Well, _that's_ over--and a year's work with it--and
all the dreams he and Nancy had of getting married at once.
Those pulley layouts have to be fixed up sometime. What can you say about a
pulley--what _can_ you say? "The United Steel Frame Pulley--Oh Man, There's
a Hog for Work!" Oliver turns the cheap phrase in his mind, hating its
shoddiness, hating the fact that such shoddiness is the only stuff with
which he can deal.
Sanely considered, he supposes he hasn't any business using up a month's
meagre savings and three small checks for poems that he has hoarded since
April in going out to St. Louis Friday. Mr. Alley wasn't too pleased with
letting him take Saturday and half Monday off to do it, too. But then there
was that telegram ten days ago. "I'd give anything in the world if we could
only see each other--" and after other letters unsatisfactorily brief, the
letter that came Monday "I have such grand news, Ollie dear, at least it
may be grand if it works out--but oh, dear, I do want to see you about it
without tangling it up in letters that don't really explain. Can't you make
it--even a few hours would be long enough to talk it all over--and I do so
want to see you and really talk! Please wire me, if you can.