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Show . THE CALL TO COLORS H By Rnyncr Dcnnc in Town Topics B. JnrtHEN Jlm Vcrelccr accepted the H ril contract to put through one of B vx j.jle 0jggest pjeces 0 ongineer- H ing work in the world, he knew he H must leave his wife behind him. Hl i A God-forsaken place, with a trop- H ical climate, was no place for her; H yet only a madman would dream of re- D fusing the offer. It was their first Hj parting after four years of ideal mar- H ried life, and they were still lovers H in spite of the advent of two beauti- H ful children. H "Oh, Jimmy, take me along?" she H wailed. "I've been to lots of places H with you, and you said you worked H better for having me!" H "That's all right dear. But now Hj I'm going to a damnable hole, and it's H not a question of me, but of you. H Everything there has a streak of yel- H low in it," he said with a grin, tell- H ing the truth that so often makes for H, disbelief ,and proves convincing when H a lie would fail. H "How can you joke! I shall be mis- H erable!" Hj "I thought you were a sportsmen, Hl Bety! This means big things for you H in the future." H "I am and I don't care about the H future!" answering both statements H in a breath, her voice ending on a lit- H tie squeal and her eyes discharging H torrents. H But that had been nearly three H years ago, and now he was back. H Back with the work completed that H should have placed him in the fore- H most ranks of engineers, instead of H which it had been coldly, almost dis- H paragingly commented upon, and a H stunning sense of unreality had left H. him no alternative but his resigna- H He knew there was political wire- H pulling back of it; that no fault could H rest on himself, or those who had H worked so faithfully under him, but H that did not lessen the slur a slur H the greater for the greatness of the H undertaking, the eminence of his posi- H tion professionally and socially. H There was nothing he could do H about it. No step he could take. His H record was so clean that it rendered H him helpless, speechless in his de- H fense since there was nothing to de- H fend. H Some golden-winged glory stole in H through teh open window by which H he was standing. Lit up with a ray h or two from the dying sun the beau- H tiful interior of the room; the beauty M of the woman seated a few feet from l him. It made a living thing of the bronze of her hair, turned into the stars the eyes that were but a few shades darker and accentuated her marvelous coloring the alabaster of throat and lightly veiled bust displayed display-ed by her dinner gown. And looking, the man wondered where underneath that perfect form was concealed the girl he had loved the girl who he had believed loved him the wife he had left behind him for her own safety, forgetting that sometimes danger lurks in the safest places. She had given herself so willingly to him, discarded more desirable suitors suit-ors in his favor, followed him to out-of-the-way places when his work had called him forth, until this last contract. con-tract. That he could not permit, so with the exception of a forced vacation vaca-tion of barely a week or two at a time, they had met seldom for two or three years. And now he had returned to And a fashionable woman of the world. A woman who treated him with cold reserve re-serve in whose every look and act he read condemnation or thought he did. Condemnation for what? Was it possible pos-sible that she had lost faith in him? in his work? It seemed incredible. Yet what other explanation was there? She had only put one question to him. "You are going to quietly submit? put up no fight?" And she had looked at him curiously, almost as one knowing know-ing the answer. "They know how I feel about it," he had answered quietly. "Further remonstrance on my part would be undignified." un-dignified." "I suppose it means ruin?" His firm lips had closed on a firmer line. "I hope not; I shall live it down." It is difficult to fight shadows, or an enemy in ambush. Jinv-Vereker knew that it would take time to unearth his enemies if ever. But he faced the situation with indomitable in-domitable courage. At this moment they were waiting for their car to take them to a dinner at the French Embassy. Em-bassy. If he shrank from the ordeal, he made no sign. Washington in summer attire was looking its loveliest. Bettina Vere-ker's Vere-ker's lace wrap dropped from off her lovely shoulders. She was in a dangerous dan-gerous mood, a mood in which the dividing di-viding line between love and hatred is very fine. She loved the man at her side because she could not help it, and hated him for the same reason. Why had a man of his integrity and ability put up no fight against what on the surface appeared to be rank injustice? injus-tice? Why? Because there was truth in the rumors that had filtered through to her from time to time. So subtle had the insinuations been that she had actually believed them to be phantoms phan-toms of her own imagination only until now. Now she knew that they had been meant to convey to her that strange things happened in those out-of-the-world stations, in unspeakable climates shut away from civilization, where the only women are natives, or worse. And it was horrible to think that she still cared for him, loved a man, who, under the pretense of climate, had left her alone to amuse herself for nearly three years, while he carried car-ried on some disgracful intrigue. Of course she could not remain un-deer un-deer the same roof with him, so she was going to leave him. In doing so he would benefit. In the midst of torturing tor-turing doubts she had made sure of that. And he would get a divorce as soon as possible; set her free to marry the man to whom she was going. Yes, she could trust Jimmy to do that. Her eyes were dim as they entered the brilliantly lighted Embassy, and she put out one small hand furtively and touched his sleeve, while her lips formed silently his name: "Jim! Oh, Jim!" It was her mute farewell of him. On the morrow she would be many miles away and a barrier greater than time 1FOUR OF THE FORTY BEAUTIES SELECTED FOR THE RUN OF IRVIN BERLIN'S BIG SYNCOPATED SUCCESS "WATCH YOUR STEP" ENROUTE TO FRISCO. THEY WILL GIVE THREE PERFORMANCES HERE, FRIDA Y AND SATURDA Y AND t SA TURD A YMA TINEE, SEPT, 21-22. JUMPING FROM HERE TO LOS ANGELES AND FROM THERE TO FRISCO. I : or distance would separate them forever. for-ever. "You shall never regret it!" murmured mur-mured the great politician to whose care she was consigning her future, when for a few minutes they stood aloof from the moving throng that crowded the rooms. "You shall never regret it. And you will give him back his prestige, ground he could never recover without my assistance." It was one of the rare occasions in his diplomatic career on which it suit- i ed him to speak the truth, how great , a truth she would never know. For I it was owing to his influence that Jim Vereker was under a ban, eyed with cold suspicion or forced politeness. And as a salve to his conscience and because he was clever enough to know he would never capture the woman without, he had promised Vereker's j reinstatement the moment she left j him. All was fair in love as in war, j and he was doing a little mild torpe- ' doing on his own account. ' As his gaze rested on her he knew that she was worth it. He had never i before contemplated matrimony, never I seen the woman whom he would sac- ' rifice one single selfish comfort for j until he had met Bettina Vereker. This time tomorrow they would be on j the ocean if she did not fail him. In sudden fear, he spoke the words aloud: "You will not fail me?" V "I will not fail you." She repeated after him in the machine-like voice of I a sleep-walker. JL "If," and beneath the sauvo tones j she recognized the veiled threat, "if j you should be inclined to do so, re- I member all that depends upon your ' keeping your engagement with me!" All that depended upon her keeping I her engagement! A golden future for her husband in which she would have I no part. . ' And what of her own future? A i note selected from the sheaf of mail j brought to her bedside the following morning was the excuse f( her hous- j hold for a short absence. "One trunk, Celeste and I shall not require you." i i I Sho had driven openly to the station sta-tion and taken possession ol the stateroom state-room reserved for her on the New York train. And as the cars swung along, picking up speed with every mile, the rhythm of the wheels seemed to faintly echo the voices of her children chil-dren when they lisped their good-bye to her. The childen! In the passion of her abandonment, of her unreason, she had overlooked them. How could she leave them how live without them? her little grave-faced daughter and the handsome, sturdy son of whom she was so proud. If only she could have known the truth of those months years spent in a tropical climate away from her! If her husband had made the smallest attempt at an explanation. explana-tion. But he had not known there was anything to explain and of this she was in ignorance; purposely kept so. And the train sped onwards onwards, on-wards, carrying her farther and farther away from all that had made life worth living. The children would men-i men-i tion her name in whispers, heart hun- gry for the "muvver" who had deserted desert-ed them. She would never feel again their little clinging fingers, their small bodies pressed lovingly against her! God, what a price she was paying! Paying for what? Her husband's mistakes mis-takes or her own jealousy of some unknown, un-known, unseen, purely imaginary woman. There had been no proof; she recalled that now. Hints, insinuations, insinu-ations, but nothing tangible; evasions when she had asked for something more. How she must have changed to be- lieve the first thing against him! Desert De-sert him at the cloud no bigger than a man's hand, literally as well as figuratively, figura-tively, on their hitherto cloudless horizon. hori-zon. She had failed him when perhaps he had need of her. She recalled a clever many saying once to her: "Women are always crying out for freedom. But they don't know how to use it when they have it!" How had she used her freedom in his absence? At the beginning her one aim had been to get through tho time until his return in any way she could, but later she had become as drift carried on the waves of a sea. And now she was on the rocks. She watched the landscape glide by through wet eyes. It would never look the same to her again. The sun might go on shining, but its warmth would not be for her, she would never more exult in the mere joy of living. Her hands clenched until the rings made great dents in the delicate flesh. Perhaps Providence would intervene with an accident. Yet if by raising a finger she could have stopped the train, she doubted that she would have done so. She had chosen had chosen deliberately delib-erately when the option was made plain to her. A wrecked career for her husband, or herself as the price to be paid for his redemption. And she believed be-lieved that she had been actuated for his sake more than for her own. But at this moment, in spite of the confusion confu-sion of her brain, she knew that she had reveled in her triumph; in her power over a man made of cast-iron, lllllllllllililllllllllllll who lacked heart and soul and never spared filend or foe if in his path. And sho had used the power to appease ap-pease her resentment against her husband; hus-band; for a moment's gratification in the beauty that could wind a man whose income ran into the millions, who had reached the top rung of tho ladder of success, round her little finger. She had gone into dinner with him promising herself the amusement of a game in which she would hold all the cards come away a winner. But she knew now that she had been beaten; had lost to a more experienced player of games than herself. Now the cars were carrying the stakes to him and the stakes were herself! And the cars covered mile after mile of trail along which she could never return. She wondered if all women who left their husbands suffered as she was doing at this moment. mo-ment. The speed diminished, slowed down, stopped. A porter piloted her to a taxi. When he asked for an address, she looked at him vaguely. It was too soon to go on board the ship on which they were to sail, besides she had some purchases to make. "To the Vanderbilt," she ordered. Then wondered why she had selected that particular hotel. How gay the city looked! Banners waiving, houses and stores decorated; bright colors everywhere under a still brighter sky. And it all heralded war not peace or happiness! Her windows overlooked the armory that used to wear the sleepy expres- IllllllllWIiim sion of a good-natured animal that knows its power, but is reluctant to M use it. Now armed sentries guarded M its entrances and inside, she knew, it M was bristling with life. M Her husband would be having tea M now alone. Or perhaps ho would M Uavo the children down with him. She M closed her aching eyes that she might M more clearly picture the group. They H were perhaps talking of her, missing H her. She had not seen her husband H before leaving and he probably H thought she was in New York for a H few days' shopping. H Her little daughter would be silting jH at his feet in cobwebby garments, her H small bare legs crossed. The boy H would be carefully imitating his father H in the holding of cup and saucer. H How could she leave them? She H must be mad. H She pushed back her chair from the H window. The sound of laughter hurt H her. Suddenly another sound broke H on her ears. The measured tramp of H marching men and a bugle call, picrc- H ed through the traffic of the street. H It was the call to colors! to colors! H to the flag. H Jim! When he found she had left H him, his career would mean nothing H to him any more. He would accept H nothing at the hands of those who had H ruined his happiness, for the truth H would leak out sooner or later. No; H but he would offer his life to his coun- H try! His profession as an engineer H would make him of additional value. H "Jim, Jim!" she choked. She knew H that she had loved him, but never as H (To be Continued.) M lllllll!llllllllllllllll!lllllllll!llll!llllll!!llllim H |