The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

And as for the Texas Star herself—well, after that ridiculous little abduction stunt at the Kilgores’ house, Charlie was entirely disgusted with her. It didn’t matter what kind of a run-in she had had with Roger and Mildred, she wasn’t justified in doing what she did. Climbing out of the window was utterly stupid, and it was even stupider to make it look like she’d been kidnapped. Charlie had lost all patience with her—and she had lost any attraction she ever held for him. He’d be just as glad if he didn’t see Lily Dare ever again. He didn’t owe her so much as a second thought.

But Charlie couldn’t hold back the swarm of second thoughts that had continued to plague him since he had left Fannie Champaign on Wednesday night. The echo of her sad little sigh, the memory of her disappointment in him—these stung him now even more piercingly than they had when he had left her, wearing the noble righteousness of his lie like a badge of honor. Then, he had thought it was better to convince Fannie that he wasn’t suitable husband material and that he intended never to marry—and that the best way to do this was to get her to see him as a two-timing jerk. Lily Dare had happened along at exactly the right time to assist in this deception.

Now, giving the matter the second thoughts he should have bestowed on it in the first place, Charlie was beginning to think that he might have taken the wrong approach. He had shown himself to be a complete and utter cad with absolutely no redeeming qualities—and that, surely, was not the case. He certainly wasn’t an angel, but he wasn’t the devil with horns that Fannie now must think him. Maybe he shouldn’t have painted himself as an unregenerate louse who would two-time her with Lily Dare and humiliate her in front of her friends. After all, he hadn’t really two-timed her, had he? He’d just pretended to. To put it bluntly, he had told her a lie for the sake of the truth, but it was nevertheless a lie.

Now, giving it some second thought, he decided that instead of lying, he should have come straight out and told her that he wasn’t interested in matrimony—at least, not just now, at the moment when it seemed that everybody in town already had them standing at the altar. He should probably have added that he very much enjoyed being with her (which was true) and would miss their evenings together if they stopped seeing one another (also true) and as a matter of fact did not want to stop seeing her (most definitely true).

So, having given the matter due consideration, he decided that it would be best if he dropped in at Fannie’s hat shop today and cleared up any misapprehension she might have about the true nature of his character. That would allow them to continue seeing one another, but without any inconvenient expectations on her part.

This vigorous back-and-forth debate was going through Charlie’s mind on Friday morning as he put on his heavy canvas apron and a pressman’s hat made of folded newsprint, to keep the ink out of his hair. At the makeup table, he took one last, careful look at the type forms that made up the four pages of home print—the local news and advertisements that occupied half of the newspaper. The pages looked pretty good, he thought, considering. There was plenty of news, anyway, although he could have wished for a few more ads.

Headlining the local page was an article Charlie had written about Gene Ralston, a Darling veteran who had gone to Washington, D.C., to join the Bonus Army. Earlier in the spring, some 43,000 veterans of the Great War began to gather at the Capitol to demand the cash bonuses that had been promised to them back in 1924. Their hopes were fired up in June when the House passed a bill authored by Texas Representative Wright Patman, allowing them to collect their bonuses immediately, in cash—then dashed when the Senate defeated it a couple of days later. But the vets were still in Washington, still trying to pressure President Hoover to act on their behalf—a wasted effort, in Charlie’s estimation. Hoover had to hold on to his political base, the Republican loyalists who didn’t approve of any government-backed relief efforts. The president couldn’t afford to do anything that would make them angry enough to stay home come Election Day next November. Roosevelt’s promises of a “new deal” (whatever that was) appealed to a great many people, more than enough, Charlie thought, to elect him. Hoover was facing an uphill battle.