Books › Blue Book v42 n06 [1926-04], 1926 › scan 142
Scan 142
Blue Book v42 n06 [1926-04], 1926
19 lines. Read by computer on 17 September 2026. No printed page number was found. See the scan on archive.org.
1"I suppose you know of a good place near here?"
2"Yes—Marco's, down near the old Plaza. But perhaps you don't like Italian dinners?" she asked.
3"I do," Cronin replied, firmly, although he loathed them.
4He was amazed at finding himself walking down the crowded sidewalk with Lina. She had taken his arm, quite naturally, and was chatting gayly, as they elbowed their way through the evening crowd. He found an odd, strange pleasure in her company, which he could not define. He even felt a sense of triumph at the envious glances cast in his direction, as they entered Marco's and took a booth at the rear.
5The place was full of noisy diners. A harsh-voiced soprano sang something foreign and unintelligible from an elevated platform in the middle of the floor. He found himself not minding the noise and clamor. Some strange, boyish elation seemed to sweep over him every time he looked at Lina.
6That she felt her power over him was quite evident. With the perfect frankness of her race, she showed her liking for him. Was he not a great professor, a learned and wise man?
7When they walked home together, his mind was in a whirl. She took possession of his senses completely. Her vivid personality enveloped him, her naïve admiration for him captivated him, utterly. At the door of her flat she insisted that he come in and meet her father.
8At first, with visions of a coarse foreign household, he demurred. He was reluctant to break the charm of the evening. But in the end he assented. He was pleasantly surprised. Lina's father, a white-haired maker of violins, welcomed him with the quiet dignity of the old world. Her mother, it seemed, was dead.
9Cronin spent the most agreeable evening of his life with the old violin-maker and his daughter. He was amazed at the old man's fund of information upon any subject that came up during the conversation.
10When the violin-maker finally excused himself and left the two of them alone in the room, Cronin was still reluctant to leave, although the hour was late.
11"You will come again, soon?" Lina asked, as she gave him her hand.
12Cronin nodded. She switched on the hall light and followed him downstairs. With his hand on the door knob, he paused. He looked down into her face in the half-light of the hall, as if searching it for something he had lost, years ago. Sensing it she moved slightly toward him. For one moment there came to him an almost uncontrollable impulse to sweep her into his arms, but, instead, he opened the door and said, huskily:
13"Good night, Lina."
14She answered something in a barely audible tone. He jammed on his hat and left.
15From that evening on there began a struggle between Walter Cronin and Morgan Roberts, the instructor of modern banking—Walter Cronin, the creature of long-established habits and Morgan Roberts, the man projected into a new and strange world, and finding that world singularly pleasant. He knew that to date he had not lived at all. This came to him most acutely when he looked into the eyes of Lina Modotti. He began to realize how completely she had entered his life; and at the same time he knew the end was very near.
16The new filing cards were signed and the requisite number of checks were made out, payable to himself, and signed "Howard Criswell." He had selected Rudolph Wolff, a young Swiss immigrant, as the one among the ten pupils whose handwriting most nearly resembled that of Howard Criswell. Quite unsuspiciously the young Swiss had gone on signing the checks and the filing cards with Criswell's name, under the expert guidance of Professor Roberts.
17Cronin was mildly amused when he thought how easy it had been. His purpose was completed. There was no reason to stay on. Still he lingered to the last day of his vacation, reluctant to break away. He knew that in a few hours all would be ended. Lina Modotti would pass completely out of his life.
18He went to dinner at her house that night as he had done many times now. The old violin-maker brought forth a bottle of old Italian wine. Cronin stayed very late. He welcomed the wine and drank inordinately, for, sober, he could not trust himself to meet Lina's eyes. It came to him, suddenly, that their charm was not their coloring, nor yet their size or beauty, but their frankness and honesty.
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