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Show r" MY"" By JOSEPH Mc CORD : ' ' ' wrTrfsr THE STORY 80 FAR: Larry Cutter (ell In love with Jacqueline Anthony, public stenographer at the Hotel Ray-near, Ray-near, by watching her from the lobby. In an effort to meet Jack as Jacqueline Jacque-line was called be dictated an tmagi- INSTALLMENT THREE nary letter to a noted archeologlst. When she told him about her great longing for travel, he casually replied that she could realize her dreams by marrying him. Another man entered the office before she could answer. Larry returned si . J, jj St. AL 4L when he left, to find Jacqueline greatly depressed. He offered a marriage contract con-tract permitting her to retain her mode of living and to cancel the marriage after six months. "I'll do it," she agreed. Now continne with the story. al -at W rt V IV At the time the wife and mother passed unobtrusively from the family fam-ily picture, Jacqueline had managed to complete a business course and was happy in her first position. Vince, harboring an idea that the motherless girl needed his care and protection, took time out to give the world some needed inventions. He always had intended to do that when he got around it The Anthonys' Antho-nys' living room promptly became a workshop, housing an amazing miscellany of gadgets financed from Jacqueline's meager salary. Several years passed in this unusual un-usual situation. Jacqueline prospered, pros-pered, and finances became less of a problem. The girl lived two separate lives. One was in the world of business busi-ness where she exhibited unusual proficiency, appreciated by employers. employ-ers. The other life was almost entirely between the four walls of that living liv-ing room where she listened with patient pa-tient enthusiasm to Vince as he puttered put-tered with his contraptions. One of his favorite pursuits was to outline a world trip they would take as a first celebration. Vince would produce an old atlas and, with Jacqueline's Jac-queline's shining head close to his, Jacqueline was positive that she had declined Larry's dinner invitation. invita-tion. But she did recall admitting that she frequently dined down in the Raynear cafeteria and might do so tonight. Mr. Cutter had accepted that as a promise and taken himself off with a smiling, "I'll see you this evening. Thanks." Just like that. Jacqueline Anthony had been entirely en-tirely truthful when she told Larri-more Larri-more Cutter that she didn't know why she had listened to him in the first place. As she recalled it, she had been more amused than angry at his startling proposal. She was intensely interested in his remarks about travel. She had been attracted attract-ed by him as well. There was some- i thing in his direct, assertive manner man-ner that appealed to her, especially his forthright assurance that she would some day realize her greatest ambition. Of course he interested her. His casual solution for a trip to the Orient stunned her for the moment. mo-ment. Left her almost speechless. Then he had gone away without giving giv-ing her a chance to reply. When, and if, he returned, she would put a stop to any further conversation on that topic. But the call from Mr. Dennison had changed everything. Everything in the world. How could he have picked that very moment to come in? To put the finishing touch to an unbelievable situation? Why? There was no answer . . . unless it was fate. Mr. Cutter said it was fate. Grant Dennison was a partner In the brokerage firm of Falk and Dennison. Den-nison. Jacqueline had made two modest investments with them and her contacts always had been with the junior partner. He was a sharp-visaged little man who managed in some way to give an impression that anyone who played the market was more or less a fool. But if the fool was determined deter-mined to part with his money, Messrs. Falk and Dennison might as well have the commissions. This morning, Dennison had come directly to the point of his errand in the Raynear. "I found a memorandum on my : desk yesterday, Miss Anthony, that you had called." Jacqueline nodded apprehensively. apprehensive-ly. "I don't know where you got your was about what a father might expect ex-pect these days. It wasn't the first time that a genius' family had proved a stumbling block. It was a hard task for the girl to steel her heart against this martyr complex, but she knew instinctively that she was doing the right thing. For the two of them. It was doubly hard to witness his hurt air, going about like a small boy waiting for solacing negotiations. Three days of the new order, then Vince was missing when Jacqueline came home to prepare dinner. She was almost ready to "give in," had her father known. On the table was a note, a note the girl deciphered through blinding . tears. Vince was very sorry, butj he must conduct his work in a more ' congenial atmosphere. Following her first season of depression de-pression and anxiety, Jacqueline was rather ashamed to find a certain cer-tain feeling of relief taking possession posses-sion of her. She found a modern one-room apartment in a much more attractive part of the city and established herself there. She planned to start life over. To really live. A great mental uplift came from that Courtland street home. Very different from Jones street. And business at the hotel was satisfactory, sat-isfactory, for the most part. Miss Anthony, public stenographer, gained the reputation for rapid and accurate work. Slowly but surely, she built up a local trade in addition to the hotel's transients. Dreams seemed to be coming true at last. Even the great dream of them all was slowly taking shape. Jacqueline was saving her money with calculating intent. First, there must be something against a rainy day. And Vince. When that was attended to . . . The crossing! It might be the one and only trip of her life. She might spend the rest of her days paying for it. But it would be glorious and daring. There was but one trouble. If only there were some way to speed that cash reserve in the savings bank. It was a chance remark from old Martin Jacobs that showed her the way. Jacqueline knew very little about Mr. Jacobs, save that his occasional dictations revealed the fact that he lived somewhere out of the city. He must be wealthy. "How would you like to make some money?" had been his unexpected unex-pected question to the stenographer. "You could use it, I dare say?" "Of course," was Jacqueline's cautious reply. "Do you ever invest in stocks, my dear?" "No, sir." "I'm amazed! Yo'u're probably the only girl in the city who doesn't." Mr. Jacobs lowered his voice. "Let me give you an inside tip. Watch an industrial called Southern Furnace. Fur-nace. Something nice is going to happen to it. Buy some shares and hold them. You'll thank me, my dear girl." Jacqueline pondered the information; informa-tion; she ventured some discreet tip to buy that stock in the first place. But you have plenty of company. com-pany. When it started going up the way it did, we were a little suspicious suspi-cious of inside manipulation. We couldn't see any logical reason. It looks now as though we might have been correct." "You mean . . . ?" "I'm afraid so. If you remember, I suggested that you clear your original investment before buying that second lot. I don't blame you for not doing it . ,. . the way it was moving up. But you may have held on too long. Of course you've been following it." "Oh, yes." "Your loss would be heavy at the last quotation. It might be wiser to hold it for a time . . . But whatever you say. Let us know at any time. Was there anything else?" "Oh, no. Thank you very much, Mr. Dennison for your trouble." "No trouble at all, Miss Anthony." And Mr. Dennison had hurried out with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his napping raincoat. With him went all of Jacqueline Anthony's dreams of the future. All security. And in a state somewhere between inertia and panic, she had listened to a renewal of Larry Cutter's Cut-ter's amazing proposal. In a moment mo-ment of sheer and unreasoning desperation, des-peration, she had said she would marry him. She was sure by this time she had promised. Her decision was a gamble, nothing noth-ing more or less. It was the sort of thing her father would have done, Jacqueline reflected. Promise first, think afterwards. Perhaps she was more like her father than she suspected. Vincent Anthony, loving and irresponsible ir-responsible failure that he was, had been his daughter's outstanding trial during her more mature years. She accepted him as her particular charge when she was seventeen, the year that frail little Madge Anthony had laid down the same burden. Jacqueline Jac-queline was the pair's only child. Vincent always was in quest of and about to overtake "big money." Steady work and systematic saving held no appeal for him. Let others plod if they cared to. Anthony knew he would strike it rich some day and had a ready excuse for each succeeding suc-ceeding failure. With the fading of one dream, he was off in fresh pursuit. pur-suit. It was the mother who was forced to provide most of the necessary income for herself and Jacqueline, and for Vincent when he chose to favor the small home with his presence. pres-ence. "Vince" that was the name Jacqueline Jac-queline bestowed upon her parent almost as soon as she was able to talk was quite the most charming companion a child could Know. Vince assumed a politely injured air. map out routes and ports of call. This was one recreation in which the girl always was ready to join. Outsiders almost never intruded in this life. The Anthony home had no room for guests. Nobody else would understand Vince. And so, all her acquaintances were made in the workaday world and remained there. With the building of the twenty-story twenty-story Raynear had come a change in the life of Jacqueline Anthony. A former employer arranged an opportunity op-portunity for her to become the new hotel's public stenographer. She was highly delighted; it meant being in business for herself at last. At that time, the serious little stenographer with the shining cinnamon-brown hair had reached the age of twenty-two. And looked eighteen. eight-een. Days in the busy and fashionable Raynear opened an entirely new vista to Jacqueline Anthony's blue eyes. Here was a small world in itself, it-self, the inhabitants of which she came to know in a quietly friendly fashion. It was much like that round-the-world trip. Yet it all exerted a strange and steadily growing influence; it planted plant-ed seeds of revolt. Jacqueline Anthony An-thony began to appreciate more and more what her mother had endured for so many years. Growing fears assailed her. She was following the same path. Already she had missed the life enjoyed by most girls her age. A home, intimate friends, social so-cial contacts. Men had no part in h,er existence, save as vshe encountered encoun-tered them in business. It was all wrong. Then one day Vince announced blithely that one of his pet schemes had been adopted previously by a fellow inventor. He was dropping it for another project that offered infinitely in-finitely greater returns and . . "It won't be long now," he assured as-sured his daughter airily. "In six months, we'll be sailing." "Vince . . . I've got to tell you something." And Jacqueline found herself hurriedly reciting her Declaration Dec-laration of Independence. Vincent Anthony had been on trial in his own house for a quarter century. cen-tury. Hereafter, he might find bed and board there, but not one cent for dry batteries. The family must and would have a growing savings account. ac-count. Jacqueline managed to keep her voice steady. There was no answering outburst. Vince assumed a politely injured air. If Jacqueline wished to throw aside the leisure and riches he was about to give her . . After all. it questions to Archibald Potter the first time she had an opportunity. "So the fever has caught you. Miss Anthony?" Mr. Potter was tolerantly tol-erantly amused. Yes, he recalled hearing Southern Furnace mentioned favorably. It might be good for a flier. Why didn't Miss Anthony talk to Falk and Dennison. She might tell Grant Dennison that Potter sent her. Miss Anthony did. In a spirit of grand recklessness, Jacqueline invested in-vested a goodly share of her bank account in Southern Furnace. Mr. Jacobs was right. Southern Furnace forged slowly but surely up in price. She purchased another modest block against Grant Dennison's lukewarm advice. It was evident that Mr. Dennison wasn't much of a gambler. Then something happened. The whole list grew erratic. Some stocks fell sharply and Southern Furnace showed an ambition to lead the retreat re-treat Almost in desperation she decided to have a talk with Dennison and learn the worst. He was not in when she called. Today, he called upon her! The great dream suddenly had vanished into oblivion. Reduced to ash in the devouring maw of Southern South-ern Furnace. And nov, Jacqueline Anthony had gambled her future. On a wild and unheard-of throw. For what? A snatched-at security? Paying for it with herself. Things of that sort never happened hap-pened in real life. When she saw Mr. Cutter again she would find that it all had been a hoax. If only she never had to see him. She couldn't run away, though. She needed the Raynear worse than ever. She would tell Mr. Cutter . . . What? In some fashion, the day dragged to an end 'TO BE COXTIM F.D) |