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Show JMKari-yPgtfh Smith IJU ties at the golf club and Jim went back to his regular routine in Judge Hetchcote's office. Apparently Appar-ently Jim was the same as he had ever been conscientious, steady, level-headed. He worked nearly every night, studying or going over briefs. After dinner each evening he romped with Danny. Later Jim drove Cathy over to the night club. Sometimes he stayed stay-ed at the office late enough to bring her home. If he had suffered suffer-ed a wound, he said nothing. Only his mother's eyes could have detected de-tected the faint lines that tightened tighten-ed about Jim's mouth and even she could not be certain of his unhappiness. In the same fashion Anne had no adequate excuse for her anxiety in regard to Berenice. She seemed more contented after she began working in Guy Shelton's office. Her mother thought it a good thing for Berenice to have less time to play around with her idle and sophisticated women friends and Anne was positive that was why Bill had yielded the point. To Janet also those four weeks had a sinister quality, like the dead calm preceding a hurricane. Nevertheless, the work on Tony Ryan's house was processing apace. I "Darlings," exclaimed Anne, "how did you know I was wishing for you? You haven't eaten, I hope." "I'm not hungry," said Bill with a dull Hush. Anne noticed that Berenice ignored ig-nored his remark quite as if he had not spoken. "Are you sure you have enough to go around?" she asked her mother. Anne laughed. She and Janet were scurrying about setting extra places. j "Bill's had another salary cut," said Berenice. "We thought we'd have to give up the apartment and I was sick, simply sick, and all my friends said it was a shame. So May Shelton called up Guy and he said he could use me as a file cleric or something in his office. The salary isn't large, but it's more than Bill's cut and after all I had nearly finished my business course when I stopped to get married." mar-ried." A dark flush crept to the roots of Bill's black hair. "I think a wife ought to be willing to make the best of her husband's earnings. earn-ings. I suppose that's what it meant when you went through all that for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer stuff." Berenice glared at him. "You've always thought Mother perfect, and she works." Anne winced. "I've been compelled com-pelled to," she said. The telephone rang and Janet jumped up to answer. "It's for you, Jum," she said. SYNOPSIS Life grows complicated for the children of plucky Anne Phillips, who, by working in a department store, has supported them since her husband's death. Her married daughter, Berenice, quarrels with her husband, Hill. Jim, the son, is infatuated with the rich Helen Sanders, although Anne suspects that Cathy, the widowed little dancer in the apartment across (he hall, is in love with him. And Janet, Anne's younger daughter, is unhappy because her well-to-do friends neglect her, and insist on believing that she is annoyed over Cordon Key's interest in Priscilla jLeigh, Janet is studying interior decorating at normal school summer sum-mer classes and is commissioned by Tony Ryan to help him restore the old Phillips estate which he has bought. CHAPTER vn "His name is Tony Ryan, and he was born in Shanty Town. He's employed to help restore the old place. Incidentally, he's going to marry Priscilla if he can, and I think he can." "He's in love with her?" "Love!" exclaimed Janet with a cynical laugh. "Now where have I heard that word before?" Her mother flinched. "I don't like to hear you jeer at the eternal eter-nal verities, Janet. If it's Gordon who has disillusioned you, he isn't worth it." "It isn't Gordon," said Janet, blinking her eyes to drive back the tears. "It's a combination of everything." She smiled uncertainly. uncer-tainly. "Perhaps it's good for me to have my head pulled down out of the clouds." "No!" her mother protested. "It's a lovely head, and it was made to brush the stars." That was before Berenice and Bill came in just as the others were sitting down to the table. Mr. Busby was a short, stocky, middle-aged man. She was self-conscious self-conscious the first afternoon she reported to Mr. Busby at the Rad-cliffe Rad-cliffe house. "As near as I can make out, you're the court of last resort," he said. "If there's any doubt in my mind about how to go ahead I'm to trust your memory." He took it for granted that she would be on hand every afternoon from two to five. Janet was eager to know if their employer was pleased so far as they had gone, but Mr. Busby volunteered no information and, in view of Tony Ryan's attitude toward herself, Janet was determined deter-mined to betray no interest in the man. He never came near the Rad-cliffe Rad-cliffe place while she was there. Janet thought she understood the pointed way in which she was being be-ing ignored. Priscilla was a jealous jeal-ous goddess. She demanded undivided undi-vided attention, and although during July Janet avoided her old crowd, she did from time to time run into one of them on the street. The absorbing topic of their conversation con-versation was Priscilla Leigh's crush on Tony Ryan. She was startled one afternoon on staring out of the great bay window of the master bedroom, to discover a young colored man busily bus-ily engaged in removing the barbed barb-ed wire which for years had re- Jim went into the hall and picked pick-ed up the receiver. "That you, Phillips?" inquired Howard Leigh. "I have a message for you from Miss Sanders." Jim's hand tightened on the edge of the telephone stand. "All right," he said. "Fire!" "She has decided to join her father fa-ther for a cruise on his yacht." Jim's heart felt like an exposed nerve. "So what?" "We're leaving at midnight for New Orleans. I'm invited to go along." "Think of that!" said Jim with a bleak laugh. "It seems she owes you for a golf lesson. You can send the bill to me." "And you can step to hell," said Jim banging up the receiver. He was scowling when he returned re-turned to the table. Something in the set of his lips forbade questions ques-tions as he jerked out his chair and sat down again. July that year ran true to form. Torrid days with pavements sticky under the glaring sun were followed fol-lowed by sultry nights when the leaves on the trees hung motionless. motion-less. Jock McCall returned to his du- placed the wide gate between the big house and the cotton fields behind it. Janet ran down the back stairs and out the rear entrance. "Aren't you making a mistake?" she inquired. in-quired. The man paused to wipe the sweat off his brow with his sleeve and smiled, shifting his feet. "No'm, Mr. Tony ordered me to get this wire out of the way. He say he done sick and tired snag-gin' snag-gin' himself ever' time he want to go over to his farm. He done bought all de land dis way and dat." He gestured vaguely in a circle which took in both cotton fields and woods to the east and south. "Mr. Tony 'low he going to have the finest stock farm in dis here state," announced the small darky with a broad smile, "and I ain't never knowed him to make a mess of nothing he started. I'm Deke, Miss. Maybe Mr. Tony done told you about me." She shook her head. "I'm merely mere-ly an employee here." "I was a jockey, Miss, before I got jammed at the quarter and cracked my ankle. I growed up in Kentucky and I don't know no-thln' no-thln' 'cept horses, but you can't ride no races with a bum foot. I guess I'd have starved right on the sidewalks of New Yawk if I hadn't run across Mr. Tony." He glanced over his shoulder to the rambling farmhouse which stood on the slope of the hill where the fields met the woods. Janet frowned. A couple of men were sitting on a scaffolding at the side, lavishly applying whitewash. white-wash. "Dat's Rufe and the Earl of Jersey," volunteered Deke. One afternoon Janet discovered more activity near the real wall of the estate, and when she strolled stroll-ed down to investigate she found a large, muscular man engaged in painting the new plank gates while a small elderly man in worn tweeds directed proceedings. "How do you do, Miss Phillips?" he murmured. He had an impeccable impec-cable British accent and a monocle and one of the tiredest and most civilized faces she had ever seen. "Evening, Miss," mumbled the man astride the gate. Again Janet started. "Don't mind Rufe," said the little lit-tle Englishman quietly. "I remem- |