Love Story MagazineVol. XIV, No. 6 (March 30, 1935), ed. byDaisy Bacon. New York: Street & Smith Corp., pp.
164.Street & Smith CorpNew YorkMarch 30, 193579 7th AvenueNew York, NYUnited StatesLove Story MagazineVictoria DeLaneyDickinson CollegeCarlisle, PA 17013
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Street & Smith's Love Story MagazineIllustratedEvery WeekMar. 30Contents Copyrighted 1935Orchid Girl by Paula
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Vol. CXIVEVERY WEEKNo. 6STREET & SMITH'S LOVE STORY MAGAZINETitle Registered U. S. Pateot OfficeThe entire contents of this magazine are protected by copyright, and must
not be reprinted without the pub-lishers’ permission.Yearly Subscription, $6.00 Six Months, $3.00 Single Copies, 15 Cents
CONTENTS FOR MARCH30, 1935
Midnight MadnessJoan King37In Five Parts---Part FourPrimitive LoveCordelia Snow107In Three Parts---Part ThreeTwo in a FogGerry Ann Hale10Young And BeautifulJo Franklin24Borrowed ManJesse F. Gelders54Orchid GirlPaula Rockwell64Heartless FlirtIves Tudor78Violet EyesEthel Le Compte93Musical ProposalLeslie Gordon Barnard125Winter SaleBert Coksley23Enchanted GardenFranklin Pierce Carrigan53LoveElfria Norden92CoquetteDoris I. Bateman124Your Stars And YouKai135 The Friendliest CornerMary Morris141The Friend In NeedLaura Alston Brown148
“Too Reckless!”—Anne L. Kimball’s serial, written especially for Street
Smith’s Love Story Magazine—begins next week. You won’t want to miss
it.
Publication issued every week by Street Smith Publications, Inc., 79-89
Seventh Avenue, New York, N. Y. George C. Smith, Jr., President; Ormond V.
Gould, Vice President and Treasurer: Artemas Holmes. Vice President and
Secretary; Clarence C. Vernam, Vice President. Copyright, 1935, by Street
Smith Publications, Inc., New York. Copyright, 1935, by Street Smith
Publications, Inc., Great Britain. Entered as Second-class Matter. April 21,
1921, at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., under Act of Congress of March
3, 1879. Subscriptions to Cuba, Dom. Republic, Haiti, Spain, Central and
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To facilitate handling, the author should inclose a self-addressed envelope
with the requisite postage attached.STREET SMITH PUBLICATIONS, INC., 79 7th AVE., NEW YORK, N. Y.
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MRS. VIOLET J. BOSTIC 183 Second St., Idaho Falls, Idaho.In a letter dated January 7, 1935, Mrs, Bostic says, “I have just had
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RADIOGET MY FREE SAMPLE LESSONMail CouponSet ServicingSpare time set servic-ing pays many N, R. I. men $200 to $1,000 a year.
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Two in a FogBy Gerry Ann Hale
SO you can see how impossible itall is," Rod finished jerkily, hiseyes not quite meeting Melina's."I thought you were -""Some one rich and important,"she supplied dryly, and if youhadn't seen the hurt in her dark eyes,you might have thought it didn'tmatter that the man who had pro-fessed his undying love for her nottwo days ago was now backing outlamely.She looked away from his hands,fumbling nervously with the tinycup of after-dinner coffee. Outside
the plate-glass window of the quietside-street cafe, the first eddyingwisps of fog circled about the streetlamps. Inside, it was all warmthand soft light and heartbreak."But can't you see what a fix I'min?" he protested, his handsome facesullen and darkened. "I'm poor. Ican't afford, to get mixed up with aworking girl."Melina inwardly shrank from theharshness of his voice. There wasno need of that.She mused aloud, "Because I hadthe bridal suite ou the Empress, you
Two in a Fog 11
thought I was rich. Remember, Itold you I had only been to Bermudaon business!"He shrugged impatiently. "Ithought you were kidding," he mut-tered.There came the soft clatter of sil-ver and china rising over the room,and from beyond the wide door, themuted clamor of traffic. Melinashivered and picked up her purse."Why did you see me again,then?" she demanded curiously. "Itwould have been easier to just- justnot show up."Rod's lips tightened, and for oncehe didn't look quite so handsome."How did I know what you mightdo?" he said callously.Melina's smooth olive skin flusheddarkly, and for a moment her lipstrembled. Then they parted in aswift breath of anger."I can't forgive you for that!"She looked beautiful then, brilliantwith fury, alive with suppressedemotion. "I may be one of thosefools who work for a living, but I'mnot cheap! If it had killed me, Ishould never have sought you out."Her knees were lax with the fierce-ness of her anger, and for a momentit looked as if she couldn't move.Then she rose, leaning for a secondon the table."You have nothing to fear fromme," she told him bitterly. "Fromthis moment on I don't know you,never knew you, never expect toknow you!"He was on his feet too, his facewhite, his lips curled."Which is 0. K. with me," hemuttered, just as a slim dark manwith gray eyes under a shock of blue-black hair, strolled up to the tableand said mildly:"I see I'm just in time, Roddy myboy, to meet your charming dinnerguest."
Rod turned his head jerkily, andMelina saw him falter and then lookat her with a mingling of fear andannoyance. She read him correctlyin an instant. This man who hadjust come up was some one impor-tant, and Rod hated to introducethem.It brought her head up proudly,and her softly rounded chin took ona determined look."So sorry"- she moved a stepaway- "I must hurry."But the gray-eyed man wasn't tobe put off so easily.He put out a detaining hand. "Ifyou think I walked across this entireroom just to speak to Rod Landers,you're terribly mistaken. Andagain, if you think I shall let yourun off without being introduced,then you don't know Edward ErinO'Moore."Rod broke in hastily, his voice al-most fawning, Melina thought."How are you, old man? I'm justback from Bermuda-"But Edward Erin O'Moore wasn'tpaying him one second's attention.From his considerable height, hewas looking down at the avertedoutline of Melina's face."Now, what is your name?" hewas demanding coolly. "I can't goon calling you 'lady' or 'lassie' allour lives."Rod was trying to break into asituation that was rapidly growinginto a twosome, with him very muchon the outside. He cleared histhroat and essayed speech, whichagain fell on deaf ears."I say, O'Moore-"Melina lifted her eyes to the grayones just over her head."My name is Melina Otis Spauld-ing, and I work for a living," shesaid bitterly, her glance drifting toRod's suddenly scarlet face and thenback to the gray-eyed man. She
12 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
drew on her gloves slowly, knowingthat if she hurried her hands wouldtremble furiously. "And now, if youwill let me pass-""You may call me Erin," the gray-eyed man told her, as he fellinto step beside her, leaving Rodwith a bare nod of his head. "Irather like the name Melina. It'sodd. Just a bit old-fashioned."She was stumbling a little by then,because a sudden mist had comeover her eyes. Erin O'Moore tookher elbow lightly and guided her asif it were the most natural thing inthe world.He pushed the door open, and thedamp cottony fog rolled to meetthem. Somewhere on the way to thestreet, he had acquired a topcoat anda battered felt hat. And now whileMelina hesitated blindly in the en-trance, he pulled the coat on."Shall we walk a bit?" He hadher arm again, this time grippedcompanionably tight to his side. "Ilike the feel of the fog- it's so damp-ish and clammy sometimes. Look atit against the lights!"Slow, burning tears were seepingout from under Melina's long lashes;there seemed no way to stop them.They'd been gathering a long while-ever since Rod had told herbrutally that their shipboard ro-mance was ended almost before ithad begun.The man at her side sensed thetension. Across the cafe, he had seenenough in both pairs of eyes to un-derstand."You may as well get it out ofyour system," he said casually, lead-ing her across an intersecting streetwhere red and green lights were justa colorful blur. "Talk or yell, it'sthe same to me. I've listened toboth in my time."Melina stiffened. She had almostforgotten that Erin O'Moore was
there. She had been so immersed inher own misery.She looked up at his profile,sharply cut against the drifting fogand thought how different he wasfrom Rod. Rod had perfect featuresand a collar-ad smile. But this man,with his almost beaklike nose andtwisted grin, had something Rodnever would have- something hardto put one's finger on.She said harshly, "Won't it spoilyour chances or something if someone sees you walking with a work-ing girl? Or is it that the fog willprotect you?""Go on," he murmured equably."It starts amazingly well."Melina shivered and drew the furcollar higher about her chin."I'm sorry," she said thickly, "butI'm all in the air. I've just discov-ered that romance and the workinggirl doesn't mix, despite the Cinder-ella myth. The movies are allwrong so are magazines andnovels. Everything's all wrong!""Apple strudel!" he scoffed, andthen stopped suddenly against a postthat had appeared from the mist."Shades of St. Patrick! I just missed/carving my nose on that blastedpost!"They stood momentarily still,looking up at the dark outlines ofthe iron post. The fog had thick-ened to a soupy consistency."Didn't know New York could goLondon one better," Erin O'Mooremuttered,listening to the continu-ous hooting of cars half stalled inthe avenues. "We'd best get out ofthis for a while."Melina frowned slightly, comingalive to the problem of the moment."Where are we? Have you anyidea?"He dropped her arm and shinned rapidly up the iron post before shecould close her mouth. His voice
Two in a Fog 13
came down from themist above."We're practically onmy home street." Heslid down the post andwiped his hands witha large handkerchief."Would you share myfireside and a high ballfor an hour or so, las-sie? Or do I look dan-gerous?"Melina hesitated. Sheknew, no matter wherethey were then, thatshe was a long wayfrom her oneroom apart-ment over-looking thepark. Rod hadpicked this cafein which todine, with aneye to its beingout of the way."I'm not ex-actly a goodcompanion to-night," she saidrestlessly. "I'dlike to breakdishes andthings."Then ErinO Moore tookher arm againand turned leftinto the sidestreet that showed evendarker than the avenue."Even that," he as-sured her placidly,"might be arranged.There's some old crock-ery in the kitchen thatI'm tired of looking at.You'd be doing me agreat favor if you'd break-"And then Melina laughed- a
"If you think I walked across this entire room just to speak to Rod
Landers, you're terribly mistaken. And if you think I shall let you run
off with- out being intro- duced, then you don't know Edward Erin
O'Moore.
faint bit of laughter, to be sure, butnevertheless it was a step onward.
14 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
"You're ridiculous.""I made you laugh.""Is that something to crow over?"She tried hard not to be bitter."Absolutely! It shows you aren'ttoo far gone to be saved."Then he led her into a low door-way, hospitably lighted by two old-fashioned iron lanterns inclosingelectric bulbs. The warm coziness ofa narrow entrance hall envelopedthem, and the man led the way uplong white steps to a high door setwith brass knob and knocker."My domain!"- bowing low andushering her into a high-ceilingedroom that breathed of peace andcomfort.Melina dropped her coat on a redleather bench and looked appre-ciatively about. Dark woodworkand pale walls, lighted by ivory-shaded lamps that cast a subduedlight over bookcases built in half-way to the ceiling; leather chairs anda fireplace; scatter rugs, worn andvelvety; warm red drapes drawnover sheer window curtains and thegleam of brass here and there."Do you like it?" he asked eagerly.And looking at her eyes, he knewwithout words. "I'm glad," headded simply.She sat down in front of thesmoldering fire and stretched slimwhite hands toward the welcomewarmth, while the man busied him-self at the liquor cabinet."So you met Rod on the Empress,"he began casually over his shoulder.Melina stiffened resentfully. "Howdo you like the ship? I've been onher once or twice."She relaxed, feeling rather silly. ."I liked it at first," she admittedwith a burst of honesty. "I workfor the company and I had to dosome business for them down there.That's why I had the bridal suite.It was the only cabin not sold."
Erin O'Moore came over with aglass for her. "So Rod thought youwere at least Miss Empress," he ven-tured.Melina nodded. She knew sud-denly she was going to tell himeverything. She couldn't help it."It was lovely while it lasted," sheconfessed thickly. "I'd never beenflirted with so expertly before. Hemade the two days heavenly. Ihated to get back to New York.Then--""He found out you weren't abanker's daughter! Right?""Right!" she told him flatly, andthen lifted her glass. "A toast tothe working girl!""May she discover that all menaren't alike," he added swiftly. Andthey drank in silence.He sat down opposite her andstretched with a sigh of relief towardthe heat."This is something like it"- tilt-ing back his head and closing hiseyes- "with the fog outside, andpeace and a good companion inside!"Melina relaxed under the spell ofhis voice. It was soothing, com-pelling in its very quietness. Shefound some of the misery stealingfrom her heart and soul. Every-thing except this room, this man,was far away and unreal.Eyes closed, she let it all seep intoher blood. And across the width ofthe hearth, Erin O'Moore watchedher from under half-closed lids andwondered at the faint stirrings in hisheart.They were like this when therecame the muffled sound of voicesfrom below, then the clatter of feetand the sharp tap-tap of theknocker.The man frowned with annoyanceand sprang to his feet."Some pests, I suppose, to spoil aperfect evening," he groaned.
Two in a Fog 15
He crossed the room slowly andflung open the door. Almost imme-diately, the air was filled with laugh-ter and a feminine voice, followed bya familiar masculine one.Melina turned her head automati-cally and looked straight into theamazed eyes of Rod!"Edward Erin O'Moore!" Alovely red-haired girl in pale-greensatin dropped an ermine coat care-lessly on the floor to give both handsto the gray-eyed man. "You'vetreated me shamefully! Not a call,not a line, not a word-"Her glance slipped past him andfixed itself sharply on- Melina'sfrozen face. Something jealous andugly flamed for a moment in thetopaz eyes of the newcomer."Oh! I'm so sorry, darling," shepurred, coming into the room, eyesfrankly surveying Melina. "If wehad known we were intruding-"Erin O'Moore sauntered behindher. "Not at all, Jada my own.We're just hiding from the fog fora bit. This is Miss Spaulding-Miss van Dykerman." He lookedobliquely at Rod, shifting uneasily -in the background. "I believe youknow Mr. Landers."Melina smiled frostily. "No, I'mafraid not," she said clearly. "Howdo you do?"Jada slid gracefully onto thehearth rug, the faint light from thefire making her, hair sparkle, show-ing her skin to be even whiter thanit appeared."It's the fog that brought us in,"she explained, narrowing her eyesseductively at Erin O'Moore. "Wewere on our way to the Ritz and thetaxi bumped into a post at the cor-ner here. So here we are!"Melina's nerves tingled from thetip of her head to the end of herlittle toe. Rod here in the same
room! Handsome and poised now,he was leaning against the mantel."Hope you don't mind, old man,"he was saying easily to Erin. "ButJada would have it that we drop inin on you.""Guess I can stand it," Erindrawled, and Jada laughed as thoughhe had complimented her.Yet her eyes, when they soughtMelina's, were cold and just a bitcruel."And who are you, darling?" shedemanded brightly.At the liquor cabinet, mixingdrinks, Erin O'Moore paused andlistened, his generous mouth grim.Melina looked down at the othergirl. At some other time, perhaps,she might have felt ill at ease facingan obvious society girl. But now,somehow, it was a matter of no im-portance."I'm a working girl," she saidsmoothly. "You should try it some-time. It's good for the figure."Jada stiffened, and the smilewreathing her lips grew just a bitforced."I don't think my figure needs it,"she cooed. "Do you think so, Erin?"He came over with two tallglasses. "What, reducing?" Heraised his brows. "Well, a bit offthe waist might help."Jada flushed darkly and drankhalf her high ball in a furious, gustof anger.Rod's eyes darkened and his lips,too, tightened in anger ranger atMelina. She caught him glaring ather when she lifted her eyes indif-ferently to his face."What's the matter, Mr.Landers," she asked coolly. "Didyour drink go down the wrongway?""Erin O'Moore laughed suddenlyand went to turn on the radio."I think a bit of music might
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help," he chuckled into a tense si-lence.The music that drifted so en-chantingly into the room didn't helpmuch. It served only to send Jadanearer Erin and left Rod uneasilytrying to carry on a one-sided con-versation with Melina.Melina sipped her drink andgazed absent-mindedly into thedying fire. She was analyzing herfeelings, sorting them out carefullyand laying them at her feet.Rod, after that first amazing mo-ment when he had walked into theroom, had done nothing to her heartexcept perhaps harden it a little.His obvious relief when she had ac-cepted Erin O'Moore's introductionfilled her with contempt. Andagain, his too obvious eagerness tobe with Jada van Dykerman wasoverpoweringly offensive.At this moment he was glancinguneasily at Jada, sitting on a stoolat Erin's. feet, resting her lovelywhite arms on his knees while shetallied softly to him. Melina couldsee the impotence of his anger surg-ing within him."What's the matter"- she glancedup at Rod carelessly- "is your bigfish nibbling at another bait?"He flushed angrily and turned hisback on her."I say, Jada"- going to bend overthe red-haired girl- "don't youthink we could barge along? Iimagine the fog has lifted a bit bynow."Erin got to his feet and glancedhumorously across-at Melina."I hope the fog is thinning out,"he said innocently.But when he went to draw asidethe red drape, the fog was evenworse. It clung thickly to theglass outside.Erin whistled. "Looks worse," hemuttered just as the radio, inter-
rupting its dance program, issued anews bulletin."The police department is send-ing out a warning"- the voice of theannouncer came with startling sud-denness- "that all those who are in-doors, remain there until the foglifts somewhat. Right now, it is ex-ceedingly dangerous in the streets.Already, there have been more thana score of fatal accidents.""Oh!" Jada sighed ecstatically."How delicious!""It is the worst fog ever to hitNew York," went on the radio. "Itis due to lift sometime in the early-morning hours. Until then-""What rotten luck!" Rod mut-tered under his breath and kicked afootstool out of his way.Erin raised his crooked darkbrows. "I should be the one to saythat, me lad."Melina was on her feet, staringin bewilderment at her host. "Thenthat means I can't leave yet?" sheasked slowly.Erin O'Moore shook his head, hiseyes kindling suddenly. "It will giveme the greatest pleasure to be yourhost for a few hours longer."Jada tossed her head and slid herhand through his arm, taking hisspeech as a direct compliment toherself."You're absolutely precious, Erindarling. It's no wonder I love youso terribly," she purred.But Erin slid just as easily awayfrom her and crossed to a dooropening into another room. "Youlove too easily, Jada me girl. 'Tisnot the way of the Irish.""Any one would think you'd beenborn over there," she pouted, "in-stead of in New York itself."He disappeared into the otherroom and lights flashed on. A mo-ment later he was back."There now, girls"- looking
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Two in a Fog 17
straight at Melina- "there's every-thing handy for you if you get tiredand want to rest. There are cleansheets on the bed, clean towels onthe rack, and pajamas, slightly big,but serviceable if you want tosleep."Melina looked at the clock on themantel. Why, it was almost mid-night already! She should be in bednow, getting ready for to-morrow'swork."I think, if you don't mind," sheventured, "I'll take a nap."Erin came over and took her arm,his hand somehow compelling arrest."Is there any one you shouldnotify?" he wanted to know quietly.She shook her head, feeling some-thing warm and comforting stealinto her heart."No one at all."She went into the other room justas Jada reached Erin again anddrew his arm close about her waist."Can't you find a place for Rod tonap a bit?" she cooed. "Then youand I could talk."Melina heard Erin O'Moore laughsoftly just before she closed the door.And because it was the tolerantlaugh of one who brushed away apersistent insect, Melina was some-how glad.She looked about the bedroom. Itwas typically masculine the darkfurniture that was severe yet com-fortable, the wide windows withtailored curtains, and off to one side,a sedate bath done in black andwhite.Melina slipped off her dress andhung it carefully on a rack. Thenshe went into the bathroom toluxuriate in steaming hot water andfaintly scented soap.Later, feeling refreshed andready for sleep, she entered the roomto find Jada curled up on the foot ofthe bed, surveying her nails.
After a moment, she looked upand stared shrewdly at Melina.Then she smiled slightly."So you're a working girl," shemurmured.Melina disliked her intensely.She knew it definitely, how."Yes," she returned shortly,thinking how very beautiful theother girl actually was. In the mir-ror she could see her own reflectionand to herself she looked plain andshiny-faced."I don't suppose you make anawful lot?" Jada went on. "I mean,you wouldn't turn up your nose atmaking a bit- of extra money, wouldyou?"Faint alarm rang somewherewithin Melina. She stood quite stilland watched Jada through the glass."What do you mean?" she askedsharply.Jada uncoiled herself and stoodup. "If I made it worth your while,would you get out of here? No, I'llput it this way: Get out, and I'll -make it worth your while." Shelooked at Melina boldly, challeng-ingly. And if you don't get out,well, it won't make much difference."Melina brushed her hair mechani-cally while a string of bewilderedthoughts rushed through her mind."What for?" she demandedbluntly. "Why should I risk break-ing my neck in this fog?"Jada drew in a sibilant breath, andher eyes were pieces of yellow flint."I don't know why I bother to ex-plain," she said icily, as if Melinawere too insignificant a person to ad-dress at all. "It just happens that Iwant to be alone with Mr. O'Moore,and you are in my way. Now, doyou understand?"Challenging yellow eyes glared ather insolently. But somehow,Melina wasn't much impressed."Oh," she drawled, "so that's the
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18 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
In an instant, Melina had her dress on and was
fastening it up while Erinpushed open the door and peered in. "I've decided
not to take a nap,"she said. "I think I'll come in and keep you
company."
way they do it on the avenue!Frame the man when you can't gethim otherwise."Jada gave a sudden furiousscream. "Why, you cheap little-"She seemed about to leap at Melina,her gleaming nails curved for battle.But Melina's slim white handsreached out and gripped the other'snarrow wrists, holding them awayfrom her face.For a long moment, she stared ather, disgust in her eyes.
"If you think," she began grimly,releasing her with a push that sentJada stumbling back to the bed,"that I'll be a party to any schemeof yours, for trapping Mr. O'Moore,you're crazy!"Jada sat up, striving for non-chalance. "You're making a playfor him yourself," she sneered.Melina shrugged. "No, I'm not,"she said slowly. "But now that youmention it, he is worth fighting for,isn't he? A charming person!"
Two in a Fog 19
Jada stood up, her face ashilypale. "You keep away from him, doyou hear me?" she cried, clenchingher teeth desperately. "He's mineand no one else shall have him!"Melina dreamily surveyed herselfin the mirror. "He seemed to likeme," she murmured. "He'd be socomfortable to live with-""Shut up!" Jada shrieked, andthen a knock sounded on the door."Hello in there!" Erin O'Moore'svoice came anxiously through."What's all the noise about?"In an instant, Melina had herdress on and was fastening it upwhile Erin pushed open the door andpeered in. His eyes sought hersfirst and somewhere deep inside her,Melina was glad.It was, she thought vaguely, get-ting to be a habit, feeling glad aboutErin O'Moore."What's up?" he was asking, hiseyes very intent, though his voicemade his words of no consequence.Melina, went to him without look-ing at Jada. "Not a thing, she as- _sured him. Only, I've decided notto take a nap. I think I'll come inand keep you company."Erin O'Moore grinned widely andbowed low. "The best news I've hadsince you decided to take a nap.Enter, lady fair."Rod was standing by the window,scowling out at the fog. WhenMelina came in, he turned and di-rected his scowl at her. But shemerely raised her brows madden-ingly and strolled over to sit be-fore the dead embers of the fire.Her host followed, something bril-liant yet soft glowing in his eyes.Standing over her, arms foldedacross his chest, he said simply:"It took those minutes out of mysight to make me know."Melina flushed hotly and thenwondered why. Across the room,
Rod cleared his throat loudly, ButErin went on as if they were alone:"I had begun to wonder about my-self and you. For some reason youdrew my eyes clear across the cafeto-night. I couldn't eat with thesame appetite afterward." Hestopped, and his eyes searched herface intently.Melina stirred restlessly. Shefelt strange, taken up out of herselfSomething of what this man felt en-tered her blood."We're strangers," she mur~mured. "You know nothing of me."He flung up his head. "Do anyof us ever truly know one another?Even after years of living together?"She mused on that, rememberingthings she had heard. "They, saythat-""That there is no such thing aslove at first sight," he put inquickly. "Perhaps there isn't." Hiseyes held hers. "But whatever thisis I feel for you, if it isn't love, itmight just as well be because-"Jada's voice issuing from the bed-room interrupted him, and Melinawas conscious of quick resentment.She had to hear more!"Rod! Come here, will you?"Jada called and Rod, with a mut-tered excuse, disappeared into theother room and closed the door.Erin shrugged. "A lovely couple!"Melina smoothed her skirt care-fully. "You were saying?" sheprompted casually too casually.And in an instant, Erin O'Moorewas kneeling at her feet so that hecould look up into her eyes, hiswhole face lit up with tenderness, hishands strong and steady on hers."Then you aren't exactly bored?"he asked gently. "Even if you don'tbelieve in love at first sight?"Melina took a deep breath. Itwas becoming difficult to breathe theway she should. It was being so
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close to him, she thought. Thestrength of him flowing out robbedher of sane reasoning."I- I didn't say I didn't believe init," she stammered a little. "It'sjust- Well, after all, we've neverseen each other before."He lifted her hands one by oneand kissed them, his lips lingeringwarmly on their coolness. And hiseyes never once left her face."I'm not rushing you," he toldher. "I'm just warning you thatyou may as well start thinking ofme, because one day soon you'll haveto make up your mind."Nowhere a sound, save the lowmurmur of his voice and the steadyticking of a clock. And then, break-ing. the moment wide in ,two, cameRod's voice. And this time he called"Melina!He stood in the door of the bed-room. "I wonder if you'd come inand help Jada?" he asked politely."She doesn't feel so well."Melina, even while, she moved togo into the room, wondered. Therewas something distinctly peculiarabout this.Erin raised his brows inquiringly."Something more?" he mutteredunder his breath.Melina passed Rod and saw Jadalying across the bed, her face buriedin her arms. She went over andasked:"What's the matter? What can Ido?"Jada rolled, over and sighed."Some water I think!"Melina glanced at Rod, who hadclosed the bedroom door behind her.Then she went into the bathroomand got a glass. The sound of thewater running must have deadenedthe sound of Rod's steps, for with-out even the faintest warning,Melina looked up and saw him inthe bathroom door.
"Listen, Melina, we've got totalk," he said urgently, something ofhis old fascination gleaming in hiseyes. He had looked like this onthe Empress, Melina thought re-motely- eager and in love."There's nothing more, to say,"she said thinly. "That's all overand done with."He came further in and half shutthe door. "It can't be over notthe way I feel about you."She stood backed against theglass-inclosed shower. "What's got-ten into you?""I love you! That's what it is!"He took a long step that broughthim to her side. "I'm mad aboutyou. It doesn't matter if you aren trich. Nothing matters except ourlove.""Our love?" She evaded hishands and stepped back of the washbowl. "Tell, me when to laugh," sheadded bitterly.He was so handsome- handsomeand weak and shallow. Melina sawhim clearly in an ugly light. Andwhat she saw she didn't like."Come with me now," he begged."Let's go to my place where we canbe alone. I've so much to say."Slowly she shook her head. "Ifevery word you uttered was worthten dollars, you couldn't give metwo cents."He flushed darkly and bit his lips."I can make you change your mind,"he warned sulkily. "We're all alonein here, you know."Then Melina knew what the trickhad been. Jada was probably pay-ing Rod well to keep her out of theway while she worked on Erin!Even as she thought it, a screamrang out from the other room.Melina started but Rod barred herway."It's only Jada doing her stuff."
Two in a Fog 21
He grinned unpleasantly. "ErinO'Moore will be glad to do whatevershe says when she gets through put-ting on her act. Clever, isn't she?"
Melina reached for theglass she had put down,filled it calmly with waterand then before Rod knewwhat she was up to, flungit squarely in his face.And while he yelled andblinked in the suddendeluge, she was aroundhim and into the bed-room.It took only a momentto cross to the living room,and then, standing in thedoor, she looked swiftlyabout. There was Jadastanding open-mouthed inthe center of the floor,staring wildly about.Melina stared, too.There was no ErinO'Moore- no one at all there exceptthe two of them.Melina said dryly, "You may aswell put on your dress, Miss vanMelina wentinto the roomand lookedswiftlyabout. Therestood Jada.Melina saiddryly, "Youmay as wellput on yourdress, Missvan Dyker-man. The ob-ject of youraffections hasneglected toremain."
22 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
Dykerman. The object of youraffections has neglected to remain."Jada whirled to face the door."Oh! You- you little-" shescreamed, just as a thunderingknock sounded on the door and anauthoritative voice demanded:"Open in the name of the law!"Melina looked questioningly atJada. "Shall I, or will you do thehonors?"Jada grabbed up her dress andflung it about her shoulders. Thenshe flounced into the bedroom.Melina crossed to the door andflung it open on two policemen."What's going on in here?" thefirst one growled. "We heard awoman yelling."Melina raised her eyebrows."Really?" She seemed amazed."You must have made a mistake inthe house, officer. No one screamedin here." She stepped back fromthe door invitingly. "You maycome in if you wish and lookaround."The first officer looked at the sec-ond, who shrugged."Well"- the spokesman touchedhis cap- "we won't come in, butwe won't be far away in case itcomes again. We ain't takingchances to-night, what with the fogand all."Melina closed the door behindthem and leaned weakly against itfor a moment."Get out of my way!" Jada sailedinto the room, Her dress on again.And behind her stalked Rod, un-comfortably wet and angry.He refused to even look at Melina,going straight for his hat and coatand flinging them on hastily. Jadathrew her ermine about her shoul-ders and tossed her head."Are you coming, Rod?" she de-manded harshly. Together, theymarched through the door.
Melina was alone then in the quietroom alone and wondering. Whathad happened to Erin O'Moore?"Psst!" A faint hissing drew herattention to a corner near the win-dows that was in deeper shadowthan the rest of the room."Who- what- who's there?" shecalled nervously, beginning alreadyto back away toward the door."Are we alone?" It was ErinO'Moore's voice! And while shelooked around, he stepped from be-hind one of the red drapes, his blackhair more tousled than ever, and adevilish twinkle in his eyes."Glory be!" he laughed softly,coming over to her. "To think thata son of Ireland should find himselfrunning away hiding from a slipof a girl!"Melina dropped suddenly into thenearest chair, conscious of a strangeweakness about her legs."I think," she said weakly, "I'mgoing to faint."He was at her side in an instant,sober, anxious. "Darlin', don't dothat. I didn't mean to frighten you.Come, look at me."Her head slid to his shoulder as ifit had the right to be there. Andwhen she lifted her lashes, she couldlook right into his eyes."What happened?" she wanted toknow wonderingly.His eyes twinkled again. "Jadapulled a beautiful scene, worthy of abetter cause. All about love andhow no one would get me- you knowthe sort of thing." Melina nodded."And when she started pulling offher things, well I just disappeared."A tiny chuckle began to ripple upin Melina's throat. "You shouldhave seen her face when I came in!"He was serious then, his eyessomber. "What did Rod do to youin there? I heard no sound."Melina edged away from him.
Two in a Fog 23
"He tried to sell me an old yarnthat wasn't worth a moment's con-sideration."Erin O'Moore studied her eyes atlength. "Sure of that?"Very slowly, very seriously,Melina nodded. "Very sure."He sighed abruptly and drew herto her feet."It's time to be walking homenow," he said, his arms slippingeasily across her shoulders. "I havemuch to say to you, and I dare notsay it here. It is too easy to loveyou."His eyes dreamed down into hersand somehow her heart rose lightlyto answer.She smiled at him tenderly."Do you think," he asked wist-fully, "there is a chance for me?"For answer, Melina reached upand drew his head down. And thenshe kissed him lightly on bothcheeks. He reached out for her con-
vulsively and then with main effort,drew back his arms."If I touch you now," he saidthickly, adoringly, "I'll never letyou go!"Her arm slid about his neckswiftly. "I'm thinking," she whis-pered amazingly, "that I won't wantto go."He held her with fierce tenderness,cradling her close, his lips tastingthe sweetness of hers, lingering onher cheek, her eyes, her hair. Theyremained so, until finally an aliennote sounded from the dim, outerworld the clatter of milk bottles."It is time, my sweet, to go homenow." He held her aside with onearm, and reached for her coat withthe other. "But later- nine o'clockto be exact we have an engage-ment at the Municipal Building.Am I right, colleen?""Always right, dearest," Melinasighed dreamily from his shoulder.
WINTER SALEFOR sale: a castle hill with many hallsDone up in oak and willow, with a streamFurnished in newest fern and crystal wallsAnd small carillons where its pebbles dream.Great lawns completely round it, to insureA rest for Gypsy nightingales and thoseGrave bands of fiddling crickets that endureThe longest march to serenade a rose!In beautiful condition, clean and neatFrom blue -spruce turrets to each velvet
floor,Equipped with star-glow light and sun-warm
heat-And recommended most especial forAll wandering friends, of June beneath the
sky,And every smiling April passing by!Bert Cooksley.
Young And BeautifulBy Jo
Franklin
BEVERLY, standing on the bal-cony outside the hotel room,sighed at the loveliness of thenight. The moon was painting asilvery, dancing path on the lake'sdark surface. Soft strains of musicfloated up from below. And some-where, down there, was that hand-some, dark-eyed young man whosename she did not even know.
She turned her head and called:"Aren't you ready yet, mother? Thedancing in the grill has com-menced.""Just a minute more, darling."Beverly left the balcony and en-tered the room where her mothersat at the dressing table, fasteninga rope of pearls about her throat."Mother, be sure to have that
Young And Beautiful 25
necklace put in the hotel safe to-night," reminded Beverly. "Youforgot to, last night, and I was sonervous I couldn't sleep.""You worry too much," said Mrs.Fenwick gayly. "Don't forget thatthese pearls are insured for fiftythousand dollars.""Yes, mother, but a robberywouldn't be funny. And you're socareless about picking up new ac-quaintances.""Oh, stop lecturing, Beverly!Speaking of new acquaintances-after dinner, the hotel hostess in-troduced me to that distinguished-looking man we noticed in the din-ing room; His name is Luis Se-bastian. He's very charming. Andwhat do you think he said to me?""That he thought you and Ilooked like sisters, instead of motherand daughter," answered Beverlypromptly."How did you ever guess?""Good heavens, mother, don'tpeople say it wherever we go?" Bev-erly asked, somewhat mournfully."Well, yes, they do," smiled Mrs.Fenwick, with a pleased look at herreflection.The glass mirroring their imagestestified that Mrs. Fenwick and hernineteen-year-old daughter did in-deed look like sisters. Beverly's fig-ure was no slenderer in her whiteevening gown than her mother's ina blue one. Mrs. Fenwick's hair,due to daily treatment, was an evenmore lustrous gold than that of herdaughter. The mother's eyes werea light blue, while Beverly's eyesshaded toward violet.Both had the gorgeous, com-plexions that go with such fair col-oring, both were beautiful. Mrs.Fenwick's beauty was doll-like anddainty, compared with the healthy,glowing attractiveness of her daugh-ter.
"Really Mr. Sebastian is very in-teresting," Mrs. Fenwick went on."He has traveled all over the world,and he's a delightful talker. And,oh, by the way, I also met that ath-letic-looking young man.""Which one do you mean?" Bev-erly spoke calmly, but her heartgave a queer little flipflop of an-ticipation."You know- the only other at-tractive man in the hotel. Thequiet one who's been sitting shylyon the porch, reading. His nameis Gordon Larrimore. What do yousay, Beverly, we go down now,gather him and Mr. Sebastian in,and hint that they take us to thegrill for dancing?""Mother!" Beverly was partlythrilled, partly apprehensive."Please don't ask them, outright.""Of course not!" laughed Mrs.Fenwick. "Leave it to me to besubtle. And stop looking so wor-ried. Sometimes I feel you're tenyears older than I."Beverly, selecting a wrap, sighed.She felt the same way. Her motherseemed so irresponsible. It was niceto have a young, beautiful mother,but sometimes she envied othergirls. Girls who had stout, middle-aged mothers with graying hair-mothers who were not always sur-rounded by fascinated young men,who did not eclipse their shy youngsdaughters.Beverly was not unsympatheticwith her mother's keen enjoyment ofbeing youngish and sought-after.She knew that Mrs. Fenwick, mar-ried when very young to a mantwenty years her senior, had foryears led a dull existence. It wasonly several years ago that, left awidow with a good income, she hadreally blossomed out and begun toenjoy life.Because of her earlier repression,
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Mrs. Fenwick now craved gayety indeep gulps. She wanted to make upfor the lost years of youth; she rev-eled in the admiration of youngermen. Beverly often squirmed un-comfortably, feeling that her motherwas a bit too frivolous, especiallywhen enlivened by an extra cock-tail. She lived in constant dread ofMrs. Fenwick's becoming too fool-ish over some, romantic youth.Fifteen minutes after they wentdown to the lobby, due to skillfulmaneuvers on Mrs. Fenwick's part,mother and daughter were seated inthe grill. With them were GordonLarrimore and Luis Sebastian.While her mother chattered gayly,Beverly quietly studied the twomen. Both had dark hair, but Gor-don's was dark-brown and crisp,while Sebastian's was dark andsleek. Sebastian's eyes were blackand penetrating. Gordon's werehazel and had a glint of humor inthem. Sebiastian might be thehandsomer, but she preferred Gor-don's bronzed, broad-shoulderedgood looks.As the orchestra struck up, bothmen turned to ask Mrs. Fenwickfor the first dance. Beverly wasused to that. She was delighted tosee her mother choose Sebastian asa partner. She felt a sense of de-licious contentment as she and Gor-don glided out upon the dance floor.His first words, however, robbedthe moment of its pleasure."You have a very beautifulmother," he observed. His eyeswere following Mrs. Fenwick andSebastian."You thrill me," answered Bev-erly. "Do you always say suchcharming things?"He looked a trifle confused as hemet her gaze."Well, I was about to add thatyou greatly resemble her. In fact,
when I first saw you together, Ithought-""That we were sisters?" finishedBeverly. "You're only the ninehundred and fiftieth man to saythat."His eyes twinkled. She felt thathe perceived her inner exasperation."Then I'm not being very original,am I? I might as well say all theusual things. How do you like ithere at this quiet lake resort?""There's lots to do," she told him."Boating, swimming, riding, tennis.How are you ait those things?""Only fair," he replied. "Soundstoo energetic for one who has comefrom an office for a few days rest."She felt chagrined. His whole ap-pearance suggested, a love of theoutdoors. The average young manwould have eagerly sought her com-pany in a round of sports. Why didhe evade her?- she wondered. Herheart sank at the thought that per-haps his interest was all for her fas-cinating mother.Her suspicions were borne out bythe alacrity with which he askedMrs. Fenwick for the followingdance. For the next hour, he andSebastian alternated in dancing withmother and daughter. Beverly hadthe all-too-familiar sensation of be-ing an outsider at the party. Hervivacious mother dominated thescene and claimed most of the twomen's attention."You're so silent to-night, Bev-erly, remarked Mrs. Fenwick," dur-ing an interval between numbers."I have a very quiet daughter, gen-tlemen. She throws the whole Bur-den of conversation on me.""She is listening to you and learn-ing," declared Sebastian, with anarch glance. "And she is a luckygirl, to have such a charming in-structress."
Young And Beautiful 27
Beverly decided that she could not en- dure to watch Gordon acting like
other young men who had fallen under her mother's spell. "I have a headache
she announced. If you'l excuse me, I'll go to my room."
"Flatterer!" said Mrs. Fenwick,who loved compliments. "Don'tEuropeans say the sweetest things,Mr. Larrimore?"
Gordon smiled at her. "Whowouldn't, with you as an inspiration,Mrs. Fenwick?"Her mother-beamed with pleasure,and Beverly decided that she couldstand no more. She rose from thetable. She could not endure towatch Gordon acting like otheryoung men who had fallen under hermother's spell."I have a headache," she an-nounced. "If you'll excuse me, Ithink I'll take a stroll in the gar-den before going to my room."The men rose politely, and hereyes met those of Gordon. His wereregretful, and for a fleeting secondshe fancied he was about to accom-pany her. Then his gaze dropped,and she left the room alone. Therewere tears of vexation- and some-thing deeper than vexation- in hereyes.Beverly breakfasted alone thenext morning. She liked to go fora canter before the sun was high.
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Mrs. Fenwick seldom arose beforeten o'clock.As she was leaving the diningroom, Beverly met Gordon comingin. His eyes widened at sight of herin her trim white riding habit. Shelooked her charming, youthful best,and she knew it.He stammered a Good morning,and added, "You're really dazzling,Miss Fenwick, if you don't mind mysaying so.""I don't. She smiled wickedly."You're complimentary to mothersand daughters both, I see. How doyou get on with grandmothers?"He looked taken aback at her sar-,casm. Then his jaw squared grimly."Oh, I'm a riot in an old ladieshome. Would you like to hear mymemoirs sometime?""Of course," she returned. "Somerainy day, by the fireside. And youcan wear your slippers and relax."Then she went out to where thegroom stood with her horse. Mount-ing, she galloped along the bridletrail that circled the lake. Thefresh morning air brightened hereyes-and stung vivid color into hercheeks. It would have been per-fect, if Gordon, had been riding withher.She kept remembering the baffledlook on his face. Her gibes hadhurt him. Well, if she could hurthim, perhaps he was not indifferentto her. There had been undisguisedadmiration in his eyes, too, no-doubtof that.But the glow induced by thesethoughts vanished two hours later,as she rode back to the hotel. Sheheard the gay voices of approachingriders through the trees. Hermother galloped into sight, and rid-ing with her were Gordon and Se-bastian.Beverly smilingly returned thegreetings of her mother and Sebas-
tian. But her face froze a little asshe met Gordon's pleasant smile."So you finally tottered out intothe sunshine?" she said, as if ad-dressing a white-bearded old man.This time he refused to look hurt.He reined in. "Come along withus," he invited, "and I'll race youfive miles, little one.""No, thanks," she declined; "youmight collapse and not be able toplay checkers to-night."A spark leaped into his eyes."Look out. I might take the pre-rogative of the elders you class mewith, and give you the spanking youneed."She laughed tantalizingly, happyto see him stung by what she hadsaid."It isn't that I class you with myelders," she returned. "It's that youcan't tear yourself away from them.And it's beginning to get you.You're aging, right before my eyes."As he started to reply, an impulse-of deviltry seized her. Raising herriding crop, she brought it downsharply on his horse's flank. Thestartled animal bolted, giving himplenty to do to manage it. Lookingafter him, she saw by the way he gotthe mount under control that he wasan accomplished horseman.She rode back to the hotel, won-dering what had possessed her toact like that. Was it love? Was itlove that made her so exasperatedat Gordon that she felt she hatedhim, yet wanted to be in his arms?Did love make you so wistful andunhappy, and yet so thrilly insideof you?After lunch, Beverly arranged tohave a canoe held for her at thelanding. She hoped that Gordonwould see her embarking. Perhapsit was this thought that led her todon her most becoming- and dar-ing- bathing suit.
Young And Beautiful 29
To her joy, Gordon was stand-ing on the side porch as she wenttoward the landing. She pretendednot to see him until he hailed her."Not going swimming in that icylake, are you?"Pausing, she looked up. She hadseen the eyes of many men widenwith keen admiration at sight of herin a bathing suit. But to see sucha look on his face fairly made hertingle."I'm going to paddle my owncanoe," she said. T"hat is, unlessI can find a strong man to help me.How'd you like to ship on a voyagearound the lake?""I'm awfully sorry." A deepen-ing warmth of sincerity was in histone. "But I've promised to makea fourth at bridge with Mr. Sebas-tian, your mother, and anotherlady.""Oh!" She caught her breath,and again exasperation swept overher. If his eyes really meant whatthey said, why was he always at hermother's side?"Better be careful," she advisedhim mockingly; "You'll be tiredout, lifting those heavy cards. Idon't know how you stand thepace!"He glared down at her." It isn tonly your canoe that needs pad-dling," he growled. For a momentshe thought he was going to vaultthe railing and carry out his threat.Then he glanced out over the lake,and his expression changed. "Lotsof whitecaps on the water. Don'tyou think it's too choppy to go ca-noeing?""Maybe, for bridge players," Bev-erly retorted. "But I don't thinkso."She swung on her heel and walkedaway, disappointed that he called noreply after her. As she started pad-dling from shore, she could see him
on the porch, watching her. Thenhe went inside. During the nexttwo hours, he reappeared at inter-vals, no doubt when he was dummy.She derived some satisfaction frombelieving that he was following herwith his eyes.Pride alone kept her on the lakeafter the first half hour. The waterwas choppy, and the wind had aknifelike edge. But she felt thatto go ashore would be admitting thatGordon had been right.Presently the wind increased, andshe decided to turn back. Sheveered too sharply, however, lettingthe canoe's bow leap out of thewater. The swirling waves rushedunder it, and Beverly found herselfin the lake with the canoe capsized.The water was icy-cold, but aftershe caught her breath she was notalarmed. She was an excellentswimmer. About to start for shore,she glanced toward the hotel. Thereon the porch stood Gordon's famil-iar figure. Knowing that she wascleanly visible to him, she sent outa long, piercing scream.She saw him leap the railing andrun to the landing. There he re-moved his coat, kicked off his shoes,and dived into the lake. As he cutthrough the water toward her withlong, strong strokes, she perceivedthat he was an exceptionally goodswimmer.Nearing the capsized canoe towhich she clung, he blinked the wa-ter from his eyes and calledhoarsely: "Miss Fenwick! Bev-erly! Are you all right?""Never better," she respondedcheerfully. "It was nice of you toswim out and visit me."She smiled gayly at him. His facegrew grim as, treading water, hestared at her."You don't seem to need help," he
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said ominously. "What was allscreaming for?""I wanted to see if you'd leaveyour bridge game," she asserted."Now that you're here, I'll race youback to shore."For answer, he lunged toward her.The next moment Beverly wasgrasped in his strong armsface down against the overturnedcanoe, and spanked twice, stingingly.Spluttering, gaspingwhen he released her,she faced him, her eyesblazing. She felt out-raged and humiliated."I hate you!" shecried. "How dared youdo that to me?""You asked for it,and you got it," he an-swered. His face wascalm now, and his eyesfriendly and warm."Now let's get back toland.""I'll go back by my-self!" she cried. "Goaway and let me alone, you brute!""I'm going with you," he an-nounced resolutely.If the water had not been so icy,Beverly would have remained thereobstinately. But she was becomingchilled. She struck out for shore ather fastest pace, hoping to outdis-tance him. To her irritation, hekept at her side with ease.Halfway to the landing, herlimbs began to grow leaden. Herbody went numb, and her head feltdizzy. She turned a puzzled, help-less look toward Gordon. He swamcloser to her. His brawny arm wentacross her shoulders, and she sighed.Then she lost consciousness.When she opened her eyes Gor-don was lowering her gently into herbed. Behind him she glimpsed the
anxious face of her mother and thecountenance of the hotel physician."I'm sorry," she whispered weaklyto Gordon.He smiled softly and let his handscome away from her slowly, reluc-tantly. Then he stepped aside forthe doctor.Beverly emerged from the esca-pade with nothing worse than a se-vere cold.She was forced to keepto her room for the restof the week. Ordinarilythis would have beenhard enough on heractive temperament.Now it meant not see-ing Gordon, and thatmade it ten times worse.He sent her a largebouquet of flowers, andshe was thrilled almostto tears. There was noflorist at the resort.She realized that hemust have pluckedthose wild flowers afterhours of tramping about the slopes. They wilted in aday, but she would not have themthrown out. His flowers!After dinner in her room serveralnights later she announced:"Mother, I feel well enough to godownstairs this evening. In fact, Icould stand a couple of hours ofdancing."Splendid, my dear!" enthusedMrs. Fenwick. "And it will be agreat relief to me if you'll take Gor-don Larrimore off my hands foronce. He trails me everywhere I go,and I haven't had five minutes alonewith that fascinating Sebas-tian.""Really!" said Beverly faintly.Her mother had no idea how herwords tor at the girl's heart. Sohe was still pursuing her mother!"Of course, I'm flattered by his
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attentions," Mrs. Fenwick rattledon. "He and Sebastian are bothhandsome, both interesting-""And both years younger thanyou, especially Gordon," finishedBeverly. "I hope you're not tak-ing either of them seriously.""There you go, always remind-ing me of my age!" her motherpouted. "Other people don't thinkI'm as ancient as you do, Beverly.I'm only five or six years older thanLuis Sebastian, and I don't look it.Sometimes I think you're jealous be-cause men seem to prefer mybeauty!""I'm not jealous, mother," Bev-erly protested. Nevertheless, shefelt a twinge of conscience. Shenever had been jealous until Gor-don appeared. "But I wish you'dbecome interested in older men, like,our lawyer, who has adored you foryears. I'm always afraid you'll getsilly over some young man, andthen--"Her voice trailed off. Mrs. Fen-wick burst into tears."You begrudge my having anyfun in life. I'll be old soon enough.I think it's horrid of you, Beverly."Beverly sighed. Her mother wasjust like a child."I'm sorry, mother. Let's forgetit," she said, putting her arms aboutthe older woman affectionately. Allsuch scenes inevitably ended withBeverly apologetic and remorseful.Mrs. Fenwick, dabbing at hereyes, took advantage of her daugh-ter's softened mood."Darling, do something for me,won't you? We're leaving to-mor-row, so this is the last night I canspend with Luis.""What can I do?" asked Beverlywonderingly."You can get rid of Gordon forme. When you see him in the lobby,tell him I'm staying in my room for
the evening. Then I'll phone Luis'sroom, and we'll steal away to theLakeside Casino for a few dances."Beverly hesitated, and her mother,reading her thoughts, urged her:"Please, dear! I'll enjoy it so. I'llprobably never see him again, andI promise not to drink more thantwo cocktails.""All right, mother, I'll do it,"promised Beverly. She felt a cer-tain pleasure in the thought that,though she did not relish the decep-tion, it would enable her to haveGordon to herself for a last fewhours.He was not in the lobby whenBeverly stepped from the elevator.Sebastian was there, however."You are charming this evening,Miss Fenwick," he said, bowing. Hisgaze traveled over her lithe form inits close-fitting gown of jade green."You are like a goddess of the dance,all green and gold."Beverly smiled coldly. She didnot like his bold eyes. They madeher feel creepy."Mother has not come down yet,"she informed him abruptly. "She isstill in her room."He smirked complacently, as ifthere were some secret understand-ing between them. Then he bowedand left the lobby.A moment later Gordon saunteredin. Her heart leaped at his ap-proach."Being confined to your room hasimproved your looks, if that werepossible." He smiled. "Golden hair-green gown- blue eyes reflectingthe green I call it bewitching!"Where Sebastian's complimentshad repelled her, Gordon's wordscaused her to glow with inner hap-piness."You're looking quite fit your-self," she said. How you stand up
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under bridge and other indoor ath-letics, I don't know!""Are you going to start thatagain?" he groaned. His eyes wentpast her to the elevators. "How isyour mother this evening?"This query set Beverly's teeth onedge. "And are you going to startthat? Now suppose I ask aboutyour parents? Then we'll inquireafter each other's grandparents, andsettle down to a cozy chat aboutthe Civil War.""You're a brat!" he muttered.But there was a touch of embarrass-ment in his manner that made hertake pity on him."Mother asked me to tell her pub-lic that she will stay in her roomthis evening," she told him, keepingas close to the truth as possible."Really?" His face lighted withapparent relief. It puzzled her."That was her message. Can Ihelp you to kill a lonely evening atdominoes or checkers?"Instead of being annoyed, he-broke into laughter."You have a lovely sense of hu-mor. I like it," he asserted. "Let'sdeclare a truce and go down to thegrill and dance.""Fine!" she accepted enthusiasti-cally.They danced until near midnight.The hours passed like a roseate, rap-turous dream to Beverly. At lastshe had Gordon all to herself! Heproved a delightful companion aperfect one, she thought. For shewas gloriously, completely in lovewith him, and she admitted it toherself without reservation.And it seemed to her that hisfeeling toward her was more thancasual. A man reveals so muchwhen he looks in a certain way ata girl, keeps his eyes on her alone,trembles when his hand toucheshers. As the evening wore on, they
became a little graver, a little shyerwith each other, as if deep emotionswere surging within them."Let's take a turn in the air," hesuggested finally.They went out to the terrace andaround to the deserted porch of thehotel. An intimate silence fell be-tween them as they gazed out overthe moonlit waters of the lake."I wonder what is at the end ofthat moonglade," Beverly mused atlast. "Is it like a rainbow, do youthink?"He looked at the long path of sil-ver stretching to the horizon. "NoThere's no pot of gold there. I'lltell you what I think: If we could,reach the moonglade's end, we'd findthe, answer to our dreams. Whatwould yours be?"She met his glance, intently chal-lenging."I hope you won't laugh," shesaid. "What I'd want to find therewould be just a home.""Just a home?" He stared in sur-prise."Yes. It needn't be a big one,nor a grand one. But a home, areal home. You see, mother and Itravel from hotel to hotel. Sheloves it, but I'm deathly tired of it.So I'dream of a home of my own."She was really afraid he might beamused. But he looked at her withdeepening approval, and his voicewas tender when he spoke."I like that," he declared. "Ahome! But wouldn't you wantsome one to share it with you, Bev-erly?"He was gazing intently at her.A strange timidity assailed her, andshe could not raise her eyes to his.How could she let him read whatwas so plainly written there?"You're asking too many ques-tions," she parried. "Suppose youanswer one. What dream would you
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She clutched at his arm almost frantically. "Gordon, I don't understand
you!" she cried. "What can it matter to you if my mother is out with Luis
Sebastian?" But Gordon freed his arm and ran to his car.
hope to find answered at the end ofthe moonglade?"It was his turn to display a sortof shyness."The answer to my dream?" Hisvoice was hesitant, but vibrant withrising emotion. "Well-"A sudden gust of wind came fromthe lake, and Beverly pulled herwrap closer about her. His handswent out to help her. She felt hisfingers trembling at her shoulders
as his hands hovered, reluctant todraw away. Almost insensibly sheswayed toward him. Then his armswent about her, and he drew her tohim and held her close.She raised her eyes to his, andthen, swiftly, crushingly, his lipswere on hers. He kissed her againand again, as though he could neverhave enough. She returned hiskisses, afloat in a warm sea of lan-guorous delight, athrill with the con-
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tented rapture of love given andreturned.At last, breathless, she drew backwith a smile and a faint shake of herhead. Now she wanted to have himspeak, to put his endearments intowords.He gazed down at her, his eyesmelting into hers."That's the answer to my dreams,darling," he began. "You in myarms, and-"Footsteps behind them made himpause. Beverly drew away from himas some one came up the steps. Itwas the young assistant manager ofthe hotel."Oh, good evening, Miss Fen-wick," he murmured. "And, Mr.Larrimore, how are you?"He looked fully as embarrassed asthey over having interrupted theirtête-à-tête. Trying to ease the situa-tion, he paused and turned just be-fore he entered the lobby."I saw that charming mother ofyours at the casino," he said toBeverly. "She was certainly enjoy-ing herself."Then he left them, blissfully igno-rant of having hurled a verbal bomb-shell.Gordon's manner underwent acomplete change. He looked at Bev-erly accusingly, his brows knittingtogether. "I thought you said yourmother was staying in her room?""That's what she wanted me tosay," explained Beverly. "But, in-stead, she went to the LakesideCasino with-""With Sebastian!" he burst out,and she nodded, wondering at hisvehemence. Then, to her greaterastonishment, he started across to-ward the steps.Bewildered, she clutched- at hisarm almost frantically."Gordon, I don't understandyou!" she cried, her voice breaking.
"What can it matter to you whatmy mother does, if-"But, with an impatient shake ofhis head, he freed his arm and fairlyran down the steps and around thedrive toward the hotel garage. Twominutes later, he roared past theporch in his roadster. The sound ofhis motor died away in the direc-tion of the casino.Beverly, moving as in a dream,went down the steps and gazedblankly after him. So rapidly hadshock followed shock that she wasstill dry-eyed, hurt to numbness.So he had made love to her onlyin the absence of her mother! Andthe moment he had learned whereher mother was, he had flung offafter her!Great sobs began to shake thegirl's slender body. Like a woundedthing, she wandered into the hotelgarden and, flinging herself upon abench, gave way to her heartbreakand humiliation.Half an hour later, her grief mo-mentarily spent, Beverly rose wea-rily from the bench. She enteredthe hotel by a rear door, not want-ing any one to see her stricken faceand swollen eyelids.She found herself in the unlightedsun parlor. Off this room a rearstaircase led to the upper floors. Shewas moving across the room, feelingher way, when two persons enteredat the side door from the porch.She drew back into the shadows.The porch light fell on the pair whohad come in. Her mother and Se-bastian! She smiled bitterly at therealization that Gordon had evi-dently missed them. Then she drewin her breath sharply as she saw thather mother was walking a little un-steadily."I feel funny," said Mrs. Fen-
Young And Beautiful 35
wick, pausing near the door. "Whatwas in that last cocktail I drank,Luis?""Nothing that wasn't good foryou," Sebastian assured her suavely."Perhaps you'd best sit down a sec-ond."He assisted Mrs. Fenwick to achaise longue. Her head sankback, she murmured something, thensank into deep slumber.With quick, catlike movementsSebastian bent over her and re-moved the pearl necklacefrom her throat. He washurrying toward the doorwhen Beverly steppedfrom the shadows."Just a minute, Mr.
Sebastian! Where do you think youare going with those pearls?"Startled, he wheeled toward her.At the same instant his hand flashedup, pointing a revolver at her."Oh, it's you, Miss Fenwick.Kindly don't raise your voice, or I
With quick movements Sebastian removed the pearl necklace from Mrs.
Fenwick's throat. Then Beverly stepped from the shadows. "Just a minute,
Mr. Sebastian! Where do you think you are going with those
pearls?"
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shall have to do something regret-table. Just turn your back to me,and put both hands behind you."There was no mistaking the steelymenace in his low tones. Beverlydid as he ordered. Hastily he toresome pull cords from the windowdrapes and tied her hands and feet.Then he turned her around to gagher with a handkerchief.Behind him she saw suddenly aman's form blocking the doorway.Her heart gave a leap as she rec-ognized Gordon. The next momenthe sprang across the interveningspace and hurled his six feet ofweight and muscle upon Sebastian.Sebastian struggled fiercely, butonce the revolver was wrested fromhis grasp he was at the mercy of the stronger man. By the time ho-tel attendants rushed to the scene,Gordon had his opponent down.Beverly sighed, and then did a sur-prising thing for a healthy, athleticgirl. She quietly fainted.It was the following morning, inthe sitting room of the Fenwickssuite."You see," explained Gordon,"my father is president of the ZenithInsurance Co. I'm a member of thefirm, in charge of the operatives-the detectives who investigate jewelthefts.""I begin to see," said Beverly.Her eyes were shining as shewatched him pace the room while hetalked."I came here for a few daysrest," he went on. "Then I sawthis fellow Sebastian hanging aroundyour mother. I recognized him asa man we had had under suspicionin a recent robbery. So what couldI do? Your mother's jewels wereinsured by our company. It be-
came my duty to stick close to herand Sebastian. I couldn't arresthim until he did something crimi-nal.""So that's why you left me," shemurmured, "right in the middleof-""Of telling you I loved you? Yes.I knew your mother was in danger,and there was no time to lose. Ireached the, casino after she andSebastian had left, trailed them backhere, and caught him red-handed."He came across the room now andtook her hands in his, looking downat her-tenderly."May I go on where I left off,darling, and tell you that I loveyou, adore you, want you? Thatfrom the moment I saw you, I knewyou were the answer to all mydreams?""I want to hear it all," shebreathed, "over and over again.But, first, hold me tight and kissme!"He took her in his arms, and shegave herself up, utterly to the sweet,delicious rapture of his kiss.A voice behind them finally brokein upon their blissful oblivion."You make a sweet couple," said -Mrs. Fenwick from the doorway.She came toward them smilingly."How disillusioned I was!" shecontinued lightly. "Thinking twoyoung men were fascinated by me,when one wanted my pearls and theother only wished to protect me.""Oh, mother, don't you mind!" ex-claimed Beverly, embracing hersympathetically."No sympathy needed, my dear.I'm cured. I've just accepted mylawyer's proposal of marriage overthe telephone. We'll have a gorgeousdouble wedding, Beverly!"
Midnight MadnessBy Joan KingA SERIAL-Part IV.
CHAPTER VII.JANICE woke and lay gazing atthe pale shaft of sunlight strug-gling in between the drawnsatin damask curtains of her bed-room windows. At first, sleep stilllay heavy on her lids, misting herbrain; then memory flooded back.Last night had been the night ofthe play and the supper dance.Had she dreamed it, or had thatscene in her husband's room reallyhappened?
She closed her eyes and laybreathing quickly, her hands pressedagainst her madly beating heart.She could hear again the murmurof her husband's voice, whisperinghis love, could feel the pressure ofhis arms as they held her, the throbof his kisses oil her throat, againsther lips.She had believed that she wouldgive years of her life to know thathe loved her for one hour and shehad had her hour of ecstasy.She had taken the love which was
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hers by right, yet the love she hadtaken had been meant for anothergirl.Because of the remains of the fe-ver that was upon him and the drugshe had been obliged to take duringthe day, he had mistaken her forGina Mornington.What would he think if he everfound out the truth? She had beenmad- mad!Yet the memoryof that madnessthrilled her fromhead to foot, andshe knew that, nomatter what priceshe paid, she wouldnever really regret.If out of all herlife she was to haveno more than thatone hour at least,it could never betaken from her.But she was bit-terly ashamed whenshe thought of whatthe man she lovedwould think of herif he ever knew. Hemust never know;she was determinedon that point.But how was shegoing to face him?She prayed thathe might be remaining in his roomthat day anyhow, until she hadmore time to collect her courage.Presently, the maid brought hermorning coffee, explaining that sheserved it late, as she knew thatJanice must have been very tiredthe night before.Janice bade the girl draw herbath, but she was very slow get-ting dressed, and finally orderedbreakfast to be brought up to herown room. Somehow, she dreaded
going down that morning, eventhough she believed that her hus-band was still in his room.But when she did go down, sheopened the library door and saw herhusband seated at his desk, lookingthrough some papers.He still looked ill, but the signsof fever had gone. As he glancedup and saw her, he gave a start."Hello, Janice!"he exclaimed. "Howdid everything go?"She noticed forthe first time hiseyes did not meethers, and her heartmissed a beat.It needed a greateffort to make hervoice sound steadyas she moved for-ward."Everything wentoff very success-fully, thanks," shereplied. "But Idon't think thatyou ought to bedownstairs. Youwere very ill yester-day."He made an im-patient movement."I've had attackslike that before. Ican shake them off.If there is anything I loathe, it isstaying in my bedroom. I am allright to-day- except that my head-is a little woozy from so much qui-nine."She turned away and looked outof the window."Well, you know best how youfeel yourself," she replied. "I mustgo into town this morning. Can Ido anything for you while I'm downthere?"He hesitated.
THE STORY SO FAR: Jan- ice Temple, out of a job, is returning to her home
town when, on the train, she meets Roger Greville, who has just been jilted
by his fiancee, Gina Mornington. Hating to tell his father, who has never
seen Gina, what has happened, he persuades Janice to pose as his fiancee for
a month. Roger's father has a stroke, and before he dies he begs Roger to
marry Janice. After the old man's death, Roger insists that they pretend
that they are happily married. He also forbids her to continue her
friendship with Sefton Arlen, a neighbor friend. Roger and Janice become
good friends, and Janice hopes that Roger is learning to love her when Gina
Mornington returns, determined to win Roger for herself. Roger comes down
with an attack of fever, and Janice is with him when he takes her in his
arms and kisses her, telling her he loves her, but calling her Gina.
Midnight Madness 39
"If you don't mind leaving apackage with Lawrence & Nye's," hesaid. "There are some papers theywanted my signature to."Lawrence & Nye were the familylawyers.Janice was glad that she reallyhad an excuse to go into the town,for apart from his errand she hadnothing to do there at all. But shefelt that she could not stay indoors,could not bear to be alone withRoger lest she should betray herself.She loved him so much, and inspite of everything, she was less thannothing to him. The knowledge wasdouble torture now.When she had gone, he sat star-ing in front of him, his handsclenched. He, too, was tortured-tortured by uncertainty which if itwere turned into certainty, he felt,would be still greater agony.But he told himself it couldn't betrue.Gina Mornington could not havecome to him last night the memo-ries which haunted him were just adream.He reached for a book and, open-ing it, tried to read, but he couldnot do so. All the time, a girl'sface came between him and theprinted page.It was not the face of the girl hebelieved he loved, but of the girlwhom he had made his wife.He shut the book impatiently.Why should he be so strangelyhaunted by Janice? Why should heimagine that there was somethingdifferent about her to-day, as thoughher beauty had intensified and atthe same time taken on a hint oftragedy which it had not held be-fore?Could it be possible that she caredfor Sefton Arlen?It was strange how the thought
disturbed him. Yet she was noth-ing to him.Nothing? A dark flush stainedhis cheek.She was a girl whose life he hadtaken and used for his own ends,and however much he might tellhimself that she had benefited bythe change in her circumstances, hissense of justice and his sense ofhonor both told him that she de-served more than he had given her.Suddenly he found himself re-membering the strange attractionwhich she had held for him thatkiss with which he had claimed hisbride at his father's bedside, thatnight when he had paced beneathher window and felt the strength ofhis emotions like a magnet drawinghim to her.It seemed years ago now. All thatpart of his life appeared to havebeen cut away by the arrival ofGina Mornington.Suppose Gina Mornington had notcome back? Would he have learnedto love the girl whom he had mar-ried?But he told himself impatiently,that love comes only once in a life-time- real love- and that he hadgiven to Gina Mornington.He rose impatiently and, walkingacross to the desk, helped himselfto a cigarette from the box whichstood upon it. But, after one or twopuffs, he flung it into the fire.He crossed the room and sat downon a couch near one of the longFrench windows.While he sat there staring discon-tentedly into space, he heard a girl'svoice outside the door and turnedhis head quickly as it opened, ex-pecting to see Janice, but the girlwho stood smiling at him from thethreshold was Gina Mornington."You're not to get up!" she ex-
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claimed as he would have risen, andreaching his side, pressed him backinto his seat. I was determined tocome and find out how you were,
and when the butler told me youwere downstairs, I insisted on com-ing in and annoucing myself." Sheseated herself beside him, looking
Janice closed her eyes and lay breathing quickly, her hands pressed
against her madly beating heart. She could hear again the murmur of her
hus- band's voice, could feel the pressure of his arms, the throb of his
kisses.
Midnight Madness 41
anxiously into his face. "I was soterribly worried, I felt that I sim-ply had to come and see how youwere to-day, my dear.""I'm all right," he told her, atouch of restraint in his voice.She made no reply.Suddenly, as their eyes met, hebent toward her."Gina," he said, his hand closingover her wrist, "last night-Where were you?""What do you mean?" she asked,and something she could not definestopped her from saying more asshe gazed into his troubled face.He released her, passing one handover his eyes."Last night, I had a strangedream," he told her. I was alonein my room and had fallen asleepby the fire. Suddenly, I woke up,and you were there, bending overme. You and I were there alone.I could have sworn, when I woke upthis morning, that it was true."As she listened, her heart beganto beat quickly with excitement.She was fond of pretending to beof the helpless, clinging type, thetype which, she believed, appealedmost to men; but in reality she hada brain which was as keen as aman's. She could grasp a thing inan instant. Now she saw what achance his uncertainty gave her ofgetting the hold over him for whichshe had longed.The color flooded her face andthen receded, leaving her deathlypale with excitement.For a moment longer, her eyesheld his, then the heavily lashedlids fluttered down, veiling themfrom his sight.She spoke hardly above herbreath, and yet every word she ut-tered fell clearly on the stillness."Roger!" she murmured, hervoice making a passionate caress of
his name. "My dear! Suppose itwas no dream, but a reality.""What are you saying?" he askedhoarsely. "How could you havebeen here?""Don't you know the old proverb-that love laughs at locksmiths?"she asked. I knew you werealone. She slipped to her kneesbeside him. "My dearest, don't youunderstand? I knew you were alone-something stronger than myselfforced me to run the risk to cometo you. You won't blame me be-cause my love for you was so strong.Even though our love must alwaysremain a secret, I do not care. Toknow that I belong to you is thegreatest joy in the world, and noth-ing can take that from me."Kneeling beside him, she reachedup her arms and, putting themabout his neck, drew his face downto hers.Mechanically, his arm went abouther shoulders, but he was aware ofno quickening pulse beat, no thrillfrom the nearness of this girl, thevery thought of whom had once hadthe power to set him ablaze.He had a strange feeling, of numb-ness, as though he had received astunning blow, and he lookedblankly at the lovely, alluring faceso close to his.Then his brain cleared as thougha great shaft of light had pierced it.At that moment, he knew thatwhatever he had felt in, the past forthis girl, he did not and never hadreally loved her.The glamour of her spell was dead.He did not know where theknowledge came from; he dared notask; he only knew that his discov-ery had come too late.Janice turned in at the lodgegates and saw a car a few yardsahead on its way to the house.
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To her annoyance, she recognizedit as Sefton Arlen's.Reaching the curve in the drive,she would have turned off in thedirection of the garage, hoping tomiss the visitor, when he stoppedhis car and, getting out, hailed her.She was obliged to stop."I've just come to pick up GinaMornington," he told her. "I prom-ised that I would pick her up anddrive her back, as I'm lunching atthe Chelmsfords whereshe is staying."Janice felt suddenlycold, but under thecoldness her hatred forthe other girl smolderedfiercely."Do you know herwell?" she managed tosay."Yes; she and I mettwo or three years agowhen I was abroad," heanswered, and as theyturned and walked to-ward the house to-gether, he gave her asharp look.In spite of her effortto hide it, some of herhatred for the other girlhad crept into her voice."Your husband and Gina are oldfriends, I believe," he observed cas-ually.Janice's hands clenched, but shemanaged to keep her. voice quitesteady as she replied:"Yes, I believe they are."Rounding the corner of the house,they reached the steps which ledup to the terrace, and longing toend the interview, Janice began tomount them, saying that theywould go in that way."If Roger is still in the library,he can let us in," she added.A few more steps brought her
to the first of the library windows.The curtains were drawn back, andany one standing outside could seestraight into the room. It was im-possible for them not to see thosetwo within- the girl kneeling withher arms around the man's neck-and it was at that precise momentthat Roger Greville placed his ownarm around Gina Mornington'sshoulders.For a moment, Janice stood asthough turned to stone;then, forgetful of thefact that she was notalone, she turned andwalked blindly away.Reaching the para-pet, she gripped it andstood gazing down,intothe gardens below, see-ing nothing but a redmist, and in the center;of it those two- herhusband and the girl heloved.Suddenly, Sefton Ar-len spoke beside her."Surely, Janice, youare not going to endurethat sort of thing."Her need to speak, toease some of the pain inher overcharged heart,was so great that she forgot theidentity of her companion."They were engaged to be mar-ried," she said dully.His eyes flashed understandingly."I know," he nodded. "And theyquarreled. That was how youcaught him on the rebound. You'recuriously like her. Every one hasnoticed that. My dear girl"- hishand closed on hers- "don't youknow that she is not the sort to letgo her grip on any man who hasonce cared for her? She is dan-gerously fascinating. Surely, you'renot going to allow yourself to be
Midnight Madness 43
made a laughingstock. If theywant each other, let them, see thatthey are welcome. You must real-ize that you won't suffer. You havea career at your finger tips.""What do you mean?" she asked."I've watched you at every re-hearsal, and last night you simplyamazed me. You're a born actress.If you'd like to leave Roger Greville,I'll find you a decent job withoutthe slightest difficulty. Why not letme help you?""You are very good, but at pres-ent I have no intention of goingaway. I think we had better go innow the other way."He laid a hand on her arm, de-taining her."Promise me one thing," he begged. "If ever you do want help,promise that you will look on meas your friend and let me help you."There was such a ring of sincerityin his voice that Janice forgot allshe had heard about him and felta thrill of gratitude.After all, it was good to thinkthat somebody really cared."Yes, I'll remember," she prom-ised, "and thank you."As Arlen followed her, his heartwas beating with a new hope.Were the fates going to be goodto him? Would they help him towin this girl, whom he wanted morethan he had ever wanted anythingin the world?Janice paced the floor of her bed-room like some caged thing.The silence of the house mockedher with memories. It was nottwenty-four hours since she hadstolen through the silence to armswhich had only taken her becausethey believed they held anothergirl.Too late, now, she saw what theconsequences of that stolen hour
would be- that by her own act shehad forged an unbreakable tie be-tween the man she loved and GinaMornington.She could not think clearly. Herknowledge of the love between thosetwo threw her mind into chaos.At first she had meant to tell herhusband what she had seen throughthe library window, but she hadfound that she dared not do it, lestshe should betray her own love forhim.For she felt that she would ratherdie than have him guess that shecared.But she dared not stay here. Shecould not.Suddenly she made up her mind.She would go away now, leave thehouse this very night, and he shouldnot know where she had gone.Let him explain her absence asbest he could; let him suffer someof the humiliation that was hers.She told herself that she hatedhim, and wished with all her heartthat it was true.She had been waiting for the moonto rise, for she would have to walkto the junction, four miles away, inorder to catch the early-morningtrain to town.As she moved across the room tothe window and drew aside the cur-tain, she saw that the moon was justcoming up over the tops of a clumpof fir trees.Turning back into the room, shelooked around at the luxury she wasleaving.The brief note of farewell she hadwritten to the man she had mar-ried lay on the dressing table, theone suitcase which she was takingwith her stood ready packed nearthe bed.She picked up her heavy coat andput it on. Opening the door, shepaused to switch off the light, and
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It was impossible for them not to see those two
within. For a moment,Janice stood, as though turned to stone; then,
forgetful of the fact thatshe was not alone, she turned and walked blindly
away.picking up her suitcase, made herway out into the darkened corridor.Five minutes later, she let her-
self out a side door and, shutting it silently behind her, sped awayinto the shadows.
Midnight Madness 45
Once she paused and looked backat the great gray pile of the oldhouse- the place where she hadlearned that love and suffering sooften mean the same thing to a girl. There was no hope in her heart asshe turned and walked blindly outof the life of the man she lovedwith a love whose bitterness wasakin to hatred.It had been very late before
Roger Greville went to bed thatnight, and then there was no sleepfor him.Hour after hour he lay staringwide-eyed into the darkness.He was like a man who fears alocked door inside which he isafraid to look.His infatuation for Gina Morn-ington was dead. He felt that hehated her.
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He had married Janice against hiswill. He had no love to offer her,but he would never have deliberatelybroken the vows he made to her.He believed that he had neithergiven nor claimed anything fromher, but he had never meant tohurt her.Dawn was long past when he fellinto an uneasy sleep, and it seemedas though he had slept only a fewmoments when he was awakened bya hurried knocking on his door, andin answer to his sleepy call, a maidcame in."Oh, sir," she cried, "I've justbeen to madam's room; her bedhasn't been slept in, and I foundthis."She held out an envelope as shespoke.With a queer feeling at his hearthe ripped open the envelope. Amoment later he was staring downat the slip of paper in his hand."I am going away," Janice hadwritten. "You will realize that thebest thing for us both is to end ourmarriage."As he read those lines and knewthat she was gone, he knew that heloved the girl whom he had mar-ried.A groan of anguish broke fromhim. Had he learned the truth toolate?CHAPTER VIII.Janice sat on the edge of the nar-row bed in the room which she hadengaged in a quiet hotel in the EastFifties.It was all unspeakably drab- thewalls with their faded paper, thedressing table on which the scarfwas not quite clean, the dingy netcurtains at the window only halfveiling the dull sky beyond.
How different it all was from thesurroundings which had been hersin Roger Greville's home.She had determined to try to getwork on the stage, rememberingwhat Sefton Arlen had said to her.But she was equally determined notto seek his help, for she felt that hewas the sort of man whose, friend-ship meant danger to any girl.Besides, she wanted to be inde-pendent.One of the girls who used to workwith her had been on the stage, andfrom her Janice had heard abouttheatrical agents through whom itwas possible to obtain stage work.As soon as she had breakfasted,she purchased a weekly theatricalpaper, searching the columns of thepaper for what she wanted.She found the names and ad-dresses of several agents, and se-lected one which was not far away.But when she reached the opendoorway inside which a narrow stair-case led upward to the agent's office,her courage almost deserted her.Climbing the stairs, she enteredthe waiting room, and her heartsank again as she saw the numberof people who were already there.She sat down nervously, awarethat every one was staring at her,and there followed the most uncom-fortable ten minutes she had everknown in her life.If she had had the courage to doso, she would have got up and goneout, and she was just trying to sum-mon it to her aid when an innerdoor opened and a small, dark mancame out. He was accompanied bya taller, gray-haired man, and thetwo of them walked to the door tengether, and as they parted, theformer turned and caught sight ofJanice. He paused and stared at her."Tell me," he demanded, "where
Midnight Madness 47
do you come from and why haven'tI seen you before?"Somehow there was somethingabout him which she instinctivelyliked, and it gave her courage."Can I see Mr. Whitehouse?" sheasked."Yes," he answered good-na-turedly, "unless those lovely eyes ofyours are quite blind."From his words, she gathered thatthis was the agent, Arnold White-house, himself.Five minutes later, she was sittingopposite him in his private office ex-plaining to him her desire to obtainwork on the stage.He listened until she had finished."I suppose you realize," he toldher, "that you haye got a tre-mendous nerve. You come here,having had no professional experi-ence whatever, and demand a job inthe most overcrowded of all the pro-fessions, and the most difficult tobreak into. What makes you thinkthat you can act?"She hesitated."Because I was told so, by a manwho really knows," she finally con-fessed. "He offered to help me, butI don't want him to do so."The agent raised his brows. Hecould understand that quite a lotof men would be willing to helpsuch a lovely girl. It was her beautywhich had made him notice her justnow, and he was used to lovely girls.He drew a big ledger toward himand, picking up a pen, asked a fewbrief, businesslike questions, notingdown the answers.Then he rose and held out hishand."Well, frankly, Miss er-" hebegan. "I forgot to ask your name!" Janice hesitated, then she remem-bered that her mother's maidenname was Darling and gave himthat, with her own Christian name.
"Janice Darling," he repeated, ashe wrote it down. "Well, Miss Dar-ling, I don't hold out much hopeof being able to do anything for you,but if you care to stop in theoffice every day, I'll keep you inmind if anything turns up."With that she had to be content.But, though for the next ten daysshe visited the office every day, shenever received anything but thesame greeting, one which she heardgiven to dozens of other girls: "Ab-solutely nothing to-day, my dear."She also tried other agents, withthe same disappointing results, untilshe began to lose heart.Her visit to the agents took uponly a small part of the day, andthere was all the rest in which tothink, and worst of all the longhours of the night, for she sleptbadly, and when she did sleep, itwas to dream of Roger Greville.Try as she would to forget, shecould not put him out of her mind.She knew that the time wouldcome when she would have to com-municate with him, for, if their mar-riage was to be dissolved, he wouldhave to know where she was; butshe didn't want to let him knowuntil she got work and could proveto him that she was independent.One day, driven by an uncon-trollable impulse, she climbed ontop of a Fifth Avenue bus, and fromher seat she looked down again atthe spot where she had first encoun-tered Roger Greville.The bus stopped in front of thejeweler's shop, and as she gazeddown, it seemed to Janice as thoughshe was once again the plainlydressed girl who had found herselfsuddenly looking into a man's eyes.She knew now the meaning of thesurge of emotion which had quick-ened all her pulses.
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That day she went to ArnoldWhitehouse's office in the afternoon.As she entered the waiting room,the office door was flung wide open,and he came out and beckoned tohis secretary, who was talking to agolden-haired girl. As he turnedback, he caught sight of Janice andpaused to speak to her."Nothing to-day," he told her,and then added in a lower voice:"But if you'll be in promptly ateleven to-morrow morning, I maybe able to fix you up. I don't prom-ise, but there is just a chance."She thanked him and, as he wentback into his office, and she left thewaiting room, there was new hopein her heart.She got halfway down the stairstoward the street when she heardfootsteps, descending behind her,and a voice called to her. Sheturned to find the agent's secretaryclose to her, holding out an envelope."Mr. Whitehouse said that if youwould go to this address at once,with this letter, there is a chanceyou might get something rightaway."Before Janice could reply, thesecretary had turned and was gone.Janice glanced down at the en-velope in her hand. The flap wassealed down, and it was addressedto "Mr. Paige Rendell, Star Thea-ter," and marked "Urgent."Less than a quarter of an hourlater, Janice found herself enteringthe stage door of the Star Theater,and in reply to the inquiry, of thedoorkeeper, she showed him theletter.He sent a boy who was in theoffice with it, bidding him "takethat to Mr. Rendell."In a short time, the boy cameback, asking Janice to follow him.She never forgot the interviewwhich followed, and when she left
the theater, she could hardly believethat she had actually been hired byone of the most famous producersin New York, to play a part in theplay which was then in rehearsal.The girl who had been originallyengaged for the part had been takenill that morning, and it was difficultto find a girl to fill her place. Janicehappened to be the exact typeneeded for the part, which, thoughit was not a large one, was very im-portant.When she confessed to having hadno real experience, the producermerely nodded."That doesn't matter. I am surethat you will be all right," he toldher.Janice had never known whatreal nervousness meant, until shestood on the deserted stage at theStar at eleven o'clock the nextmorning.She had never believed, that anyordeal could be so terrible, and itwas only sheer will power whichstopped her from failing.Several times Paige Rendellstopped her, making her go over thepiece again, and each time, as shecaught the exact intonation he di-rected, he gave a nod of approval.He saw at once that she was a bornactress and needed very little teach-ing.At lunch time the rehearsal wasdismissed until the afternoon, andJanice was just walking off the stageafter the others when the producercalled her back."Just a minute, Miss Darling,"he said. "A gentleman here is veryanxious to make your acquaintance,or rather renew it for I understandthat you have met before."An immaculately dressed figurehad just strolled out of the shadows,and Janice felt her heart miss a beat,
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Midnight Madness 49
Janice was just walking off the stage when the
producer called her back."A gentleman here is very anxious to make your
acquaintance, or ratherrenew it for I understand that you have met before,"
he said.for the man who stood holding outhis hand and smiling down at herwas Sefton Arlen.
"It is more than good to meetagain!" Taking her hand and re-taining it, Sefton Arlen glanced at
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50 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
the producer. "Well, my dear Ren-dell, wasn't I right when I guaran-teed that Ja- that Miss Darling wasa born actress?"The other man nodded.Withdrawing her hand, Janicegave Sefton Arlen a swift, startledlook."What do you mean? You-"she began."I happened to be in ArnoldWhitehouse's office yesterday, andI caught sight of you and sent aletter of introduction to our friend,Paige Rendell."So it had been through SeftonArlen, after all, that she had ob-tained an engagement!The knowledge brought with itdeep disappointment, which Janiciefound it difficult to hide.If he guessed what was in hermind, Sefton Arlen gave no sign.Ever since he knew that she hadleft her husband, he had searchedfor her, and had almost despairedof finding her. But now he felt thathis luck had turned."Let's go and have some lunch,"he said. "There are a good manythings I want to talk to you about."Janice hesitated, but it seemedthat it would be too ungracious torefuse, and so less than a quarterof an hour later she found herselfsitting opposite him in a well-knownrestaurant near the theater.Looking across at her, Sefton Ar-len felt his pulses quicken. Itseemed to him that Janice hadchanged in some indescribable way.The vividness of her beauty hadsomehow deepened. There weredark-violet shadows beneath hereyes, and a hint of tragedy abouther face in repose.She, had been worrying, hethought, and a sharp stab of jeal-ousy shot through him.He was amazed to find that he
was capable of jealousy, and hecould not understand the strange in-fluence which this girl seemed tohave established over his life.Love, to him, had never beenmore than a pastime. He was usedto easy conquests, and enjoyed flit-ting like a bee from flower to flower;but he had known vaguely from hisfirst meeting with Janice that theattraction she held for him wassomething different."Now, tell me," he demanded,"where have you been hiding your-self, and why? You knew that Icould help you. Why were you soindependent?"She flushed."I didn't want to bother you," shesaid."We'll let it go at that," I think-in case I hear something less flat-tering. But what sort of engage-ment did you contemplate obtain-ing? The only sort of work White-house could have gotten for you wasa place in the chorus, where the factthat you are so very ornamentalwould have offset your lack of ex-perience. Thank Heaven that I'vefound you, and that you were wiseenough to leave home when youdid!"She made no reply, and he wascontent to steer the conversationaway from her private affairs.He could be a very charming andamusing companion, and for thefirst time in many days Janice foundherself laughing and forgetting a lit-tle of her heartache.This meeting with Sefton Arlenmade her realize more than ever howintensely lonely she had been, andshe could not help, being a little gladthat her loneliness was at an end.After all, it was good to feel thatsome one took an interest in whathappened to her."Have you made up your mind
Midnight Madness 51
what you intend to do?" he asked,as the lunch was drawing to an end."If you are to make a career foryourself, it would be much betterfor you to be free. You're in touchwith Greville, I suppose?"She shook her head."No. I- I wanted to wait un-til--""You could prove that you wereindependent," he finished for her."Well, you're safe now. If anythingshould happen to this play which,however, I believe will be a successI can always manage to see thatyou have work."She gave him a level look."Why should you interest your-self so much in me? It is very goodof you, but-""I believe in you," he broke inshortly. "If you really want towork, I believe there is a big careerin front of you. I can't think whyyou never turned your thoughts tothe stage before. Look here"- hebent a little nearer to her- "youmust be sensible. Put Roger Gre-ville out of your mind altogether.He isn't worth a second thought.You have some pride, haven't you?""Should I be here if I hadn't?"she asked wearily."You'd have been mad if you'dstayed to play second fiddle to GinaMornington," he retorted withbrutal frankness. "You knew thatthey were engaged before he mar-ried you? Anyhow, whether youfree him or not, she doesn't care.She has him, and she means to keephim."Janice's hand resting on her kneebeneath the table clenched, but shelifted her head with a reckless ges-ture."You've seen her recently?" sheasked."A few days ago." He hesitated."They're in town, going about
everywhere together. You'll haveto do something about it, Janice.""Yes," she repeated dully, "I'llhave to do something about it.""Meanwhile, though"- he glancedat his watch- "we had better begetting back to the theater. Untilafter the opening, I want you tothink as much of your part and aslittle about other things as you pos-sibly can. You must make good,Janice. I want you to, and I wantfrom you what I have never caredto ask from any girl before- I wantyour friendship.""Surely, you deserve that," shetold him.As he followed her out of therestaurant, Sefton Arlen was morepuzzled about himself than he hadever been.He talked of friendship, but heknew that he wanted a great dealmore than that. He wanted to winher and make her his own.If he failed, he knew that noth-ing in life would ever be worth hav-ing again.For the first time, he was afraidof failure.When Roger Greville realized thatJanice was gone, he explained to theservants that his wife had beencalled away suddenly by the illnessof a relative, and within a few hourshe himself had packed up and de-parted.He had absolutely no idea ofwhere Janice could have gone. Hefelt that she might have returnedto New York, and it was with thevague hope of finding her that hewent there himself.Somehow, he shrank from tracingher by the help of any of the de-tective agencies whose aid he mighthave called in.It was his belief that he had for-feited his right to claim her, to drag
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Janice had made a success of her part in the play.
The day after theopening, a photograph of Janice Darling smiled up at
Roger Grevillefrom the front page of the paper. He had found his
wife!her back into his life if she wishedto be free, that held him back.He stayed at his club, and be-fore he had been there two days, hewas called to the telephone to hearGina Mornington's voice demand-ing pleadingly why he had goneaway without a word to her.
She too, had come to New York,and had taken a suite at one of thebig hotels, and she implored him tocome to see her.It seemed to him that he wasbound in honor to go.But Sefton Arlen had exaggeratedwhen he told JAnice that her hus-
Midnight Madness 53
band and Gina Mornington werebeing seen everywhere together.As much as it was possible to doso, Roger Greville avoided GinaMornington, and when she re-proached him for doing so, toldher that he had a lot of business totransact.She accepted the explanation witha very bad grace, but she did notsuspect that he had changed towardher. She believed she had won himback. By a lucky chance- a chancewhich she believed to have beenborn out of an illusion of his delirium-she had bound him to her. Andshe had gotten rid of Janice.Of one thing she was determined.That other girl should never comeback into his life, though the pres-ent arrangement didn't suit herat all.Roger Greville refused to discusshis wife with her, and Gina did notknow if he was aware of Janice'swhereabouts or not. But she wanted
the thing put on a definite footing.When the time came for the pro-duction of "Exiled Hearts" at theStar Theater, Janice faced her or-deal bravely. She was determinedto succeed. She had so much atstake.Although the part she was play-ing was not a big one, it was veryimportant, and she made the suc-cess of the play.The critics were unanimous in ac-claiming Janice Darling a find.She had beauty, talent, and whatwas more important, that elusivething known as personality, and inher one big scene she brought thehouse down.She was a success!The next day, there were photo-graphs of her in all the papers, andwhen Roger Greville sat down to hisbreakfast, a photograph of JaniceDarhng smiled up at him from thefront page.He had found his wife!TO BE CONCLUDED.
ENCHANTED GARDENWALK in a garden enchantedWhenever I think of you-A garden of rainbow splendor,Prismatic, in color and hue;And somehow each flower resemblesThe beauty of your sweet face,And somehow the trees and bushesPortray your bewitching grace.Diana and Sappho and PsycheAre sculptured in marble there,Companioned by beautiful Venus,With whom they vie to compare;But somehow your beauty surpassesThe statues of Grecian art,Because it is tender and human,And echoes the pulse of my heart.Franklin Pierce Cabkigan.
Borrowed ManBy Jesse F.
Gelders
WEDNESDAY night! We'llprobably go somewhere anddance afterward. It's not aparty, Merrilee- just a couple ofgirls I used to know at school andtheir dates. Bring your own man.I know you have plenty to choosefrom.
Merrilee Dodd caught her breath.It was lucky Nola was busy takingthings out of her trunks and pack-ing them away in the maple chiffo-nier, so that she didn't notice theeffect of her words.Merrilee tried to think of someescape from the situation, but
Borrowed Man 55
couldn't. She'd been afraid of it,from the moment she receivedNola's letter saying she was comingto New York for a two-month'spleasure stay. And when Nola an-nounced she was taking an apart-ment in the same building as Mer-rilee's, the thing had become cer-tain.Well, it was her own fault. Merri-lee realized that. She shouldn'thave written those letters to Nolaand her other friends back in Mill-ingham, giving such a gilded pictureof the good times she was having."I go out three or four nights aweek with the most wonderful men,"she had written.Nola, tucking away a stack oflingerie- what clothes the girl had!was saying now, "I'm anxious tomeet some."Merrilee choked out a reply, shehardly knew what. She was almoston the verge of confessing the truth.But, great grief, how would itsound?"Those letters about the goodtimes," she'd have to say, "weren'ttrue. I haven't been going out atall. Plenty of men have asked me,but they aren't the sort of men Ilike, so-"Oh, gosh, that would just soundlike sour grapes. And think whatNola,would write to the folks backin Millingham! Nola was a goodfriend all right, but not such a goodfriend that she wouldn't take a gos-sipy delight in writing:What do you think! The wonderfultimes Merrilee has been telling about, areall just dreams. She never sees a soul. Sheclaims she doesn't like the men who'veasked her out. To hear her tell it, thereare hundreds. But she couldn't get evenone for a little party I was having. It's apity, too, because she's such a sweet
girl.Merrilee could almost see thatletter. She could hear the shocked
but eager exclamations of sympathyback in Millingham. Sympathy!She gritted her teeth at the idea."I- I think I'd better be gettingdown to my apartment," she stam-mered. "It's about bedtime."Why, it's only ten o'clock, Mer-rilee!""I know. But I- I was out solate last night."In her single room, which seemedunusually cramped after the luxuryof Nola's suite, she tried to think ofa way out of her embarrassment. Itwas almost as bad as those daysback in Millingham, before shestarted earning her own money,when she never had the rightclothes. Finally she went to bed,the unsolved problem haunting her.At the office next morning, when-ever an ebb in the work permittedpersonal thought, it was still ataunt. Of course she might getHenry Powell, who had asked herfor dates three or four times. Butshe never had felt like going any-where with him, and she shudderedat the notion of presenting him inhis trick clothes and trick mannersto Nola and her friends, as one ofthe wonderful men she had metin New York!Tapping a list of purchase ordersawaiting her check-up, she staged amental review of the other men whomight be available. There was Mr.Harbor, old enough to be her great-uncle; Murray Phillips, so boringthat he could make five minutesseem an hour; Max Burton; JimmieKeel- No, they were all impos-sible! It was hard to believe thatone girl could attract such a galleryof ineligibles. Of course, she hadn'thad much opportunity to meet NewYork men, except here in the office.And it just happened that nonewere very desirable- except Harvey
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Tate. And he had never asked herfor a date.Wasn't that irony for you? Theone man who could have qualified,wasn't interested. He was insidetalking with Mr. London now, andon his way out, he'd probably stopas usual, and ask her to be sure toput through the papers on the pur-chases from his company. Thenhe'd chat for a couple of minutes,in a way that would show he couldbe fascinating for hours. And thatwould be all!He was coming out now, strollingtoward her."They're getting another order ofthose tumblers," he said, "and-""I know. And you want me toput" it through right away. Allright."He laughed. There was a quietheartiness about his laughter, har-monizing with the strength and re-straint of his face, which seemedmore tanned than ever, in contrastwith the white flash of his teeth.Merrilee had a faint sense of lifespeeding up in her veins, as hepaused at her desk."You read my thoughts so well,"he observed, "I'm almost afraid tothink in your presence."His conversation, in the fleetingminutes while it lasted, was alwaysjust personal enough to give the illu-sion of being only a part of a largerfriendship. It made Merrilee feel al-most as if she really knew him."I wonder if you'd do me a favor-" She stopped herself. Whaton earth was she saying? On an in-stant's crazy impulse she had almostasked him to help her!"Gladly. What is it?" he urged.She hesitated, almost panic-stricken. She had to say something,or he'd think her silly. The wild-impulse of a moment before, seizedher again.
"It's a strange thing to ask. Ineed an escort," she heard herselfsaying. She could feel the hot, blushon her face. "I want to play a sortof joke on a friend of mine. You'rejust the type of man she likes," shedeclared, with inspiration thatamazed herself. "The other menI've been dating here in New Yorkaren't as likely to make her jealous." For a moment he did not reply,standing with a puzzled grin, thecolor deepening under his tan. Nowit was he who was embarrassed. Ithelped Merrilee recapture her poise."Also," she was relieved and pleasedat what she had said about datingother men and making her friendjealous. The idea had come to herout of nowhere."I'm sure you'll like Nola Wil-liams, too, "she continued suavely."She's really beautiful- tall andblond." She was about to add,And very wealthy, but decidedthat it would have the wrong effect."It's Wednesday night. Will youhelp me?" she asked."Isn't it a pretty difficult assign-ment"- he grinned uncertainly"trying to make some girl jealous?""I think you're capable. Oh, andof course," she added with suddenpositiveness, "I'll pay my own shareof the expenses. It will be strictlybusiness. At least, that part of itwill. Fifty-fifty."His gray eyes surveyed her witha smile she could not quite interpret."All right," he laughed, "but it'syour own idea."Merrilee dressed and made upmore carefully than she had sincethe first month she had been in NewYork. Her dress was of deep-green,that seemed to bring out her color,the flush of her cheeks, the deep-brown of her eyes, the somewhatlighter soft brown of her hair. Shehad arranged the hair to curve
Borrowed Man 57
"I wonder if you'd do me a favor. I need an escort." She could feel the
hot blush on her face. "I want to play a sort of joke on a friend of
mine."
partly over her ears, instead of inthe simple little-girl style she al-ways wore at the office. She laughedat herself. Such a lot of attentionto trifles!When Harvey came, he seemedsurprised and pleased at her appear-ance. She realized he hadn't seenher that way before. "Your usualcharm," he smiled, "is more notice-able than ever."The remark was just a bit ofpleasantry, but Merrilee flushedwith a little ripple of excitement.They went up to Nola's apart-ment. Nola, in shimmering blue,
met them with a bright exclamationof pleasure and led them in to thealready merry group.Merrilee felt a little shiver of ex-citment. Everybody seemed nice.The girls were pretty, the men at-tractive. Merrilee couldn't helpnoticing how smoothly Harvey Tateseemed to fit in with the others,and yet seemed to have some subtlysuperior quaility which without caus-ing offense, still set him above them.He brought her a cocktail, remain-ing delightfully attentive. He wasplaying his part beautifully.When they went to the dance at
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the Cloudline Club, Harvey guidedher about the glazed floor in lithe,strong rhythm, so suavely attunedto the music that his steps mighthave been written by the composeras a part of the score.He danced with Nola and theothers, always returning to leadMerrilee off for another number.She was deliciously aware of thepressure of his arm around her, thesteel of his shoulder, beneath hertouch, the nearness of his bronzedface, brushing lightly against herhair.She let herself think for a mo-ment, "How wonderful it is just tobe with this man!" Then, with awrench of will power, she draggedher thoughts to reality. Thesethrills were borrowed. Harvey Tatehad only lent himself to her, as afavor.When they finally went home,Harvey and she in some way becameseparated from Nola and her escort,taking a taxicab to themselves.Merrilee sat back with her eyelidshalf lowered, aware of Harvey'ssmiling nearness, yet feeling dread-fully like Cinderella at the approachof midnight, when borrowed happi-ness would be snatched away. Shewas suddenly rebellious at thatthought."I wish," Harvey was sayingwhimsically, "that doing favors forpeople were always as pleasant asthis has been.""I hope you'll be able to help meout once more." Her words cameon a sudden impulse, but the tonewas casual. "I promised Nola I'dgo with her on the eighteenth. Willyou take me? You know, just toround out the impression." Withquick strategy which, surprised her,she added, "To-night worked out sobeautifully. Having you as a date
made just the right impression onher.""Why, all right," consented Har-vey, with that odd smile which shecould not interpret.At her first Opportunity, she spoketo Nola."What are you doing the eight-eenth?""Why, nothing. Oh, yes. That'sa Wednesday. I have a date withDick Mills."At first she didn't think a doubledate could be arranged."I have a kind of tentative en-gagement with Harvey," said Merri-lee.Nola's face lighted quickly- tooquickly."Maybe we can fix it," she said."I'll call Dick."Next day she reported, "It's allright. "We're just going to theDanube. You come, too."The Danube was a colorful, butserene place, where the orchestraskillfully alternated gay, sweetStraus's waltzes with the best of thelatest tunes.Again Merrilee was in Harvey'sarms, dancing. And, again lifeseemed to be moving faster throughher veins because of his nearness.There was a thrill of being touchedby his hand, in being held closeagainst him as they danced.Merrilee found herself wishing hisarms were around her in a real em-brace, wishing she were crushedclose against him to be kissed. Eventhe thought made her heart pound.She was in love with him! Itseemed odd that she should just berealizing it, all at once, this way.She must have been in love withhim for days, maybe for weeks!She looked up at his face, close tohers. Did he care, too? His eyesmet hers, and her nerves tingled
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with an embarrassed but delightfulwarmth. His arm tightened abouther.Surely he cared- a little, anyway-maybe more than a little. Well,she would know on the way hometo-night, perhaps.As they returned to their table,Merrilee felt a surge of gratitude toNola. If it hadn't been for her, shemight never really have knownHarvey! She almost wanted tothrow her arms around Nola's neck,and thank her. Instead, she smiledat her and exclaimed: "Nola,you're simply gorgeous in that dress!Isn't she beautiful?"Harvey and Dick Mills agreed.When the four finally trooped outof the Danube, all took the samecab. It was the natural thing todo, Merrilee realized, though shehadn't counted on it. Harvey wasbetween Nola and her, and Dickfaced them from one of the foldingseats.Nola and Harvey had become en-gaged in some sort of banter, prob-ably over something they had dis-cussed while dancing together. Oc-casionally it included the other two,then something Nola would addressdirectly to Harvey would claim hiswhole attention.A sudden displeasure shot throughMerrilee. It was akin to jealousy.She resisted it, telling herself it wasstupid. But as Nola continued tousurp Harvey's attention, sheburned with resentment.In the foyer of their apartmentbuilding, Dick and Harvey saidgood night, with brief handshakes.Nola called after Harvey laugh-ingly, "Don't forget next Tuesday.""All right," he replied, stridingout.A thousand needles pricked Mer-rilee: Her heart seemed to leap to
her throat and fall back with athud.In the elevator, Nola confided,smiling:"We're going to have dinner atYesterday's Tavern.""Nice of him to ask you," Merri-lee replied.She hadn't meant to speaksharply, but something in her voicecaused Nola to explain."It was a sort of mutual invita-tion. I told him I'd heard of it buthad never been there, and he saidhe'd take me. Why, do you mind?I mean, do you like him?"Merrilee couldn't reply. No wordswould fit."Oh, of course you like him,"Nola supplied, with innocence inher blue eyes and real sincerity inher voice. "But I know you don'tlike him too much. You can sparehim. You still have plenty of oth-ers. He says so himself.""Yes," Merrilee choked.The elevator had stopped at herfloor, and the operator was waitingfor her to leave. She stepped out,almost stumbling, and hurried to theshelter of her apartment.All the loneliness of her monthsin New York suddenly crushed inupon her. Happiness had come soclose and passed her by. She hadhad Harvey Tate's companionshipjust long enough to realize she lovedhim. And then Nola, who alwayshad everything she wanted, got him,too.She couldn't blame Nola, though.She had handed him to her. Shehad virtually told them both to goahead and care for each other!What a mess she had made of herown happiness, she thought dis-mally.The next evening, Nola stoppedat her door for a minute."I was talking with Harvey on
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the phone" she said. "If you havea date Tuesday, why don't youcome along with us?""Oh, no, Nola. But thanks!""Sorry, Merrilee," said Nola."We just thought you might be hav-ing a date anyway, and-""Oh!" Nola's remark, meant in-nocently enough, had bruised heralready wounded pride. Did theythink she couldn't get another date?Well, she could! She'd show themboth. "Well, I do have," she said,as if reconsidering. "I'll ask him ifhe wants to go to the Tavern."When Nola had gone, Merrileesat with hands clenched until herknuckles showed white, trying tothink of a suitable man.Jimmie Keel wasn't really so bad.He just hadn't interested her.She'd told him she was awfullybusy, and he'd said he'd be glad tosee her when she had time.At the office next day, whenJimmie strolled in, she smiled.After a minute's conversation, sheventured a remark that she wasn'tquite so busy lately. And- just likethat- it was all arranged!Jimmie wasn't quite tall enough,but he was really nice-looking andfairly interesting. Merrilee realizedthat she might have found him allright for an occasional evening be-fore, if she hadn't unconsciouslycompared him with Harvey Tate.That was what had happened!She had met Harvey on her thirdday at the office, and since then, noother man had seemed attractive.The truth stabbed cruelly. It hurt-more, because she was aware of ittoo late.Tuesday evening was misery. Thefour of them made a congenialgroup, but Nola exercised a sort ofpossessive claim on Harvey's atten-tion. It was so subtle and withal sonatural, that it could be felt rather
than seen. But it tore at the hurtin Merrilee's heart. Sometimes foran instant, Merrilee met Harvey'sgaze. Deep in the gray of his eyeswas that look she never could quiteread. It made her pulse throbfaster.Arriving home at last was a re-lief."Good night," said Jimmie."Let's do this again, soon.""Fine," responded Merrilee.But she knew she wouldn't. Itwasn't fair, even to Jimmie, to usehim this way. And for herself, itwas only misery.It was a relief that Nola didn'task her to come along when shewent out with Harvey the next week-a relief and torture. She wasn'tneeded now. They preferred to bealone.Merrilee sat in her apartment andtried to close her mind to the bitter-ness of her thoughts. She tried toforget those few bright hours whenshe had been with Harvey. Re-membering them only hurt. Shejumped to her feet and paced thefloor, as if in a desperate, futile ef-fort to vent her emotions in somesort of action. If only she could dosomething!Harvey came to the office to ar-range the details of an order hisfirm had received. He paused be-side her desk, leaning his bronzedhand against its edge, smiling as hechatted.Merrilee felt a cheated yearning,then a sudden rebellion against fate.Another of those curious, unpre-meditated notions flashed throughher mind. In an instant she wasacting on it, concealing her impetu-piisness with amazing tact."I was just thinking about you,Harvey," she began carelessly."Another friend of mine from outof town, is coming to-morrow, and
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I wondered if you wouldn't help meagain- just as a lark. It workedout so well the first time, you know,for everybody concerned."For a moment Harvey didn'tspeak. He gazed at her in uncer-tain silence, as if trying to figurewhat she meant by that."Of course," she added in a quick,matter-of-fact way, "I'll pay myshare of the expenses, just as be-fore.""All right," said Harvey, with aslow, rather puzzled smile. "Iknow it'll be pleasant.""And by the way," Merrilee toldhim, "this girl isn't from Milling-ham. She's from Central City.She and Nola don't know eachother. So you don't need to worryabout that."When he had gone Merrilee satalmost trembling. No, he didn'tneed to worry! But she did! Shehad spun her web of pretense sothin, drawn it out so far! Startingwith a simple little fib about havinga good time in New York, she hadstretched it until the most impor-tant part of her life seemed to bebuilt on make-believe. She was innear-panic. But she couldn't turnback now.At noon she had lunch with HelenBrodie."Helen, I'm in an awful jam," sheconfessed."Let's hear," said Helen, her darkeyes sympathetic but twinkling. "Ihaven't forgotten what you did forme when Tom thought I'd beentwo-timing Him."Merrilee grinned, in spite of herown troubles. Her friendship withHelen was one of those whole-hearted, dependable ones that per-sists even though circumstancesmake actual meetings rare. She toldher frankly what had happenedwhat she had said to Harvey Tate.
"I get it," nodded Helen. "I'mthe friend from Central City.""Yes, but don't you go falling forHarvey, too. I'm warning you con-fidentially. He's good-looking, buthe has a brother in prison, he killedhis first wife, he's an habitual drunk-ard, and he cheats newsboys.""Sure," Helen agreed. "And ifyou get him, I hope you'll reformhim. Tom and I will be seeingyou."Merrilee arranged the date for aSaturday night. Starting out withHarvey, her heart beat with mo-mentary triumph and uneasy excite-ment. Her plan was daring, wild."This girl we're going to meet,"she said as they rode in the taxi,thinks we're crazy about eachother." She forced herself to laughmerrily. "It's a shame to disap-point her too badly.""Every girl," said Harvey sol-emnly, "should be helped to keepher illusions. I'll do my best."They met Helen and Tom at theCloudline Club."Isn't it wonderful up here?"Helen exclaimed. "I think NewYork is grand. Oh, Merrilee, isMr. Tate the man you've been writ-ing me so much about? "Merrilee tried to blush and, fromthe hot feeling of her cheeks,thought she succeeded.Harvey had let his fingers touchhers and hold them lingeringly. Attheir table, he helped her to her seatwith great tenderness. His eyeshovered upon her, hungrily, and shereturned the gaze with a thumping,burning heart. She had to be care-ful lest he see at once how real itwas!Helen met her eyes and exchangeda surreptitious glance, which Harveywas intended to notice.When they danced, he held herclose- closer than he really had to
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and once when Helen and Tomwere near, and he was sure theycould see, he let his lips brush herforehead with a gentle kiss.It made her blood race with joyand pain. Oh, if only that fleeting
touch of a kiss had been meant, in-stead of make-believe!"Let's go out here a minute," hesuggested.They were near an open doorwayto the walled terrace. Harvey was
He seized her in his arms, held her crushed close against him,
kissed her soft, yielding lips. "Will you marry me,darling?" he
whispered.
Borrowed Man 63
playing his part well. This was anatural thing for two lovers to do.With his arm about her waist, heled her out onto the terrace, like abalcony in the sky overlooking thelamp-sprinkled darkness of the city.In the distance was the river andthe slowly moving lights of a boat.Boxed evergreens behind themscreened them from the bright, opendoorway to the dance floor.A sudden, painful bit of logicflashed through Merrilee's mind.Out here, there was no need forHarvey to "act." He couldn't beseen. So he had come out for arespite.But Harvey apparently didn't re-alize his opportunity. Instead oftaking his arm from her waist, hetightened it, until they faced eachother. He put his other arm aroundher, suddenly held her close to him,and pressed his lips against hers, ina long, deep kiss. It was so deep,so burning, that for a moment itfelt real, and it took all her willpower to hold her cool senses. Shetried desperately to speak lightly."Thank you, sir. But you don'thave to do that. Helen can't see ushere. You can relax."He released her from his arms.His willingness to let her go whenthere was no need to hold her some-how scraped cruelly against her al-ready raw, taut nerves. Before sherealized it, she had spoken again,bitterly:"Besides, Nola mightn't like it!"The instant the words were ut-tered, she was sorry. She hadn'tput any pleasant bantering into hervoice this time. Instead, she hadlet it show that she was hurt. NowHarvey would despise her.But the look which came imme-diately to his face, for some reason,wasn't a look of disdain. It was alook of astonishment, then of par-
tial understanding. Something likegladness hovered in his gray eyes."I'll have to confess about Nola,"he said, slowly. "She's a very nicegirl, but I only dated her because-Well, look here, Merrilee!Your time was occupied with lots ofother men. I knew that from whatNola told me, and from what yousaid yourself. I didn't want to pre-sume an our fifty-fifty business re-lationship. You set the limits of itpretty clearly. But I thought if Iwent out with Nola now and then,you'd be along. And if I could onlybe around you more, I still had avague hope that-" He hesitated.Merrilee put her hand,on his arm,clasped it. She looked up eagerlyinto his'gray eyes, and the gladnessthat was hovering there seemed sud-denly to have lit them, for theywere glowing tenderly now."You had a hope that what?" sheurged him.He seized her in his arms, heldher crushed close against him, kissedher soft, yielding lips."I hoped," he whispered, thatwe could go on with our fifty-fiftyplan with a slight change, though.I'll pay all the expenses. You thinkup the ideas for games and thingsto pretend before your friends. Youthink up all that sort of thing, afterwe do one thing that I've thoughtup, darling.""What is it, dearest?""That we get married. Will you?""Oh, Harvey, dearest. I thoughtthat up long ago," she murmured."So did I the first time I went-out with you, sweetheart."He kissed her again. Even ifthey hadn't been on the lofty ter-race above the city's roofs, abovethe river and its slowly movinglights, she'd have felt that she wasjust as high, carried by her joyous,soaring heart.
Orchid GirlBy Paula
Rockwell
EVE HILTON, last season's dar-ling of the stag line, dancedto-night professionally at theGraysons' charity garden fête. Theriotous applause of the sociallyprominent guests after her firstdance assured her that she hadcaught on. But her heart was abottomless pit of anguish. YoungDoctor Wallace had kept his word.
He hadn't come to her first publicappearance, her triumph.In floating rose-shaded chiffonsand filmy veils Eve had drifted likea wraith blown by a breeze, out ofblack tree shadows on the terrace toan improvised stage of green velvetturf. Her eyes searched vainly forthat tall, lithe figure. The moonspread silvery whiteness over the
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many rows of intimates in Parisgowns and faultless evening clothes,over the masses of flower beds,shrubs, and tinkling fountains.In that silvery light, on the softwings of music from a hidden or-chestra, Eve danced. Like a spiritfrom another world. A deep hush.Wild applause.To music like a precious memory,Eve in white, her hair sculpturedgold, danced a love call. Her lovecall to Bob Wallace. Danced theglory and miracle of woman's lovefor man. Danced until that blasécrowd rose and cheered.But even when she stood, sur-rounded by a worshiping group offriends, even when a famous pro-ducer offered her a thrilling connec-tion with his Broadway revue, griefsheathed her in ice. Success with-out Bob's love was salt on her lips.Well, she'd go to New York, workfiendishly, succeed lovelessly.Then she saw him, his backagainst a stately elm outlined incolored lights. Magnificent-lookingin his black-and-white. A fine-shaped head, broad-shouldered, witha gleaming smile that could melt aheart of iron. But Eve's heartwasn't iron; it was clay for him tomold. Her heart was beating cra-zily loud now in her ears as she methis eyes with a silent appeal. Hebowed, moved toward her, thensquared his shoulders and swung offtoward the house."He can't do that to me," Evesobbed inwardly. "He must under-stand. He shouldn't hate me nowand avoid me like a plague. I'm nolonger a rich, spoiled girl. He mustknow I'm dancing to-night for mybread and butter."She ran swiftly away to escapethe gayly possessive friends, and inspite of a gust of self-contempt- LS 5F
she, Eve Hilton, running after anyman- darted past the swimmingpool to overtake that hurryingfigure.Running fleetly, she rememberedthat other night when her world hadglistened goldenly. At the houseparty of her cousin, Lucile, who hadbeen disinherited, for eloping with anartist, Ralph Lane, Eve had metDoctor Robert Wallace. When theireyes, hers warm, honey-brown, hisdeep, direct, blacky locked, she hadbeen drawn to him as on an invisi-ble cord. Twenty-eight, vitally pow-erful, mouth resolute, smelling pleas-antly of soap and antiseptic. Eve'sheart thumped with a savage ex-citement. She wondered what washappening to her. Could it be loveat first sight that exploded her emo-tions into small, bright stars of hap-piness like a bursting skyrocket?Lucile had forewarned her."Hands off, darling. Bob Wallaceslave-drives himself in work; He'sa college mate of Ralph's, with somequeer complex about idle societygirls. Something about the crack-upof his society-mad mother and hiscountry-doctor father. Staying abachelor's his hobby. Besides, yourCyril-"Eve's lovely eyebrows contracted."I told Cy last night it's all off be-tween us until he cuts out drink. Iwon't marry a moneyed moron whoboasts he's the drunkest drunk inour crowd."Eve knew she was playing withfire that night of the house partywhen she climbed the bluff over-hanging the lake, on the arm of thehandsome young doctor.Eve in a Paris gown grimaced atherself as he braced her for the laststeep ascent, and said in a voice thatwas like a deep-toned carillon ofbells: "The view's grand, butyou'll ruin your silver slippers, and
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they must have cost you a wholeweek's salary."So he thought her a working girl!Like most of the others at the houseparty.Laughing inwardly Eve crushedthe impulse to confess that she wasthe only child of John Hilton, in-ventor and multimillionaire, andsupposed to have been engaged inher cradle to that wealthy playboy,Cyril Clarke."I've seen you somewhere be-fore," Bob mused. "Did you sellme some things in Denton's base-ment?""No," Eve answered demurely,but her eyes danced mischievously."Perhaps I waited on you in thefive-and-ten."On a rustic bench on the hilltop-Eve and Bob talked. He spokebriefly of his hospital work, shylyof his ambitions. She said hermother had died when she was atot, but her father was a grand pal.Lately, he hadn't seemed like him-self. Weak heart. She worried.Suddenly Eve was startled by afierce new longing. She ached to beheld close in Bob's arms."Let's go back and dance, Bob,"she suggested overcarelessly."It's stuffy inside. All that gang.Besides, I don't dance. Haven'ttime. Work all day and sometimesall night."She chattered to ease her wildlonging. "ather says I danced be-fore I walked. He let me have thebest teachers. Paris, Petrograd.But he always hoots when I sayI'd dance for my supper if I everhad to earn my own-" Shestopped, furious at her slip.He stared at her for a painfulmoment, his mouth rigid. "Sorry,"he muttered. "You must think mean utter ass." He lighted a ciga-rette, but didn't smoke; instead,
ground it fiercely under his heel."Of course, you're Eve Hilton, deb,John Hilton's daughter. Your pic-ture's forever in the rotogravure. Italways rested me the Sunday Ididn't see your face. Pretty dumbof me to mistake you for a work-ing girl. It'll be a grand joke totell your friends. Five-and-ten!Just let me tell you, young lady,"he went on savagely, s"ome of thenicest girls I ve ever met work inthe five-and-ten!""Bob," she pleaded, "I didn'tmean- Please-""Shall we go back?" His imper-sonal tone stung her.She lashed out at him, "I hateyou." But she knew it wasn't hate,but the magic fever of love pulsat-ing through her veins. He was soattractive, so straight, so decent.He eyed her coolly, but his jawwas a hard knot."Good. It won't be hard to teachmyself to hate you, too, Miss Hil-ton. How you must be laughing upyour sleeve at making a monkeyof me!"She wanted to cry out her loveand longing. Instead, she stood up,her voice pointed icicles. "I'm go-ing back to Lucile."He stood up, too, and brought hisstern young face close to hers."Spoiled, pampered child. Used togetting your own way. Well, you'rea stick of dynamite for a strugglingyoung doctor like me. LabeledDangerous- keep away."The next instant she was sweptroughly into his arms, and, hergolden hair hardly reaching hisshoulders, she felt herself lifted ontiptoe. He kissed her lips until theywarmed under his. He kissed heragain and again, not tenderly, butfiercely, until she hung limp in hisarms."Let me go!" she stormed, and
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had never known such gnawingpangs of fury even while in thatelectric moment her heart beat inher throat like a trapped bird.Every pulse in her body sang in theecstasy of love. She tore herselfaway and ran like the wind. Downthe slope. Up the cottage steps-into Lucile's arms."I was just coming for you, Evedarling. Ralph's getting the car.The phone- your father-""Father! Not dead. No! No!"A month after that night Eve,ivory-pale in her white mourning sathuddled in the hugebook-lined librarywith its soft tonesof old mahoganyfurniture. She hadjust had two pain-ful interviews, onewith her father'slaywer, who toldgently that, whenthe creditors weresatisfied, she wouldbe penniless. Theother with CyrilClarke, in which sherepeated her decision not to marryhim until he forswore drink and hisplayboy habits and settled down asjunior member of his father's lawfirm.Cyril stood, balancing himself onunsteady legs. Medium height, tooheavy for the middle twenties, un-easy mouth, bloodshot eyes. Hesmoked one cigarette after theother, and regarded her sulkily."That's crazy, Eve, a smoothielike you a professional dancer!You'll starve to death the firstmonth.""You know, Jacques said I oughtto make dancing my career," Evesaid quietly, but her hands workednervously. "And old Orloff inPetrograd said the same. My firstengagement's Thursday night- theGraysons' charity garden party."The days that she must livethrough before her debut as a pro-fessional dancer crawled for Eve, inspite of unending hours of practice.Sometimes she broke into fits ofwild weeping for her father. Once-twice she longed unbearably to seeBob Wallace. Beyond a formal noteof sympathy and a box of her fa-vorite deep-purple violets, he hadcompletely ignored her.She wanted to see him so muchthat, one afternoon, humbling her-self, she phoned hisoffice.He was at theCarlton, the suiteof the great Vien-nese nerve spe-cialist, Doctor-Eve didn't try tocatch the name. Shewould wait in theCarlton lobby. Shemust see Bob, tellhim she was sorry,confess.After an hour ofwaiting she saw him step out of theelevator."Hello, Bob!""Eve! Miss Hilton! Wish I couldstop, but I'm late now at the hos-pital." He spoke pleasantly, but sodistantly.Eve, hurt to the quick, wouldhave fled, but she saw one handcrush his soft gray hat. That en-couraged her. He wasn't so stonyindifferent, after all."I phoned your office. I wantedto tell you-" She forced her eyesto his face. A muscle twitched inhis cheek."There's nothing to tell. It wasjust my fool mistake. I've alwaysbelieved your world and mine don't
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mix. I'm glad I found out the truthso soon, before-" He was po-litely edging away from her."Bob," she pleaded, her heartemptied of hope. He was so remote:How could she reach him? Makehim understand that, out of a worldof men, her heart had chosen himfor her man? "Bob, I'm dancingto-morrow night at Mrs. Gray-son's.""Yes, for the Children's Hospital.I bought tickets, but I won't bethere." He moved away a fewsteps, then wheeled and said furi-ously: "Please, Eve, stay out ofmy life. I'm a workingman.You're an orchid girl. Besides, I'mnot the marrying sort."Eyes burning with angry, unshedtears, Eve stood until he disap-peared through the revolving door.Then her firm chin lifted. "Someday, Doctor Wallace, when myname's in electric lights a foot high,I'll send a gorgeous check to yourhospital and you'll be proud of me."This promise gave her couragewhen she sped after Bob into theGrayson house and glimpsed thedoctor in the library, shaking handswith old Colonel Grayson.She'd wait in the hall, pocket herpride, tell Bob she now was pooras a church mouse.A loud voice behind her de-manded, "Where've you been all mylife, darling?" And his eyes pinpoints, his mouth working restlessly,Cyril Clarke caught her to him.She tried to draw away. "Cy,please.""I want to talk to you, Eve.Come in here." Gripping her shoul-der, he half dragged her across thehall.Eve struggled mentally. If shewent with Cy, she'd miss Bob anda chance for a magic moment to-gether and a word of explanation.
If she refused Cy, he was capableof making a rowdy scene. Hehadn't been drinking. Of that shewas quite sure. But he seemed dif-ferent. Excited, restless, deter-mined. Better hear what he hadto say."All right, Cy," Eve said wearily,, following him into a near-by room."Make it snappy. Mrs. Graysonmay want me.""Tell her to go chase herself," hesaid rudely. "You're my girl, andfather's sore as the deuce about yourdancing to-night. He's sick in bed-pretty close to the end, I'm afraid.He wants to see you right away.He sent you this, and says I'm tobring you to him."He thrust into her hand a ringwith a magnificent pear-shapedruby, its deep-red fires outlined inthe cold gleam of diamonds. Evehad seen the ring often on the handof Cy's now-dead mother, and knewit belonged to the world-famousClarke collection of rubies.Cyril snatched her sickeninglyclose, and tried to kiss her.With a wrench she was halfwayacross the room, but he caught herand tightened his hold. "That's noway for a girl to treat the man she'spromised to marry. Anyhow, let'sget going to father. He may notlive the night through, and he wantsto tell you about a promise he madeyour father.Eve's eyes brimmed with tears.Her father! Never in all her lifehad she felt so desperately alone.If only she could talk to her father,tell him- it might ease her achingheart to talk about him to Cy'sfather, who had been one of hisclosest friends."Just a second, Cy. I want tospeak to- a friend."She stepped out into the hall,ahead of Cy. Bob, hat in hand,
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He moved away a few steps, then wheeled and said furiously: "Please,
Eve, stay out of my life. I'm a workingman. You're an orchid girl. Besides,
I'm not the marrying sort."
was still chatting with ColonelGrayson near the front door. Ifonly Bob would look at her, she d
ask him to give her a mere fvie min-utes alone in the music room.But, eyes averted, he bowed
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gravely as she let Cy hurry her pasthim out the front door and into hisglittering sports roadster. As Cy'scar sped into the drive, Eveglimpsed Bob settle himself behindthe wheel of his little flivver withits top folded back and wishedachingly she were beside him in-stead of at Cy's elbow.Eve sank deep, into her sad mus-ing and answered Cy's excited chat-ter only with monosyllables. Sherarely smoked, but to-night, in herkeyed-up state, she accepted a ciga-rette from Cy, and was glad shewas smoking when he begged for akiss.They were racing over a long,narrow bridge when, glancing aboutnervously, she asked: "Cy, haven'tyou missed the turn in the road?This isn t the way to your home."He laughed excitedly andsqueezed her arm."I thought you d be too sleepyto notice, angel. We're headingacross the county border. I knowa J. P. who'll marry us to-night."Eve swallowed. Her mouth feltdry. But she wondered at her com-posure. "Don't be silly, Cy. Ican't marry you to-night. Bob-""Shut up," he said roughly. "Ifyou want to live, you'll marry meto-night, or I ll shoot this busstraight into the nearest pole.You've fooled around with me long,enough. I ve decided to-night's thenight. Choose. Either a marriageor a funeral."Eve was silent. She realized itwouldn't help to plead or coax withCy in his present mood. But shefelt numbly bewildered. She hadknown him since childhood. Good-tempered, easy-going, the butt ofevery sharper in town. But neverrough, masterful, desperate like this.Wild thoughts shot through hermind. She could scream for help.
But the road was frighteninglylonely. Patches of black woodsopen stretches of stubble. Not a carhad passed them.She could pull the emergencybrake and leap out of the car. But,likely enough, this strange, recklessCy would jump out and drag herback. Perhaps he had a gun andmight kill them both. She had readof desperate men committing justsuch unthinkable crimes. Hersafest bet was to appear cool andpleasant, and not cross Cy in anyway. Maybe she could escapesomehow at the J. P.'s."Was that all make-believe aboutyour father, Cy?" she asked, nicelycasual.He chuckled. "Sure; dad startsto-night in the yacht for Florida.Fury seethed within her. So hehad trapped her through her lovefor her father. She had alwaysliked Cy in a sisterly fashion, feltpity for the spoiled, self-indulgentonly child of a self-absorbed father.Now she hated Cy wildly. Deftly,unnoticed, she dropped the rubyring into his coat pocket.Aloud she said with a mirthlesslaugh: "So you're kidnaping me.Some headlines for the newspapers!"To herself she vowed savagely,"I'll never marry you, Cy Clarke,to-night or any night. I'd kill my-self first."Cy laughed triumphantly. "Thatwon't bother us any. We'll meetfather and the yacht in New Yorkand have months of honeymoon, mysweet."He slowed the car down and, withthe air of a conquering hero,reached over and swept her fiercelyclose, kissing her savagely, insult-ingly, as she never had been kissedbefore.Outraged, ashamed, she pushed
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him away and beat upon him withher fists.She panted, "Don't touch meagain, or I'll jump out.""Sorry, Eve," he apologized, peni-tent. "I'll behave. Just lost myhead thinking that in a few hoursnow you'll belong all to me, for-ever and keeps. You're so beauti-ful. You've always had me eatingout of your hand."They rode the next few miles intense silence. Eve relived thatsnatched moment of bliss on themoonlit bluff. Bob's kisses! Herfirst kiss of real love! Then, her lips,her heart, her entire body had awak-ened in the dizzying ecstasy of thosekisses. Now she scrubbed franti-cally with her handkerchief to wipeoff Cy's shameful kisses, until herlips felt like a slash of burning red."Cy," she begged, please turnback. "I can't marry you. There'ssome one else."But Cy wasn't listening. His eyeswere riveted on the car reflector."My Heaven," he gasped sud-denly, "we are being followed,chased! I thought back there Iheard a car. Sure's anything;they're after me. What'll I do?"he moaned.Eve jerked upright in shudderingterror. "Who's after you? Whatdo you mean?"Then, when he didn't answer, butcontinued to mutter incoherently,she shook his arm desperately, try-ing not to scream. "Tell me, Cy!"He mumbled: "The Dennisongang- Baby-face Morton. I got inwrong with him at a hand bookie's.He said he'd get me.Eve flashed a glance through therear window. A car was tearingaround a turn in the road."What'll they do, Cy? To us?To me?" she demanded, amazed ather controlled voice.
"Kidnap us," he babbled. "Holdus for ransom, perhaps torture us,burn out our eyes as they did tothe Redmond brothers, kill us."Eve sat motionless. She foughtpanic-terror down. She felt incasedin the ice of fear. Too numb tomove or think or speak. She wasstill so young. Life was sweet. Somuch ahead of her. Success, per-haps even love. But death, if shecouldn't have Bob, wouldn't be sobad. Anyhow, she'd never askmercy of those gangsters. She'd diegame, with her boots on, as her dar-ling good sport of a father often said.A half sob burst from Cy's lips."They're gaining on me! Egad,why didn't I pack my rod to-night?I could shoot it out." The next in-stant he burst into a string of oaths."So help me, out of gas! I told Rob-inson to fill the tank when I ran thecar into our garage this afternoon.He ll get his if-" The car slith-ered to a standstill.The pursuing auto shot aroundanother turn in the road and slid toa stop a few feet ahead of Cy'sroadster.Cy dropped his head on hishands, which still gripped the wheel,and sobbed hysterically. "Oh, Eve,if only I hadn't dragged you intothis!"Eve glanced at him contemptu-ously. He was yellow through andthrough. Chicken-hearted! Thoughterror froze her and her imaginationtortured her, she said: "Brace up.The worst hasn't happened yet."Tormented by horrid visions ofbeing bound and gagged, she gluedher eyes to the door of that othercar. In another breath, now, outwould leap a gang of masked ban-dits with machine guns, and she andCy--To her gasped amazement, only asingle figure emerged and ran fleetly
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Bob raced to Eve's side of the car, ripped open the door, and had her
fiercely tight in his arms before he exploded: "What do you mean, running
off like this with my wife, Clarke?"
toward Cy s car. But not beforeher eyes, startled wide open withsurprise, her thudding heart, herhurrying pulses told her who it was.
Bob! Hateless, his face in the moon-light stern and grim as death. Heraced to Eve's side of the car, rippedopen the door, and had her fiercely
Orchid Girl 73
tight in his arms before he exploded:"What do you mean, running offlike this with my wife, Clarke?"Cy gaped. "Your wife? Ididn t know- She only said-" Then relief made him blub-ber: "I thought gangsters kid-napers- out of gas."Bob, with Eve close in his hardbut tender clasp, hurried toward hisroadster. Over his shoulder heflung back: "Your car's safely offthe road. Sleep off your nerve jag.I'll send you gas from the- first sta-tion we pass."Bob laid Eve gently back againstthe seat cushions and covered, herwith a robe before he slid under thewheel."All set?" he asked matter-ol-factly, but the concern in his man-ner made happiness pour throughher veins like golden fire.She sighed contentedly. To haveBob save her like this was morethrilling than the most excitingmovie rescue she'd ever seen."You're not to talk," he orderedwith a quick assumption of his pro-fessional manner. "I'll do that forboth of us. Close your eyes andtry to untie your nerves."She tried to obey. But it wastoo magically wonderful to be speed-ing under a deep-blue sky prickedwith yellow stars, beside Bob, somagically near that her hand could,and did, touch the edge of his coat.She sighed again like a happy childand nestled her head in the cushions.A lilt of sheer joy warmed hervoice when she broke the silence."How did you happen to come forme, Bob?"He looked down at her wind-blown golden head, frowning."Spoiled girl. Must have your ownway. I told you not to talk. Well,if you must know, I didn't like thelooks of your boy friend when he
was hurrying you out to his car. Iknow something of playboy Clarke'shabits. He was all doped up to-night, so when I saw him start offat that breakneck speed, I had to put an interne on an urgent case ofmine and waste some perfectly goodtime on a wild-goose chase afteryou." His eyes twinkling down ather softened the harshness of hiswords and manner.Silence. A wild elation thrilledthrough her. Bob must care or hewouldn't have taken the trouble tosave her from Cy.She leaned forward suddenly tostare at him. "But, Bob," she be-gan, her heart a singing bird, "youtold Cy I was your wife."He lighted a cigarette, and in theflare she saw his mouth thin intoa hard line. "Don't let that upsetyou. I had to give that poor sapa jolt or he'd have tried to put upa fight for you. But I told youbefore you'd make havoc in the lifeof a man who's devoting, himself toservice." He took a furious puff athis cigarette, inhaled deeply, thensaid in the tone of a person tryingto convince himself: "I wouldn'twant you for a wife if you were thelast girl on earth. Not that I'm con-ceited enough," he added quickly,"to think you'd have me."Stranger things than that havehappened," she said meekly, andwished this ride through the per-fect summer night would last for-ever.Neither spoke again until a fewyards ahead of them loomed up agas station."It'd do that fellow good to staythere all night and sleep it off," Bobmuttered, then gave the attendantexplicit directions about the locationof Cy's car.Bob said, as if to himself, sud-denly: "A girl like you should al-
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ways wear orchids and ride in lim-ousines." He shot the car ahead ina sudden burst of speed and lightedanother cigarette, with unsteady fin-gers, Eve noticed.She laughed, and the silver soundof her laugh seemed to irritate Bob.He glanced at her sharply. "Youfind me quite a joke, don't you?Mistaking porcelain for crockery."With a shy, sweet abandon shecaressed his hand on the wheel andhad the satisfaction of seeing hisface quiver."A very pleasant joke, Bob, andwe need jokes and fun to help usin this tough, old world, don't we?"she asked in her most serious, little-girl manner."Well, you don't need to draw adiagram of me making a fool ofmyself again over you," he saidhaltingly, as if he didn't believe hisown words. "I'll do nicely withoutyou in my life." Expertly heavoided a deep rut in the road."You're a golden girl, and I'd burnmy fingers if I touched you."She drew her fingers swiftly, pro-vocatively across his lips. "There,did that burn you?" she demanded,then sighed and asked in a low,shaken voice, "Why do we have tohurt each other every time we're to-gether?"Bob lighted another cigarette, in-,haled deeply, then flung it into thedarkness. His voice was hard,clipped. "I've put up a tough fightwith myself since I met you. Thatnight on the bluff I thought youand I- But now I've got all thatlicked. I have no time for girls,no time for anything but my work."He flashed her a glance, and hiseyes told her something that his lipsdenied, something that made a wildsurge of joy beat through her.Both sat very quiet, his shoul-ders brushing hers, until the roadster
"Some trick you two played on me," cried Clarke. "Your wife, eh?
Well, that's a dirty lie. She's my girl. If I don't get her, you won't.
He swung about, a small automatic pointed at Bob.
Orchid Girl 75
swerved into her driveway. Step-ping from the car, she suddenlystumbled. Everything went blackbefore her. She would have fallen
but for Bob's outstretched arms. Hecaught her and carried her, soft,yielding, fragrant, to the bronze-grilled door. He made a move to
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set her down, but she clung to himlike a frightened child."Please, Bob, don't leave me. I'mall alone, and I feel so- funny.""Where are the servants?""Dismissed."He placed her like somethingfragile on a couch in the mellow-lighted library, and drew up a chairbeside her.Through the gray veil of his ciga-rette smoke he said: "Take it easy,Eve. This has been quite an eve-ning for you." He mused, "Somepalace, this.""I was born here. It hurts toleave it.""Read that in the papers. Bunk,of course."She felt his eyes probe hers whenshe answered steadily: "Nothingleft. But no debts. I'm on my own.A professional dancer from now on."She smiled bitterly.He stared incredulous. "A so-ciety girl's whim, a dancing career.""Earn my way with these." Shethrust out small feet in silver slip-pers.Grudgingly he said; "You havebewitching feet, Eve."She laughed, a bit wearily. "Myface isn't so bad, either, when youget used to it." Then added indif-ferently, "I've had an offer to dancein a Broadway revue.""Eve Hilton in a Broadway re-vue," he scoffed.His mockery filled her with fury.How dared he laugh at her?Their glances crossed, and his facesharpened with pain, his handsomemouth set stubbornly, told her thatwhich made her heart throb to anecstatic tempo.She jumped up. "Must phone,before my New Yorker leaves forthe train. Excuse me. Won't belong."
But she was. Bob had smokedan unbroken chain of cigarettes be-fore she trailed back, white-faced,eyes dark-ringed.Neither spoke for a moment.Out of that quiet, like a hoarsehorn out of a fog, a voice from aFrench window in the sun room be-hind them startled them both totheir feet."Some trick you two played onme." One hand behind him, theother clutching the window frame,Cyril Clarke stood, wavering. Hiseyes were glazed; his mouth workedconvulsively. He slurred his words."Your wife, eh? Well, that's adirty lie. She's my girl. If I don't,get her, you won't."He swung about, a small, auto-matic pointed at Bob.There was a terrible panic-stricken moment, then Eve leapedforward. "No, no, Cy! I love him!"A second of hesitation, then: "Itold, you I couldn't marry you.There was some one else- Bob.He's my husband!" She flung her-self between the two men.With a jerk Bob thrust Eveaside, caught Cy's wavering arm,slipped the gun into his own pocket,and knocked the dope-filled youthflat. When, moaning and cursing,Cyril rose, Bob, with a few swiftblows, rushed him through the win-dow and out into the clump ofbushes below."I hate to beat up a poor sap likethat. He's ready for a sanitarium.Yet it had to be done," he remarkedevenly, but his mouth was steel-hard.With a sobbing breath, Eve crum-pled into a chair, her face in herhands,"I was so afraid- he'd kill you,"she quavered.Bob laughed. "Not with those
Orchid Girl 77
shaking hands. I was afraid youwould-"The mantel clock filled the roomwith its tickling."Eve," Bob said, his handsclenched, as though words lockedbehind his lips were being forcedfrom him. "I can't- I won't loveyou. You'd be a most exciting ex-travagance for an ambitious youngdoctor. But, oh, my darling"- hisvoice broke suddenly- "I can't livewithout you."He swept her close to him, andhis lips pressed hers, satiny, berry-red, yielding. In the glorious magicof that kiss she was thrilled withan ecstasy that she thought be-longed only to the gods.Her arms crept up around hisneck. She kissed him and gave herheart into his trust."You won't always be a strug-gling doctor, dear," she said softly."He bent his head and rained kisseson her spun-gold hair, on the Cu-pid's hollow in her throat, her hands,her mouth, exquisite, adorable, fra-grant as a rose leaf. "I'll earn withmy dancing.""Not when you're my wife, be-loved." Gently he pushed her to-
ward the door. "Phone your NewYork man it's all off.""But, Bob-" she pleaded.He drew her into his arms andkissed her until rapture infolded herlike a cloak. "I may never havemuch money, my love, but I can'tlet my wife dance for money.""For love, then. I'll dance mylove for you, free," Eve said be-tween a laugh and a sob. "I phonedhim 'no' already. Said I intendedto marry.""Cy?"She shook her head."You." Her eyes were adoringhim. "I read somewhere, whensomething you want is passing youby, run after it. So I ran after you,with my love."Bob laughed joyously. "I didsome pretty tall running after youto-night, my darling."She clung to him. She was whereshe had longed to be. Closely heldin his arms, lips upon lips.A small, quivering sigh escapedher as he released her for a mo-ment. Then he crushed her to himagain, and set his lips on hers in akiss that lifted her to dizzyingheights of ecstasy.
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Heartless FlirtBy Ives Tudor
REINE, haven't you anything totell me?" Carl Trueman askedin a strained voice."Only that I had a grand weekin town and bought scads ofclothes," Reine laughed impishly upat him."Why didn't you answer my let-ters and telegrams?""Heavens!" The black lashes flewwide over dark eyes in genuineastonishment. "It took every spareminute I had to read less than halfof them." She softened the blow."It was dear of you to send them-and the flowers."
"You promised me an answerwhen you got back," he continuedgrimly."You made that suggestion," shedenied. "I didn't promise anything.""See here, Reine!" His light-blueeyes snapped, displaying temper."How long do you intend keepingthis up? You've the most notoriousreputation of flirt by now. Everyunattached male in Crest Cove ismad about you, and a few marriedones as well. I'm mad about you,but I'm not the kind of a man tobe led around by the nose."Reine sighed dismally, drawing
Heartless Flirt 79
down the corners of her lovely redlips. For the first time in weeksshe felt free to walk where shepleased, knowing that Paul Cartierwouldn't leap out at her from theoddest places, shouting childishthreats to kill himself unless shemarried him. And now Carl wasspoiling everything!"I hoped for a breathing spell nowthat Père Cartier has dragged hisneurotic offspring back to France,"she sighed, dropping her small head,its lovely wealth of hair as blackand sleek as the skin of a wet seal."I do wish you'd stop being serious,Carl. I'm not in love with you orwith any one. And I won't marryyou for your money."His laugh was harsh enough todraw her startled gaze."You may change your mindwhen the new prosecuting attorneystarts in. He threatens to put yourstepdad in the bread line or behindbars."Reine stopped and swung squarelyto face him. Her cheeks were scar-let with anger. Small hands clenchedand thumped the air."He's an idiot! Sam Hollis isn'tcrooked. He helps put men intopublic office because he believes inthem, and not for personal gain.""The prosecutor doesn't think so.He says-""I know what he says," she inter-rupted sharply. "I've listened to hisbroadcasts. His official investiga-tions will prove him wrong.""He's after the machine that Samhelped- well, the political machinethat it has taken years to build up.I hope they take the meddling foolfor a ride," he finished viciously."You're talking like a dimethriller, Carl."She began to hum a gay songand started across the lawn to jointhe laughing group on the terrace.
Suddenly the song died on herlips; the power to move seemed todesert her. She was conscious ofnothing but the tall, broad-shoul-dered man with the slim hips andtrim build of an athlete who stoodtalking to Francine Adair.While she stared at him, hesmiled, his teeth showing dazzlingwhite in contrast to the deep bronzeof his face.Life flowed back into her limbs.She moved forward, into the sun-patched shade of silver poplars,looking dainty and lovely in thecoral-colored chiffon frock, a floppywhite garden hat dangling from onehand."Who is that man?" she askedCarl.He followed her gaze and laughedas though at a secret joke."That, my sweet, is Bart Anders,the new prosecuting attorney."Her breath caught in her throat,"What is he doing here?""I wouldn't know!" He laughedderisively. "He came here the dayafter you left for town, rented theMiller bungalow and joined thecrowd. His mother and Mrs. Lam-son were schoolgirl friends.""Does he know that Sam lives inCrest Cove?""He's after information, if that'swhat you mean. Good thing Samis staying in town with dad for awhile."Amy Lamson called out a gaygreeting."Reine, darling, so glad you'reback!" She added, "You look justlike a lovely little girl standingthere.""As if she didn't know it," Fran-cine Adair flung in tartly, drawinga few scattered snickers.Francine had lost Carl Truemanto Reine and resented it.Reine scarcely heard her. She
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was staring into the bluest eyes shehad ever seen, smudged with thickblack lashes. She felt the bloodmounting to her face."Darling," Amy Lamson con-tinued, "I want you to meet our newprosecuting attorney and the son ofmy dearest friend. Bart, comehere."He was beside her now, meetingher wide-eyed gaze. Somethingflamed between them- something sothrillingly beautiful that it quiveredthrough her like a song; his look waslike wings beating in her heart,brushing against her eyelids, linger-ing on her lips."Now, Bart," Mrs. Lamsonwarned half seriously after the intro-duction, "don't lose your heart to- her. She's a heartless little flirt.""Be careful, Bart," Francine ad-vised, lowering white lids over craftygray eyes. "She's the daughter ofKing Graft Hollis.""Francine!" Mrs. Lamson rebukedsternly.But Francine ignored the rebuke:"Paul Cartier, the diamondbaron's son, tried to commit suicideover her," she continued relentlessly."That's not true," Carl defended."The darn fool got drunk and fellout of the canoe. A man intent onself-destruction doesn't yell bloodymurder to be saved.""Carl thinks the queen can do nowrong," Francine smirked slyly.But the blue eyes watching Reinehad suddenly lost their wrath andbecome coldly impersonal. Terrorcrept through her a strange, devas-tating terror that was an icy floodin her veins, a flaming torment inher brain. Her hands pressed overher heart in a protecting gesture, buthis frozen look pierced the barrierlike stabbing knives."So you're Reine Hollis," hestated, unsmiling.
"Sam is my stepfather," she ex-plained. "My name is Rogers."His shrug was slightly contemptu-ous, as though to say: "It's all thesame breed."Some one tittered. Her dark eyeslost their velvety softness and sweptthe circle, silencing mirth. Red lipstightened angrily, emphasizing thedetermined chin cleft by a dimplethat found its mate in her left cheek."Sam is the best father a girl everhad." Her voice quivered withanger."I admire loyalty in any one,"Bart replied politely.Their eyes clung, and he took aninvoluntary step forward. Francinesaw and hissed spitefully:"Remember Mrs. Lamson's warn-ing! She's a heartless flirt!"For the first time the coined ex-pression, given Reine shortly afterher return from Europe a year be-fore, ceased to be amusing. She hadgained the reputation of flirt be-cause few men could resist the lureof her vibrant, dusky beauty. Andbecause she had flung herself withthe innocent abandon of a happychild into a round of pleasure witheach new, interesting-male, and tir-ing of their insistence, had sent themaway bewildered and decidedly dis-appointed, she had been termedheartless.Francine bobbed forward andclutched Bart's arm with workingfingers. Her foxlike face was flusheda mottled red. Eyes gleamed mali-ciously through narrowed slits."Be careful of her, Bart."Carl's derisive laughter broke thetension."You sound like a black witchon a black, black night, Fran.""She is a flirt. You can't denyit!""Tch-tch!" Carl admonished.
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"Your nasty little brain is a gooeymess of jealousy, my pet."Reine's smile was tremulous, herdark eyes wide and serious."I'm not as bad as Fran paintsme, Mr. Anders."He smiled thinly. "Not beingcurious, I'll probably never know."Reine flushed and moved stifflyaway to join the small group nearthe lily pond. Carl followed."Darling"- Pamela Voight smiledsympathetically- "you'll never dan-gle Bart's scalp atyour belt.""And it's such anice dark one," DodoWilson sighed dole-fully, shaking herblond head.Les Whitney gruntedangrily, running nerv-ous fingers through histhatch of straw-col-ored hair."You blondes talkas though Reine werean aborigine head-hunter."Les had been in lovewith Reine since theirromper days. His devotion waslaughed at, even by himself. Onlyhis kind brown eyes carried a hintof pain when he looked at her.Reine's dark head lifted in a chal-lenge."I've never lost a man yet."It was sheer bravado, that re-mark. She could have added in alltruth that until now, she had neverintended any man to fall in lovewith her. They just did, spoilingeverything."Don't break a perfect record bytackling the iron man," Carl advisedsagely.A warm glow filled her heart."You mean he's not interested inany girl?"
"He's a confirmed woman-hater,"said Carl."Nope," Les denied quickly."He's only shy of girls with daringreputations. A flirtatious ladyruined his brother Dave's politicalfuture some years ago. She forgotto tell Dave that she was married.Her husband raised a fuss, suedDave and all that. It drove himout of politics. He died in a planecrash last year.""That's why Bart went into poli-tics," Dodo, added herbit, cheerfully. "Heswore he'd get themen who framedDave. He blamedno other than-""- Shut up, Dodo!"Pamela nudged hertiny companion."Blamed Sam, youmean?" Reine finishedcleverly. "That issilly!" A dangerousgleam blazed in herdark eyes. "I'll makehim eat out of myhand before I amthrough.""Be careful," Carl warned. "Thosequiet fellows have dispositions likeIndians.""Not jealous by any chance,Carl?" she teased."Sure I am. You're going tomarry me, my sweet. I always getwhat I want.""So do I," she snapped pertly,walking away.Reine had made a habit of takingher early-morning swim long beforethe rest of Crest Cove stirred frombed. She loved the fresh, dewysweetness of the morning, the in-vigorating cold of the lake water,rippling into pure gold where the suntouched it. But most of all she
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loved the solitude, the feeling of be-longing wholly to herself.She stood for a moment on thebank, a scarlet patch of color againstthe rose-gold of the morning. Thenshe plunged in and swam for theraft, climbing over the edge just asa dark head bobbed up on the op-posite side. Bart Anders grinned ather."Good morning," he greeted hereasily.She drew a long breath andlaughed. "You startled me! I neverexpected any one else to be swim-ming at this hour."He drew his bronzed body, garbedin black trunks, up beside her. Theysat rocking in rhythm to the raft'smovements, staring at each otherwith the frankness of children."Aren't you up early?"She shook her red-capped head."I always swim at this time. I loveit. It's so still and beautiful. Ifeel as though I'm the only personin the world.""I know. It's a grand feeling,isn t it?"He stood up quickly. Etchedagainst the background of brilliantmorning sky and, dark water, headflung high, he looked like a younggod. Great muscles rippled easilyand gracefully beneath his bronzedskin.He stared down at her, and herheart cried out against the barrierbetween them. He would nevertrust her because of Sam, and be-cause some one had been cruel andjealous enough to brand her a flirt.She shivered, but not from cold."Hadn't you better take yourswim and go in?" he asked matter-of-factly.She jumped to her feet. Withquick, graceful movements shereached the springboard, leapedhigh in the air and dived.
She swam back, laughing, with thesheer joy of living. Her next at-tempt was a perfect swan dive. Heapplauded heartily as she climbedback on the float and rested on herback, arms tucked beneath her head."You can dive," he complimented."I had hoped to win the Crest Covechampionship this year. Now Ishan't even compete for it.""You're being nice, Mr. Anders.I didn't think you could be."She was sorry the moment she hadsaid it. The friendly laughter lefthis eyes, which became gleamingdisks of blue ice. His strong mouthstretched to a hard, straight line."We can't gain anything by use-less discussion"- curtly. "You areprivileged to live your life. I livemine.""But you're wrong about Sam,Mr. Anders- wrong about me, too.Only I don't suppose that's impor-tant."She hated the lie. It was impor-tant, what he thought about her -the only important thing in theworld."You're either very clever or verystupid, Miss Rogers," he flung inwith spirit.She bridled. "Sam hasn't earnedthe things you've said about him."She shielded her betraying eyes withone hand. "Neither have I.""I'm not aware of having dis-cussed you with any one.""No. But you've listened to. sillygossip. It's the same thing.""You call a brokenhearted boy'sattempt at suicide silly gossip?"Reine raised herself on an elbow.One slender hand reached-out, thefingers closing over, his strong brownwrist. There was appeal in her eyesand voice, and the quaver of tears."I'll tell you the truth," she prom-ised. "I met Paul Cartier in Francejust before setting sail for home. He
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followed me here. I never pretendedto care for him- for any man. Onenight, Paul got drunk at a party andtook a canoe out on the lake. Itoverturned; he couldn't swim. For-tunately, a couple in another canoe
heard him cry out. He swore hetried to kill himself beause of me.It was his way of striking back.""Very convincing!"She straightened, all the lovelycolor drained from her face."There has been, andare, too many men inlove with you for younot to have earned thereputation of 'heartlessflirt.' Men need encour-agement before makingfools of themselves."
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"You don't believe me?""Frankly, no. There have been,and are, too many men in love withyou for you not to have earned thereputation of 'heartless flirt.' Menneed encouragement before makingfools of themselves.""How can you be so cruel?"She couldn't keep the quiver ofheartbreak out of her voice. Tearsglittered on her lashes. Small handspressed against her throat to easethe pain there. She loved him; sheknew that now. His look, filled withcurious amusement, was like theprick of thorns in her flesh. Hehaunted her consciousness like aghost, making her want the feel ofhis strong arms about her, the pres-ence of his lips on her own."Oh, you're cruel!" she repeated,hardly conscious that she had movednearer, that her bare white shoulderbrushed against the bronzed fleshof his arm.His smile was crooked. "I'm im-mune to your charms, Miss Rogers.Tell Sam Hollis that. Tell himhe'll never trick me as he trickedDave."The words reacted on Reine likea physical blow. She cringed, star-ing at him with tear-dimmed eyes.He couldn't have said that horriblething! But he had.Then fury swept her, stingingthrough her pain like the lash of awhip, driving her to hurt him as shewas hurt."You dare accuse me of suchdespicable cheapness?" she choked."Did it ever occur to you that DaveAnders wasn't framed? That whenhe was caught with another man'swife in his arms, he lied to save him-self?"The blow struck home. He wincedas from the touch of scorching irons.Pain twisted his face into a white,
tortured mask, filling Reine with agloating, savage joy.He looked at her. She clenchedwhite lids over stricken dark eyesto blot out the misery she saw mir-rored in those blue depths. Shewanted to take back that awful ac-cusation, to beg his forgiveness.Most of all she wanted to put heryoung arms around him, to steadyhis shaking lips with her own."You wouldn't have said that ifyou'd known Dave.""You gave me no benefit of thedoubt.""I'm sorry. Let's call quits."That meant he didn't want to seeher again. She clenched white lipsto strangle back a cry. Her nextwords came out involuntarily:"Of course if you re, afraid-"He interrupted sharply, "Afraidof what?""Of me. But that's silly! Onlymen with red blood in their veinsneed be afraid of women."They stood up, and for a longmoment gaze met gaze. He reachedout and caught her wrist, pullingher close to him. Their youngbodies touched and flames coursedthrough her own, leaping to life inher eyes.With an abrupt gesture, he movedaway to the edge of the raft. Shewhirled and made for the other side,hitting the water in a clean dive.She swam, still under water, untilher lungs threatened to burst, andbright-colored spots danced beforeher eyes. She never wanted tocome up. If only she could go onlike this forever, losing herself inthe cool green depths of the water,becoming a part of it.But the instinct of youth andhealth sent her gasping to the sur-face and found her almost in thecircle of Bart's arms. He grippedher shoulder, towed her shoreward
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until his feet rested on the bottom."Dear Heaven!" he breathed inquick relief. "When you didn'tcome up I thought- well, all kindsof horrible things."The tone of his voice made herheart sing, arid her quick laughterrippled upward on a note of exulta-tion."You adorable thing!"His strong arms swept her close.His lips crushed her own in a kissthat lasted through thrilling eterni-ties, and rocked the world about her.She clung to him, afraid to believethat this beautiful thing had hap-pened to them. But it had. Therewas reality in his arms straining herclose, and in the hot pressure of hislips on her own.The day was far too long forReine. Bart was closeted with hiscampaign manager, and shewouldn't see him until later, atPamela Voight's party. She hadpromised to go with Carl and re-luctantly kept the promise.The dance was in full swing bythe time Carl and Reine arrived.Mrs. Voight had hired an expen-sive orchestra for the occasion.They paused on the porch."Um, lovely!" Reine enthused,tossing slim arms high, slender bodyswaying gracefully before Carl.In the beam of moonlight edgedby the deep shadows of a vine-covered porch, she looked like a slimyoung goddess, the gown of whitesatin with silver threads through theweave, swirling about her silver-slippered feet.Carl watched her, red head thrustforward, eager eyes engulfing her."You're beautiful!" he breathedhoarsely.She stopped before him, sweet facelifted, only the image of Bart alivein her heart.
"Am I, Carl? Am I truly beauti-ful?"It was a wistful cry. She wasn'tthinking of the effect of her loveli-ness on Carl. She only wanted hisassurance that in Bart's eyes shewould be everything desirable.Carl reached out and swept herinto his arms, crushing the lovelygown carelessly, his lips closingdown hard on her soft ones.Stunned by surprise, she wentlimp for a moment. And in thatmoment, some one close by in theshadows struck a match and held itto a cigarette. In the flare, Reinecaught Bart's searching glance, filledwith a hint of mockery. The nextinstant the light faded out, and hewas gone.She fought like a wild thing inCarl's embrace. One small handlashed out in a short arc and landedagainst his cheek before he wouldrelease her. Winged feet carried herinto the house. Frantic eyessearched the room for Bart andcouldn't find him.An eager partner claimed her. Shewent from one to the other in rapidsuccession, answering questions shescarcely heard, laughing when theylaughed. And all the time her heartwas breaking, her eyes were search-ing despairingly.The dance ended and Carl hur-ried up, one cheek suspiciously red-der than the other."Reine, forgive me," he beggedcontritely. "You were so lovelyso tempting."She stared at him as though hewere a stranger. What he said didn'tmatter. Nothing mattered butBart.She swung about to leave him andcame face to face with Bart, Fran-cine clinging to his arm. Gownedin scarlet satin, her brown-haired,gray-eyed prettiness dimmed to
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nothing beside Reine's dusky loveli-ness."We can row up to Pirate's Rockfor a picnic," Francine was saying."I know the dearest spot, Bart, andwe-""Oh, here you are," Reine said.deliberately, dark eyes fastened onBart's white, drawn face. "This isour dance, isn t it, Bart?"The music began a slow, waltz.Reine slipped into Bart's arms andcaught the malignant look Francinebestowed upon her. Out of earshot,she whispered:"I had to talk to you, Bart. I-I was afraid you wouldn't ask meto dance.""I have good manners, eventhough my judgment is poor," he re-plied coldly, not looking at her.They reached the open Frenchdoors leading; to the veranda."Let's go outside. Please!" shecoaxed when she read curt refusalin his eyes.There was a full pale moon ridinghigh in the star-studded sky, itsimage weaving and trembling in thesmooth mirror of the lake thatstretched away from the foot of thegarden. It sifted through the screenof scarlet ramblers that trellised thefar end of the porch. She maneu-vered Bart to this spot, where shad-ows gave it mystery and a hint ofromance.He laughed bitterly. "You choosean ideal setting, Miss Rogers-moonlight, music, and a beautifulgirl."She pressed back against the ram-blers, a blur of white against scar-let. One hand clutched the trellis'for support, the other reached to-ward him in childish appeal."Bart, you must believe that Carlhad no right to- to kiss me."He stiffened. His voice quaveredwith something deeper than anger.
"Yougave himthat right. Isaw you tempthim. I heard whatsaid before-""You're horribly wrong,"she broke in. She swung closeto him, a vibrant spark of loveliness.One hand caught his shoulder, andshe raised her face to his."I've never given any man butyou the right to kiss me, Bart."He caught her wrists and held heraway from him."You'll not trick me again," helashed out. "Francine warned meyou'd try it. Well, I'm onto yourscheme yours and Sam Hollis's andthe man who hires him to do hisdirty work. I'll have them where Iwant them in a few hours. ThenI'll crush the whole filthy machine,and you with it"
Heartless Flirt 87Carl reached out and swept Reine into his arms.
Stunned by surprise,she went limp for a moment. And in that moment, she
caught Bart'sglance, filled with a hint of mockery. The next
instant he was gone.
He was talking wildly, but his ac-cusations didn't make sense in herconsciousness. All she knew wasthat there was hate in his eyes.She brushed limp fingers acrossher eyes. Suddenly her heart leaped.That wasn't hate she saw. It waspain, hunger, desire!
She swayed dizzily; his arm stiff-ened to give her support. She re-laxed against him, and his armstightened about her, crushing herclose against him. The tumultuousthrob of their hearts caused them totremble.He caressed the smooth dark
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beauty of her hair with a shakinghand, touched her cheek and thewhite loveliness of her bare shoulderreverently."Beautiful- beautiful," he mur-mured, his cheek resting against hertear-wet one. "Reine" - it was afar-away whisper of sound- "you'renot teasing me? This isn t a trick?""Darling darling! Oh, Bart, kissme! I can't bear it if you don't!"The kiss caught her up, lifted herinto a world that held nothing buthis arms, his lips and his strong,trembling body melting against herown.Then a laughing, chattering groupbarged onto the porch with a sud-denness that, left Bart and Reinefrozen in each other's embrace."Here they are!" Dodo Wilsonshrieked to some one behind her.Francine Adair thrust herself for-ward, hands akimbo. "You cer-tainly did it, Reine." She tossedback over her shoulder to the others:"She said she'd make Bart fall inten minutes, didn't she? And shedid it in eight. You win, Reine!We'll pay up."There was a stunned silence. Theenormity of Francine's trickery leftReine speechless. Icy fingers of feartrailed over her flesh; icy fingers, beatagainst her lips to liberate frozenspeech. The moon, stars, and earthwhirled crazily about her andthrough it, beating against her ear-drums, rose wild laughter Fran-cine's.Bart's look washed over her likea baptism of fire. He whirled anddisappeared into the night. With hisgoing, life flowed back into herlimbs, lent wings to her feet. Sheraced after him, moaning, sobbinghis name over and over until it be-came a litany of terror and heart-break.
She caught up with him. Frantichands clung to him, nor could heshake them off."Bart, you've got to listen. Fran-cine lied! She lied, Bart!"He strode on, almost carrying herweight as she clung to him. It wasonly when she stumbled and fell thathe stopped. He lifted her easily,holding her at arm's length."Aren't you satisfied with whatyou've done to me?" he grittedthrough clenched teeth.She struggled to get near to him.Suddenly he caught her close. Hiskisses weren't tender now. Theyburned and bruised her soft lips,sending waves of fear through her.She beat tiny fists against his shoul-ders, fighting to be free.He shoved her away, fumbling inhis pocket."You made me pay in humilia-tion for the kisses you gave me. NowI'll pay for the ones I stole."He thrust something into herhand and walked quickly away.Dumbly, she stared at the thing inher hand. It was a new- one-hundred-dollar bill. Bart had paidfor those kisses. Paid her as thoughshe were-She screamed. It lanced the airlike the eerie wail of some dyingthing. The next instant she crum-pled to the grass in a small, pa-thetic heap, beating the ground withbruised fists, sobbing brokenly.Les found her. He picked her up,held her tenderly close while shegasped out in anguish. After thefierce paroxysm had passed, he sug-gested sensibly:"Come back now, dear, and act asthough nothing had happened.""I can't- I can't!""You must. The others under-stand, and Francine has gone. Pa-mela saw to that the moment sheheard. I ll tell Bart-"
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"No!" She beat his arm, shaking. her head, the lovely hair tumblingabout her face. "Promise me youwon't tell him. I hate him! Oh,Les, I wish you didn't love me.Then I- I could marry you, andwe d-""Poor comfort in that thought foreither of us, dear," he said unstead-ily, while his mouth stretched in agrimace of pain.They reached the porch. Sheshivered and drew back at the soundof music and laughter from within."Let me be alone for just a min-ute," she pleaded.Like a small hurt ghost, she creptto the corner of the porch near theramblers. The place where- couldit be only moments ago?- Bart hadheld her in his arms."Reine!"She jerked rigid and whirled.From the shadows, a dark figureemerged. It was Carl."Listen, Reine" -his voice wasclipped, strained- "you're in a spot.Some of the girls are spreading adisgusting story, saying you've gonepretty far with Bart to save Sam.To save his pride, Bart will bolsterit."It was insane reasoning. ButReine wasn't capable of judgingthat, now. She was conscious onlythat the money Bart had thrustupon her burned her hand, that shemust do something- anything- toprove to him that she had really in-tended to trick him. She wanted towound him now, as he had woundedher."If we got married to-night,Reine, every one would think youdidn't give a darn about him? Itwould hurt him, too. Don't you seethat it would?"It was a tempting argument. Al-most before she knew it, she hadgiven consent and they were speed-
ing along the, highway in Carl'sshiny roadster, headed for the near-est justice of the peace.Thoughts tumbled about in herbrain strange, queer thoughts thatmade-no sense. Then, like the firstlow throb of a far-off drum, realiza-tion stirred through her. She wasgoing to marry Carl! Suddenly sheknew, she couldn't go through withit."Carl, stop the car!" she cried.It came to a skidding stop at theside of the road. He twisted aboutin his seat to face her, lips curvedin a mocking smile."Changed your mind?""I can't do it, Carl. It wouldn'tbe fair to you."He leaned back with folded arms."You'll either consent to marry me,Reine, or we'll spend the night here.And what a reputation you'll haveby to-morrow!""You can't mean that!""Try me and see. I told you Iwouldn't be led around by the nose.""But I don't love you, Carl."His look was bold, sly, and filledwith something that made her fleshcrawl."Maybe I'll find I don't love youafter a month or two. Then I'll bereasonable about a divorce.""Bart will kill you for this!" shemoaned, covering scarlet cheekswith cold hands.She hadn't meant to say any suchthing. Carl accepted it as a goodjoke and rocked with laughter. Herown clashed against it, harsh, dis-cordant. What did it matter toBart what Carl did, now or ever?"After to-night," Carl gurgled be-tween spells of laughter, "Bart willplay ball with the big boys, or elsehe'll-"Reine jerked very straight, handsclenched in her lap, quivering withan unknown dread. Intuition sent\
90 Street & Smith's Love Story MagazineShe raced after him, moaning, sobbing his name. She
caught up with him."Bart," she cried, you've got to listen. Francine lied!
She lied, Bart!"
her blindly forward in search oftruth on the thin ice of Carl's care-less statement."You mean they've picked to-night to frame Bart?" she asked,controlling the tremor in her voice.
"You know, then?" he demanded."Sam told me they were out toframe him," she lied in desperation."Yes, it's to-night. When Bartreaches his cabin, he'll find a recep-tion committee waiting for him-
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cameras all around, and a lovelylady for his arms."She remembered now Bart's ac-cusation against an unknown manhe bad said Sam worked for. Shetook another blind, step."Then you know that your fatheris the man Sam works for, Carl?"He sobered instantly. "Who men-tioned my father?""Oh, Carl! Don t look so sur-prised," she laughed. Another lie,she felt, wouldn't matter. "I knewit long ago.""Why didn't you tell me youknew?"She shrugged convincingly. "Samdidn't want me to."He accepted the explanation andchanged the subject."What about us? Don't go old-fashioned on me, darling.""Well"- giving him a provocativesidelong glance- "you drive to thenearest justice, and I'll think itover.""Good girl!" he enthused, readingconsent into her reply.They reached Medville. Carldrew the car up before a tiny, ivy-covered cottage set far back fromthe road in a grove of maple trees.The justice, cadaverous and halfasleep, sensing a large fee, let themin. He smiled affably when Reineasked permission to comb her hairand powder her nose before the cere-mony.She followed his sleepy-eyed,wrinkled old wife up the stairs. Onceinside the clean bedroom, shewhirled and gripped the olderwoman's arm."Please, can I get out of here with-out the men seeing me? I'm in ter-rible trouble. Won't you help me?""There's the back stairs," thewoman managed to gasp.Reine pulled Bart's one-hundred-dollar bill from her bosom and
thrust it into the gnarled old hand.Three minutes later she was in Carl'scar, driving like mad toward CrestCove.It was a badly frightened, di-sheveled Reine who pounded on thedoor of Bart's bungalow. The placewas dark, the door locked, and noone answered her frantic summons.A horrible thought left her weakand shaken, leaning against the doorfor support. Maybe Bart had re-sisted his enemies; maybe somethinghad happened to him."Bart- Bart!"A quick thud of running feet upthe path whirled her about. Couldit be Carl coming after her, to forceher into marriage? She caught aglimpse of the figure in the moon-light and stumbled toward it with aglad cry.Bart's arms were about her, hold-ing her close."Dear, merciful Heaven!" hisbreath jarred sobbingly throughwhite lips. "You gave us an awfulscare. Les and I have been hunt-ing you for hours.""Bart, you haven't been in thehouse?""No. I got nearly home, thenturned and went back to Pamela's.I had to beg your forgiveness forthe awful thing I had done. Lestold me Francine had lied. I'm soashamed, my darling."Wild words tumbled from her lipsas she repeated Carl's story. Whenshe had finished, he said: "Don'tyou know this may mean prison forSam?"She clung to him, crying: "You'reall that matters to me, Bart. I'llswear I was here with you all night.Sam won't let them hurt you, then.He can't without hurting me.""Darling- darling! You'd sacri-fice so much for me?"
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"I love you," she whisperedsimply and looked at himsteady, fearless eyes.He threw back his head in a chal-lenge to the world. "Nothing canhurt me now, sweetheart. Andthere's nothing for us to fear. Icame up here to give my enemies achance at me; I wanted to trap theman responsible for the political-graft racket. I knew he'd try toframe me as he framed Dave. Butthe girl they picked to do the trickthis time was one of my own assist-ants. I matched their trickery andsucceeded in placing her in theirgang to get information. She got it.Plenty! That's what my campaignmanager came to tell me to-day.We've enough evidence on Lathrop
Trueman to put him behind bar fortwenty years.""And Sam?""The evidence proves him a blinddupe, not a crook. But he's defi-nitely out of politics."She relaxed against him, blissfullycontent. His arms tightened abouther; his lips found her own waitingones."We must find Les and tell himyou're safe," he murmered makingno move to do anything of the kind."Darling," she breathed raptur-ously, lifting tempting lips again,"Les can wait until-"His warm lips smothed thewords. they forgot Les- forgoteverything. Their heaven was onlybig enough for two.
LOVEA CLOUD drifted by, And as I watched, I Whispered half aloud,
"Love is a cloud." When, full of awe, A new moon I saw, I hummed a tune- "Love
is a new moon." I heard a bird sing, Just a simple thing, But my heart it
fed; "Love's a song. I said." Love is a cloud, a Moon; love is a song- Come, let us find it
now, Come, come along! Elfrida Norden.
Violet EyesBy Ethel Le
Compte
MABRUE perched the hat-"Advance Models for Spring,Only Two Ninety-eight"-atop her shining brown hair. Squeez-ing in between two other bargainhunters, she peeped into the mirror.The nice things the right hat cando for a girl! But dare she spendthe money? She took off the hat
and gazed at it covetously. In thebag she held between her slim bodyand her elbow was less than five dol-lars. On, Saturday, she would getthe ten dollars Aunt Bessie senteach week, but that would have togo for room rent and food.Perhaps she had been reckless tobuy this suit from Marge, but it did
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fit so well, was just the right shadeof blue, and Marge had worn it onlya few times. And where could youget a suit for five dollars?She could not wear the outmodedblack satin hat that had been AuntBessie's pride last winter and herown abomination this, with her newsuit, and hope to get a job. Shescowled at the atrocity lying therewith her newspaper turned to the"Help Wanted- Female" page.Her scowl changed to a look ofastonishment as a man's handreached between two shoppers andgrabbed up the hat as if it were aprize. Actually, there was delightwritten all over the handsome faceMabrue saw over the women'sheads.Then he was in front of her,thrusting her own hat at her andsaying crisply: "I'll take this. Putit in a bag and make it snappy,please." From his bill fold he tookten dollars and gave her that, too.Marbue blinked. Then shegrinned. He thought he was buy-ing a new hat! What luck! Nowshe could buy the new one."Yes, sir," she said primly. Shehurried away, only to turn and comeback. Drawing him away from themob, she confessed: "I'm notworking here. The hat you want ismy old one. I was trying on thisblue one, you see, wondering if Icould afford it." She gulped andheld out his money. Tears stungher eyes."And I," exploded the youngman, "have spent the morningsearching for just this lid for AuntEllen to wear to a funeral." Sud-denly, he brightened. "Say, VioletEyes, how about a swap?" he de-manded."Mister, you're an angel straightfrom the pearly gates!"
"You're the angel!" he returned."You'll be an archangel if you'llmeet me at the glove counter withthe hat and change. I've got tobuy a veil and black gloves, andget all the way down to Deal, NewJersey.""I'll be only too glad to help youout," Mabrue answered promptly."Heck! I've lost the list with herglove size on it. Lemme look atyour hands, young hoss-trader.Yep, about the same size.""Six will do; then. How do youknow I'll show up with the change?""You're so all-fired, honest youcouldn't even let me buy the oldhat without a scenario of the plot.Lady, Norman Norris trusts thee."On the way to the glove counter,Mabrue went to the rest room tofreshen her complexion and changehats. She smiled at her reflection.As she approached the glovecounter, she thought how tall andwell-built, and how very well dressedNorman Norris was. He smiled ather as he would at his nearest anddearest, and spoke in a voice, justas intimate."Auntie's veil and gloves," hesaid, as he dropped the small bagsinto the large one she gave him."Here are the blue gloves youwanted, dear." To the clerk hesaid: "Not many wives trust theirhusbands to pick out their mittens,do they?""Perhaps madame would like totry them on," smiled the girl.Once more this strange youngman was making Mabrue blink. Herwinsome face grew rosy. Then shelaughed delightedly."Why not?" she said airily, favor-ing her husband with a mockingsmile. "Did you get the rompersfor Susie? And union suits forDanny?"She perched on the stool, and
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rested her elbow on the little cush-ion, while the clerk cased on theexquisite blue glace gloves."What size does Aunt Ellenwear?" Mabrue asked with a twin-kle."Seven." Norman matched hertwinkle. "Told you I'd lost the list,so how do I know about Susie'srompers and Danny's undies?""You lose everything, my prob-lem child," sighed Mabrue.W"ell, who lost her weddingring?" flung back Norman Norris."I suppose to-day is as good as anyto buy you a new one.""No. Rings are so frightfullyVictorian," Mabrue drawled."You were proud enough ofyours," he murmured close to herear, "when I put it on your digitlast June- er- I mean several Junesago, considering we have Susie andDanny. On the lost list, my pet,were shoes, sheers, and peach-col-ored do-dads for you. Remember?""Of all the zanies!" chuckledMabrue."Hose for madame," put in theclerk, signaling to a clerk at the op-posite counter.Mabrue said hastily: "We'd bestbuy the children's things first."Norman grinned wickedly. "Socksfor mamma first," he decreed.Then I'll cure you, smarty," Ma-brue told him, low.But when she bought six pairs ofthe sheerest, he only laughed."Black for auntie, size ten," heordered. "No cobwebs, however."The hosiery went into the hatbag. "Ladies shoes?" he inquired."I shall be pleased to escort youthere, sir," spoke up an elegantyoung man. "I'm Smithers of la-dies shoes. Been matching hose fora customer." He smiled ingratiat-ingly at the handsome pair.
Mabrue clutched Norman'ssleeve. "Are they all in conspiracywith you to push me from one de-partment to another? Seriously,Mr. Norris, the joke has gone farenough already.""I," said Norman, taking her armand following their guide, "haven'thad so much fun since the micemade a nest in aunty's best wig.""I feel as if I were living in acomic strip," laughed Mabrue."I live by one, my lamb. I dothe 'Let's Be Gay!' strip.""Oh, I adore that series!" criedMabrue."Could you adore its papa?Nice fellow. Sober. Reliable.Amusing, though slightly mad. Hedotes on sleek brown hair with redglints in it, violet eyes with imps inem, devastating dimples, and lus-cious lips.""Why, there's my uncle!" Mabruewas away like a shot.Norman was after her like an-other and more speedy shot. Whenshe admitted it was a ruse to getaway, he grew grave. He asked so-berly:" You want to get away?End this? And it was off to such agood start!"They returned to the guide, andNorman explained: "Thought wesaw Uncle Eben, but it was twoother people. Lead on, Mr. Smith-ers.""We can save time if you don'tmind climbing a short stairway, sir.""We spent our honeymoon climb-ing the Alps," Norman assured him.At the turn in the stairs, he drewMabrue to him. "I was so happyover finding such a delightful play-mate", he chided. "Why did youscram?""Because I can't let you see thedarns in my stockings," Mabrueconfessed, close to tears. "Thisfoolery has been the only fun I've
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had since I came to the city. It wasworse back home.""Why, you poor, sweet bunny!"His free arm went around her, andhis concerned eyes looked into hers."Dewy violets," he breathed, andkissed her soft, tremulous mouthwith infinite tenderness.For a second, Mabrue clung tohim, then freed-herself."You will play with Norman,sweet. Vi Eye?" he pleaded softly."But the d-darns," she wailed."I love em because you did 'emwith your own fair hands."When Mr. Smithers slipped offMabrue's scuffed brown oxford, andthe darns were revealed in all theirneatness, Mabrue flushed rosily. While the salesman was seekingthe blue kid pumps and brown ox-fords asked for, Norman said: "Icrave to see those enchanting anklesin sheers.""How you do run on, Mr. Nor-ris," laughed Mabrue, her colordeepening."Does my running get me to thegoal I hope for?" he demanded."Does it usually? You must havehad plenty of experience.""I have, but I've never been sodarn keen about a girl before," hetold her with earnestness in his gayvoice and eyes.Mabrue had nothing to say tothat. She wanted terribly to be-lieve him, but it was all so impos-sible.After Mr. Smithers had fitted her,she whispered to Norman: "Justthe oxfords. The blues are ador-able, but not practical.""We'll, take both," Norman saidcrisply. "Now for lunch.""I'm in your debt too much al-ready," Mabrue demurred."I'm in yours, you mean. Be-cause of your hat, Aunt Ellen willprobably leave me an extra million."
"Is there really an Aunt Ellen?""Two hundred pounds of her.Nearly sixty, a tartar, but I loveher. We live together in an old-fashioned apartment in the MurrayHill section, but she spends a lot ofher time visiting old friends in thehinterland. She's been with a sickfriend in Deal. The friend died yes-terday, hence the shopping. I've gotto drive down there to-day with thestuff.""I thought you were buying thehat for a joke or something. It's ahand-me-down from my aunt.We've both cherished it, but it doesneed a new lining. I'll buy one.You wanted to see the sheers on,so I'll go to the rest room and putthem and the new pumps on, andmeet you at the restaurant on theeighth floor. Order something lightfor me.""Is it Emily Post to lunch witha lady whose name you do notknow?""Mabrue Milburn accepts Mr.Norris s kind invitation to lunch-eon.""Mabrue Milburn isn't taking arun-out powder, is she?"When Mabrue, fairly dancing inthe new pumps, entered the restau-rant, she saw Norman's sleek blackhead at once. She thrilled at the ob-vious relief on his face."We should have gone where therewas dancing," he said, seating her."You've got to drive to Deal,"she reminded him."Worse luck- but I mustn't saythat when I've just had the luck tomeet you, the most wonderful thingthat ever happened to me. Therewill be other days- heady springdays and glorious summer nights,too."Mabrue's heart was beating witha new wild beat. Her lovely face
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was radiant. She fairly sparkled.She looked and felt another girlfrom the one Norman had mistakenfor a clerk."Meeting you has been the nicestthing in my life," she said.
Eying the mixed grill being placedbefore them, she asked: "Do youcall this light?""Nope. Just sensible. Go to it,kid. I'm starved, myself."Presently, Mabrue was telling himof her life in the up-State town, ofAunt Bessie's kindness to her or-phaned niece. "She let me come toNew York to look for a job," shewent on, "and she's been sending memoney, when she can't afford it.I'd about given up trying to findwork, when Marge- she rooms next"I've never been so darn keen about a girl before,"
he told her withearnestness in his voice and eyes. Mabrue wanted
terribly to believehim, but it was all so impossible.
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to me- told me it was my clothes.She sold me this suit yesterday, andtold me to buy a hat."After luncheon, they bought thelining for the hat, but the trimmerwouldn't sew it in because the hathadn't been bought there."There are needle and thread athome," Norman said tentatively."Then you can sew it in," Mabruetold him with an impish grin."And lose my amateur standing.Let's go buy the peach do-dads.""I veto further splurging, dear ex-husband.""Whadda ya mean 'ex'? Theword is 'future' husband."When they climbed into Norman'scar, they had the peach do-dads.During the short drive, Mabruewas telling herself that, Aunt Bes-sie to the contrary, it was all rightto accept these things from a youngman for whom you had done aninestimable favor. It was all rightto go to his apartment when he wasas nice as Norman, to do him an-other favor.It was a walk-up brownstone,quietly elegant. The vestibuleboasted brass letter boxes completewith speaking tubes and push but-tons. The floors were black-and-white marble. The stair carpet, tur-key-red."I'd like to slide down the ban-isters," laughed Mabrue.A second later all their purchaseswere on the stairs, and she was fly-ing downward on the shining rail.She hit the nearest post hard."Saves me spanking you," grinnedNorman."I do not intend to do anythingto warrant a spanking, sir.""Oh, no?" Norman's straightblack-brows shot up comically.The telephone was ringing as theyentered the apartment.
"Look around while I answer it,"Norman suggested.Mabrue wandered from the spa-cious drawing-room with its massivefurniture, rich silk hangings, anddeep-piled carpet, into a small room.She caught her breath at the sheerbeauty that met her eyes. Cabi-nets filled with exquisite Chineseporcelains lined three of the walls.When Norman joined her, shesaid: "I didn't know there was any-thing so exquisitely beautiful in allthe world." "Exquisitely beautiful, yes, butdashed valuable and by way of beinga nuisance. The apartment is neverleft alone nights because of this stuff.Aunt Ellen gathered it when shelived in the Orient. That was theold girl on the wire. I've got to stayin Deal for the funeral. Norah, ourcook, is ill at her daughter's. Bellethe day cleaner, won't stay herenights alone. I'll have to phonesome of my friends and see if I canget any of them to stay.""I'll sew the lining in while youdo it," offered Mabrue. "You know,I could look at that lovely chinaforever.""That's all it's good for- to begazed at. Too easily broken to beused or even touched. Like friend-ship when you ask a favor.""Or hearts.""Hearts don't break. I ought toknow," he said savagely, but didnot explain. He led her into a bed-sitting room, with ivory-coloredwalls and furniture, gay chintzesand rugs. Through the sunny win-dow, Mabrue saw with surprise asmall, square lawn, hedged in, anda little maple tree."The only young room we boast,"Norman commented. "Aunt Ellenfixed it up for her grandniece, Faith,but the poor kid was so scared of/
Violet Eyes 99
the old tartar, she scrammed.Here's the sewing box."When he returned, the hat lookedalmost new and quite perky. Ma-brue pulled it over her ears andmade a face. "Why the gloom?"she asked.Norman laughed. "I thought allthe ad putter-inners must be blind;but, if you wore that lid, no won-der you didn't get a job.""Oh, I had this tissue paper in-side to pad it.""Good. It's sure to fit overauntie's wig. The gloom is becauseI can't get any one to stay here forseveral days and nights. Just whatI expected. As I said, friendshipsare easily broken when you ask afavor. I don't know what to do-Say, Mabrue, could you stay?""I could, but- well, how do youknow I'm to be trusted?""I've proved that you are, MissHoss Trader. Look, there's a ra-dio, scads of books, magazines, andeven a new toothbrush. He pulledout a dresser drawer. Nighties andeverything for auntie's guests, oryou. You can phone the stores forfood and charge it. How about it,Vi Eye?""How long do you want me tostay?""Until Monday- no, forever!" Hecaught her hands in his and drewher to him. "Mabrue, you lovelywitch, what have you done to me?I do want you here forever, close tomy heart."She felt his lips on her shininghair, his breath warm on her fore-head. Straining back, she searchedhis eyes. What she saw there sentquivers of ecstasy from her heartto her smiling lips."Are we dreaming this, Norman?"she asked.It was his kiss on her lips thattold her she was not dreaming.
That kiss, fiercely tender, passion-ately demanding, awakened her tothe full meaning of life."I love you, love you," he wassaying as he rained kisses on herface and soft white throat. He liftedher in his arms and carried her tothe armchair near the window. "Ihate to leave you, sweetest," he la-mented. "I shall think of you sleep-ing in that little bed and dreamingof me. Each day, look out this win-dow and watch the tiny leaves of themaple opening under the warm kissof the sun, just as your dear heartopened when I kissed your sweetlips."Presently, there was a good-bykiss- a whole series of good-bykisses- then Mabrue was alone withher rapture and her bewilderment.Things just did not happen like thisin real life. She would wake up andfind herself in that ugly room up-town.She spent the greater part of hertime admiring the exquisite loveli-ness of the china, behind glass whereno rude hand could break it. Be-cause of that rare collection she washere.She recalled Norman's savagelybitter denial that hearts break.Why had he said that he ought toknow?- she wondered.Saturday afternoon she found outthe answer.Belle had cleaned the already im-maculate place, and had left with afriendly smile to this new grand-niece of Miss Ellen's, when the bellrang. Thinking it was the superin-tendent, whom Norman had in-structed to call several times a day,to see if all were well, Mabrueopened the door.Past her, through the foyer andinto the drawing-room, swept a tall,beautiful young woman in smart, ex-pensive clothes.
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"The taxi driver is bringing upmy baggage," she called out."But who are you?" Mabrue de-manded, rushing after her.The intruder turned and staredhaughtily. "I am Mrs. NormanNorris. To think of Aunt Ellenactually getting a new maid! DidNorah die, or-- Say, you're not amaid. Another grandniece or oneof Norman's friends?"Mabrue, fighting off recurringfaintness, was unable to answer. Shesank into a chair, feeling as if thewhole world was rocking on its foun-dations."So my last guess was right!"flared the other girl, her face a maskof fury. "The old dragon must beaway, or he wouldn't dare. Hightime I came back from Florida! Youlittle pirate, I've a mind to tear youreyes out and" - She checked her-self as the taxi man appeared withher baggage. "This way, please.She led him to Norman's room."Mabrue bolted for the kitchen.She held the ammonia bottle underher nose, gulped down cold water."Oh, it can't be true," she wailedaloud burying her face in a dishtowel."Oh, it can't, eh?" The girl whoclaimed to be Norman's wife burstinto the room. "If you don't be-lieve me, call the superintendent.Norman always was unfaithful tome, but this is the most audaciousthing he ever did. Wait until I tellAunt Ellen-""You'll have to prove to me thatyou are Mrs. Norris," Mabrue cutin, white as death, but suddenly mis-tress of herself."Look inside this ring then!" saidthe other coldly.Mibrue took the wedding ringshe pulled off. Engraved inside itwas:From N. N. to D. S. 6-6-30
Mabrue laid the ring back on thetable."If that isn't enough, look atthis," the girl said, taking up thering and throwing down a smallsnapshot taken from her bag.Mabrue bent to look at the pic-ture. There was no mistaking thatit was of Norman and this girl. Fur-thermore, there was the signatureshe had often seen on the "Let's BeGay!" cartoons:Nor-man risand underneath it:and my-wife, Diane, 6-10-30.It was Sunday evening. Fortwenty-four hours, Mabrue had lainon her bed in the ugly room she hadthought never to use again. Therehad been a few blessed hours whenshe had slept. Awake, she had beenon the rack of torturing thoughts.Things had blurred since she hadlooked at the smiling pictured facesthat had proved that Norman hadlied to her and deceived her. Thestab that had killed her faith in himhad done something terrible to her.She had heard Diane Norris say: "Ifyou weren't such a sweet, innocent-looking little thing, I'd have had thepolice here instead of bothering withproofs. Clear out, before I changemy mind."The only thing Mabrue took outof all Norman had bought was apair of stockings. She had put herdarned ones on the dumb-waiterwith the rubbish. She had hesitatedabout the hat, but had left it, anddeparted bare-headed.Thinking of the hat which hadstarted it all, she wept anew."Awake, Mabrue?" asked a girl'sanxious voice from the doorway."Please leave me alone, Marge,"Mabrue sobbed.Marge came in and shut the door.
Violet Eyes 101Mrs. Norris stared at Mabrue haughtily. "So my guess was
right!You're one of Norman's friends. You little pirate, I ve
a mind to tearyour eyes out."
"I risked her smelling the toast," shesaid cheerfully, "so you'll have toeat it and drink the tea."She came over to the bed andswitched on the light.Mabrue sat up and blinked."You're sweet, Marge," she said.
She drank the hot tea thirstily, andnibbled at the toast."Won't you tell me all about it,honey?" coaxed the visitor. Then,harshly: "There are laws in thisland, you know. If some guy-""Marge, I've told you all there
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is to tell. It's not what you think."She gave back the plate and cup."May I have your newspaper tolook for a job, please?""I'll get it; but, honestly, honey,you've got me scared."While Mabrue looked through thewant ads, Marge read.Suddenly, Marge giggled. "Well,if this dame isn't wearing the twinto your hand-me-down lid, I'll eatthe paper!" she cried out.It was the name that Mabrue sawfirst- Norman Norris! Then hispicture. He was with a handsomeelderly woman who was wearing theold hat she had given him. Mabrue,with a little cry, seized the newssheet.Her heart pounding madly, sheread the account of the funeral ofa wealthy Jerseyite, which NormanNorris, famous cartoonist, and MissEllen Bradburst Norris, daughter of-the late Senator Wade Norris, hadattended.Monday evening found Mabrueand Marge in the latter's room.They had just eaten a sketchy mealcooked over the forbidden electricgrill."Monday in the housewares is nopicnic," yawned Marge, "but I betyou feel worse than I after tramp-ing all day and not finding a job.You should have bought a smarthat as I told you," she chided, neverguessing how she was hurting Ma-brue. "My béret looks cute on you,but it's not the right lid to go jobhunting in. That reminds me. Thedame with the twin of your hand-me-down is hogging the headlines.In again to-night."Mabrue turned cold with terror."He-she isn't- hurt or anything?""Robbed. Take the paper alongwith you. I'm going to lie down."
Mabrue hurried to her own roomwith the newspaper.Under the picture which hadappeared the day before was theheadline:NEW RACKET PRICELESS CHINASTOLEN; RANSOM DEMANDED.When Miss Norris and her nephew, Nor-man Norris, creator of the popular syndi-cated cartoon "Let's Be Gay!", returnedto their Murray Hill apartment this morn-ing, they discovered that the choicest piecesof Miss Norris's famous collection of Ori-ental china had been stolen.The thief had left a note which read:"You can have your stuff back for fivethousand dollars. I shall phone instruc-tions Monday."A girl named Mary Brown, hired byMr. Norris to guard the china, is beingsought in--Mabrue read no more.Her mind in chaos, she slippeddownstairs to the telephone in thehallway." She found Norman's num-ber, in the directory and dialed it.Her heart was thumping so it shookher body. He had said "Hello"three times before she could answer.She said:"Norman? This is Mabrue. Ididn't take the china, nor-""Mabrue!" his voice shouted. "Iknow you didn't. Say, they didn'tkidnap you, too, did they?" he criedin alarm."No. They may have kidnaped-your wife.""Diane! How did you knowabout, her?" he asked harshly.Mabrue replaced the receiver andstumbled blindly upstairs.In her room, she collapsed on thebed.Norman had lied to her, deceivedher! His own words had confirmedthat. Sobs shook her, great, tear-ing sobs, but her eyes were dry.She became aware of loud voices,heavy footsteps, then a pounding onher door, and a demand that she
Violet Eyes 103
open in the name of the law. Thedoor swung open, and two police-men came into the room."Your landlady says you just,used the phone," said one. "Whatnumber did you call, miss?"Mabrue simply stood and stared."You called Mr. Norris and you,didn't know all calls to him werebeing traced, did you? Better comeclean."Mabrue was fighting off faintnesswhen Marge pushed aside the twomen and rushed to her. Mabruestopped fighting.Marge was giving her water whenshe struggled back to consciousness."You two, scaring the poor kid,"raged Marge. "What's-""Sorry, but she's gotta come alongwith us."Mabrue went. So did Marge. Inthe station house Mabrue clung toMarge, shaken with terror, as shefaced the officer in charge.Suddenly, terror left her. Shedrew herself up and looked at theman behind the desk. In a low,steady voice she said: "I have donenothing wrong. Why should I beafraid? What do you want withme?""You'll know all about that whenMr. Norris gets here," she was told."He is coming here? Oh, I can'tstay! Let me go!""Afraid you'll have to stay, miss,"said the sergeant kindly."I- oh, here he comes." Sheclung to Marge, quivering andshaken."The young woman who phonedyou is here, Mr. Norris," some onesaid.Then he was standing before her,his face white and haggard, hishands reaching out, taking hers."Why, Mabrue," he said, with alaugh obviously forced. "I am sorrythis happened." He turned from her
bewilderment to the sergeant andsaid: "This young lady is myfiancée, officer. I-er-well, Itought she was out of town anddid not expect her to phone. Ofcourse, you didn't know this, and,with your orders to trace every call,you did only your duty. May Itake her away now, sir?""Why, of course, Mr. Norris," thesergeant said readily.Norman thanked him. He saidsoftly to Mabrue: "I'll explainoutside.""I', Marge, her best friend," putin a voice. "I'm tagging along tosee that she gets a square deal.She's been crying her eyes out sinceSaturday, and I'm after the guiltyone.""I'm the guilty one, Marge," Nor-man confessed gravely. "But-""They've got a young woman atthe Thirtieth Street station house,Mr. Norris," interrupted the ser-geant. "This is the right one. Shetalked ransom to Miss Norris, allright. I'll give you escort downthere."Outside, Mabrue drew away fromNorman, but he held her and said:"Diane didn't tell you that I wasable to have our marriage anulleda month after it took place, did she?Well, I did. Mabrue, how couldyou doubt me? Darling, I love you.Will you marry me?""Norman!" She raised a radiantface for his kiss.Norman's care followed the squadcar as it raced downtown."Don't mind me," said Marge"I'm the perfect chaperon-blind,deaf, and dumb.""also the perfect friend," addedNorman. "I'll never forget that.""O.K.," said Marge, "but I'll callit square if you find out whetherthat red-headed cop who's leadingus is married or not, and if not, fix
104 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine"Why, Mabrue!" Norman said when he arrived at the
station house.He turned to the sergeant: "This young lady is my
fiancee, officer. Ofcourse, you did only your duty, but you've made a
mistake."
it so's he drives me home alone.""Agreed!" laughed Norman. Hetucked Mabrue's hand under hiselbow. "Even that helps," he saidsoftly. "Gosh, Vi Eye, when I gothome and you weren't there, Inearly went crazy. I'd told AuntEllen everything, and had sold her
on the idea of a new niece, chieflybecause of the hat and-""Then it was Mabrue's hat!" putin Marge, chortling."Some day, we'll tell you thewhole story," offered Mabrue."And you left everything, eventhe new hat," chided Norman. "I
Violet Eyes 105
knew you hadn't stolen the stuff,and I was afraid to let myself thinkyou'd been kidnaped." His armcrushed her hand. "The thought ofany one hurting you-""Some one did," Mabrue inter-posed. "That girl Diane. She hadyour ring and a picture of you bothwith your signature on it.""Egad, why did she show up afterall these years? How did she knowwe were away? Do you suppose itwas she who took the stuff?"It was Diane they had at theThirtieth Street station. Once moreMabrue faced her, but this timeNorman was at her side. Even so,Mabrue turned away from the un-
masked hatred in the othergirl's eyes."You stole the stuff?" Nor-man asked incredulously.It was the desk sergeantwho answered: "She did, Mr.Norris. We found it all ather apartment, after she hadspoken to your aunt. Shehad implicated the superin-tendent of your apartmenthouse. They seem to befriends, and he tipped her offthat, there was only a younglady in your apartment andshe must be very importantto you, seeing the way he wasordered to look out for her.""This is the young lady,sergeant. Miss Milburn andI are engaged."Diane spoke for the firsttime. In a voice that drippedvenom, she said: "I pity you,youngster, and I hope he givesyou a better deal than he gaveme, the snob.""I had no intention ofbroadcasting the facts of ourunhappy union," Norman saidsharply, "but you've asked forit by that remark. I was ableto have our marriage annulled be-cause it was proved that you hadgone through the wedding ceremonyseveral times before you met me,without bothering about divorces.Also, you had served time for black-mail."Mabrue didn't look at the othergirl as the officer silenced the angrytirade that followed Norman's de-nunciation of her.Norman asked: "May Miss Mil-burn and I go, sergeant?""Miss Milburn may. You've gotto stay and make the charge."Mabrue joined Marge, waiting inanother room. Marge had evidentlynot waited for Norman to find out
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about the marital status of the red-headed cop, for they were laughingtogether like old friends."Mr. Casey is seeing me home,Mabrue," she said. "Shall I waituntil Mr. Norris is finished?""No; run along. Telephone me athis apartment." She grew rosy. "I'llneed a bridesmaid very soon,Marge."Presently Mabrue and Normanwere driving through the busystreets to the quieter Murray Hillsection. Outside the door, he tookher in his arms. "You do love me?"he asked tenderly."Yes, but I can't seem to thinkthat-""When one is in love one doesn'tthink, sweetest. One only feels.Tell me what you feel, darling one." She whispered tenderly:"I feel that all the love I am capa-ble of is going out to you.""My own sweetheart," he mur-mured. He laid his lips on hers ina kiss that sent the blood racinghotly through her. She clung tohim in the dimness, every fiber ofher being vibrant, throbbing, as shegave him back kiss for kiss.
"To-morrow," he said huskily,"will be our wedding day. Let's gotell Aunt Ellen that all's well. Youmust not be afraid of her, sweet-heart. She's really a kindly soul.""I fear nothing when you are withme, to-morrow's husband," she mur-mured.As he carried her upstairs, heasked: "Want to slide down again?Or shall I spank you?"She laughed and nestled closer inhis embrace.After Norman had told AuntEllen that it was Diane who hadstolen the china, which, he assuredher, was quite safe and would bereturned, he brought Mabrue to her.It took the elderly lady a full threeminutes to inspect the younger one.Then she exclaimed, "You'll do,child!" and kissed Mabrue heartily.Presently, she resumed her doze,only to start awake and glance atthe lovers on the divan, talking ear-nestly. "Where does your aunt buyher hats, Mabrue?" she demanded.But Mabrue and Norman were lostto everything save their own happyplans, so, with a resigned shrug,Aunt Ellen turned away.
"Anything might happen to the maid of honor!" said Avis Kent to herself as
she sped along the deserted moun- tain road where danger seemed to lurk at
every turn. She was on her way to be the only attendant at her best friend's
wedding, and she said the words blithely, carelessly, lit- tie knowing what
adventure lay in store for her.Follow her gripping ex- periences to a dramatic climax in"Captive Wife"a new storyBy PEGGY RUTHERFORDappearing in next week's issue of this magazine.
Primitive LoveBy Cordelia
SnowA SERIAL-Part III.
CHAPTER VIII.A SICKENING sensation sweptBobbie, Hulda and Red, armin arm, were entering thestore, hesitating a minute at thedoor, with the rays of the settingsun a shaft of gold before them.
Hulda's braids caught its gleamand shone, yellow as wheat at har-vest time, against Red's toweringshoulder; he was saying somethingto her, smiling, down at her, hiswhite teeth shining.They took a table not three feetfrom Bobbie. Her back was toward
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them, but she watched in a littlemirror that faced her on the wall,as they settled themselves and asRed gave their order. By reachingover her shoulder and back a little,she could have touched Red's arm,but Hulda was hidden behind hisbroad-shouldered form. It wasHulda's low, sweetly heavy voice,however, that held Bobbie frozen."I won't be able to see youagain," she was saying. "I don'tdare, Red. Coming in here like thisis crazy. Bill is terribly jealous.He's blaming me for everything.He swears I'm double-crossing him,and if he ever finds out that I'mmeeting you like this, he'll do some-thing dreadful to both of us!"Bobbie gasped.Then Red's low rumble sounded,comforting, cautioning, soothing,and his brown hand covered thegirl's strong white one. Her eyesglued on the mirror before her, Bob-bie watched his bent head. In aturmoil of bitter rebellion, shethought:"What has she to give Red that Icouldn't? Why must he go to a girllike that for love?"It seemed an eternity to Bobbie,waiting there in the soft dusk, be-fore they moved. But when theyhad gone out to the street at last,and following, she had stood for aninstant in the shadow of the awning,watching them go their differentways, she had seen what theyhadn't: Some one else watching,too- Bill Nolan. She knew by thegreat blacky anger of his loweringface, that he had seen what she had,arid her heart was a twist of fear,and shame- fear for Red's safety,and shame that she could fear.It was long after sundown whenshe reached home. The cottage wasunlit, deserted. Even her father
was gone from his chair on theporch.Leaning against the rail, shestared down into the valley below.With a strange, tired listlessness,she thought: "I suppose I ought towarn Red about Nolan, but I can't.And anyway, he couldn't do any-thing to-night. He's probably downon the bridge now, and he'll be theretill he goes off duty to-morrowmorning. I could go down and tellhim, but I'd probably run into Pittand Honey making love to eachother, somewhere, in the moon-light."Her lip curled. Love! What wasit anyway- this thing they calledlove- this thing that could tearone's heart into little pieces?When she could stand the loneli-ness and silence no longer, she wentdown to the office. "Where's every-body?" she asked, and a draftsman,bending over a blue print, looked upat her from visor-shaded eyes."Chief's gone to the city," he toldher. "A wire came late this after-noon. Carson drove him to the train.Said to tell you he'd be back dayafter to-morrow, sure. Miss Ash-ton was round here a little whileago, but she's disappeared. Isn'tshe up at the cottage?""Honey?" There was a startledcatch in Bobbie's throat. "Didn'tshe drive in with them?" Then,prompted by a fear she wouldn'tacknowledge even to herself, sheadded:"Where's Tim? Do you knowwhere I can find him?"The man laughed. "Say! You'dbetter stay away from that old boy!He's on a rampage. There's dyna-mite missing from the storehouse,and he's got blood in his eye!"But his last words were lost onan empty doorway, on the swish of
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a swiftly vanishing figure, and thecry of a hoot owl, from a witheredstump that once had been a tree.Bobbie found Tim down wherethe forms for the last almost-com-pleted arch rose, ghostly against astar-dotted sky."Tim!" she gasped. "Is it true?Is there dynamite missing from thestorehouse? They told me at theoffice. Is it true?""True?" A firefly split the dusk.: Tim slapped at it angrily. "Ain'tyou been raised round camps likethis, gal? Don't you know wecheck every stick of dynamite that'sused- every cap and inch of fuse?Sure it's missing! And believe me,I've got ten men pacing this bridgeto-night. I'm going to keep thempacing it every night from now on,until we're through. One try atblowing us up is enough. Thereain't going to be another- not whileyour dad's gone, anyway."Bobbie grabbed his arm andshook it. Her voice was shrill withterror."Oh, Tim, you fool!" she cried."It's not your bridge that's going tobe blown up to-night! Don't yousee? It's Honey! She's stolen yourdynamite. She's going to do thatfool thing you told her to do, theother night up at the cottage. She'sgoing to blow a hole in Bear Creekand flood Red out! Where is she?Have, you seen her anywhere?Think, Tim! Think!""No, I ain't seen her. What's thematter? Heat got you?" Tim wasirritated. "Why, that kid couldn'tblow a hole in a tin can! She'sscared to touch the stuff. Squealedlike a mouse if I poked it at her.Get out now and leave me alone.Swear if I blame Red for spankingyou. I'd do it myself, goldarn it,if you was a year or so younger".
He yanked his arm loose andmade his way into the maze of giantfootings. His lantern, swingingcarefully ahead of him, sent tinylight beams among the toweringtimbers- beams that grew fainterand fainter, to lose themselves atlast in the shadowy gloom.As Bobbie watched him disap-pear, utter despair swept her. Noone would believe her- Tim, herfather, laughing, thinking her crazy!But she knew. She knew what lovecould do to a girl, to what heightsor what depths it could drag her.Honey had stolen that dynamite!Bobbie was as certain of it asthough her own eyes had witnessedthe theft. For days Honey hadbeen brooding over what Tim, in hisblind fooling, had suggested- beenplanning for it. And she had takenthis opportunity when she was leftalone, to go over to Red's camp andblow that hole in the bank of BearCreek.What motive but that could havekept Honey hanging around Tim'sheels that hot morning, learninghow to set a blast, watching howdynamite was laid?Oh, what an idiot she had been!What a blind, self-centered idiotso wrapped up in her own troubles,she couldn't see what lay right be-fore her eyes!That white-iron look in Honey'sface should have told her, if nothingelse had. She remembered thoseeager questions Honey had thrownat her father and Tim: "If- ifsome one let the water down onRed's camp, would that mean you'dwin the bonus? Would that meanyou'd win the hundred thousanddollars?". And above all else, the love in hereyes when they had rested on Pitt!That awful, avid hunger of love!And before Bobbie knew what she
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was going to do, before she couldreason or plan, her feet were carry-ing her up the river path which ledto Red's camp. She was running asshe never before had run in all hermotherless, tomboy life- like a wildthing, through the weedy, knee-highgrass.Honey knew that path. Red hadtaken them all over it to show themthe dam. They had stopped at thebank of the diverted river overlook-ing the camp, while Red explainedhow, once the dam was finished, itwas to be swung back into its oldchannel once more.That's where Honey would headfor- that place above the camp.Something inside Bobbie told herso. It seemed to Bobbie that shecould see Honey running too, terror-stricken, lugging her awful burden.Poor, foolish, love-crazed Honey!There were clouds in the sky-smoke clouds from those far-awayfires- that covered the moon.Through them the stars peeped fit-fully, as though they, too, wereafraid, and the night breathed itselfinto the croak of the frogs and thecricket's never-ending chirp.Stumbling over briers, stones andweeds, Bobbie had reached the riseof ground that led up to the newlymade river bank, when she came onHoney, at last.She was lying face down in thedirt. The twist of dynamite stickswas beside her. A tangled line offuse, soaked with dew, trailed like awhite worm in the weeds. Herpretty white dress was a torn ragabout her. She was crying, hershoulders shaking with the sobs thatbecame words, to lose themselveswith the medley of night soundsthat filled the air.She heard Bobbie, and sitting up,turned to her a swollen face, thatwas beyond fear:
"I can't do it! I can't! I thoughtI could blow up the old creek, and-and I can't! I don't know how toset it off! And I'm so scared!"She struck a match, and in itslight, Bobbie saw that the groundwas a litter of matches all abouther. She made an effort to set thefuse to burning. It sizzled, splut-tered, and Bobbie ground it out be-neath, her boot. Snatching atHoney's shoulders, she yanked herupright, and shook her until reasoncame back into her blankly staringeyes.But with reason, there came toHoney something else- terror. Itwas a terror that swept her as theflood she had been trying so vainlyto release, would have swept Redand his sleeping camp below.Watching her, Bobbie saw her tryto scream. There was something un-speakably dreadful about thescream that died against dry,parched lips- something horrible,about the white-rimmed; wide-opened eyes, and the white, outflunghands that shielded her as shebacked away down the path intothe meadow below.Bobbie watched, her as she ran,her white dress billowing about her,like a straying moonbeam lost in thesmother of the night.Standing where Honey had lefther, Bobbie poked gingerly at thesmudging fuse, touched with thetips of her boots the dynamitesticks in their- yellow wrappings.Dull anger gripped her.I'll have to gather this stuff allup and sneak it back into Tim'sstorehouse, she told herself. I'llhave to shield Honey as I'veshielded Red; I'll have to go onlying, pretending- Oh, I'm sickof it. I'm sick of everything!"She was still standing there, thedynamite sticks under one arm, a
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length of white fuse trailing for-lornly from a listless hand, whenRed found her.Coming up from thecamp below, his foot-steps softened by thematted grass, he wasstanding almost besideher before she heardhim. It was thatstrange, sweet hauntingof his nearness, thatbrought her swingingbreathlessly towardhim. For he said noth-ing at all.
He simply stared down at herwith eyes too sad for anger.Suddenly Bobbie came upon Honey. She was lying face
down in thedirt and crying, her shoulders shaking with sobs. "I
can't do it! I thoughtI could blow up the old creek, but I don't know how
to set it off!"
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A seed pod from a locust treedropped with a dry rattle to theground at Bobbie's feet. The lightsfrom the sprawling camp belowmade a crazy-quilt pattern againstthe night. Her heart, pounding highin her throat, choked her.Wearily, Red leaned over, his tallbody bending awkwardly from thehips. Wearily, he gathered up thelength of trailing fuse and tore itloose from its cap."For a girl who's been raised in aconstruction camp," he said, "that'sa pretty bum job, Bobbie. ThoughtI'd taught you how to handle pow-der better than that. And besides"-his eyes swept the bank, andturned with careful judging to theblack-shadowed valley with itsglimmering lights- "you're not farenough up the slope to do muchgood. It's a shame, but I guessthere isn't anything for you to dobut to take your stuff; and trot backhome."And Bobbie answered him, tootired to fight,too hopeless to try anexplanation: "Yes, I guess thereisn't, Red," and stumbling a little,her feet found the river path.She slept that night, in herfather's room. Through the crudepartition, she could hear Honey'ssobs."She can't be any more miserablethan I am," Bobbie thought dully,and turned her face to the wall,grateful for the utter and over-whelming weariness, that, like asedative, brought her blessed for-getting.The light was streaking throughher window when she awakened atlast to a strangely familiar voice-Sandy McMaster's. Its high-pitched, thin tones cut through thewalls to her ears:"All right, Pitt Carson, if BobBrent ain't here, he ain't. Butwhere's that tomboy kid of his?Get her out here where I can talkto her."Red's gone, I tell you! He'sbeen kidnaped- maybe murdered!If she knows anything about it, I'mgoing to find out. Anything that'sever happened to Red to hurt him,came through her!"She was hanging round ourcamp last night. I saw Red andher talking together up on the bluff,and when he come back down some-thing ailed him. He got in his carand drove off toward town, andnever came home. The car's stand-ing empty up at the top of the hill.There's blood marks in it, and apiece of his shirt, all torn and bloodycaught on the fender."Don't think I haven't heardwhat you've been saying over here-spreading stories that we're double-crossing you, Red and me. Lies!Dirty lies! If it hadn't been forRed holding me back, I'd been overhere long ago and cleaned up onthe pack of you! But if you've doneanvthing to Red! If you ve daredto-"Bobbie's feet struck the floor with,a bang. She thrust her arms intoan old bath robe of her father's. Ittrailed the floor, sweeping fantasti-cally about her.It had been four years and moresince she had heard Sandy McMas-ter's voice, but listening, the roomseemed to fade away, the years for-gotten, and she was standing, achild-wife with her boy-husbandbeside her, shivering before thissame thin pipe of anger. Uncon-sciously, she looked down at herhand, expecting Red's fingers to beclasping it protectingly.And suddenly, all her hatred andsuspicion were gone. All the shamethat these awful last days had
LS 7F
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added to four years of heartbreakand hunger were swept away in onewild panic of terror.What was this awful thing Sandywas saying about Red's being kid-naped about his empty, blood-stained car?A small, white-faced figure withhuge gray eyes beneath tousledbrown hair, an oddly pathetic fig-ure, lost in the great bath robe thatenveloped her, Bobbie threw her-self from her room."Uncle Sandy!" she cried, snatch-ing at his arm, and her eyes throughtheir unbelievable lashes were white-rimmed with the fear that widenedthem. "Oh, Uncle Sandy! I doknow what's happened to Red! Ido! It's Bill Nolan! He's jealous ofRed and a girl up at the junction!"He- he saw Red with her yester-day. Oh, I should have warnedhim! I did see Red last night, butI- I there were other things andthen-"The old man looked at her."Other things?" he grunted. "Sure!Fighting, I suppose, like you alwaysdid- you two. Can't live togetherand can't live apart! And if yousay my Red's got himself mixed upwith any junction trash, you lie.He ain't! I'm his father and I know!Even this new girl he's got himselfengaged to, can't keep him frombreaking his heart over you!Pitt thrust himself forward. Hisface was gray, but his eyes wereblack and hot; fright fought withthe anger that filled them a frightthat Bobbie saw, and that multi-plied itself to her own wild terror.Fastening his fingers on Bobbie'ssleeve, he swung her behind him.He said to Sandy: "I don't knowanything about Bobbie's being overat your place last night, and I don'tknow anything about what she'sjust been telling you, but if yourLS 8F
precious Red has been playinground with Bill Nolan's girl, andNolan caught him at it, he's prob-ably got what's coming to him.For Nolan's disappeared. He didn'tshow up for work last night, and hehasn't been near so far this morn-ing. Find him if you can. I can't.And I want him worse than youdo!"The old man was stamping downthe steps, when Bobbie found hervoice:"Uncle Sandy," she sobbed hys-terically, "oh, Uncle Sandy, take mewith you! Let me hunt Red withyou! I love him! I'll do anythingto find him!" But against thatstubborn, disappearing back, Bob-bie's voice trailed off into a futilewail, and Pitt was talking to her, hisvoice knife-edged:"If you're through making a foolof yourself and of me, I'd like yourstory. And I'd like it straight!What do you know about Red andHulda and Bill Nolan? I want toknow what's being going on roundhere behind my back.""There has been too much goingon behind every one's backs," Bob-bie cried, and told him of Red andHulda in the drug store the day be-fore, of what Hulda had said, ofNolan who had watched them andof the hate in his eyes.When she had finished, she said,calm with the calmness of utter de-spair:"And now he's killed Red! Andit's my fault for not warning him!"Then with rising passion: "Lastnight- Oh, I could kill myself!Talking with him- having him rightthere before me and not tellinghim!""There's another little thing I'dlike to know about," Pitt broke inthickly, his face a twist of fury."What were you doing over at the
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McMaster camp last night?" With-out waiting for an answer, he con-tinued furiously: "What is this---a race between you and Hulda?You've got to a pretty level, whenyou play yourself against a girl likeher for that double-crosser's favors!The minute your father's out ofsight, running after him-""She- she didn't run after Red!She ran after me!"The words came from Honey'sopened door, and hearing them,Pitt's voice dribbled off into a half-muttered sneer; swinging to followhis startled eyes, Bobbie found herown angry denial, stilled on, hertongue.Honey was standing there, a wanwhite-faced Honey with mussedgolden hair, and swollen, tear-dimmed eyes; Her negligee trailedits froth of silk and lace about her;her shoulders rose from it; white asmilk, and her mouth was curled intoa pitiful crimson droop, like ababy's mouth, soft with pleading."Oh, Pitt!" she wailed, "Pitt! Ican't stand it any more. Take meaway! Please, Pitt, take me awayfrom this awful place! It does thingsto people- terrible things! Lastnight I tried to bomb the river bankthe way old Tim said up here at thecottage! Bobbie doesn't love you;she told me so. She said, shewouldn't marry you ever, and Ithought- I thought, maybe if Icould give you the bonus money, ifI could bring you something big,you'd love me so much you'd wantto marry me instead. Then youwouldn't mind the old companyyou're so crazy after. But Icouldn't! I didn't know how. Andthen Bobbie found me, and I ranaway--" Her voice broke.Pitt laughed- a strange laugh,that died against thin, drawn lips.
"You tried to blow a hole in thatriver bed because you loved me?You thought you'd be doing a bigtiling, for me if we won the bonus?You little fool! Didn't I tell you tobe patient, that I had a scheme toleave things to me? Doing a foolthing like that and now Nolan!Who knows what's happened there!Murder, maybe!" He swung onBobbie, his face contorted, his lipstwitching:"You've got this much, you mightas well have the rest," he snarled."I've been gambling for a big stake,and I've lost. It's got away fromme the whole thing! Money, am-bition, the girl a fellow lovesthose were the things I was fightingfor, and I didn't care much how Ifought, either! But when it comesto murder-" He broke off, hisexpression horrified. Then:"Why in Heaven's name did Redhave to go sticking his nose intothings that didn t concern him?Why didn't he do as any sane manwould have done- let the bonuscome his way and been glad? In-stead of that; he's been spying,sneaking, using Nolan's girl tocheckmate every move I've made!Watching everything I did-"All her life, Bobbie was to remem-ber the sudden white flood of under-standing that swept her. One-minutePitt was there before her, his wordsa meaningless jumble in her terror-stricken brain, and the next, he hadvanished, wiped out in the flamethat had burst within her a cleanwhite flame, that pierced the darkmuddle that for so long had beenher mind."Oh, I know, I know!" she wascrying. "I've been so blind! It'strue, what Red told me! He's beenfighting for us- for dad and me-all this time, just as he said he was!"You've never wanted to win
Primitive Love 115"Oh, Pitt!" Honey wailed. "Take me away from this awful
place!Bobbie doesn't love you; she told me so. She said she
wouldn't marryyou ever. You love me; marry me instead."
that bonus, Pitt! You and Nolanhave been behind all these terriblethings that have happened! Hidingthose crates that Red found andbrought back to Tim. Trying to
bomb the form sheds with the fusethat Red found and stamped out!You thought dad would turn thecompany over to you, as he said hewould and you could marry Honey
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and have the company, too. Youthought you could blame it all onRed! And you could have, if ithadn't been for Hulda, and the factthat Red loved me! He loved me!"Her voice, swinging like a bellagainst the silence, rose to a cre-scendo of triumph. She flung herarms above her head, and the sun,sweeping through the open door,flooded her face."Red, darling! You've loved meall the time! Oh, why haven't Iseen before? How could have Ibeen so blind?"She caught at Pitt's arm: "Don'tyou see?" she sobbed. "Hulda lovedBill Nolan. She knew what he wasdoing, and she was scared. Shewanted to to save him. She toldRed the things Bill told her, so Redcould keep them from happening.She knew they could have sent No-lan to the penitentiary if they'dcaught him. And Nolan thoughtshe was in love with Red! And sohe- he-"A sob broke in Bobbie s throat-a terrified ghost of a sob. Theglory in her face faded to a palehorror of realization, and her wordsdied to a whisper, that lost itselfagainst bloodless lips:"And now he's got Red. He'skilled him, maybe! Oh, help me,dear God! Please help me!"Unconsciously, her fingers werestill clutching,Pitt s arm. He shookthem free."I'm after Nolan!" he cried, andhis-voice trailed back over his shoul-der, while his feet sent the graveland sticks to flying on the downhillpath."Wait!" Bobbie wailed. "Wait,Pitt!" And then she was tearing onher clothes, smoothing her tumbledhair with mad hands, lacing bootswith racing fingers. She ran downthe path toward the bridge, banging
through the office door, scatteringpapers."Where's Pitt?" she threw at thestartled faces that looked up at herwild entrance. But even as sheasked, she knew what the answerwould be.He had taken the car and gone,making no explanation.She found Tim. He was seventyfeet up in the air, walking thescaffolding of the new arch, direct-ing the pour. The place was fever-ish with hurry, filled with turmoil."Tim!" she shrieked. "I've gotto see you, Tim!" He saw her andwaved her away. She started to goto him, climbing, monkeylike, bythe framework, but a man's hands'clutched at her and pulled her back.Leaning down from his dizzyheight, Tim bellowed throughcupped hands: "Get that crazy kidout o' here, if you have to chloro-form her! Want the old man tocome back and find her killed?"In a frenzy of desperation, Bobbiefought and struggled. She bit, hitand kicked, then suddenly she,quieted, and the man s armsdropped from her.Her attempt to reach Tim, andthe utter abandon of terror that hadswept her at its failure, had cleanedher mind of the fog that had held it.She tried to plan as calmly as herpounding heart would let her.Every minute, every secondcounted. She mustn't lose a singleone. With her father gone, withTim refusing to see her, there wasonly one place left to turn. Thatwas- Hulda."If I go to her," Bobbie thought,"and ask her to help me find Nolan,she'll help me. If I show her myheart and what's in it, she can't re-fuse me! She'll help me save Red,because she knows what it is to love,
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because in saving my man she llsave hers!"Even as her thoughts took shape,forming themselves into words thatcried against her lips, she was run-ning toward a battered old car thatstood parked by the office door. Itwas an errand car, left in gear, itsengine running, while its driverstood with hands full of packages,half in, half out the opened door.She pushed him aside, the impactof her flying body sending himgasping, stumbling. She climbed tothe seat. Her foot hard on the gas,she swung into a one-wheeled turn.Then she was racing away.She heard some one yelling ather: "Hey! Hey! Where you go-ing? Where you taking that car?Stop!" And she laughed, her laughtrailing crazily back above the en-gine s roar.CHAPTER IX.Bobbie found Hulda in thekitchen of the huge, dingy old hotel.She was alone. The noon rush wasover, and she was washing the floor.Her capable hands were wet andsoapy, her gingham dress clungwetly to her, and damp wisps ofhair, escaping from the goldenbraids that wound her head, clungto her cheeks. Her eyes were swol-len with crying, and marring theflushed beauty of her peasant face,a livid bruise darkened cheek, lipand broad, low brow. It was a hor-rible bruise, that made Bobbiewince and cringe."Nolan?" Hulda said sullenly, inanswer to Bobbie's stammered ques-tioning. "How should I know whereBill Nolan is? That man Carsoncame over here a minute ago, too,asking me the same thing. I'm tell-ing you nothing. I've done toomuch telling already for my own
good," and she touched her cheek,her eyes hard."Nolan gave me that," she, said,"for trying to keep him out of thepen." Then with sudden passion:"I hate men. They're all alike-beasts!It wasn't until Bobbie hadblurted out her story from dry,parched lips of what she had seenat the drug store the night beforeof Nolan's watching, hate-filled face,of Red's disappearance and theblood-stained, empty car- thatHulda broke down.Flinging herself in a chair, sheburied her braided head in herarms. "Bill's done it!" she sobbed."He threatened to do it! He'skilled Red McMaster! He came inhere last night drunk, and swore hewas going to get him. And he has!He's taken him to that shack of hisup in the hills, and he's- he's killedhim! And it's all my fault! Be-cause I tried to save him! BecauseI mixed in when I had no businessto! Because-"Bobbie cried: "Shack! Whatshack? Where?" She shook theheaving shoulders. She threw herquestions down at the half-crazedgirl, repeating them over and over,until, hearing at last, Hulda raisedher bruised, tear-swollen face."It won't do no good," she saidheavily. "It won't do no good to gothere, I know it won't. It's- it'sover with, by this time. Whateverhe was going to do to Red, he'sdone, and if he's still there anddrunk he'll kill us both as well."Bobbie laughed mirthlessly. "Alot I'd care what he did to me if he'skilled Red," she said.Looking at Bobbie silently for amoment, the girl answered, her rich,soft voice heavy with the tears be-hind it."A girl doesn't care much about
118 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine"How should I know where Bill Nolan is? said Hulda. I'm
tellingyou nothing. I've done too much telling already for my
own good."Then with sudden passion: "I hate men. They're all alike
beasts."
anything; when she loves a man,does she? Not even things likethis! touching her cheek again.
"You love Red. I love Bill. Hehurts me, but he's probably needingme. Come, I'll show you the
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shack." And jumping up, dressedas she was, she followed Bobbie outto the car.Bobbie never forgot that ride onthe logging road up the mountainside, axle deep in ruts; the acridtang of burning forests that hedgedthem in; the silence, broken only bythe scrape of the low-hung branches,and the throb-throb of the car.With Hulda's soft gutturals toguide her, Bobbie followed the twist-ing way. Where the road woundround an outspreading cliff, a pathshot off a footpath, which ordi-narily would have been hidden bybunches of sumac, laurel and wildgrapevines. But now the vineswere torn loose, the ground was lit-tered with leaves and brokenbranches, and, caught on a twig andfluttering there, was the torn sleeveof a man's khaki shirt, like a sign,pointing the way.There was no need of words. Bob-bie stopped the car. She climbedout and Hulda followed her. Theyput stones beneath the wheels.Bobbie said: "You'd better gofirst, Hulda. You know the way.I'll follow." Haste seemed to haveleft her. An awful quiet held herin its grip, paralyzing her fear.The noise of her pounding heart andher labored breathing, worried herin a strange, detached way.Even with the tumbled-down,weed-grown shack ahead of them atlast, standing with Hulda beside itsopen door, looking inside, she stillclung to that dreadful stillness.It wasn't until she saw Red- un-til she met his wide-open eyes andheard his voice calling her name,that it broke that she found hervoice, and answered her name withhis.He was lying bound on a rude cotin a corner of the tiny cabin. Therewas a bandage about his flaming
head. His face was white and hol-low-eyed, and caked with blood anddust. His clothes were torn, but hewas smiling at her with the tender -est, the sweetest smile it seemed toBobbie she ever had seen.But before she could move, beforeshe could reach him to sob out herpleas for love and forgiveness, hewas crying at her:"Bobs! Quick, find a knife andcut me loose! Pitt's over theresomewhere, and Heaven knows,what condition he's in! And thatmaniac of a Nolan's on his way backto the valley to burn the bridge andthe dam- make a clean sweep of theworks, before he comes back hereto finish up on us! There isn't aminute to lose!"Then she was on her knees besidehim, hacking with an old kitchenknife at the ropes that held him; let-ting her lips lie for an instant againsthis chafed and bleeding wrists;, free-ing his ankles and holding him, hislong frame towering above her, ashe swayed stiffly and stamped theblood back into his numbed andaching feet.Over in a dark corner, they sawHulda and went to her. She wasshivering and touching a sprawlingbody with fearing hands.Red pushed her aside, and tookher place. For a long minute, helistened; then raising himself uponfeet still unsteady, he laughed:"That's Pitt, Hulda, but don'tworry. He isn't dead. He's onlyout. That Bill of yours- he surepacks an awful wallop." As Huldaand Bobbie looked at him, startled,he explained:"He came up here about an hourago and tried to make Nolan let meloose. They had a scrap- about theprettiest scrap I've ever seen. Butthere's no time to gas about it now.We've got to bring Pitt to and get
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going, if we're going to save thebridge and the dam, and keep thatdarned crazy fool Bill of yours fromrunning himself into the pen in spiteof everything we can do. Let's getbusy!"They brought water and dousedPitt with it. They shook, poundedand thumped. They got him atlast, groggy and only half-conscious,down the narrow path to the parkedcar, and pulled him in. The blowthat had felled him had been a ter-rible one. Hislips were green-edged, his skinyellow paste.In spite of hissickness, he triedto talk: "Drivelike the devil!He will try - thebridge first. We'dplanned one morego for to-night.I've been crooklong enough. I'mcoming clean."He stopped, ex-hausted. Thenafter a while:"We'll save those jobs yours andBrent's, if I die for it. And what-ever they hand me, I'm taking.Afterwards, if Honey still loves me,we're beating it back to the East,where we belong, Honey and I.This is your world, McMaster,yours and Bobbie's, not Honey's andmine."But Red said nothing at all. Hewas too busy, his lips grim, his eyeson the road before him, his knucklesshowing taut and white on thewheel.It had been a long, slow drive up.It was a long drive back, but not aslow one. They teetered andtipped and swayed. Branchescracked above them, the gravel flew
beneath their flying wheels. Therewas the roar of the exhaust, thesplutter and throb of the poundingengine, the junction with its lightswhizzing by like fireflies in the dark-ness, and then the valley road, un-rolling its dusty white ribbon beforethem.It was on the ridge, where,through the break in the trees, Bob-bie had had her first view of thebridge, that Red slowed, thenbrought the car to a sudden stop."Look!" hesaid. "GoodHeaven! Look!"And followinghis pointing fin-ger, Bobbie sawwhat she hadseen on that firstand never-to-be-forgotten evening-the bridge-but not as shehad seen it then,a fairy thingagainst a moonlitsky.There was~ nothing fairylikeabout it now. It was frightening,terrible! There were smoke cloudsrolling up from it, and long tonguesof fire licking greedily at the blacknight sky. Even where they stood,the smell of fresh burning woodcame up to them, to mix with thestale smoke scent of the heavy air.For a moment they stared."We're too late," Bobbie criedmiserably, while Pitt groaned, andHulda covered up her face with herhands. But Red was out of the car,running down the hill and shoutingback to Bobbie:"Take the car on down to thebridge. I'm getting help. Tell TimI'll bring them along the river pathevery man we've got, all the
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pumps and hose. Step on it, Bob-bie! Tell him to keep fighting."What happened after that was al-ways a dream to Bobbie- a feverishnightmare of incidents crowding oneupon another, across the turbidbackground of a weary, confusedbrain.As they swung wildly into thecircle of light that was their camp,dark, sweaty, soot-streaked figuresflocked about them. Hands grabbedat Pitt and helped him to theground, then at Bobbie. They wereTim's hands. He was naked to thewaist. His thin, ribbed body heavedas he talked. Dried tobacco juicedripped with the sweat down thecrevices of his chin.At Pitt, he croaked: "Greatsupe you are! Where you been?Nolan fired the gasoline tanks. Ifthe blaze catches the false work;we're gone! He's crazy drunk. Wegot him tied up, down at the office."And to Bobbie, his tiny eyes gim-let holes in his nutcracker face: "Getup to the cottage an fix bandagesand liniment and get a bed ready!That darned fool, yellow-hairedfriend of yourn- that gal from thecity- she's hurt. She found Nolanand give the alarm, just as he setoff the pump, and the flames gother. She's hurt bad. She-"And then the old man was crying,his face twisting, the tears streak-ing his dirty cheeks: "The kid andthe bridge the whole business!" heblubbered. "It's going to kill yourpap, Bobbie! If Sandy was here,now, or Red! If they was fightingwith me! If-"Bobbie caught his arm. "Look!"she cried. "Down by the riverpath, Tim! Look! They re coming-Red and Uncle Sandy and thewhole McMaster crew!"They did come- trucks andchemicals, men and water pumps,
hose and buckets. They swarmedover the place, flooding it.Red, sweat-streaked, his hairflaming crimson as the flames hefought, his bandages bloodstainedand horrible, was everywhere,snatching single-handed at burningtimbers, directing and giving cour-age to Tim's tired-out men, as wellas to Tim, himself.And Sandy McMaster became"old Sandy himself" once more,swearing at the blazes as he foughtagainst them.But Bobbie, back in the cottagewhere they had carried Honey- thedoctor from the junction, Pitt andherself- neither saw nor heard. Shewas too busy. There was water toboil, oil-soaked clothes to hand tothe doctor's motioning hand, instru-ments to sterilize. Pitt tried tohelp. He was useless. His handsshook like a baby's, his eyes weredimmed with tears. He found achair beside Honey's bed andslumped there, his head in hishands, his eyes never leaving hersmall, pain-racked face.Daylight was breaking, whenBobbie, finding time to breathe atlast, leaned against the balcony railand stared down into the smoke-filled mists below.Behind her, Honey was still atlast. Swathed in bandages, she lay,white as the pillows that held her.Pitt, on his knees beside her, hadhis dark head buried against herhand.The doctor was leaving. Hisvoice was tired, but cheery. Hiseyes smiled."She'll be fine," he said, "and shewon't bear a scar. They taught ushow to treat burns right, out atthe front. She'll be as pretty asever, once those bandages are off.Never fear."
122 Street & Smith's Love Story MagazinePitt lifted a ravaged face, and turned it toward them.
"Pretty!" hecroaked. "Man alive! What do I care about her beauty
beside her life!"
That was when Pitt had spokenfor the first time. Lifting a ravagedface, he had turned it toward them:"Pretty!" he had croaked. "Man
alive! What do I care about herbeauty beside her life!" And turn-ing back to Honey, he had put hislips to Honey's fingers, and kissed
Primitive Love 123
them one by one with swift, tenderlittle kisses.Bobbie was thinking of that now,of the love in his eyes, that hadwashed from them all the cruelty,selfishness and greed.She was thinking of Hulda andNolan, a sobered, chastened, fright-ened Nolan- a Nolan with themoney she had given him in hispocket, and Hulda by his side. Shewas thinking of the ranch her fatherowned out West, where Hulda wasto take him, and where her lovewould guide him.And because she was afraid tothink of Red- afraid for the veryagony of joy that filled her- shethought, of her father instead, not ofthe bonus he had lost, but of thefriendship he had won. She
thought of old Sandy, fighting shoul-der to shoulder with Tim, sweating,chewing, swearing. And, turning atthe sound of footsteps on the path,she saw them coming toward her,dimly at first, as though out of adream, with the mist swaying andswirling about them.There was Sandy and her father,arm in arm. There was old Tim,limping a little, but grinning up ather, his bleary old eyes squintingwith the burn of smoke and dust.And there was Red, tall and straightagainst the gray of the morning sky,his blue eyes shining, his bandagesdragging crazily. He was holdingout his arms and smiling to her, andsuddenly the walls were reeling, thefloor was swaying, and she wasclutching wildly at nothing at all.
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From an immense distance, fromsome place millions of miles away,she heard her father's: "Catch her,Red. The poor kid! It's seeing meback like this, on top of everythingelse, that's got her. Hold her whileSandy and I go in to Honey. Tim,you old ape! What you staring at?Come along with us. Where's yoursense? Don't you know whenthree's a crowd?"Tim grinned and then followedRobert Brent and Sandy.And then Red's arms were abouther; his cheek was pressing smokeand grime on hers, and his lips, withthe tang of smoke on them, wereholding hers, drawing at her heart,drinking her in with breathless hun-ger.And Red's voice was whisperingin her ears; foolish, senseless whis-perings. They were not. the thingshe should have told her- of thehunch that had sent Robert Brentfrom one train to another homewardbound, before his journey was halfover, that had brought him back tocamp to take a hand in the finalconquering of the fire.Not of the reconciliation betweenhis father and hers the long hand-clasp and the straight, level meet-ing of eyes.
Not of the crew of McMaster menwho were already working down be-low to repair the damage the firehad wrought, nor of the reace for thebonus, which was a race no more,as there was only one company towin it -Brent & McMaster- Brent& McMaster this time, to stay.Not of these things at all! Whatdid they care for such things asthose, this red-haired boy and thisbrown-haired girl, locked tightly ineach other's arms?What Red really told Bobbie was:"I love you. There hasn't been aday, a minute, or a second, in all thefour and a half years we've beenapart that I haven't loved you. I'lllove you till the world stops turning,and the sun stops shining."And Bobbie was saying- whipser-ing the words up against Red's ear!"And I'll be your tomboy wife,red, because I can't help myself.But sometimes I'll wear skirts, dar-ling- grand skirts that fluff aboutme, and I'll wind a ribbon in myhair, and we'll close the door on allthe world, and there'll be no one, butjust us two together!"And the sun, peeping up over thesky's rim, found them there- asingle outline- to shine upon andbless.THE END
COQUETTE A ROSY petal fluttered down Where roses never grew. I looked up to
the window ledge And then I saw 'twas you. I felt the nearness of your lips And pressed them close to mine.
Their dewy sweetness left with me The flush of rosy wine. Doris I. Bateman.
Musical ProposalBy Leslie Gordon
Barnard
DIANE came in. like somethingwindblown from the garden.The sunshine seemed to beimprisoned in her hair with gaytenacity."Mother, isn't it marvelous?""A lovely day certainly, Diane.""But I mean- about Robert.Imagine his turning up like thisafter years and years, with just thisweek in town, and then off to the
East as soon as he gets orders fromhis office." Diane swiftly crossedthe floor with a dancing step, slippedonto the piano stool, and accom-panied a snatch of song:"On the road to MandalayWhere the flying fishes play-"Mother"- she sprang up again-"if he should ask me, you'd let mego, wouldn't you? I mean, if he
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wanted me to join him out there!""Diane. How ridiculous!" Mrs.Trench moved quickly to her daugh-ter's side. She held a duster in herhand, following up the inequalitiesof the maid's work, and she seemedprepared to brush aside Diane'sambitions, which were quite as pre-posterous as dust on the Trenchfurniture. "You've been seeing toomuch of him, gadding about withhim every morning, noon and nightthis week. He- he hasn t said any-thing?" she inquired anxiously."Not quite!""Oh. Not quite!"- cynically."Diane, you're imagining things.You're reading into the affair whatisn't there. Of course, it seems veryromantic, his coming here like this,after you and he played together aschildren. As for the East- ridic-ulous!"Mrs. Trench moved further on inher vigorous attack of the furniture.She was a large woman, and handledeverything with a sort of repressedfury. It was easy to see how shehad brought her campaign withStephen Trench to a victorious con-clusion, only two years after thedeath of his first wife, the mother ofDiane. She was a good woman,efficient, in the main tolerant, butwithout imagination. She resentednothing in Stephen's first wife ex-cept a strain of romance, which shecould neither equal nor understand.As for the East- it was in the Eastthat Stephen had met Eleanor.Agnes Trench had resolutely setherself to crush a silly romanticismthat threatened to crop up in Diane.Besides, how could any one see any-thing romantic in the East? It wasa place not of romance, Mrs.Trench assured herself, but of fleasand privations, and heathen godsand snakes that got under one's beda most uncomfortable place. Per-
mit Diane to go East? Ridiculous!The telephone rang."For you, Miss Diane."Mrs. Trench watched her daugh-ter go, listened but could hear noth-ing. Then Diane came back, hereyes large and troubled."It was Robert. He's got word togo. He has to take the eleven-thirtytrain to-night. And he'll be busyuntil this evening. Oh, it's horrid-horrid."Mrs. Trench felt herself safe inoffering motherly sympathy; in-wardly, she was highly relieved."He'll be over this evening?""Yes, mother. We'll go for adrive"- and sudden color stainedher satinlike cheeks, her eyes be-came distant and her voice dreamy-"he'll tell me to-night."Mrs. Trench's voice sharpened."To-night?" she said crisply."Yes, of course. Now, let me see.How appropriate. A little farewellparty for Robert. Ice cream, cake,flowers, and candles.""But, mother, we'd rather-""There's Mrs. Prosser and Lu,"counted Mrs. Trench quickly, "andGrandma Prosser, if her rheuma-tism's better. They all knewRobert as a boy, of course. AndGeorge Milson is sure to be there,so attentive to Lu, and such a niceyoung man." She sighed, then con-tinued hastily as Diane opened hermouth to speak. "And do look upAunt Emily's number. I never canremember it. She and Uncle Albert,of course, must be asked.""But, mother-""Diane, you're not going to be un-gracious when I'm only trying to dosomething nice and appropriate forRobert before he goes?""N-no, mother."Mrs. Trench nodded approvinglyand swept out of the room. Nextto diplomacy, arrangements were
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the breath of life to her. She had,she thought, managed this ratherwell. Robert would have a chancefor serious conversation with Dianeto-night, only over her dead body.Why, a thing like this would upsetall her own plans for Diane!Stephen Trench, coming home atfive, from the office, found his houseembowered in flowers from the gar-den, his wife in her best gown, andDiane wandering about like a lostsoul. To look at Stephen Trenchwas to see a typical suburbanite, set-tled down to middle-aged routine, abit lined about the face, a bit dullabout the eyes, with a contentmentthat was built on successive resigna-tions. Only now and then Stephenwas different. Touch one certainchord in him and the man becamealive, embers of a lost youth flaringup in him.He stood in the hallway survey-ing the proceedings."Have I forgotten a birthday, orsomething?"Mrs. Trench came forwardbriskly, and, with a half glance to-ward the drawing room and Diane,drew him aside, explaining briefly.Stephen Trench took off his strawhat and stroked the one wisp of hairon his head that still grew undercareful cultivation with vaseline andbrush."But is it quite fair to them?""Stephen, you don't suggest thatI am not doing the right thing!""No, no, my dear, only-""Why, they've only just met- atleast for the first time since child-hood, which doesn't count- andwith him going away at once, whyshould everything be upset? Iknow young girls. She'll fret andpine for weeks, maybe, but in theend wonder why she'd been such afool. And as for Robert, he'll findplenty of distractions out there."
"You say he's going where?"Mrs. Trench looked away."The- oh, out East, in some out-landish place." She hurried on:"It might be all right under othercircumstances. But with two suchyoungsters, it's just a passing fancy,and Stephen, I must ask you to backme up. We must get them throughuntil after eleven, safely. Then he'llgo away and with lots to thinkabout, he'll forget her. But if theyhave time to talk, he may proposesomething ridiculous, and that wemustn't allow. You understand,Stephen?""Quite!" he said dryly.She gave him a quick glance, buther lips said:"I know I could count on you."He tossed his hat on the rack andwent out into the garden. For allthe filled bowls inside, the pathsrioted with nasturtiums on bothsides; hollyhocks waved in thebreeze from the picket fence, andleaves fluttered down from the treesat the end of the garden. The windwas soft but restless, so that heclosed his eyes and remained still,letting it sweep over him, feeling oldand despairing of his own courage.She could count on him! Yes, ofcourse! He was a fixture, cementedin by a thousand acceptances andresignations. He envied his wife hersureness, her victories, her energy.Feeling tired, he sat on a gardenbench; his hands touching the wood,felt a roughness. His eyes went toit. In a silly moment, of course,they had put it there, carving it inthe newly bought bench- "S-E."People thought it had to do withcompass directions, and took wrongbearings by it. It stood for"Stephen-Eleanor." Good heavens,how long ago it seemed!"Hello, daddy.""Hello, dear." He looked up.
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thinking: "She's more like hermother every day."She sat down beside him."Has mother told you aboutRobert?""Yes. Too bad he has to go likethis, just when you've renewedacquaintance. It's the way of theworld, young lady." He tried tospeak lightly. He knew he was be-ing a coward, caught in the usualdiplomacy and insincerity of pre-tending. She said, after a pause:"Is it the- the way of the worldto step on people deliberately?""My dear!""Oh, you know, daddy. Youknow why mother's doing all this,having people in, pretending to benice to Robert. She's afraid- afraidto let us be alone. So she robs usof the few hours we have. I won'tstand for it!" Her chin was re-bellious.He patted her hand."Your mother means well, dear."Diane flung at him: "She thinksthe East is all horrid. Is it?"Stephen Trench spoke only afterconsideration. ."The East is like the West, Diane-not all good, not all bad. Wemake, whatever place we are in, our-selves. We create it with our owneyes, our minds, and hearts." Hepaused, then put a hand on her knee."The East, for me, was a place ofmiracle. But so was this garden."A voice called from the house:"Stephen! Diane! Could you helpme, please? There are some thingsto be done." They faced each other.He patted her hand."Try to remember, Diane dear.Your mother means well. She'sdone a lot for both of us." Howoften had he said things like that,extending to Diane the bonds of hisown subjugation?"Yes, daddy. I'll try."
Mrs. Trench, with smiling mouthand unsmiling eyes, welcomed themas helpers in the rearrangement, offurniture. Everywhere one lookedwere the earmarks of an occasion.She was determined to give Roberta good farewell.Aunt Emily and Uncle Albertcame to share a hasty supper, andAunt Emily was taken aside rightafter and told the news. UncleAlbert was not permitted to enjoythis confidence. He had a frankmanner that was disconcerting Henever beat about the bush,, or saidthings obliquely, or fluttered ex-pressive eybrows, like Aunt Emily.He was, declared the sisters, "en-tirely lacking in subtlety," thoughthere were strange, disconcertingmoments when he spoke with histongue very much in his cheek.Aunt Emily, unlike Mrs. Trench,was pale, and painted pictures notunlike herself. It was whisperedthat her genius was burning her out,but the family doctor rudely said:her consumptive look, was likely tolast out threescore and ten."You did quite right, Agnes!"agreed Emily. "Of course, I knewthe Pennels, and Robert once brokeone of my frames with stones whenhe was quite a child. But really, hismother was- well, you rememberher- she was just a Brunton. Asfor this Eastern business, it is quiteabsurd."Agnes Trench felt strenghtened.She was most gracious to RobertPennel when he arrived, usheringhim immediately into the drawingroom, calling sweetly to Diane whohad been sent upstairs for somethingunnecessary: "Robert is here,Diane, dear!" Aunt Emily engagedRobert instantly in conversation.She spoke in vague, broken sen-tences, full of incomplete signifi-cances, the trend of which Robert
LS 8F
Musical Proposal 129For an instant Diane and Robert were together. As he
towered overher, she smiled up at him. Her eyes spoke volumes though
her lipsmerely said: "It's horrid, isn't it? All these
people."
had not time to get before otherguests arrived. Then conversationbecame general.Diane, marooned across the room,could only exchange glances withRobert. An adult and garrulousworld had swallowed them both.Mrs. Trench, in a strategic position,kept a silent but impressive guard
on Diane's every speech or act. Assoon as George Milson arrived, shesaid, they would play bridge."Do you think Robert's changedmuch?" she asked brightly. "Heseems just a boy to me still." Sheturned to the guest. "Of course, I didn't live here then, Robert, justvisited with the Prossers."
LS 9F
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Everybody looked at Robert,assessing him."Your mother used to keep youvery neat," mused Grandma Pros-ser. "I declare, she had your littlepants out on the line every blessedday.""Mother!" exclaimed Mrs. Pros-ser."And Diane's were, too," assertedgrandma vigorously. She was al-ways goaded on by tactful inter-ference. "That was before yourtime, Agnes. Eleanor did her ownwashing then. For myself I don'ttrust these laundries. I-"Aunt Emily interposed hastily:"Have you seen the Loan Exhibit intown? It's not- that is to say- themodern, you know, in conflict. Dar-ing, but a little cold.The doorbell rang at this point."There's George," said Mrs.Trench with relief. "George, howgood of you. We're just dying forsome bridge. I think you knowevery one. Oh, Robert, this isGeorge Milson. George, RobertPennel."The young men shook hands.From an obscure corner where hehad hidden himself, Stephen Trenchsized them up. George was amouse-colored man, eminently cor-rect in an artificial way; against him,Robert's natural, half-boyish easewarmed Stephen's heart. GeorgeMilson was perfectly suited to Lu,he thought. They would be cere-moniously married, furnish theirhouse with scrupulous regard to con-servative standards, obey everyprecept of matrimony implicity, anddie respected and unknown outsidetheir own street. Stephen Trenchsighed. He had pretty nearly gotthere himself. And it was all right.These people were the backbone ofthe social order, he had no doubt.They hadn't enough imagination togo wrong. You couldn't expectbackbones to get out of shape sud-denly. Stephen laughed to himself,but Diane shot him a glance- hurt,dismayed, in the next instant, al-most hopeful- and his humor died.They were moving to the tablesnow. For an instant Diane andRobert were together. As hetowered over her, his eyes fixed onher, she smiled up at him. Her eyesspoke volumes though her lipsmerely said:"I'm sorry. It's horrid, isn t it?All these people."Stephen saw their young miserythrough these mutual smiles, and heexperienced a fierce pang, a desireto jump up and cry out that thisroom, these people, this bridge, wasa sacrilege against youth, romance,and a summer night."Stephen," Mrs. Trench's voicebrought him to earth. "Will youfetch the punch, dear? You don'tmind not playing, do you? Andthen you can chat a bit with Grand-ma Prosser."The four younger people playedat one table. Robert and Dianewere allowed to partner each other,because, after all, they were acrossthe table and George Milson settledhimself down comfortably oppositeLu. Grandma Prosser pulled up achair and made remarks about thehands she could see. Tiring of that,she returned to the subject of theguest of honor."Many's the time, young man,"she told Robert, "I've blessed yourmother for trying to make a pianistout of you. And Diane's mother,too. Many an afternoon's sleepyou've destroyed, fumbling up anddown the scales."Robert brightened."I've nothing much to show forit," he said. "But I remember wellenough. Diane used to sit at hers
Musical, Proposal 131
across the lot with our windowsopen, and we' see who could playthe loudest. Remember, Diane?"Her eyes flicked up from the cardsto nod to him."Well, now," said Grandma Pros-ser, "we'll have to hear from youboth by and by. You'll have tohave them play for us, Agnes."Robert and Diane exchangedquick glances of dismay. Afterbridge one might escape, but if theevening was to drag on in the bosomof the family, it would be intoler-able. Stephen Trench from the door-way saw that glance, and writhedinwardly. He felt a sense of suf-focation, as if life had him down andby the throat, and went out into thegarden for a sniff of air. The eve-ning had grown cool, and as helooked, a faint glow in the north be-gan to grow and shift and change.Green spears of light moved acrossthe sky, changing, extending, con-tracting. Stephen returned to thedrawing room."Drop your cards a minute," hesaid urgently. "I want to show yousomething. Hurry!" He thought:"It's working. They're coming!"Mrs. Trench's voice was distinctlycool."What is it, Stephen? A fire?Oh, just northern lights!""Oh, lovely," sighed Emily, in thevoice she kept for occasions."That last bid, Lu," said George."Why didn't you raise me? I couldhave taken two more tricks easy asyou please."Grandma Prosser was staring withdim eyes at the heavenly phenom-enon. "Once when I was a girl," shebegan, but nobody was listening.Uncle Albert was taking the op-portunity to get a few puffs at acigar he'd been aching for, sincesupper. Agnes allowed cigarettes,but not the heavier smoke.
"Well," Mrs. Trench spoke hur-riedly. "I'm sure, Stephen, youmeant well, but our game- shallwe," she suggested brightly," getback to it? Diamonds were trumps,weren't they, Albert?"They began to troop in. On theterrace outside Stephen saw, with aleaping heart, two young peoplemoving not toward, but away fromthe door. They were on the grass,barely distinguishable now, stillgazing up at the mysterious lightsof the North. Stephen's own gazetraveled up to them again. Theystirred in him an excitement, as ifhe, like Grandma Prosser, were see-ing them again with young eyes.He remembered lying in a canoe fora long summer night, facing upward,with Eleanor silently watching.Now he watched the two figures onthe grass, their heads almost touch-ing, their profiles, clear, and eloquentin the lovely glow from the sky."Stephen!""Yes, dear.""Where are they?"Who?"Don't be stupid. Robert andDiane, of course!"He summoned his wits to tem-porize. Only seconds had passed."Oh, there they are!" said Mrs.Trench. He saw her go heavily, de-cisively across the grass."My dear Diane, have you for-gotten our guests. Robert, I'msorry, but do you mind? It's quitechilly, and Diane is so susceptible." Stephen, withdrawing a little sothat his face should not be seen,watched them return. Nothing hadhappened. Nothing could havebeen said in those short instants.Diane's delicately tinted face waspale, and her luminous eyes showeddistress. Robert looked politely im-passive as he followed his hostess in-doors. For a brief moment, his
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hand brushed against Diane's;their fingers interlocked behindMrs. Trench's back, and thenswiftly untangled themselves.Mrs. Trench summoned re-freshments early. Robert musttake the eleven-thirty train,and there was the music tocome."Robert and I will serve,mother!""No, dear. I've asked Ethelto wait up. Robert may passthe napkins. If you will,Robert. They're right behindyou."Stephen Trench returned to hisguests moodily, helpless revoltwithin him, a vast scorn for himselfraging. He glanced at his watch.It was nearly eleven. In a shorttime now Robert must go. If the
On the terrace outside Stephen saw, with aleaping hearty two young people together.They were Robert said Diane.youngsters could only escape afterthe ice cream.But Mrs. Trench was watchingthat."Our time is so short," she said,taking Robert's empty plate, "we
Musical Proposal 133
must have the music we've promisedGrandma Prosser. Do oblige us,Robert."Chopin, Mozart, Liszt stole intothe room, enticed by Robert'sfingers. Diane sat near by, her facepale, her eyes misty."The boy can play," thoughtStephen. "It's not making it anyeasier for her.Then Robert turned. "GrandmaProsser will hardly remember myplaying like that," he smiled."Wasn't it more like this, grand-ma?"he swung into a curious, ramblingimprovisation, one motif only re-peated with a fierce monotony, thenended with a thumping chord.Then he looked at Diane."Your turn," he said.A flush ran deep and red inDiane's face; her eyes seemed sud-denly bright and alive, as if themusic had awakened her. Shesprang up lightly, seated herself, anda crystal cascade of notes movedunder her fingers. She hadn'tRobert Pennel's technique andpower, but this was fairy music,abandoned, gay, irrepressible. Itmoved and shifted, bright and ex-citing, thought Stephen Trench, asthe dawn. Then the music ceased.Diane turned to Grandma Prosser."And this," she said, "is more thekind of thing you had to put upwith from me, grandma."With childlike, thumping notes,she gave her imitation, con-scientiously fingering; then, with aglance at Robert, swung into a song:"On the road to MandalayWhere the flying fishes play-"Uncle Albert then stood besidethe piano, singing it in a surprisingtenor, and Stephen Trench at firstwith diffidence, then more con-fidently, stepped up and supplied
the bass. The fingers of the girlseemed bewitched.Mrs. Trench caught her husband'sarm:"Stephen, the car. Get it out.Robert will be late." She was alittle pale and distraught, as if anatmosphere, alien and frightening,had caught her unawares. Heobeyed. The scent of flowers andof gasoline mingled, and the nightseemed full of unanalyzed things.He drove the car around to the frontdoor, seeing them all on the porch:Grandma Prosser, a little bent withher rheumatism, George with hisarm linked companionably in Lu's,Uncle Albert puffing a cigar, Emilycontributing a languid smile andMrs. Prosser an eager one, AgnesTrench dominating and repulsingone more ambition for Diane."No, darling, you can't go to thestation. Uncle Albert will go withfather, won't you, Albert? We'llplay some anagrams until you getback, and then everybody can takea hand. Good-by, Robert, Goodluck."Robert was shaking hands allaround. Then he was facing Diane."Good-by, Diane." His eyes wereintense, his voice husky."Robert- oh, Robert!"She filing herself into his arms,kissing him:Oblivious of the audience, hestrained her to him, and kissed herlips tenderly."My darling," he murmured in avoice as poignantly melodious as hismusic."Diane!" Mrs. Trench's gasppenetrated the air.The night seemed to hold itsbreath at this shocking abandon.Certainly, the group on the porchdid. Diane drew herself from thispublic embrace, and swung aroundto her mother.
134 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
"But, mother, we're engaged.I've promised to marry Robert. I'vepromised to go out when he sendsfor me!""Come, Robert," said Uncle Al-bert, suddenly practical. "Or you'llmiss the train."Robert Pennel did not move."It's true," he told Mrs. Trenchsoberly. "I'm sorry if it seems soso sudden."Then he kissed Diane again along, clinging kiss and was in thecar. Stephen Trench drove as ifpossessed; the train was caught byinches, but he squeezed Robert'shand in a final message."Could you drive a bit slower,"asked Uncle Albert, on the wayback. "I'd like to finish this cigar."He chuckled suddenly. "Blessyouth!" he ejaculated. "Love willfind a way, old top."Stephen Trench said nothing. Hissharp satisfaction was tempered bythe knowledge that he had yet hiswife to face. The guests, as he hadsupposed, were gone, the anagramsforgotten, good nights said withfalse gayety. Stephen, hearingraised voices, quickened his steps.Diane was facing her mother andaunt in the room, littered with rem-nants of a dead party."Oh, mother, how could you!You tried, you schemed, just to keepus from those last, few hours.Weren't you ever young? Don'tyou understand?" Diane's youngtones were ringing out passionately.She broke off at sight of herfather in the doorway. Stephen puthis arm about her waist silently.Mrs. Trench saw father and daugh-ter clinging together, facing her de-fiantly, but it remained for AuntEmily to make the capitulation for
her sister. "It's probably all for thebest, Agnes.""For the best," repeated Mrs.Trench, slowly. She looked baffled,beaten, then a faint gleam appearedin her eyes."Well," she said decisively, rising,"there is one thing I should like toknow, Diane. When, please, did thismad proposal take place?"Diane went swiftly to her mother sside."Mother, you're going to be niceabout it, aren't you? I'm so happyand I do want you to see it's for thebest, like Aunt Emily says.""But when, Diane? How-"Diane looked suddenly radiant."It was Grandma Prosser'smusic," she laughed joyously."When Robert and I were kids, weused to play to each other acrossthe lot with the windows open. Wemade up a code so that we couldtalk to each other."From the open window came theunmistakable smell of Uncle Albert'scigar, and an equally unmistakablechuckle."Proposal by music," said UncleAlbert. "In the bosom of thefamily. Well, well!"Mrs. Trench sat down suddenlyin the nearest chair."Stephen, dear," she said shakily,"will you please fetch me a glass ofwater?"Beaten as she was, she lookedonce more at Diane's radiant face,her sparkling eyes, and her defeatwas complete. She held out a handto the girl."I've heard some people say thatthe East is a romantic place," shewas admitting reluctantly, asStephen returned with the glass ofwater.
Your Stars and Youby Kai
YOUR WEEKMost of us will like the current sevendays. It is a temperamental week, butthere will be many things which hold prom-ise and a general feeling of optimism canbe expected. The serious periods should bedevoted to practical thinking. Each of ushas the full cooperation of the planets atthis time and results are of our own mak-ing. This is the best week generally wehave had in some time. There is a NewMoon Wednesday, April 3rd, at 7:06 a. m.
DAY BY DAYHours mentioned are Eastern standardtimeSaturday,March30thThe day begins harmoniously,and the mind will be in goodworking order. Expect an ac-tive morning when the writ-ten and spoken word is im-portant. The early-afternoonhours are active, and therewill be minor irritations of noconsequence. The later aft-ernoon hours are emotionaland pleasure is in order. Donot tolerate foolish fears atany period of the day or eve-ning. Pleasure, recreation andsentiment will identify theevening period.Sunday,March31The morning hours will bemore active than usual for aSunday morning. The periodaround noon is lethargic, and
spiritual and inspirationalideas are in order. The after-noon hours bring the mindinto play and the trend willbe active. Between 5:00 and7:00 p. m. there is an inter-lude which is serious, andquiet and deep thought is inorder. Your mind will beable to take care of details,and it would be well to makeplans. The later eveninghours are entertaining, ener-getic, and the undercurrent isfavorable.Monday,April1stA new business week and anew month and again we findthe mind and judgment ofmajor importance. It is anexcellent morning for thefolks engaged in creative, ad-vertising, and literary work.It is a very good day, eventhough it is divided intoperiods which demand practi-cality and energy in spite ofthe feelings. The evening isfavorable, and it would bewell to give serious thought tofinancial matters.Tuesday,April2ndDomestic inharmony will pre-vail this morning until 8:00a. m. unless you are careful.After that you will be active,and there will be many mat-ters which will require atten-
136 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
tion. With any degree ofthought it should be a satis-factory business and personalday and you can expect tohave a light and enjoyableevening. The main idea aboutto-day is that it brings mat-ters to a climax. Do notwaste your hours, because to-morrow inaugurates a new cy-clc and you must be readyfor it.Wednesday,April3rdThere is a New Moon at 7:06a. m., which begins the newcycle mentioned yesterday.The morning hours are har-monious and pleasant, butbusiness is in order until noon.It is a most efficient day andevening, and you will be ableto accomplish much. Eventhough the slight emotionalproblems and the pressure ofcircumstances are upsettingand disturbing to your poise,keep going. Be busy andutilize all your talents.Thursday,April4thThe waking hours are emo-tional and there will be do-mestic problems to handle.Exciting circumstances can beexpected until noon. Stay onthe job and avoid rashnessand impulsiveness. Considerno idea which is not in keep-ing with your program andtreat the superficial happen-ings this morning as tem-porary, factors in your life.The afternoon hours are pleas-ant and good for social rela-tions. The evening hoursbring the inclination towardrecreation and enjoyment andthe general trend is favorable.Friday,April5thAffairs which were startedearlier in the week will en-gage your attention to-day,but you will not be able to dojustice to your efficient ideas.There is too much emotionand feeling indicated in theplanetary conditions and youwill have to postpone vitalmatters until later.
IF YOU WERE BORN BETWEENMarch 21st and April 20th(Aries)-Aries people born between March 21stand 27th will have changeable conditionsin connection with finances at this time, buta readjustment is in order and you shouldforce issues at this time so that you canprepare for the future, when conditions be-come better. If born between April 1stand 8th, you will have turbulent conditionsin connection with partners and associates,but there is very little that you can doabout it. Try to maintain your poise andremember that haste and impulsiveness willdefeat your purpose. This is a favorableweek socially, but you will probably spendmore money than you can afford. If bornbetween April 12th and 20th, you will berelieved of some of the turbulent conditionswhich have existed in the past and therewill be a chance for you to advance yourinterests. This is a good mental week forthe latter group.April 20th and May 21st(Taurus)-Taureans born between April 20th and25th can expect some of the changes theyhave been anticipating. Deal with olderpeople, reconstruct your lives and see thatthere is no debris on hand which will pre-vent you from accomplishing your goal. Itis a time for forceful action and a deter-mined program. If born between May 1stand 10th, you will find your intuition help-ful at this time, and the week is a pleas-ant one socially and emotionally. Takecare of your health and avoid excesses,remembering to be cautious about minor ac-cidents. If born between May 14th and21st, you will find discussions and relationswith friends beneficial at this time. Makedecisions and look to the future. You arerelieved of some of the pressure you haveexperienced the past few months and eventhough your finances are a problem, youcan now proceed with more confidence thanyou have been able to exhibit in the past.
May 21st and June 21st(Gemini)-Geminians born between May 21st and26th will have responsibility in businessand will not be able to exert their person-alities to full extent. Expect changes, hec-tic circumstances and hard work under lim-iting conditions. If born between June 1stand 9th, there will be confusion in thehome and such a pressure of circumstances
Your Stars And You 137
and events that it will be upsetting. Thecurrent week holds several upsetting in-terludes. If born between June 15th and21st, you will have petty annoyances inbusiness and will be subject to criticismfrom the public. Execute your work andexpand your working conditions, but becareful of the things you say and write,especially to the boss.June 21st and July 21st(Cancer)-Cancerians born between June 31st and27th will experience changes in connectionwith friends, and there is the necessity tobe serious and do everything which comesunder the heading of duty. Expand yourinterests and build new foundations for ef-ficiency. If born between July 1st and 9th,you will find your intuition active and therewill be opportunities for enjoyment andpleasant relations with friends. However,home conditions will be hectic and someof the domestic pressure may prevent youfrom being as efficient as you desire. Ifborn between July 14th and 21st, you willhave new opportunities. It is time for ex-panding your interests and adopting a newviewpoint. Relations with associates shouldbe harmonious.July 21st and August 22nd(Leo)-Leo people born between July 21st and27th will begin to feel the pressure of theplanets; will be restless and will makeminor changes. Conditions connected withthe finances of associates will be restrictedand no immediate solution to the problemwill be reached satisfactorily. If born be-tween August 2nd and 9th, you will havea busy emotional life this week, and therewill be moments of personal pleasure. Theundercurrent is energetic and alive, andvital matters will require attention. If bornbetween August 14th and 22nd, you willhave your emotions and sentiments stimu-lated, but concentrated thought will haveto be given to financial affairs. You mightbe able to adjust some of the matters whichwere delayed, in the past concerning moneywhich dealt with partners. Much of thepressure in the lives of the latter grouphas been relieved.August 22nd and September 23rd(Virgo)-Virgo people born between August 22ndand 28th will have changes and some oftheir affairs will be satisfactory and some
of them pressing. Matters connected withpartnerships will become a responsibilityand serious thought will be given to asso-ciations. Desire for readjustment will beparamount and a feeling of restlessness willprompt you to make necessary changes.If born between September 2nd and 9th,you will be busy and there will be unex-pected demands on your income. The cur-rent week is pleasant in many spots andsocial affairs will be enjoyable. If bornbetween September 15th and 23rd, you willbe able to capitalize upon present and pastefforts and any form of creative work willbe satisfying to you. The current weekbrings the necessity to make decisions andthere will be petty worries, but you willfind your mind responsive and you willfeel better than you have in the immedi-ate past.September 23rd and October 22nd(Libra)-Librans born between September 23rdand 30th will find work and their jobs irk-some and confining at this time and willhave to undertake added responsibility. Itis no time to change positions and theremay be changes in connection with thefinances of partners and associates. If bornbetween October 3rd and 10th, you willfeel upset personally and will have towatch your temper. Give serious thoughtto spiritual matters and inward growth andexpect the current week to bring more har-monious relations with associates. If bornbetween October 14th and 22nd, you willhave to use your head this week-in con-nection with work and your job and de-cisions will have to be made. Petty an-noyances are only temporary. It is a timeto capitalize upon your talents, expandyour interests, and make every effort toincrease your income.October 22nd and November 21st(Scorpio)-Scorpio people born between October22nd and 29th will have upheaval andchanges in connection with partners andassociates, but these adjustments will befavorable to you later in the year. Acceptresponsibility, stand on your own feet, donot be too opinionated, but see that yourown judgment and authority are recognized.If born between November 3rd and 19thyou will find your intuition increasing, willrecognize opportunities as being at handand should use your talents constructivelyand diligently. This is a week when pleas-
138 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
ure and entertainment will be importantto you. If born between November 14thand 21st, you will find pressure relieved incomparison to past months and this weekwill bring many activities, the need to makefinancial decisions, and fresh opportunities.Everything you do at this time will re-flect upon your judgment and progress inthe immediate future. Be confident.November 21st and December 20th(Sagittarius)-Sagittarians born between November21st and 28th will have changes in con-nection with jobs and duties and adjust-ments in relation to employees and serv-ants. Home conditions will be annoyingand there will be domestic pressure. Ifborn between December 2nd and 9th, youshould be careful about quarreling withfriends. Take your social duties lightly.Employment conditions should be harmoni-ous, throughout the current seven days. Ifborn between December 13th and 20th,you will have annoyances and petty wor-ries in the home and with domestic asso-ciates at this time, but personal reactionswill be pleasant and more satisfactory thanusual. Relations with those on the out-side will please you more than those im-mediately connected with your life.December 20th and January 19th(Capricorn)-Capricornians born between December20th and 27th will find stability enteringtheir lives and changes are in order. Ad-justments are advisable. Conditions canbe made better for you than they havein the immediate past. Most of the favor-able results depend upon your own efforts.If born between January 1st and 8th, youwill have a satisfactory social week, willfind your intuition helpful, should not in-dulge yourself emotionally, but will havemany pleasant experiences with those closeto your heart. Upsetting conditions andthe pressure of circumstances will invadethe serenity of your business relations andcare should be exerted in all dealings withthose in superior positions. If born betweenJanuary 12th and 19th, you will find yourjudgment good this week and decisionsshould be made. Relations with friendswill be pleasing and contacts should be-made which are valuable to your interests.
January 19th and February 19th(Aquarius)-Aquarians born between January 19thand 26th will experience changes and re-
movals in connection with home, propertyand possessions. It is advisable to under-take a new regime and accept responsibility.There is pressure and a different kind ofrecognition of duty expected of you thanyou had the past two years. You will notbe able to adjust matters to your com-plete satisfaction and you will have to workhard at all times. If born between Feb-ruary 1st and 9th, you will be busy andwill have to stay close to your job andduties, but there will be opportunities forpleasure during the current week. If bornbetween February 12th and 19th, some ofthe pressure will be relieved at this timeand you can plan to expand in businessand reestablish yourself in the public eye.You will have to make decisions this weekin regard to your income and will find yourmind responsive.February 19th and March 21st(Pisces)-Pisceans born between February 19thand 27th will be more serious and deliber-ate at this time, but will be restless andwill see the advisability of reorganizingtheir lives. Do not procrastinate and do notbe morbid. Work and recognize new op-portunities and make this a constructiveperiod in your life. If born between March2nd and 9th, you will have to be careful indealing with partners and associates andmust be patient with the uncertain andconfusing factors in this direction. Yourpersonal reactions will be pleasant thisweek and many phases of your life will beenjoyable. If born between March 14thand 21st, you will feel in an expansivemood this week and will be able to enjoyyourself and handle affairs efficiently. Donot devote too much time to recreation ifit interferes with your program. and youradvancement.THE STAR QUESTION BOXMiss E. M. P., born July 10, 1913, Con-necticut, 7:00 a. m.: Astrology can tell,you only the planetary conditions, and howyou will be inclined. The will to do andhow you take advantage of opportunities isup to you. I can see from your chart thatit is difficult for you to make definite de-cisions and act upon your ideas. You havethe capacity to do great things with your-self, but I believe your uncertain
tempera-
Your Stars And You 139
ment, vacillation, and sensitivity are handi-caps. You are intelligent, energetic, andhave good basic judgment. Now, you havethe cooperation of the planets for the nexttwo years. You should make changes andaccept opportunities, the first of which willprobably come your way in the earlyspring. Act with more confidence. Seekopportunities. Expand your personalityand make new contacts. Conditions inyour home will not be entirely satisfactory,but that should be a separate part of yourexistence which has nothing to do withyour material advancement. Be wise andprogressive."Star Dust," born February 4, 1916,Maine, 10:50 p. m. Sorry, but I do notomit birth dates, except in unusual cases.Your chart does not correspond with thatof the man you mention and I advise apermanent break. There is a lack of sym-pathy between you and there is no doubtbut that you will find some one who willappeal to you more than the current heartinterest. There is a definite break comingshortly, anyway, and changes in manydirections. I do not advise you to becomeserious with any one of the opposite sexfor about three years- meaning marriage,of course. Do not forget there is a timeand place for everything under the sun.Write to me again.Miss M. L. L., born March 8, 1917, In-diana, 3:45 a. m.: It appears very likelyto me that marriage is in store for youfolks late this summer. The two chartsharmonize and you have much in common.Affairs in general will improve for both ofyou and even though the economic probleminjects itself and you think there shouldbe a postponement, I advise you to pro-ceed with your plans, if possible.Mr. C. F. W., born January 18, 1912,Ohio, about 4:00 a. m.: There is no doubtabout your having artistic talent but I amsorry that you spent your money on acorrespondence course. I feel as if youshould have had the benefit of class workand a personal teacher. It so happens thatI recall the marvelous art institution inyour town and I advise you to consult anexpert. Make no change in your plans be-cause I feel you have a future in the com-mercial field. Also, you have just finisheda bad planetary period and I am sure youwill find more encouragement in futureconditions. It will be necessary for youto stay where you are for the present but
you will have a change the latter part ofthe year.Mrs. A. B., born February 6, 1885,Arkansas, 2:00 a. m.: It was kind of youto write me again and I am sorry yourreply has been delayed. Before I answeryour question I wish to urge you to con-tinue your astrological studies. You willfind it helpful in many ways and yourchart is well adapted to it. There is noquestion in my mind about your instinctivehealing ability and inherent knowledge ofmedicine. It is too bad you were not ableto study this in your early life and I amwondering if it would be possible for youto obtain work of an apprenticeship orassisting nature in a clinic or institution.Your intuition is remarkable and you can-not help from pouring forth your strengthand giving yourself to each and every case.I would like to see you do something withthis unusual talent. You have been re-lieved of great pressure in your life whichhas continued in one form or another forabout eight years and now is the time foryou to make a concentrated effort to im-prove your circumstances. Any changes inthe immediate future will be beneficial.Do not hesitate to associate yourself withsome one else who is established. I believethis is your best way of becoming betterknown.Mrs. E. B., son born January 31, 1928,Pennsylvania, 9:00 p. m.: I answered youpreviously about your daughter but havejust discovered your second letter aboutyour son. The answer to your inquiryabout his talent is in the affirmative. Youare fortunate in having such capable,talented children. Proceed with your plansfor them.Mr. W. K., born January 16, 1907, Wis-consin, 11:40 p. m.: It has been impossiblefor me to answer your letter before nowand I am sorry for the delay. Due to theimproved planetary conditions you havehad since last fall, I am inclined to thinkyou have obtained tangible results. It isdifficult for me to tell you specificallyabout this examination, because eventhough your chart indicates improvementand fresh opportunities, I do not know justhow your own willingness to benefit bythem has been demonstrated. However, Iwant to say that I like your chart. Youhave balance, a good mind that likes togo to the root of matters and your per-sistent qualities are very strong. You have
140 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
been operating under limiting influencessince 1928 which became critical in 1930and 1931. Most of that restriction andpressure from the planetary rays has beenlifted and you can expect steady improve-ment in the future. It is a question ofbuilding a new foundation for yourself, soallow no opportunity to escape and makeevery effort to place yourself solidly. Youwill have to work hard and assume respon-sibility, but I believe you will be
satisfied,with results. Best wishes.Mrs. J.B., born May 25, 1889, place notstated, 1:00 p. m.: The circumstances be-tween yourself, and the man you mentionin your letter are clearly indicated in thetwo charts. There is an attraction but Icannot see you feeling anything for himwhich is deep and permanent. Neverthe-less, there is another marriage in your life.I think you will marry some one laterwhom you will like very much probablyin 1937. Do not be hasty about under-taking the responsibility of his family com-bined with your own. I believe you wouldregret it."Noel," born December 25, 1891,Michigan, 5:00 a. m.: It was kind of youto write me such a pleasant and frankletter. I can see from your chart that youhave not had an easy time of it but whomdo you know who has not had his troublesin the past few years? I can promise youimproved conditions this year and in 1936even though they will not live up entirelyto your expectations. I hardly know howto answer you about this man you men-tion. There is a strong bond between youand yet your natures are very opposite inmany ways. You have your impulsivemoments, but fundamentally you likesecurity, quiet and stability and I see noth-ing in this man's chart which would guar-antee security. He is clever and intelligent but does not have the constancy that youdo. Frankly, I do not advise anything ofa permanent nature but feel you wouldmake fine friends.MRS. E.B., daughter born July 4, 1927,Pennsylvania, 8:30 p.m.: Your daughteris a very emotional type of girl but herchart indicates exceptional talent for
danc-
ing. It is fine that you have started hereducation along these lines so early in life.In mentioning her emotional equipmentand her bursts of temperament, I wouldsay these will increase as she becomes older.Her chart also shows the ability to imitateand an inherent sense of showmanship. Allof these qualities will assist her in theentertainment world later, of course. Theyoung lady is at a critical stage in her lifeas to health (this is true of all children
herage), so I would not push her too muchjust at this time. She will have oppor-tunities during the next three years to ex-ploit her talents and conditions will im-prove steadily. I think she should continuewith her piano lessons but suggest that youconcentrate upon her dancing. Her chartindicates success in connection with motionpictures, too.M. W., born April 3, 1914, Iowa, 11:50a. m.: Proceed with your plans to be anentertainer. I think you would do well inthat line of endeavor. There is very littlechance that you will marry before 1937.O. D. M., born June 3, 1900: It was niceof you to write me and express your appre-ciation of my reply. I shall be glad tohear from you again at any time.WHY QUESTIONS ARE NOTANSWEREDKai does not send answers by mail.L. E.E. J., March 21, 1890: Your letterwas very vague. What conditions doyou refer to? What did you wish to knowabout the man born in October?"Baby-face," March 20, 1918: I musthave the man's birth data before I canhelp you.Miss F. H. G., October 26, 1906: Yourletter was very vague. What changes doyou refer to?Miss L. M. B., February 21, 1889: I donot give complete horoscope readings. Ifyou will write again, asking one specificquestion I will try to help you.
Editor's Note: Questions for this department are answered only through
Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine. Each reader is allowed to ask one
question. Be sure to give the following data in your letter: date, month,
year, and place of birth, the hour of the day or night, if possible, and
sex. Address your letters to KAI, care of this magazine, 79 Seventh Avenue,
New York, N. Y.
The Friendliest Corner By MARY
MORRISMiss Morris will help you tomake friends
Miss Mary Morris, who conducts this department, will see to it that you will
be able to make friends with other readers, though thousands of miles may
separate you. It must be understood that Miss Morris will undertake to
exchange letters only between men and men, boys and boys, women and women,
girls and girls. All reason- able care will be exercised in the introduction
of correspondents. If any unsatisfac- tory letters are received by our
readers, the publishers would appreciate their being sent to them. Please
sign your name and address when writing. Be sure to inclose forwarding
postage when sending letters through The Friendliest Corner, so that mail
can be-forwarded.Address Miss Mary Morris, Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine, 79
Seventh Avenue, New York, N. Y.
THOSE of you who would liketo hear about a countryaround which center fascinat-ing legends that date back to ancientAztec Indian days, will surely findCoah Pal a most interesting cor-respondent. This twenty-year-old,happily married American Pal livesin Mexico. Life never stands stillfor her; she makes it go! Write toher, girls!Dear Miss Morris: For a long time Ihave wanted to join your Friendliest Cor-ner. I am a young married woman oftwenty, have no children, and as I am nowliving in Mexico, I get very lonesome forAmerican friends. I have lots of time towrite letters, and much to write about.Won't some of you girls please answer myplea and let me hear from you? I can tellyou lots about this country and its legends.I promise to answer all letters promptly,Coah Pal.San Toy is married to a sailor.Dear Miss Morris: I am a young mar-ried woman of twenty-three. My husband
is a sailor, and I would love to correspondwith other sailors wives and sweethearts.I'm fond of reading, writing letters, havetraveled in the United States, Mexico, andCanada, and will be more than glad to ex-change snapshots and answer all letters re-ceived. Let's go, Pals! San Toy.Boys, cheer up Lonely Ben.Dear Miss Morris: Please let me joinyour Friendliest Corner. I'm a boy ofseventeen, have recently lost my father,and as I have few friends I am very lone-some. I was born in North Carolina, butam living in New York City. I'm inter-tested in fishing, dancing, music, and avia-tion. I intend to become an aviator oneof these days. I'll appreciate all letters,and promise prompt replies.Lonely Ben.Help her collect pictures of moviestars.Dear Miss Morris: I'm just anothergirl of eighteen looking for Pen Pals. Ihave black hair, brown eyes, and love funand excitement. I hail from Philadelphia,but just now I am living in Maryland. Iwould like to correspond with girls every-
142 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
where, and especially those who live inthis State. My favorite hobby is collect-ing pictures of movie stars.Marylander.Ula can talk on almost any sub-ject.Dear Miss Morris: Will you pleasehelp me find some Pen Pals? I'm a girltwenty years of age, live in California, andwould like to hear from girls far and near.I'm interested in dancing, sewing, reading,and can talk on almost any subject. I'llbe a sincere friend. Girls, please write tome. Ula.She spends her summers in Maine.Dear Miss Morris: I am a girl ofnineteen, and a recent high-school gradu-ate. I have traveled some, and spend mysummers in Maine. I like to read, dance,sew, collect souvenirs and photographs ofall kinds, and I also enjoy sports. Girls,let's get acquainted! Truly Yours.This'Pal enjoys gay pleasures.Dear Miss Morris: Please help me findsome Pen Pals. I'm a young man oftwenty-four, very broad-minded, interestedin everything and every one. My mainhobbies are dancing and singing, and I al-ways enjoy a good show, or a lively radioprogram. I would like to hear from Palswho live on Long Island or in New York.I promise to answer all letters. Web.Don't fail to write to GreenfieldMrs.Dear Miss Morris: I like to write let-ters and make new friends; and hope thatmany who read my plea will not hesitateto drop me a line. I'm a young marriedwoman of twenty-six, live in Massachu-setts, although I was born in New Jersey.I have two children, and my husband is asalesman. When he is away, and the chil-dren are in bed, I have lots of spare timeto write letters. Here's hoping some ofyou will not fail to write.Greenfield Mrs.A Pen Pal from British Guiana.Dear Miss Morris: Do you think anyone would care to correspond with a fifteen-year-old girl living in British Guiana? Ihave very few friends and get terriblylonely. I have black hair, brown eyes, loveto swim, and am considered a good sport.
I'm always jolly and have a good timewherever I go. I will be glad to exchangesnapshots, and promise prompt replies toall letters received. Theresia.Accept Jolly Toots's offer offriendship.Dear Miss Morris: May I join yourCorner? I would love to hear from girlsnineteen years of age or older. I am agirl of nineteen, with brown hair and grayeyes. I promise to answer all letters, andwill be very glad to tell all about myselfin my first letter. I enjoy dancing, sports,and making friends. Well, girls, who's go-ing to write? Jolly Toots.He's good-natured and congenial.Dear Miss Morris: May I enter yourCorner with an earnest request for PenPals? I'm a young man in my twenties,good-natured, congenial, fond of music, art,and books. I also enjoy sports. I will ex-change snapshots, and promise faithfully toanswer all letters received. Rayton.Maris is at home in the kitchenand garden.Dear Miss Morris: I am a brown-eyedcountry girl of twenty-two, enjoy sports,cooking, baking, and gardening. I am anx-ious to hear from Pen Pals everywhere, andespecially those living in Wyoming and Ari-zona. I have my own camera, and prom-ise to exchange snapshots with any one. Iwill answer all letters promptly.Maris.Here's a Pal who's interested inEngland.Dear Miss Morris: I am a girl almosttwenty years of age, interested in books,pets, dancing, and traveling. I would loveto visit England, but since that is not pos-sible, perhaps some English girl who readsthis will drop me a line. However, thatdoes not mean I will not enjoys hearingfrom girls everywhere. I will gladly ex-change snapshots. So come on, Pals, andlet's get acquainted. Evlynn.Find out more about this friendlyPal.Dear Miss Morris: I would like tocorrespond with Pen Pals far and near.I'm a young married woman of twenty-three, will exchange snapshots and promise
The Friendliest Corner 143
to answer all letters received. I'll tell youall about myself in my first letter, Pals,so don't hesitate to write. Tinky.Fennimore is an advanced studentin music and art.Dear Miss Morris: I'm a boy of notquite sixteen, have brown hair, hazel eyes,and am five feet six inches tall. My chiefinterests are swimming, diving, football,tennis, riding, and life-saving. I am alsoan advanced student in music and art.Write to me, fellows. I will exchange snap-shots and promise prompt replies.Fennimore.This Nova Scotia Pal loves tomake friends.Dear Miss Morris: May I hope tohear from Pals everywhere? I am a girlof twenty-two, live in Nova Scotia, andlove to make friends. I am interested inskating, dancing, movies, and reading. Ihave had a few rather interesting adven-tures, and can tell you all about NovaScotia. I'll exchange snapshots and poems.Pals, please don't disappoint me!Ruoda E.Keystone Lois has musical ability.Dear Miss Morris: Please print myplea for Pen Pals. I'm a girl of eighteen,a high-school graduate, and as I have aposition which takes me away from myhome town I get very lonesome. I wouldlike to hear from girls everywhere. I en-joy reading, French, athletics, collectstamps, and can play several musical in-struments. Girls, write to a true friend. Keystone Lois.A call for good, sensible Pals.Dear Miss Morris: I would like tocorrespond with married Pals and singlegirls between thirty and forty years of age,and especially those who are not man-crazy. Although I'm not a man hater, andam married myself; I don't like to heargirls, raving about every man they meet.I am thirty-one, good-natured, friendly, andmy hobby is reading. I'll be waiting tohear from you, girls. Roxy.Boys, you'll find Miami Q, con-genial and understanding.Dear Miss Morris: I'm a young manof twenty-three, five feet ten inches tall,with blue eyes and light-brown hair. I am
considered very understanding and con-genial. I would like to hear from Palsfrom Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, andCalifornia. Of course, every one is wel-come, and I promise to answer all lettersMiami Q.Her chief hobby is writing letters.Dear Miss Morris: I am an auburn-haired, blue-eyed girl of twenty, a juniorat college, and my pet hobby is writing longletters. I would love to correspond withgirls far and near, and will send a snap-shot to the first five Pals who write to me.Jeanshirley.Girls, get together with Bingee.Dear Miss Morris: Please print myplea in your Corner. I am a young Italiangirl of nineteen, enjoy reading, hiking, andwriting long, newsy letters. My hobbyis collecting poems. I live in New YorkState, and can write lots of interestingthings. Won't you Pals try me?Bingee.Cantonette will appreciate yourletters.Dear Miss Morris: I am a tall, slimblonde, eighteen years of age, enjoy danc-ing, reading, swimming, and drawing. Iwill be very glad to exchange snapshotswith girls everywhere. My mother is dead,and I am the oldest girl at home. I keephouse for the rest of the family, but havelots of time for writing letters. Won't someof you Pen Pals please write to me? I'llappreciate your letters. Cantonette.Bern is a good sport.Dear Miss Morris: I'm another lone-some young fellow looking for Pen Pals.I am nineteen years of age, considered agood sport, and enjoy receiving and writingletters. Come on, fellows, let's see whatwe have in common. I have plenty oftime to answer every one of you. Bern. A peppy young Minnesota Pal.Dear Miss Morris: Does any one wanta peppy Pal who will answer all letterspromptly, and who has lots of interestingthings to talk about? I am a girl of eight-een, with brown hair and blue eyes. I liketo read, am interested in music, sports, andespecially swimming. I'm hoping to hearfrom true-blue Pals everywhere. Come on,girls, tell me all about yourselves. I live
inMinneapolis. Owatonna.
144 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
An invitation for every one.Dear Miss Morris: I'm a Chicago girlof nineteen, love to write letters, and prom-ise prompt replies. I have golden-brownhair, brown eyes, and am crazy aboutdancing and swimming. Won't some onehave pity on a lonely girl and drop her aline? Girls, please consider this as an invi-tation for every one of you.Chi Annie.Here's a Pal for you younger girls.Dear Miss Morris: I am a youngFilipina girl of sixteen looking for Pen
Pals.I am a senior at high school, crazy aboutmovies, reading, painting, writing letters,swimming, dancing, and riding a bicycle.I want to hear from girls everywhere, re-gardless of age or nationality. Girls, won'tyou get busy and write to me?Tropical Star.Six feet of friendship.DEAR Miss Morris: I hope you willhelp me find a few Pen Pals. I am ayoung man twenty-two years of age, sixfeet tall, with brown, wavy hair and grayeyes. I enjoy, all kinds of sports, and es-pecially swimming. I want to hear fromfellows everywhere, and promise to answerall letters promptly. Won't you fellowsgive me a break? I'm sure you won'tregret writing to me. Zang.Who'll write to this lonelyfarmerette?Dear Miss Morris: I am a girl oftwenty, and feel very friendless at thistime because I have recently lost my bestpal. I am living on a farm many milesfrom the city, but I manage to keep upwith current events, as I am interested inevery one and everything. Won't all youPals, young and old, married and single,please let me be your friend? Avella.She has a weakness for WesternPals.Dear Miss Morris: . Please, won't youmake room for me? I am a girl of twenty,with a. weakness for Western Pen' Pals.Of course, I would like to receive, letters- from'all over the world, so I hope the restof you girls will not be discouraged. I mfond of cooking, reading, and writing let-ters. , I am also'an enthusiastic movie fan,and collect pictures of screen stars.. I willexchange, snapshots. Sarie.
Let this Canadian Pal tell youabout her travels.Dear Miss Morris: I am sending anS 0 S to Pals all over the world. I am aJewish girl of twenty-eight, consideredgood-looking, enjoy all sports, and havetraveled in the United States. At presentmy home is in Canada. Come on, all youPals, and don't disappoint me. I am look-ing forward to receiving loads of letters.My friends call me Annie Rooney.Who'll write to this student ofdrama?Dear Miss Morris: I am a young manin my late twenties, a university graduate,interested in all worth-while things, andfriendship in particular. I have studieddrama at a famous school, traveled exten-sively, am broad-minded, congenial, andletter writing is my pet hobby. I wouldenjoy corresponding with Pals who are notgirl-crazy. Come on, fellows, and drop mea line. Brian.Two lonesome girls.Dear Miss Morris: We are two girlsfifteen and sixteen years of age. Becauseof poor health we both had to quit school,and now we get very lonesome. We wouldlove to hear from girls who live in thegood old West, but will answer all lettersreceived, and hope girls from far and nearwill not hesitate to answer our plea:Lorry and Ellen.He's all alone in a big cityDear Miss Morris: I am a young manof twenty-eight, and all alone in a bigcity. Needless to say, I am lonely, andwould like to hear from young men of anyage who appreciate real friendship. I en-joy the theater, literature, music, andsports. Won't some of you fellows take achance and drop me a line? I'm sure youwon't be disappointed. Cinti Jack.Pals, help cheer up this lonelyMaine Pal.Dear Miss Morris: Here's an S O Sfor Pen Pals everywhere. I am a girl oftwenty-two, five feet five inches tall, enjoysports, and love to dance. At present I amnot working, and time hangs heavy onmy hands. I will exchange snapshots, andhope to hear from girls all over the world.I promise to answer all letters received.I live in Maine. Twin.
LS 9F
The Friendliest Corner 145
She's a prompt correspondent.Dear Miss Morris: I would very muchlike to hear from Pen Pals everywhere. Iam a girl of twenty-two, with black hairand eyes. I like to dance, swim, and playtennis. I promise to answer all letters ontime, so won't some of you please write?Jester.Let her tell you about her wed-ding plans.Dear Miss Morris: I am a blue-eyedstenographer of twenty-two, interested inbaseball, basket ball, hockey, polo, and allother outdoor sports. I also enjoy read-ing, movies, and music. I am engaged andexpect to be married in the fall. I prom-ise to answer all letters as interestingly asI can. Patsyruth.A peppy high-school senior.Dear Miss Morhis: I am a girl of sev-enteen, considered good-looking, and easyto get along with. My favorite sports are
hiking, horseback riding, swimming, danc-ing, and I like plenty of fun. I'm a peppy,lively high-school senior. Come on, girls,and let me hear from you. I will exchangesnapshots. Dimples of Tennessee.All you older readers, write toKingsville Pal.Dear Miss Morris: I am sure thereare many older readers who are lookingfor Pen Pals. I am a woman of forty-three, fond of pets, trees, flowers, andcamping, and would very much enjoy cor-responding with Pals around my age orolder. Won't some of you please write?Prompt replies are guaranteed.Kingsville Pal.Let him tell you about his stageexperiences.Dear Miss Morris: I would appreci-ate it if you would help me find a few con-genial Pen Pals. I'm a young man twentyyears of age, interested in dancing, skating,and am not very fond of girls. I have had
The most imitated of ALL!Street & Smith's Detective Story Magazinetwice a month at all news stands 15c
146 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
considerable stage experience, as I am a tapdancer. Fellows, please drop me a line.I'll answer all letters received. Perry.Ethyl lives near a large Canadiancity.Dear Miss Morris: I have never hada Pen Pal, so won't some of you girls pleasewrite to this Canadian girl, of nineteen?The town I live in is located on Lake On-tario, and isn't far from Toronto. I am in-terested in dancing, skating, swimming, andcrazy about reading. I would be delightedto hear from girls far and near. Ethyl.Life doesn't bore this Pal.Dear Miss Morris: May anotherlonely girl of twenty-one enter your Cor-ner? I enjoy all sports, and get a realthrill out of just being alive. I have blackhair, blue eyes, and a happy disposition.I like to make friends, go to parties, andalways manage to enjoy myself. I'll answerall letters, and hope to hear from everyPal who reads my plea. Ola Mae.A radio, opera, and movie fan.Dear Miss Morris: Won't some oneplease take notice of my plea for PenPals and write to me? I am a peppygirl of seventeen, and the fact that I livein the city does not prevent me from be-ing lonesome. I am crazy about receivingand writing letters, and my other hobbiesare reading, radio, movies, and the opera.I promise faithfully to answer all lettersreceived. Anxious Alyce.Boys, here's a real Pal for you.Dear Miss Morris: I am a young manof twenty-four, and greatly interested inmusic and literature. I am all alone in astrange city, and completely without,friends. I'll gladly exchange snapshots, asphotography is one of the hobbies I reallyenjoy. Won't some of you fellows pleasewrite? I'll surely answer. N. C. L.This Pal enjoys mystery stories.Dear Miss Morris: I am a lonely girlof twenty-two, enjoy movies, mysterystories, and love to write long letters. Iwould especially like to correspond withgirls who live in the West, but every oneis welcome, and I'll answer all letters re-ceived. I will also exchange snapshots andpicture post cards. Girls, please don't passme by. Etten.
Three Pals at a throw.Dear Miss Morris: We are threehappy-go-lucky girls between seventeenand twenty years of age, interested insports, especially dancing and swimming.We would love to correspond with Palswho live in the South, and those who hailfrom California, although we promise toanswer all letters, and will exchange snap-shots. Come on, girls; let's get acquainted!Jerrie, Tonie, and Terrie.Write to her about your beautyproblems.Dear Miss Morris: Please publish myplea for Pen Pals. I am a lively girl oftwenty-two, live in Canada, and own abeauty shop. I have traveled quite a bit,and can promise some very interesting let-ters. I would like to hear from Pals every-where, and especially from California. Girls,won't you try me? Doctor Ann.This Pal is musically inclined.Dear Miss Morris: I'm a young manin my early twenties, enjoy books, shows,dancing, and music. I would appreciatehearing from Pals between twenty andthirty years' of age. I am living in SouthCarolina, and hope to visit New York thissummer. Won't some of you fellows every-where drop me a few lines? Prompt repliesare guaranteed. NateDobby is good-natured andfriendly.Dear Misa Morris: Here's anothergood-natured and friendly Pen Pal of eight-een with lots of time on her hands. Won'tsome of you girls please write to me? Ilike sports, dancing, and although I do notattend college, most of my friends do. Iwould like to hear from Pals between eight-een and twenty-five. No matter where youlive, girls, I promise speedy replies. DobbyHoping is ambitious for a moviecareer.Dear Miss Morris: I'm a lonely girlof seventeen, enjoy sports, dancing, movies,and making friends. I'm a junior at highschool, and greatly interested in the pro-duction of moving pictures. In fact, Ihave high hopes of becoming a movieactress some day. I will be glad to ex-change snapshots, and guarantee an answerto every letter received. Hoping.
The Friendliest Corner 147
Girls, Blue-eyed Mary will appre-ciate your letters.Dear Miss Morris: I am a lonely girlof twenty-two, five feet two inches tall,have blue eyes, and a jolly disposition. Ilike outdoor sports, making friends, andpromise faithfully to answer all letters re-ceived. I will gladly exchange snapshots,and hope to hear from girls far and near,and of any age. I live in Philadelphia.Blue-eyed Mary.No matter what your interests,boys, you'll find Vick a congenialPal.Dear Miss Morris: I'm a young fel-low of almost twenty, interested in manythings, but specialize in aviation, amateurphotography, and movies. I like writingletters, and hope to hear from boys farand near, regardless of their hobbies. I'llexchange snapshots, and promise to answerall letters received. Boys, here's hopingI'll hear from all of you soon. Vick. She gets a lot of fun out of life.Dear Miss Morris: I am looking forsingle Pen Pals between seventeen andtwenty-one years of age. I am a girl ofeighteen, have recently graduated fromhigh school, like to read, write, dance,
sing,and usually manage to get a lot of fun outof life. I have a few hobbies, but my fa-vorite one is to write and receive long,chummy letters. So come on, all you galseverywhere, and send me a letter. I live inthe old Bay State, Massachusetts.Manya.A brother and sister.Dear Miss Morris: We would like tojoin your Corner and get many Pen Palsfrom everywhere. We are a brother andsister, age seventeen and nineteen, live inNew Jersey, and like to write letters. Weenjoy dancing, outdoor sports, and willgladly exchange photographs and snapshots.Come on, boys and girls, and let's get to-gether. We'll be waiting to hear from you.Marge and Martin.
From the land of bagpipes andkilts.Dear Miss Morris: I can't tell youhow wonderful it would be for me if Icould correspond with Pen Pals everywhere.I'm a girl of almost sixteen, live in Scot-land, am fond of sports, dancing, music,and like fun and gayety. I am especiallykeen about swimming and skating. I haveblue eyes, light hair, and am considered agood sport. I will answer all letters.Nan of Greenock.He wants to tell you about histravels.Dear Miss Morris: It has always beenmy ambition to write to Pals far and near.I have traveled some, and intend to travelsome more, so perhaps I would be an in-teresting correspondent. I'm a young manof twenty-three, and easy to get along with.I have lots of time for writing letters, andhope many of you Pals will not hesitate tolet me hear from you. Stevens.She's looking for something to fillher time.Dear Miss Morris: I am a very lone-some girl of sixteen. I hardly know whatto do with my time, now that I no longergo to school. I would certainly appreciatehearing from girls everywhere, and promiseto answer all letters. I am a tall blonde,love music, horseback riding, ball games,and reading. I am also fond of pets, andespecially cats. Please write to me, someone. Bella.Ohio Floyd is not a ladies man.Dear Miss Morris: Could you findspace in your Corner for my letter? Iwould like to hear from young men every-where, regardless of age. I'm a young fel-low of twenty-one, not exactly a ladiesman, can play the piano, and my favoritehobby is composing music. I guarantee ananswer to every letter, so won't some of youfellows write to me? I'm sure you won'tfind your time wasted. Ohio Floyd.
THE FRIEND IN NEEDDepartment Conducted by Laura Alston
Brown
Well-known Authority on Love and MarriageMrs.Brown will be glad to solve in these pages problems, on which you desire
advice. Your letters will be regarded confidentially and signatures will be
withheld.Although Mrs. Brown receives more letters than she can possibly print in the
department, she answers all the others by mail. So, lay your problem before
her with the knowledge that it will have her full attention.Address Mrs. Laura Alston Brown, Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine,
79 Seventh Avenue, New York, N. Y.
THERE are many likable youngyoung men with adequateincomes who could takeromance seriously and make thegirl they marry happy. But itwould seem that these light-heartedyoung men prefer the flashy type ofgirl, and apparently ignore thehome-loving, quiet girl who wouldmake an ideal wife.A girl would have to have plentyof courage to marry a man who con-siders existence a giddy round ofgood times, and who does not realizethat life and love have a finer,deeper meaning, far more importantthan any light-hearted gayeties ofthe moment.Roberta is in love with one ofthese flighty young men, and won-ders whether any girl has a chanceto be happy with a playboy.Dear Mrs. Brown: I am a girl oftwenty-one, well educated, and althoughmy father has a good business, I have ajob as assistant to an interior decorator.I like to be busy and feel a little useful. I am considered fairly good-looking, en-joy good times, sports, and have manyfriends. I suppose I ought to be quite
happy, but the truth is that I am miser-able.You see, I'm in love with a young manof twenty-five who is of the irresponsible,playboy type. He comes from a goodfamily, has always had enough money todo as he liked, and is quite handsome.Like many young men of his type, he isnever serious. The more girl friends hedates, the merrier. Most of them are giddyflappers who should know better than tofritter their time away on a young fellowwho will never offer them marriage.About five months ago he went on a wildride in his car. There were three fellowsand four girls in the party. Evidently theyhad had too much liquid cheer, and theyhad a smashed car before they knew it.Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt.Since then Phil has quieted down some-what, and promised to really behave.We have been dating steady twice aweek for about two months. My parentslike him a lot, and as for me, I'm des-perately in love with him. But how can agirl trust a boy like that? And if mar-riage does come along, would he stay put?It's hard for me to believe that an easy-going, lively young man like Phil is likelyto really settle down.I have often entertained the thought thatas soon as this last escapade of his is for-gotten, he will start chasing other girlsagain. Do you think I could trust himto be true to me?I wonder if other readers have had a
The Friend In Need 149
problem like mine? And if so, I wouldmore than appreciate it if they wouldwrite in and tell me what they would doif they were in my place.Phil has asked me to marry him at theend of the year, but as yet I have notpromised because I think it will do himgood to be kept guessing. We are wonder-ful friends, and get along fine. My par-ents say it's up to me. Roberta.When it comes to marriage, mydear, one can never actually predictwhat the future will bring. How-ever, a girl can tell fairly well whatstuff the young man is made of fromclose association with him and hisfamily.Many a young man with plentyof spending money and very littlerestraint is apt to go in for morefreedom than is good for him. Butit is not proof that he can neversettle down and make a dependablehusband. On the other hand, thereare young men who are apparentlyunable to take life and love seri-ously. They are always in a rushand think they are having a wonder-ful time, although the fact is thatthey seldom find real happiness.If you and Phil really love eachother, you might give him the bene-fit of the doubt, and a year or so inwhich to prove that he means tokeep his word about settling down.By the end of that time you shouldbe reasonably sure whether Phil hasa wabbly backbone, or if he can berelied upon.Dear Mrs. Brown: I am a girl ofeighteen, and have been going with a youngman for almost two years. He tells methat he cares for me deeply, and always in-sists on talking about the things we will doafter we are married.However, I cannot say that I care forhim in any other way except as a friend.I have thought of married life with him,and find that I would not be at all happy.I know I can never learn to love him.I have tried many times to break withhim, but he always puts me off, saying,that a girl of eighteen is too young to
know what she wants, and that I would besorry if I ever broke with him.But I don't think he is right. I knowthat if I were in love with him I wouldbe happy when we are together.Perhaps you will think I am young andsilly, but this boy and I are so differentfrom each other. He has lived in the cityonly about five years, and doesn't like itmuch. He sees absolutely no sense indancing, parties, and other ways of enjoy-ing oneself. It seems I like all the thingshe doesn't care for.Please advise me what to do. Don't youthink I should drop him and have a chanceto meet other young men, and find a boyI could love? Alicia.You may be young, dear, buthardly silly. It is easy to under-stand that, any young man in lovewould not like the idea of giving upthe girl in question. But surely hecannot be so blind as to refuse torealize that one-sided loves bringonly unhappiness, and that sooneror later a break is inevitable?I'm sure we, sympathize withhim; but at the same time, it seemspointless on his part to try to forcehimself upon you, when the wholething causes you so much distress.Try again, and this time be morefirm. Tell him kindly but definitelythat you are sure you cannot returnhis affection, and that it would befor his own good for you to part. Ifhe should wish to see you sometimesas a friend, it will be up to him.Dear Mrs. Brown: I am twenty yearsold. I married a little over two years ago.My husband is not quite three years olderthan I. During the time we were goingtogether we never went many places. Sincewe have been married it is more or lessthe same way.Sometimes one would think my husbandwas forty, the way he wants to stay homenights. Sunday is about the only day wego anywhere.My husband doesn't care for shows, danc-ing, or any kind of sports, except hunting.I never go with him then because he al-ways takes a group of men along.I enjoy shows, dancing, and all kinds ofsports, especially swimming and horseback
150 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
riding. My husband seems to think thesethings are rather foolish, though I don'tsee why. I knew before we were marriedthat he cared very little for the things Ilike, but hardly thought about it.Then there is another problem which Ihave tried to combat. If we are out ridingwith another couple, and, are having a goodtime, it generally ends up with my hus-band's getting drunk, and spoiling what lit-tle fun I manage to have. I have trieddrinking with him, thinking maybe hewouldn't drink so much, but it only madematters worse.He makes a good salary, and we have acar. We could afford to have a good timetogether and be fine companions if he wouldonly be more agreeable. I love him dearly,and he is as good to me as any husbandcan be in other ways than those I men-tioned.Mrs. Brown, is there any way I couldget him to take me out more and enjoy,the things I do? I have tried everythingI know, even to talking it over with him,but it doesn't seem to do any good. Iknow he loves me, but I don't understandwhy he can't quit drinking and be a realcompanion.I will appreciate any suggestion youmake. Unhappy Wife.Being married to a man who doesnot care for any of the simplepleasures his wife enjoys would behard on any woman. It would seemonly logical to suppose that if yourhusband loves you, and knows hisdrinking makes you so unhappy, anappeal to the affectionate side of hisnature would encourage him to bemore moderate.To be fair, of course, you mustconsider the fact that he is good toyou in other ways, as you say.Wouldn't it be possible for you toenjoy with a girl friend some of thesports you like? And although yourhusband dislikes dancing, it oughtnot to be difficult for you to arrangeinformal parties at your home everynow and then, and dance to yourheart's content.Every husband should make aneffort to join in at least some of thesocial activities his wife enjoys, if
the marriage is to be a happy one.Husbands should avoid making itnecessary for their wives to coax andflatter them into doing things!Dear Mrs. Brown: When I was fifteenyears old, I was obliged to plan my wed-ding rather hurriedly. My husband wasfive years older than I, but we were verymuch in love with each other.My mother, was dead, and until I gotmarried I kept house for my father. How-ever, my husband's parents wanted us tolive with them, and although I didn't wantto, I gave in. At that time my mother-in-law was running a rooming house.Before I was married, my husband'smother seemed to like me, and wanted meto go with her son against my father'swishes. Like a foolish child I didn't listento him.After I was married, my mother-in-lawtreated me very well. But when my babywas two months old she changed; shecouldn't be mean enough. She wanted toshow me what to do and what not to doabout the baby, saying I was too youngto know anything.Then she started nagging me constantly,insulted me in front of friends, and eventold the girls who helped her with thehousework to flirt with my husband tomake me jealous. Every time she got myhusband alone she'd tell him all sorts oflies about me.We lived with her for three years, andthen my husband and I moved away.Sometime afterward a friend of mine toldme that before I married, my husband gotone of his mother's hired girls into trouble,and that there was a child.I knew this girl, because she was stillwith my mother-in-law when I got mar-ried. I asked my husband about this, andhe said it was all a lie, and that he knewnothing about it. My mother-in-law justlaughed and said somebody was trying tomake trouble by telling lies.Last Christmas, however, I found a letterbelonging to my mother-in-law. It wasfrom that girl, and she talked about herchild in such a way that I knew my hus-band was the father.When my husband came home I showedhim the letter and he owned up and saidit was true. But he said he never lovedthis girl, and didn't want me to find outthe truth. He also said he couldn't pre-vent his folks going to see this girl andthe baby.
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The next time my mother-in-law cameto see me I told her just what I thought ofher. I forbade my two children to go nearher, as she used to take them to her houseand talk to them about me. I told hernever to step inside my door again.I tried to be her friend, but she didn'twant me. So I made up my mind not tocare for her company; she doesn't seem toknow what friendship is, anyway. She hascaused me only heartache ever since I'veknown her.As for my husband, he does not drinkor smoke, and is trying to be a man. Hetells me that he loves me, and that he hadnever really loved any other girl before, butI don't feel the same toward him.I used to think there was no other manlike him, until I found this out. I am onlytwenty-four now, and I hate to think thatmy marriage is spoiled.Do you think I did right to refuse mymother-in-law to see my children? Everytime she came she was looking for an argu-ment, and meddling in my affairs.Miserable Bertha.Whenever anything happens todisillusion us about some one welove, life and love never seem quitethe same. But it does not meanthat we must give up hope of everfinding a measure of happiness.It is indeed regrettable when in-laws do not give two young peoplea free hand in working out their ownmarriage problems. Sometimes in-laws try to be helpful, but their de-sire to help seems to turn intodefeat. And sooner or later otherelements creep into a relationshipthat might otherwise have remainedtolerable.While it was not commendable onyour husband's part to have evadedthe responsibility of his formerromance, the fact that it all hap-pened before you met and marriedhim should enable you to stay andgive him another chance for yourchildren's sakes.No matter what the past mayhave been, if a man tries to playfair, he deserves an opportunity toprove that he is sincere.
Dear Mrs. Brown: I am desperatelyin need of a friend's advice, and as I haveno mother to turn to, I hope you will helpme.I can't remember any real happiness inlife until a short while ago. I am twenty.At sixteen I married, not for love, but tobe independent. But my marriage lastedonly three months, and then I was adivorcee.A year later I married again, but I onlyspent seven dreadfully unhappy monthswith a man any woman could have. Itended up by his beating me to the extentof putting me in the hospital, where Istayed for almost four months. Of course,I sued for divorce when I got out.By this time I was heartsick, disap-pointed, and life seemed a failure. How-ever, three months after my second divorceI met an old school chum of mine, and aweek later we were married.For six weeks we were divinely happy.Then I was rushed to the hospital for anemergency operation. While I was ill, myhusband met a woman, let her drive mycar, and gave her a valuable diamond ringthat belonged to me.Several weeks after I came home I caughtthem in my car. However, I wanted tomake a success of the marriage and didnot try to cause trouble. A month latermy husband took the money I had to paythe hospital bill. My grandfather hadgiven me this money, as my husband wasout of work. I later found out he'd losthis job because he had stolen money wherehe worked. Once more I was granted adivorce.For the past eight months I have livedalone without faith in the future. Have Ibeen the cause of all my failures? I hardlythink so.Here is my present problem. Just be-fore Christmas I met a very charming chap.He's only a year older than I. We wereconstantly together for ten days, then hereturned to his job in another city. Ivisited him for five days and have just re-turned. However, my mind is in a turmoil. I am deeply in love for the first time,and have dropped all other friends since Ifirst met this man. But he has heard con-siderable talk about my past. There's al-ways some one to make my story a biggerone than it really is. Now he is very sus-picious and jealous of me.He has told me he could really love me,if he dared. But he doesn't want to behurt, and he doesn't completely trust me. If he only knew the heartaches and un-
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happiness I have been through since I wassixteen, he'd know I'd never hurt any one,regardless of how little they meant to me.Least of all the man who has made mewant to make something of myself.He has given me a new hope, yet hebreaks it down at times with an outburstof uncontrollable temper. Although hehurts me very deeply, I love him so ter-ribly much I forgive him immediately.How can I explain my unhappy past tohim in such a way that he will be con-vinced I am really in love with him, andthat I am willing to live on what he canoffer me?We have decided to wait, but I can'tstand this separation and his doubts whenwe are apart. I am true to him, and haveno thought for any other man.Won't you please try to help a girl whothinks she has had more than her share ofhard knocks? Ermine.It is hard to understand why itshould, take any effort at all to con-vince your friend that you are reallyin love with him. Surely, having,been married and divorced morethan once in search of happinessshould not be held against you.I would suggest that you resumeyour former friendships, or makenew friends, and do not cut your-self off from the companionship ofother people. It is always a mis-take for any woman to drop everyone simply because she has at lastmet the one man.Perhaps if your friend could notfeel so sure of you, he would be lessindifferent. There is no necessityfor you to apologize to him for yourprevious marriages. If he reallyloves you, the past shouldn't matter.Dear Mrs. Brown: This is an answerto Socrates, who has such a biased opinionof girls. I hope you will find room toprint it, as it is meant for Blue Barney,too.The things I'd like to say to you, Soc-rates, wouldn't look at all well on paper.But of all the conceited, boneheads youtake the prize. Who do you think you are,giving out an opinion like that of all girls,just because you have met a couple who areout for a good time and nothing else?
There are plenty of girls who don't goin for petting and drinking at all, andthose who go in for excessive drinking andsmoking are very much in the minority. Ifyou had sense enough to look in the rightplaces, you'd find your ideal. Of courseyou won't find her at the wild parties youspeak of, cheap taverns, and places ofquestionable reputation. How could you?Certainly no girl who has any self-respectis going to be found in such places.And there are very few girls whom youwill find sitting at home by the fire
knittingsocks for grandpa. All girls want to havea good time, naturally, but not the wayyou seem to think they do. There is muchenjoyment in taking long walks through thecountry, going to movies and dances, andeven sitting at home nights with a fellowwho enjoys a friendly conversation.Personally, I think boys are to be blamedfor what some girls are. Boys don't carea hang about a girl as long as they have agood time. If a boy takes a girl out andshe doesn't consent to go to some dark spotto park and submit to his kissing and maul-ing, she is considered a flat tire. Frankly,I prefer being called a flat tire.With ideas like yours, you're nothing lessthan a simpleton. I could write a lot morein this letter, but I want it to be published.
A Connecticut Stenographer.After reading a letter like theabove, there seems to be little doubtthat some young men get off on thewrong foot because of their egotism.Necking and petting may have been-yesterday's fun. But girls of to-daypossess a goodly amount of commonsense and the determination to stickto high ideals, in spite of the factthat they are going places and do-ing things.And here's another:Dear Mrs. Brown: If I were as narrow-minded as Socrates and Blue Barney, Imight make an equally vicious statementabout the conduct of most men. However,living in a big city has made me broad-minded enough to know that there are asdecent men and women to-day as in ourmothers days. I say that sincerely, al-though I've seen some very poor examples. I am a girl of twenty, and live in Chi-cago. I am considered verv good-lookingand have a pleasing personality. I am alsosensible and practical. But I must com-
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fess that I have had my share of unwelcomeattentions from men who should haveknown better.I'm a high-school graduate, and becauseof poor business conditions I lost my jobas secretary and had to take the first jobthat came along. That was as waitressbeyond city limits in a so-called respectabletavern.In comparison to my previous knowledgeof life, I learned the cruder facts of humannature. The people I met were of thewrong kind, and I soon became disillu-sioned. I distrusted all men.I lost faith so completely that whenfriends called to take me out, I preferredto stay home and read.Fortunately, I told my troubles to an oldfriend. He said I had no reason to feelthat way, because I was merely an on-looker, while those fools openly petted insmoke-filled rooms and drank bad whisky.He advised me to get a job in a differentplace, pick my friends more carefully, andespecially stop being alone so much andavoiding all men friends.I followed his advice. At first, I foundthat all boys expected you to smoke, drinkand neck until all hours.However, I discarded those friends andtried to find others.Right now my ideals are normal again.I have met many decent young men andhave many good times without cause forcomplaint.My advice to Socrates is to stop being acrab and look for friends elsewhere. If heis really as nice a young man as he says,it shouldn't be hard for him to meet nicepeople, and interest himself in some equallynice girl.I know that from now on I will continueto look for a man who comes up to mystandards, and I hope I have the patience,because I've met many poor examples.When I have no place to go, I sew orknit and try my hand at the things thatmake a girl a successful housekeeper.Girls, do you think it's foolish of me towait and hope that some day I will find theright man? I'd like to hear from any onewho reads this letter. I really think thereare many good men left. Am I wrong? Babs.I am sure you are not wrong inyour belief that there are many goodmen left. And I agree with youthat it isn't fair to judge every oneby the shortcomings of a few. Per-
haps after reading these two letters,Socrates and Blue Barney will taketime to think things over.However, here is a young manwho agrees with Socrates that nicegirls are almost nonexistent.Dear Mrs. Brown: I don't knowwhether this letter will ever find its wayinto print. But after reading Socrates'sletter I would certainly like to shake handswith a real man.I agree with him that girls these days are"nothing but playthings who revel in pet-ting and kisses; drink, paint, and smoke likea chimney." None of them have any com-mon sense. Every girl I have ever dateddrank, smoked, and having a good time washer special interest. If she met a fellowwho could spend more on her than her cur-rent boy friend, all the better, and the oldfriend was given the well-known air with-out so much as a "thank you."Socrates said, that if a fellow isn't whatthe girls call a good sport, and if he
doesn'tjoin in drinking like the others, he is
seldomasked anywhere. His deductions are cer-tainly correct.I don't care for liquor. I could never seewhat fun people could have when theywere tight and couldn't see straight. As foreasy kisses, there's no glamour when a girlkisses every fellow who takes her out. Butthat seems to be what the girls want.Girls also complain that boys get "fresh"and forget to behave like gentlemen. Girlsmay complain, but they fall for a fellowjust the same, if only to add another "scalp"to their list.Maybe you'll say I feel this way becauseI haven't met the "only girl." I've met lotsof girls, but couldn't fall in love with any
ofthem, because I saw nothing to fall in lovewith. I really don't believe there are anyhonest-to-goodness girls, and the boys Iknow think the same.I'm twenty-three, have had two years ofcollege, and am now working in a con-tractor's office. I'm considered good-look-ing, and have been told I have a likablepersonality. So I don't think that the rea-son I haven't found the right girl is be-cause I'm not presentable.Another thing that jars me is that girlslack loyalty. They are pals when a fellowcan take them places, but when he's broke-well, that's his hard luck, and they openlyadmit there are plenty of other fellows whodon't have to economize.I have heard of only one ease where the
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girl remained engaged to the fellow afterhe'd lost his job and had to get on his feetagain. Call that loyalty, when a girl can'tstick to a man because he's down?So there you are, girls. You're alwayscomplaining about the boys. But I'm at aloss as to how a fellow can find a decentgirl; a girl who has one or two old-fashionedideas left, and who would really be inter-ested in home-making rather than all-nightparties. Busbee.I believe I'll just sit back and letyou girls tell Busbee how he mayfind his heart's desire. How aboutit, family?Dear Mrs. Brown: Perhaps my prob-lem may seem trivial to you, but I wouldlike to have your advice. Our home wasbroken up by divorce, and I went to livewith my father, until two years ago whenI went to stay with my mother.Since the divorce, mother has been verybitter, and now she doesn't want me to goout with any boy who is at all serious aboutme. There is one boy four years my senior.I am twenty. He says he loves me, and Iam sure I love him; but mother thinks Icouldn't be happy with him because he istoo quiet. He doesn't care for dances,parties, or even card games. But I don'treally mind.I was in love once before, but the boydisappointed me terribly, and now I can'tseem to trust this young man as I probablyshould when he tells me how much he cares. Sometimes I imagine that it won't last,or that he will get tired of me. However,at other times I think he is old enough toknow his own mind. He had had other girlfriends before I started going with him.He wants me to marry him at the endof the year. But I really don't see howI can marry him, feeling as I do. Besides,my mother wants me to go out with otherboys and forget him. She thinks we arenot well enough suited to each other.Of course, I don't want to break withhim. Do you think we could be happy to-gether? If we couldn't, then I might aswell give him up now instead of letting himthink that I'll marry him.Uncertain Marion.There is only one thing to do ifyou are not certain of your feelingsfor this boy, and that is not to thinkof anything as serious as marriage.At least, not now.
No doubt your mother meanswell, and, understanding life somuch better than you do, dear, sheis probably right in saying that ifyou and this boy have such dif-ferent likes and dislikes there wouldbe friction. However, just becauseyour mother's marriage ended so un-happily, it does not mean that yourswill not work out.Give yourself more time to thinkit over, and don't hesitate to haveother friends. If you can make yourfriend understand that you want tobe fair, and have his happiness atheart as much as your own, he maynot resent the fact that you are soundecided.Dear Mrs. Brown: For the past sixmonths I have been in love with a girlwho lives in the same house. I have beenout with her quite a lot, and have told herI am in love with her. However, althoughshe likes me, and likes to go out with me,she tells me frankly that she is not in lovewith me.I'm quite heartbroken about the wholething. Although she says she doesn't loveme, she leads me to think that she does.Her father doesn't like me because I havea quick temper, and I can't go to thisgirl's home. As we live in the same house,however, it's easy for us to see each other.I am twenty-one, and she is sixteen.She's a fine, sensible girl, and always thelife of the party when we are out to-gether. I know I can never love anothergirl as I love her, and I doubt whetherI can be happy without her. She seemsto be quite grown up.She admits she is fond of me; but thatit isn't love, and has suggested that wewait two or three years to see how thingsturn out. Do you think that would be agood idea? I'm afraid that if we waitshe may fall for some other fellow later onShould I ask her not to go with otherboys?Won't you please advise me and tell mewhat you think would be best for us todo? I know I will never be really happyunless she marries me. Willy of Ohio.I can well understand how dis-couraged you feel, but where loveand marriage are concerned, it is
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only natural for a girl to hesitatewhen she is in doubt about her ownfeelings.However, you need not lose allhope that this girl will ever consideryou seriously. And waiting two orthree years is as sound and sensiblea suggestion as any one could offerin a problem of this kind. By theend of that time you will both knowhow you stand in each other's re-gard.But holding a girl back from otherfriendships would show selfishnesson your part, my boy, and it wouldnot prevent her from falling in lovewith some one else. If you two de-cide to wait, I'm sure you will findthat a girl seldom turns down ayoung man who proves himself agenerous, sympathetic, and devotedfriend.
Dear Mrs. Brown: A year ago I meta boy who was a night-club entertainer. Ican't say it was love at first sight, becausehe seemed too much of a flirt. He knewmy sister and her husband, and he cameto our table for a drink.Ronny and I had a friendly chat, andbefore we left he said he would like toknow me better. I told him I lived in an-other town, and that I was going home in acouple of days. And although he coaxedme, I refused to give him my address, inspite of the fact that I knew he couldeasily get it from either my sister orbrother-in-law.Two weeks later my sister and her hus-band came to see us, and I had the sur-prise of my life when I saw Ronny withthem. He stayed more than a week, andbefore he left we announced our engage-ment.He wrote to me every day, and I wasthe happiest girl in the world until I dis-covered that I was to become a mother.All my castles tumbled. I wrote to Ronnyand said we ought to be married at once,but he didn't even answer my letter. I
HOT HOLLYWOOD NEWSMonthly Street & Smith's Picture Play All News Stands 15c
156 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
almost lost my mind when I realized thatall my love was just a passing fancy tohim.Of course, I couldn't let my folks knowwhat had happened, so I went to stay withmy sister. She lived in the same town asRonny's mother and his older brother,Murray. My sister said I ought to tellRonny's mother how he had treated me,but I couldn't do it, especially as I reallyliked her. She is a fine woman.Ronny's mother and I talked about theengagement, but I didn't have the heartto tell her that I no longer heard fromRonny, or that he was responsible for mak-ing my life so miserable. She wanted meto come to see her often.The next time I went to see her, I metRonny's brother, Murray. We talkedabout different things, including my com-ing marriage to Ronny. On the way homeMurray told me that he knew why I wasso blue, because the last time he sawRonny he heard the whole miserable story.He said that Ronny didn't want to marryme or any girl because it would spoil hiscareer.I can't tell you how that hurt me. Isent back Ronny's ring and said he couldgo right ahead with his career and thatwe were through for good.I met Murray again and he was verysweet. He wanted to come to see me andtake me out, and I was glad to have afriend. We became good friends.One day I was cleaning house, and fell,from a ladder. I had to go to the hospital.My baby was born dead. When I realizedwhat had happened, all my feeling forRonny died, too.When I was well again Murray, begancoming to see me regularly. But Icouldn't stay with my sister forever; andwhen I told him that I was going homesoon, he took me ia his arms and askedme to marry him.I began to feel alive again. Murray wasvery good to me, and what girl doesn'tappreciate kindness when she is in trouble? However, although I love Murray morethan I ever loved Ronny, he said that heprobably didn't have the right to ask meto marry him since I was in love hisbrother.Of course, when I told him how I felt,it was different. But do you think that Ishould marry him, knowing about Ronnyand me? Do you think he would throwit up to me later on?I'm only nineteen and Murray is twenty-five. I want to marry him and live hap-
pily, but under the circumstances I'mafraid to take such a serious step. Youropinion will be greatly appreciated.Downhearted.There is no reason in the worldwhy you and Murray couldn't behappy together, unless, of course,you believe that he is the type ofman who might indulge in the un-pleasant habit of bringing up thepast whenever something happenedto upset domestic peace. Knowinghim as well as you do, you shouldbe able to determine this fact betterthan any one else.A man must be indeed generousand understanding to really dis-regard the past and be interestedonly in the future. Many men ap-pear to be unable to reach this pointof forgetfulness, while there aresome who never stir the dead ashesof the past.Why not give yourself a littlemore time to study Murray? It isbetter to take your time, my dear,than to rush into a situation whichmay bring you more grief. If yourfriend can close the door to the past,you two could probably be veryhappy together.Dear Mrs. Brown: About five yearsago I met a young man and, have beenin love with him ever since. He has oftentold me that he loves me better than anyone in the world.My parents, however, wouldn't allow meto go with him. But I slipped out tomeet him whenever I could, and they neverknew. He is now twenty-five, and I ameighteen. My parents say I am not oldenough to be sure He's the right man forme to marry, and they are sure he isn't.In order to please them, I tried to be-come interested in other boys, but everytime I met Jack, I'd forget the others.He seemed to feel the same way aboutme, and would beg me to stop going with-other boys and go out with him only.I usually did, though we continued to seeeach other secretly: Then some one, toldmy father, that I was meeting Jack, andhe made me promise not to see him again.I began keeping, company with a cer-
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tain boy in the neighborhood whom Jackasked me not to go with, but I thoughtthat it would be a good way to forget him. Jack began going with another girl anddrank more than ever. He was in the habitof drinking, though not to excess. That isone reason why my father objects to Jack.I continued going with this other boy,Bill, for a few months. Then I met Jackagain, and he begged me to drop Bill.Loving Jack as I did, I agreed. I tried toget my father to let me go with Jack,but he refused. So again I had to giveJack up.Time passed, and though I still lovedJack, I was lonesome and blue. I had tohave some fun, so dad let me go with Bill.But whenever I happened to meet Jack,he always begged me not to go out withany one else.During all this time Jack had only afew dates with other girls, but he didn'tstop drinking. When I begged him to doso, he said he'd stop "some day."Then I found a job away from home. Itgave me a chance to see Jack often, andwe could go out without being watched.We were very happy, but some one tat-tled, and my father told me that if I didn'tquit seeing Jack he would make me giveup my job and come home.Jack was working at that time, so wedecided to get married, then no one couldseparate us. We even decided on thewedding date. But as it drew nearer,Jack heard that he was going to be laidoff. And as my job was not going to lastmuch longer we thought that it would bebetter to wait until we were financiallyprepared for marriage.He didn't stop drinking, but kept prom-ising me that he would after we were mar-ried. Dad wouldn't agree for us to gotogether, so Jack said, "What good will itdo me to quit drinking? I love you somuch that life isn't worth living withoutyou."Then I was laid off and went home.One night Jack was drunk and did some-thing that humiliated me terribly. I de-cided that he would never stop drinkingand that I might just as well give him up. We have not had a date for more thantwo months, but I can't forget him. Ilove him, and I know I'll never stop lov-ing him. I have been out with Bill again,but there seems to be no solution to myproblem.The other day I saw Jack again, and hepromised to stop drinking. He said hehadn't had a drink for a week, and tells
every one that he has stopped drinking.He wants me to make up, and plan for usto be together always.What should I do? If I marry him Iwill break my parents hearts. If I don't,my own heart will break. I can't livewithout him. Annette of Michigan.No problem is so hopeless that itcannot be worked out one way oranother. But time and a strong de-sire to iron out difficulties are neces-sary in order to make the remedyeffective.In the first place, my dear, if yourparents object to your going withJack only because of his drinking,then it would seem reasonable tosuppose that, if he loves you, hewould be eager to give up liquorand make every effort to convincethem he is worthy of your love.Why not tell your parents that youwould like to give Jack a year or soto make good, and that in the mean-time you will have other friends,too? That solution, it seems to me,would be fair to every one con-cerned. It would give Jack anopportunity to turn over a new leaf,and show you he can be dependedupon.A man who is really in love willdo everything within his power inorder to overcome obstacles thatprevent him from marrying the girlwho has captured his heart.Dear Mrs.-Brown: I am a young sailorof twenty-one, and if you can give me someadvice, I will certainly appreciate it.Ever since I was sixteen I have founda great deal of satisfaction in traveling andbeing on the go. I went to Englandon a tramp steamer at that age, and quitwhen I was seventeen. Then I joined thenational guard for three years. After thatI joined the navy, and I enjoy it as longas I can keep going.Here's my problem: I am in love witha very sweet, girl, and would like to de-vote the rest of my life to making herhappy. However, how can I settle downto married life when I have no trade?I am really and truly in love with this
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girl, but it seems rather hard to make peo-ple believe that a sailor can be a one-girlman. I still have a year and a half toserve. In the meantime, we are both plan-ning for our future:Another thing that worries me is this:Although I am in love and would like tosettle down, at times I think I couldn'tbe happy because I would no longer begoing places. I suppose you will under-stand and not be "thumbs down" on me.I met this girl three years ago, andhaven't thought of any one else since. Shesays that when my time is up we'll bemarried. Do you think we should, even ifI have no job, although, we could fall backon the little I have saved?Maybe this doesn't sound like a prob-lem. But I really have no one to ask foradvice, and I feel sure you will offer somesuggestion I can follow.Smiling Sailor.Judging from your letter, it seemsyou have not shaken off the fascina-tion of wanderlust enough to becompletely happy if you settleddown. On the other hand, if youreally love this girl as you say, youmay be so happy that you will loseall desire to be on the go.The sensible and practical thingto do after you leave service wouldbe to find what work you are bestadapted to, and stick it out. Whileyou are working you might be ableto take a night course in some tradein which you are interested, so thatyou would be assured of a steady in-come when you married.Give yourself more time, my boy,and be frank with your girl friend.Talk things over with her; she willnot resent your taking her into yourfull confidence.Dear Mrs. Brown: I met my husbandwhen I was eighteen, and we were mar-ried shortly afterward. For a little over ayear we were very happy. Then my hus-band was transferred to another town. Butinstead of taking me with him he left meat his mother's, telling me he would sendfor me as soon as he had found rooms.But that very night he stopped at ahotel, and took a strange girl to a wildparty. The next day he went to the town
where he was going to work, and becamefriendly with a woman he met. They trav-eled around together for two weeks. Henever sent me a cent.Then he came to see me, and stayedthree days. I was an expectant mother atthe time. He said he couldn't find rooms,and that was why he didn't send for me.Although later I found out about this otherwoman; and that he had lied to me.After he left I went to work, and whenI had saved enough money to pay thefare I went to him. The minute I sawhim I knew that something was wrong.He said that as long as we couldn't havea home of our own, we might as well stopat a hotel. But I didn't like that.I found work, rented a furnished room,and tried to take care of myself. He stilllived with me as my husband. One night Ihappened to find a letter he had evidentlydropped. It was from this second woman,and since I've read it I have been miser-able.Then my husband told me the wholestory, said that he loved her, and that thesooner he could get his freedom the better. My husband lost his job on her account.She went back to her own home State, butcorresponded with my husband. I havesome of her letters. I thought I wouldkeep them, as they might prove good evi-dence when I sued for divorce. But Icouldn't make up my mind what to do. Iwanted my baby to have a father.However, my husband became friendlywith another woman and went away withher. By this time I knew I couldn't keepmy job very long, so the law brought himback and put him in jail.He promised to look after me, and beggedme to drop the charges against him; Ifinally gave in. He said he still loved me,and was sorry about the past. He seemedso heartbroken over the whole thing, thatI thought he was sincere. We left townand lived on some of the money I hadsaved up for my hospital bills.We now have two children, but I feelas if I'd rather do anything than stay withmy husband. Life is so hard, and mar-riage doesn't seem at all worth while. Myhusband is good to me, and as far as Iknow he hasn't tried to go with otherwomen. He swears that what happenedwill never happen again. But I just can'tbelieve him. Can I do anything to makemy life happier? Mrs. V. C. B.It is a tragedy that marriage,which begins with every promise of
The Friend In Need 159
success and happiness, should sooften become a sorry mix-up. Butalthough ife is hard, and marriagemay sometimes seem not at allworth while, it is our job to showat least a little courage. And wherethere are children, a special effortis required.Hard as it is, and sometimes im-possible, to rebuild broken trust, nomarriage can last without patience,common sense, and self-sacrifice.Sacrifices made for those we love arenever in vain, and sooner or later,in one way or another, loyalty anddevotion begin to pay dividends.So keep your chin up, my dear.Evidently your husband means tomake good his promises. A littleencouragement on your part willperhaps make the relationship stillmore agreeable. Try to forget thepast. It will not be easy, I know;but you can make the future somuch brighter not only for the chil-dren and your husband, but foryourself, too. Good luck!Dear Mrs. Brown: "Four years ago Imet a man fifteen years my senior. I waseighteen then. He is very good-looking,and his folks are well-educated people. Bobmakes a fine salary, but money seems tomean little to him, because he is the typeof man who would give his last cent awayto friends, if they needed his help.Bob drinks and gambles, but I don'treally object to this, because he neverdrinks to excess.When we first met I didn't know muchabout him. But after going with him forthree or four months, I found out that healso dated another girl. But it was toolate for me. I was already deeply in lovewith him.Bob and I have been everything to eachother. He tells me that he could neverforget me. I know he thinks a lot of meand would do anything I asked him.When my father died a short time ago,Bob attended to most of the details, andhe is always around whenever I need him.However, he cannot seem to forget thisother girl.I know she doesn't love him, because the
only time she dates him is when she knowshe can spend a lot of money. He takesher anywhere she wants to go. This girlis teaching school and is supporting herparents and a brother. Another thing isthat if she ever marries she can never bea mother. And Bob loves children.Bob knows I love him so much I woulddo anything in the world for him. Thedifference in our ages does not matter, be-cause whenever I have been out with boysnear my own age they seemed silly.Bob is very proud that I love him asmuch as I do, even though others may sayI love him not wisely but too well. Heisn't the type that would talk about agirl. He is very popular, but doesn't seemto care whether he ever gets married or not. I wish I knew what to do to make himthink of marriage. Won't you please ad-vise me? Dotty.To use an old axiom, "You canlead a horse to water, but you can'tmake him drink." I'm afraid, dear,that if your friend has felt no re-sponsibility to marry you so far, itis very doubtful if he ever will. It issad but true that in most cases ofthis kind, the girl is left-holding thebag, while the man transfers hisinterest to some one else.My most sincere advice to you,Dotty, is to drop this man at onceand give yourself time to forget theentire incident. It will not be easyat first, but later on when you meeta man who will really deserve yourlove, you will be glad that you madea break.Real love never thrives on thingsthat must be hidden from the restof the world. Real love is open andaboveboard, and is always altar-bound.Dear Mrs. Brown: I married at theage of sixteen, after going steady for threeyears. For four years we were very happy,but my husband was in the habit of go-ing out about twice a week. He said hehad to go to club meetings, or out withthe boys, and I didn't object.Then my mother died, and about fourweeks later a girl friend told me that shesaw my husband at a dance with anothergirl. I asked him, and he denied it.
160 Street & Smith's Love Story Magazine
I told my friend about it, and she saidshe had known for a long time that myhusband was dating different women, butshe just couldn't tell me because I was sowrapped up in him! As it often happens,by the time the wife finds out anything,every one else knows all about it.He was always good to me, and neverobjected to getting me anything I wanted.One-nigh I caught him talking to a girl onthe street. He had told me earlier in theevening that he had to work that night.Then my husband left town, and didn'ttell me where he, was going. This girl leftthe same day, although she came back in aweek. My husband stayed away for al-most three weeks. Then I received a let-ter from him in which he said that hestill loved me, and would send for me, ashe was thinking of staying in that town.I didn't answer his letter, and when hecame, back, I made up with him for thebaby's sake, and because I still loved himwith all my heart. I think it's too badthat some of us can't help loving a man- when we know he isn't worthy of our love.My husband still goes out on the aver-age, of two nights a week, but I don't be-lieve the excuses he offers. I can't seemto trust him any more. Girls sometimescall him up right here at home, and whenhe happens to be home, the minute he hearsthe girl's voice he hangs up and tells methere was no one on the line.Do you think I should break with myhusband? We have lived with my fatherever since I was married, and I really wouldhave no place to go. I have no brothers orsisters, and have never worked.Although my father and my husband getalong fairly well, my father wants me toleave my husband. He says he will takecare of me and the baby. He is grievingover mother's death, and I won't have anyone if he ever goes. He tries to comfortme by saying that if anything ever hap-
pens to him there will be enough left totake care of the baby and me.Maybe all this sounds foolish, Mrs.Brown. But I just had to write and askyour opinion, and tell me what you thinkwould be best for me to do. I'm really un-decided about leaving my husband. I sup-pose I feel this way because I still care.Mary de L.But don't you think, my dear,that it wouldn't be quite fair tosaddle your father with the problemof taking care of you and the baby,when that is your husband's job?It is heartbreaking, of course,when a husband disregards his wife'slove and devotion. But it wouldnot ease your heartache if you wereto break with your husband, if youlove him as you say you do.It might help if you tried to reacha better understanding with him.His actions in the past were not atall commendable, of course. How-ever, if you appeared to trust him,it might have a favorable effect and,in time, you two could again find asatisfactory degree of happiness to-gether.You know, Mary, there is some-thing in the old saying, "Nothingventured, nothing gained." Try tomake yourself more attractive andinteresting, and a little mysterious.It will be more effective than show-ing openly how hurt you are, andhow hard it is for you to believe inhim.
LS-10F
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