New York - The Novel

shocked.” After all, when she remembered all the girls her brother Sean had been with, let alone what she might have seen any day of the week in Five Points, there was no need to be prim if young Theodore Keller was getting his share too.
    “It’s not you that’s shocked at the idea, Mary,” he said. “It’s me.” And then they both laughed.
    “So what is it you look for in your lady friends?” Mary asked him boldly.
    He didn’t answer at once, but stared thoughtfully across the other tables.
    “To tell you the truth,” he said, “I don’t run after women for the sake of it, as some men do. If I seek a woman’s friendship, it’s because I find her interesting.”
    After the meal, the children were allowed to run about. Some of the grown-ups went to walk along the beach again, while others preferred the card tables set out on the porch. Theodore lit a cigar, and went down to the water. Gretchen and Mary played cards for a while with a pleasant man from Westchester and his wife, then went to sit on some long chairs to look at the sea, as the slow summer sunset began.
    “It must be nice, being married and having children,” said Mary. “I suppose I envy you that.”
    “It’s all right. Hard work,” said Gretchen.
    “I’m sure. But having a husband …”
    Gretchen was silent for a minute. “They take you for granted before long,” she said.
    “But your husband is kind, isn’t he?”
    “Oh yes.” Gretchen stared up at the sky. “I can’t complain.”
    “And you love your children.”
    “Of course.”
    “I suppose I might have married Nolan, if I hadn’t discovered what a brute he was.”
    “So you’re glad you didn’t.”
    “Oh yes, of course I am.”
    “Do you feel lonely?” Gretchen asked after a little while.
    “Not much. Perhaps a little.”
    They were silent for a minute or so after that.
    “I suppose my brother will settle down one day,” Gretchen said with a sigh. Then she laughed. “When he’s about fifty.” She glanced across. “Stay away from my brother, Mary. He’s dangerous, you know.”
    No doubt Gretchen was concerned for her welfare, but it seemed to Mary that her friend had no business telling her to stay away from her brother like that, and she couldn’t help a small flash of resentment and rebellion.
    “I’m old enough to look after myself, thank you,” she said.
    When Theodore came back, they all agreed that after all the fresh air and exercise of the day, they were ready to turn in.
    The sky was still red as Mary and Gretchen undressed and got into their beds. Through the open window, Mary could hear the soft sound of the sea. She was just dozing off when she heard a rustle, and realized that Gretchen had got out of her bed. She raised her head to see what her friend was doing, and found that Gretchen was standing beside her. Her hair, undone, was hanging down to her shoulders. Then Gretchen leaned over so that her hair brushed her face, and kissed her on the forehead, before getting back into her bed. And Mary was glad to know that, even if she had been cross with Gretchen for a moment, she was still, always, her friend.

    Sean O’Donnell got up at nine o’clock that morning. His wife and children were still at breakfast when he went downstairs into the saloon, and found Hudson already at work, cleaning up after the night before. He gave the black man a brief nod, went to the street door and looked out.
    Sunday morning. The street was quiet, but he stayed there a little while, for he was a cautious man.
    He turned. This time, he gave young Hudson a thoughtful look.
    “Thinking of going out today?” he asked.
    “I got to be at the church later this morning,” said the black man.
    The Shiloh Presbyterian Church. It wasn’t far away.
    “Tell me,” said Sean, “before you go.”
    It was three years now since he’d encountered Hudson. Like most of the Negroes in the city, he’d arrived after a long and dangerous journey up the underground railway, whose terminus had been the Shiloh Church. A journalist, a friend of the Negro minister at Shiloh, had asked Sean if he could find a place for Hudson. To oblige a regular customer, Sean had agreed to see the young fellow.
    Personally, Sean wasn’t too keen on helping runaway slaves. Like most Irish Catholics in the city, he disliked the privileged Protestant evangelical ministers who preached abolition, and had no wish to antagonize the South. But there were quite a few Negroes doing the menial