Anna Balmer Myers

“ You know, I believe you! It’s all some infernal mistake or plot. You’re not a clever enough actor to feign such distress and innocence. Go out and get some air and come back to-morrow morning. I’ll stand for you in the meantime. I believe in you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Martin managed to blurt out between dry lips that seemed almost paralyzed. “I’ll be back in the morning. Hope you’ll find I’m telling the truth.”
He walked as a somnambulist down the street. In his misery he thought of Isabel Souders. He would go to her for comfort. She’d understand and believe in him! ”

“ Try as he would the young man could not obliterate those haunting words from his brain. Sometimes he felt almost convinced in his own heart that he loved Isabel Souders--she was so appealing and charming and, while she rebuffed his confidences about his work, nevertheless showed so deep an interest in him generally, that he was temporarily blinded by it and excused her lack of real interest on the world-old ground that pretty women are not supposed to bother about prosaic affairs of the male wage-earners of the race. ”

“ He enjoyed his work at the bank, where his cordiality and adeptness, his alert, receptive mind, were laying for him a strong foundation for a successful career.
He called often at the home of Isabel Souders, listened to her playing, made one in an occasional game of cards, escorted her to musicals and dramas. He played and talked and laughed with her, but he soon discovered that he could not interest her in any serious matter. At the mention of his work, beyond the merest superficialities, she lifted her hands and said in laughing tones, “Please, Martin, don’t talk shop! Father never does. ”