in it, near the frill, and Miss Hutter’s needle was sticking in it—and fumed-oak furniture. It was very much as it had been, even to the brass bed with its muslin valance and the blue rag carpet. A small table was laden with magazines, Miss Hutter’s handbag, her driving gloves, and her knitted hat.
    She sat down in a rocking-chair. Gamadge took a hard one in front of her, and so small was the floor space that their knees almost touched.
    â€œYou were going downstairs when I saw you,” he said. “Had you an errand? I can wait while you do it.”
    â€œJust going down to find Louise and ask her for some finer thread,” she told him. “It can wait.” She took a small sewing kit from her pocket, unrolled it, and got out a spool of white cotton and a minute pair of scissors. While she removed the needle from the curtain and threaded it, Gamadge automatically produced his cigarette case.
    â€œHave one?” he asked, offering it to her, opened.
    â€œI don’t smoke.”
    â€œMind if I do?”
    â€œYes; but you can if you want to.”
    Gamadge, replacing the cigarette case in his pocket, remarked: “Incredible woman; if you were in my will I’d cut you out of it.”
    Miss Hutter looked up at him to ask coolly: “Who’s been talking to you about wills?”
    â€œYour cousin Florence has.”
    â€œYou said you never heard of me.”
    â€œWhen you told me who you were I was immediately struck by the fact that you don’t figure in her will.”
    â€œOr in Cousin Sylvanus’s will, either.” She calmly began to sew up the rent in the curtain.
    â€œSome other financial arrangement?” asked Gamadge diffidently.
    â€œI don’t know why you’re interested,” said Miss Hutter, “but there isn’t any other financial arrangement. My side of the family always got along without Uncle Nahum’s money, and so do I.”
    â€œYou still regard it as the late Nahum’s money?”
    â€œYes, and so does everybody else. Cousin Florence and Cousin Syl just spend it.”
    Gamadge said, raising his eyebrows, “Your attitude is unusual—in these times.”
    â€œOur side of the family is kind of independent. I have enough money of my own to live on, and I have my salary.”
    â€œI feel it a privilege to know you, I really do.”
    Miss Hutter returned his amused look, and then said: “I was Cousin Florence’s secretary and sort of housekeeper a good while ago—the first she had. Before she was married. It didn’t work.”
    â€œDidn’t it?” asked Gamadge gravely. “Too bad.”
    â€œWe never had a fight. I like her, and I like Cousin Syl. I come here whenever I want to, and take walks and a nap. I guess the truth is Cousin Florence and I are too much alike. She wants her own way, and I don’t like to be bossed. Besides, I wasn’t the right person for the job. Cousin Florence needs somebody she can dress up, and show around, and play cards with.”
    â€œLike Miss Susie Burt?”
    â€œSusie Burt isn’t cut out for a secretary.”
    â€œLike Miss Evelyn Wing?”
    â€œI guess