have you been. Gwennie and I have been trying to find you.”
This warmed her heart; coming back was not going to be so difficult after all.
“You did?” “Why, yes. We wanted to invite you to our wedding.”
The receiver fell from her hand. For a moment she stood like one stunned, unable to move. She could fear Benson on the other end of the wire clicking he receiver and shouting “Hello, Hello,” then the final clicking of the receiver as he hung up, followed by a deadened . . . “operator” . . . “operator” from central.
Somehow or other she managed to get hold of the receiver and replace it in the hook. Then she left the telephone booth and made her way out of the drugstore into the street. Seventh Avenue as usual was alive and crowded. It was an early spring evening and far too warm for people to remain cooped up in stuffy apartments. Seventh Avenue was the gorge into which Harlem cliff dwellers crowded to promenade. It was heavy laden, full of life and color, vibrant and leisurely. But for the first time since her arrival in Harlem, Emma Lou was impervious to all this. For the moment she hardly realized where she was. Only the constant jostling and the
