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Show Glimpse Backstage By OSCAR BELLOWS (Associated Newspapers.) WNU Service. I nETER MARTIN had never in-j tended to have a woman secretary, secre-tary, but during the illness of James Holcomb he was forced to take a stopgap. Miss Chase had appeared on a busy morning when the accumulation ac-cumulation of details had begun to prove devastating to his temper. "I don't want a woman in my office," of-fice," he barked shortly. Ruth's fine eyebrows moved upward and her speculative gray eyes rested curiously upon his irritable brown ones. "But 1 am an efficient worker," she said quietly. "If I can do your work well it doesn't matter whether I am a man or a woman. You will never notice the difference." Peter stared, cleared his throat, read her testimonials and engaged her. That was two years ago, and he had never regretted it. She had been right. She was efficient, and whatever other agreeable traits she possessed, they were never brought to his notice. She reduced his work to half as soon as he discovered that her initiative matched her good judgment. On the whole, Ruth preferred the Cottage Tearoom to the World's Best Restaurant. It was a shade more expensive, but if you ate less, and liked it more, at least your aesthetic craving was satisfied. On this occasion she took a cup of tea and a lettuce sandwich, which made up artistically for its lack of filling qualities. As usual, while eating her lunch, Ruth amused herself with picking out the people she would like to know. Then suddenly some one walked in whom she did know. With a strange little thrill that was almost resentment she realized that of all the people there Peter Martin was the one she would most enjoy talking to that is, in a socially pliable pli-able fashion, for Mr. Martin never exactly talked to her; he merely expressed in her presence conclusions conclu-sions at which he had arrived- "It's refreshing here, isn't it?" commented Peter, seating himself opposite Ruth and casting his eyes about the green and orchid room approvingly. ap-provingly. If he approved of Ruth's leaf-brown ensemble and burnt orange or-ange felt hat he kept it to himself, for it was the efficient Miss Chase of the office who answered him sedately se-dately and, having finished her tea, rose to leave the place. Peter watched her leave. He found himself him-self wondering whether those gray eyes would soften or flash with resentment re-sentment if he should ask her to dine with him some evening. She was so darn pretty. Peter, being chairman of many boards of directors, required innumerable in-numerable statistics to be compiled at certain seasons of the year. At these times Ruth, to whom the work of compiling fell, usually went to bed to sleep immediately after dinner. din-ner. It was on one of these evenings eve-nings that her telephone rang and her employer declared in no uncertain uncer-tain tones that he must have her advice immediately in regard to the advisability of revising an important report, which he would be called upon to make at ten o'clock the next morning. After standing up aU the way home on the "L," Ruth had decided in favor of golden brown waffles and crisp bacon as an easily prepared pre-pared and satisfying dinner. The first waffle was in the process of puffing up and turning a delicate brown when the startling message had come over the wire that Peter was at that moment at the corner drug store with the bothersome report re-port and would be right over. "He'll never keep a secretary who lives like this," wailed Ruth, trying frantically to tidy up the gloriously untidy studio apartment There were books everywhere, with shabby shab-by but comfortable easy chairs to read1 them in; there were shaded lights and good prints; there was the appetizing odor of crisp bacon and a big yellow bowl of the wherewithal where-withal of which waffles are made. In her excitement Ruth forgot to take off an intriguingly feminine tea apron that seemed to Peter the last word in allurement. "You're just in time for dinner or supper or anyway, if s waffles and bacon," said Ruth gayly, if a trifle nervously. "Waffles!" exploded Peter. "Lead me to them! I'm ravenous and I'd rather have a mess of waffles , and some of that coffee that smells so good than a seven-course banquet." That being the kind of apartment.it was, he made himself at home with cigarettes, ash-tray, easy chair and magazines, while Ruth flitted to and from the little kitchenette completing complet-ing the preparations for their feast. No detail of the comfortable little menage escaped him. "How did you ever manage to do it?" asked Peter after he had consumed con-sumed more waffles than he had ever eaten before in his life. "Do what mix waffle dough?" asked Ruth with dancing eyes. "No, how did you contrive to make me think you were too efficient ef-ficient to make a man a comfortable, comfort-able, loungy home?" "I'll not have a chance to show any efficiency tonight unless we get busy with that report," said Ruth, flushing. "Botheration with reports!" replied re-plied Peter, "there's more than one kind of efficiency and. tonight we're going to forget the office kind." |