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Show I By SLIPJOB EfllJJWELH, O O ARCADIA HOUSE PUBLICATIONS WNU SERVICE SYNOPSIS Mary Loring and her father, Jim, an inelTcclual attorney, meet a train which brings his wealthy sister-in-law, unmarried unmar-ried Linnie Cotswell and her friend, Le-lia Le-lia Ormsby, divorcee, for a Christmas visit. Waiting at home for them are Mary's mother, her younger sister, Ellen; El-len; her father's nagging maiden sister. sis-ter. Aunt Mamie, and Peter, the baby of the family. At the depot Dr. Christopher Christo-pher Cragg helps the guests with their luggage. Mary is secretly in love with Doctor Cragg. In leaving, her Aunt urges Mary to visit her in New York, but Mary refuses. Mary works In a rental library, where she spends her spare time writing short stories. Mary's father is let out as railroad attorney, the fees of which were almost the sole support of his family. To earn money she decides to begin writing in earnest. Mary feels sure that her newest story, "At Sea," would please the editors of National Weekly. After finishing it she calls Doctor Doc-tor Cragg, who comes to the book store for a current novel. Falling from a ladder lad-der while getting his book, she regains consciousness to find his arms around her. He tells her he loves her, and then tells her he is to be married the coming month to a girl he has known all his life. Despondent, Mary decides to accept her Aunt Linnie's invitation. In New York her aunt laughs at her for her plans to write, and insists that she meet as many eligible men as possible. The new week brings two letters. One, from the National Weekly. CHAPTER PV Continued Almost afraid to touch the letter, yet frantic to know its contents, Mary picked it up, and feverishly slashed it open. A sheet of paper, folded twice, dropped out, and glancing toward the bathroom, hoping hop-ing Lelia would not come out until after she had read whatever news the letter held for her, Mary started to flatten it out. At last, her fingers ceased their stupid trembling! At was a check on the Corn Exchange Ex-change Bank of New York, and it read: New York, January 22nd, 1937 Pay to the order of Mary Loring. . ...$100.00 One Hundred and no-100 .. Dollars The National Weekly. "Lelia!" Mary shrieked, rushing towards the bathroom and pounding pound-ing on the door. "Lelia! Lelia!" Lelia, a bathrobe of Turkish toweling tow-eling wrapped hastily about her, opened the door. "What's happened, Mary?" she demanded apprehensively. apprehen-sively. "Have you had bad news?" Mary pirouetted about on her silly silver-and-scarlet sandals, and waved her precious bit of paper in the air. "Bad news!" she cried. "Darling, it's good news! Grand news! The best I've ever had! Lelia, my story's been accepted by The National Weekly, and they've sent me a check for a hundred dollars." "Mary! That's wonderful! Congratulations, Con-gratulations, darling. I'm proud of you." "What in the world is going on?" demanded Linnie Cotswell, crossing the hall from her own bedroom. Mary rushed towards her aunt and engulfed her in a bear-like embrace. em-brace. "Aunt Linnie, my story, 'At Sea,' has been accepted, and the magazine's sent me a check for' a hundred dollars. Just think of it! A hundred dollars!" "But," Linnie Cotswell demurred, her speech somewhat hampered by the chin-strap that bound up her face, "why didn't they write to you first and make you an offer, instead in-stead of just taking it for granted that a hundred dollars was satisfactory satis-factory to you?" Mary looked dubious. "Perhaps that's their regular price for a short short-story." Stooping, Mary retrieved from the floor the letter which had accompanied accompa-nied the check, and hastily glanced through it. "They say they like 'At Sea,' very much," she murmured as she scanned the typed lines, "and they want to see more of my work. Workl Doesn't that sound professional? profes-sional? A man named Buchanan, Phillip Buchanan, has signed it." "I know Phil Buchanan," Lelia offered casually, returning to the bathroom, and reaching for a gold-and-white box of bath powder. "No!" Mary exclaimed. "Not really! What is he like? Terribly learned, and everything?" "Terribly human," Lelia returned. re-turned. "And utterly wrapped up in his work. He started The National Na-tional Weekly about twelve years ago, soon after he graduated from Harvard, and he's built it up until today it's just about the biggest thing in weekly magazines. The circulation cir-culation is enormous, you know." "Is he married?" Aunt Linnie inquired. in-quired. "You would ask that!" Lelia replied, re-plied, chuckling with amicable derision de-rision as she started to close the bathroom door. "No, Linnie. He's wedded to his magazine and, from all I hear, he wouldn't consider being be-ing dragged to the altar by anybody on earth." "I'm merely interested in Life as it should be led," Aunt Linnie retorted re-torted with mock wistfulness as she left the room, the little train of her satin negligee swishing about her heels. Mary, left alone, fingered her check from The National Weekly with loving fingers. "I've finally written a Btory that was good enough for someone to buy," she told herself with awe. "Now I'm started on my life's work." Opening the top drawer of the dressing table, she extracted the new brown suede purse Aunt Linnie had just given her, opened it, and slipped the check inside the zippered pocket. Then, turning eagerly towards to-wards the bed, she picked up Ellen's El-len's letter. Darling Mary, we do miss you so. The house seems so dull without you, and poor Dad appears absolutely lost. You see, he has always depended on you more than anyone else, and while I try my best to take your place, we both know it isn't quite the same. Well. Mother has heard about his dismissal dis-missal and the shock of the discovery has gone rather tragically for all of us. It happened this way. She was buying some tape in the notion department at Sullivan and Ourwerda's. and Miss Pat-tie Pat-tie Carson came In to get some thread, and breezed right up to Mother with, "Oh, Janet, I want to tell you how sorry I am about Jim's losing his position." And right before all the clerks 1 Mother hadn't the vaguest nqtion what she was talking about, and although Miss Pattie's remark almost made her faint, she managed to hold her head up and smile, and say, "Why, Miss Pattie, Jim just had to resign because his private pri-vate business is demanding so much of his time." Then, she paid for the tape, and walked out of the store as calmly as she could, but as soon as she got past the store window, she fairly ran up to "It is an ambition attained," he replied in a voice that struck Mary as being too soft. Dad's office, and demanded an explanation. explana-tion. And when darling Dad admitted the whole thing, she fainted, and he and I had a dreadful time bringing her back to consciousness. Mother says we'll have to let Phrony go, and, no doubt, we will in time, and Aunt Mamie says she can't do a lick of work, what with her arthritis or neuritis, or whatever it is she's supposed to be having this winter. And what do you think? A report's going around town that Christopher Cragg's going to be married soon to a girl he's known for some time. Her name's Ilsa Graceland, and she's the daughter of a Chicago doctor. Have you heard anything about it? Everybody seems awfully surprised, and really, for a bridegroom-to-be, I must say Chris doesn't look particularly radiant. Darling, do you love New York? Do write me about everything. Give my love to Aunt Linnie and Lelia, but save most of it for yourself. Mary, so blinded by tears that she could scarcely see, folded the letter, and tucked it beneath the pile of handkerchiefs in the little right-hand drawer of the highboy. Lelia was coming into the room, and she must not see her tears. Mary, her back to the other girl, hurriedly applied a handkerchief to her eyes; then, with apparent casu-alness, casu-alness, reached for the powder puff and dusted it over her straight little nose. "I shall get the check cashed tomorrow," she said to herself. her-self. "Aunt Linnie'll tell me where to go. And I'll send all but fifteen dollars of it to Dad. Something will have to be kept out for my pocket money. Poor Dad. Oh, poor, dear Dad!" A thin blue ha?e nf nVarpttp smoke hung like a delicate cloud over Linnie Cotswell's living room, and the smell of tobacco, Ophelia roses, and the last word in imported perfumes filled the air. It was Sunday Sun-day afternoon, and Linnie's friends were dropping in to meet Mary Loring. Lor-ing. Miss Cotswell flitted about from guest to guest, exchanging a welcoming wel-coming word here, a bantering sentence sen-tence there. Lelia Ormsby presided presid-ed over a silver tea service that had once belonged to a Russian grand duke; while Mary remaind entrenched en-trenched behind a group of men in front of the fireplace. "And why has Linnie kept you a secret all this time?" a tall man with a gardenia in the buttonhole of his cutaway coat was saying. "I, for one, demand an apology. To think you've been walking in beauty all these years, and I've been totally to-tally unaware of your existence!" He was a distinguished-looking person, with pepper-and-salt hair and that intriguing assurance of manner which only those who always al-ways get what they go after possess. pos-sess. Mary cudgelprl her memory for his name. Taylor! That was'it Taylor. Jerome Taylor. She smiled back at him mockingly. mocking-ly. "All this time, and all these years!" she quoted. "Aren't you making me fearfully old almost passee?" Jerome Taylor held a cocktail glass, frosted with sugar, to the level lev-el of his laughing eyes. "My dear," he said softly, lifting the glass in an almost imperceptible toast to her, "you are ageless!" "Fol-de-rol!" commented Linnie Cotswell, pushing her way towards Mary, a dark, intense young man in tow. "Jerome, don't be trying any of your well-known allure on this child of mine. She's far too young and sweet to be contaminated." "Linnie, my darling," Jerome Taylor returned, completely unabashed, un-abashed, blatantly amicable, "forget, "for-get, for a moment, how violently you disapprove of me, and tell me which night this week I may entertain enter-tain you and Mary. Loring at dinner. Any night, dear Linnie. Any spot Any play." "Hush, Jerry. I'll tell you later. Right now, I want to introduce Bali-anci Bali-anci to my niece." "I await with eagerness that pains with impatience that sears," the young Italian announced oratorical-ly, oratorical-ly, attempting to wither Jerome Taylor with a glance. "Mary," said Aunt Linnie, trying to control the corners of her mouth, "this is Count Umberto Balianci. Balianci, Miss Loring." Then, turning turn-ing to Jerome Taylor, "Trot along to the tea table, Jerry. Lelia hasn't been able to coerce anybody except the Bishop's wife into taking a cup of tea. Even the Bishop balked!" Aunt Linnie's sentence was drowned in a roar of laughter from that corner of the room where Judge Byford was holding forth; and Mary suddenly realized that her hand was still clasped in Balianci's, and that his grip was unpleasantly moist "How do you do?" she remarked inadequately, in-adequately, smiling at the handsome, hand-some, dark person whose gaze upon her had never flinched. "It is an ambition attained," he replied in a voice that struck Mary as being too soft, almost oily. "An ambition attained?" she repeated re-peated uncomprehendingly. "But yes!" he returned with fervor. fer-vor. "I saw you at the Stork Club two nights ago, and, since that moment mo-ment my eyes fell upon you, it has been my ambition, my sole thought to meet you." Mary felt a little dazed. A fixed little smile forced itself to her lips. The man was still devouring her with his somber eyes, all the while extracting a flat, gold case from an inner pocket, removing a cork-tipped cork-tipped cigarette, lighting it, and exhaling ex-haling a puff of heavily-scented smoke. "Egyptian cigarettes," thought Mary. "That heavy fragrance fra-grance makes me a little sick." Aloud, she said inanely, "I didn't see you at the Stork Club." "One does not expect a queen to notice a serf," purred Balianci. Mary thought perhaps. she was going to scream. When would this asininity ever end? At nine, Jerome Taylor came to bid her good-by. "We're seeing each other Wednesday evening," he told her. "Linnie has actually agreed to let me have a little party for you. Dinner at my house, and afterwards, aft-erwards, seats for 'High Tor.' " As for Balianci, he left ten minutes min-utes later, and too, wedged his way through the crowd to say good night. Again, he took Mary's hand in his damp grip, and focused the full warmth of his brooding gaze upon her. "Fate is being kind to me," he said softly. "We are meeting again very soon." He was gone before Mary could reply, and with an ague of repulsion, repul-sion, she thought "Good heavens, has Aunt Linnie made an engagement engage-ment with him, too?" Later, when the guests were gone, and Addie and Louella were putting I the apartment to order, and opening open-ing the windows to let in the crisp February night air, Aunt Linnie informed in-formed Mary that she had indeed made an engagement for her with Count Balianci. "He wants to take us to dinner Tuesday evening," she said. Lelia, nibbling a much-needed sandwich, turned swiftly about "Not me!" she said sharply. "I won't go anywhere with that gigolo!" gigo-lo!" "He's not a gigolo, Lelia 1" Linnie replied almost angrily. "I don't know why you're so suspicious of all foreigners with titles. Besides, he-he he-he didn't ask you." "He knows I wouldn't be seen with him!" Lelia retorted, sinking into the depths of a chair, and kicking kick-ing off her high-heeled pumps. "Well, you've snubbed him so often," Linnie admitted, "that, no doubt, he's finally taken the hint. But, after all, he is a charming person, per-son, and a perfectly legitimate count." "As if that meant anything these days!" Lelia retorted. "I want Mary to have every opportunity," op-portunity," Linnie went on, "and after all, Umberto has a title, goes everywhere, belongs to one of the oldest Italian families. In fact, he's a sort of cousin of the king's." "He might travel faster if he were a cousin of II Duce's," Lelia observed ob-served Icily. "He's terribly taken with Mary," Linnie continued happily, "and really, real-ly, it would be rather fun for her to be the wife of a diplomat." "I'm not at all interested in marriage, mar-riage, Aunt Linnie," Mary said harshly, her heart contracting as she thought of Chris. "All that I care about is writing and making a lot of money in the quickest possible pos-sible time. In fact, I'm starting a new 'short' tomorrow morning." Miss Cotswell rose from her chair, and started towards the hall which led to her bedrom. "All right, Mary," she said coldly. "I'll leave you to your own devices for a few days, knowing only two well that you'll soon get over this foolishness about being a woman with a career. Every young girl who comes to New York entertains that complex for a while and then eventually reaches the sane conclusion that, after all, marriage is the one and only thing for a wman." Mary leaped to her feet and rushed to embrace her aunt "Please don't think I'm ungrateful. Aunt Linnie, for all that you're doing do-ing for me. I appreciate everything, absolutely everything. And thank you, darling, for the wonderful party." par-ty." Linnie Cotswell, restored to good humor, brushed Mary's cheeks with her lips. "All right, my dear. As for your working on one of your little lit-tle stories, you just start right in tomorrow. to-morrow. I, for one, hope to sleep all day." CHAPTER V Mary woke with a start at seven the next morning, and, for an instant, in-stant, lay in her comfortable bed wondering just where she was. At home in Hawkinsville? And was the slim figure beneath the covers in the other twin bed that of Ellen? Then, as consciousness came fully upon her, she realized that she was in New York, in Aunt Linnie's apartment, apart-ment, and that the sleeping girl beside her was Lelia Ormsby. It was while she sat scanning the headlines of the Herald Tribune, a second steaming cup of coffee in one hand, a third piece of jam-covered toast in the other, that Addie brought in the mail. "Anything for me, Addie?" she asked. (TO BE CONTINUED) |