One of my Oldest Friends.
Woman’s Home Companion (September 1925)
All afternoon Marion had been happy. She wandered from room to room of their little apartment, strolling into the nursery to help the nurse-girl feed the children from dripping spoons, and then reading for awhile on their new sofa, the most extravagant thing they had bought in their five years of marriage.
When she heard Michael’s step in the hall she turned her head and listened; she liked to hear him walk, carefully always as if there were children sleeping close by.
“Michael.”
“Oh—hello.” He came into the room, a tall, broad, thin man of thirty with a high forehead and kind black eyes.
“I’ve got some news for you,” he said immediately. “Charley Hart’s getting married.”
“No!”
He nodded.
“Who’s he marrying?”
“One
