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Show By E1IH0B NiMl'mi O O ARCADIA HOUSE PUBLICATIONS WNU SERVICE SYNOPSIS Mary I.orlni? and her father, Jim. an lnelfi:ctual attmney, meet a train whleh brmcs his wealthy sister-in-law, unmarried unmar-ried Linnie CntMwell and her friend. Leila Le-ila Ormsby, divorcee, for a Christmas visit. Waiting at home for them are Mary's mother, her younRer sister. Ellen; El-len; her father's nailing maiden sister. sis-ter. Aunt Mamie, and Peter, the baby of the family. At the depot Dr. Christopher CnifUi helps the guests with their lug-Kane. lug-Kane. Mary Is secretly In love with IJoctor Crane. In leaving, her Aunt Lin-nie Lin-nie urfos 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 sup-port of his family. To earn money, she decides to begin writing In earnest. Mary feels sure that her newest story, "At Kea." would please the editors of National Na-tional Weekly. After finishing It she calls IJoctor Cragg, who comes to the book utore for a current novel. Falling from a ladder while getting his book, she regains re-gains 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 de-cides to accept her Aunt Llnnie's invitation. invi-tation. 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, with a $100 check for her story, makes her deliriously happy. The other, from her sister, tells her that financial conditions condi-tions at home are getting worse. The next day, at a party given by her aunt, Mary meets distinguished Jerome Taylor, Tay-lor, wealthy middle aged man-about-town, and effusive Count Umberto Ball-ancl. Ball-ancl. The count's oily manner nauseates her. A note from her father the following follow-ing day pleads with her not to mention the family's financial plight to her aunt. After reading it she forces herself to begin be-gin work on her next short story, which is more difficult to write than the first. She labors on until her aunt informs her that Count Umberto. whom Lelia terms a sponger and fortune hunter, is to take them to dinner that evening. He takes them to a garish restaurant in Greenwich Green-wich Village. That evening Mary sends her story, "Their Son," to the National Weekly. She goes to see Phillip Buchanan, Bu-chanan, editor of the National Weekly, to whom she has given her last story. He Invites her to lunch. He congratulates congratu-lates her for the simple treatment given the first story, and says that her last offering of-fering will receive immediate attention. At lunch she is introduced to attractive Jim Ormsby, Leila's former husband. CHAPTER VI Continued -7- Mary watched Jim Ormsby as he i walked across the room, and finally disappeared through the door into the foyer. She liked his voice, the way he carried his shoulders, the perfect "hang" of his well-cut clothes. He looked just the sort of person whom Lelia might well have loved whom Lelia might well still love with all her heart. "He's very attractive," she said, more to herself her-self than to Phillip Buchanan. "He's tops," the man replied al-v al-v most belligerently, "and, to my way of thinking, he's been given a dirty deal. His wife divorced him a couple cou-ple of years ago on what was merely circumstantial evidence. Never gave him a chance to explain; and he was too damned proud to do so later. Seemed to figure that if she didn't have more faith in him than she appeared to have, he might as well let her go." Mary leaned across the table. "Is his wife, by any chance, named Lelia?" she asked excitedly. "Yes," Buchanan replied, surprised, sur-prised, "it isl Do you know her?" "Well, rather! In fact, she's a sort of cousin of mine, and she's visiting Aunt Linnie right now!" Oh, Lord! I hope I haven t said anything I shouldn't have!" "No, Mr. Buchanan, not at all. By the way, isn't it time we were leaving?" Buchanan looked at his watch. ,"Yes, it is. How are you going uptown?" up-town?" Mary smiled at him. "Literally, in the bus," she replied. "Meta-'phorically, "Meta-'phorically, on wings. You see, I'm (terribly excited over this assignment lyou've given me, and I'll do my best I to make good." Buchanan motioned to Alphonse, glanced over the check, and, leaving leav-ing some bills on the table, indicated indicat-ed to Mary that he was ready to leave. "You'll hear from us as soon as we've made a decision on 'Their iSon,' Miss Loring,".he said when they reached the foyer. "Thanks for lunching with me." Mary extended a gloved hand. "Thanks for asking me," she replied, re-plied, her eyes dancing. "I loved it, although I confess you had me stymied for a while." "Stymied?" the man replied. "Stymied! What do you mean?" But she was out of the door now, and either did not hear him, or else would not turn around. Her heart was lighter than it had been in weeks, and her feet barely touched the pavement as she fled down the steps and turned up Fifth Avenue. CHAPTER VII Lelia Ormsby was seated at the desk by the east window in the living liv-ing room when Mary returned to Miss Cotswell's apartment. "Mary?" "Ma-ry?" she called, hearing the click of a key in the latch. "Yes, Lelia. Where are you?" "Right here in the living room, having a perfect whirl for myself, studying all the travel literature I can find about the tropics. "There's a boat sailing for the West Indies March fifteenth, and I believe that'd be just about right for our trip." Mary came into view, her eyes wide and starry, her face flushed. "Good heavens!" cried Lelia. "What in the world have you been doing? You look as if you'd caught the world by the tail! I've never seen anybody quite so aglow! Did you see Mr. Buchanan?" Mary fell into the cushions of the lounge and prepared to relax in comfort. "That's just it, Lelia," she replied, her voice husky with excitement. "I not only saw Mr. Buchanan, but he took me to lunch at the Lafayette. And, Lelia, he wants me to write a series of 'shorts' for his magazine." "Darling! That's wonderful! Did he mention the delicate subject of pay?" "Yes, Lei, he did! He's going to increase the size of the checks as time goes on, providing, of course, my stuff clicks with the public. I'm so happy. You can't imagine what it means to me." "It means," Lelia said, her blue eyes serious, "that 'At Sea' must be a darned good tale, and that Phillip Buchanan feels he's made another of his well-known finds! Congratulations, Congratula-tions, my dear. By the way, how did you like Phil Buchanan?" "I liked him well enough," Mary replied, "but he acted as if he were bored to death with every word I uttered, and he looked at his watch at least six times." "Oh, well," chuckled Lelia, "he is a busy man." "Lelia," Mary began. "Yes?" replied Lelia, not looking up. "Lelia, I I met Jim Ormsby today." The older girl did not move, but Mary could see a deep red slowly rising to the nape of her neck. "He's a friend of Phil Buchanan's," Lelia returned evenly, her attention apparently ap-parently riveted on a colorful picture pic-ture of the race course at Havana. "Yes," Mary returned. "He asked Mr. Buchanan to spend the week-end at his house in Connecticut." Connecti-cut." Lelia turned about, a little smile twisting her lips, her eyes as blue and unfathomable as a wintry sea. "That house in Connecticut is "Yes," Buchanan replied, surprised, sur-prised, "it is! Do you know her?" sweet. White clap-board, and sort of straggling all over the side of the hill, and a fireplace in every room. We lived there most of the time, Jim and I." There was a revealing nostalgia in Lelia's tones as she spoke of the home she and Jim had shared together, to-gether, and Mary, sensing the ache that lay beneath those words, longed to rush to her and place sympathetic arms about her shoulders. Instead, she continued to stand by the window. win-dow. "He's attractive, Lelia." "Yes," Lelia replied dully. "There has never been anyone else like him in my life. And, Mary, there never will be. Did he seem well, and and happy?" "I saw him for just an instant, Lelia," Le-lia," Mary countered, wishing she had more to tell the other woman. "He merely came to our table at the Lafayette, and spoke to Mr. Buchanan about going to Connecticut Connecti-cut for the week-end. He said two other men whose names I don't remember re-member were to be in the party, and that they'd play Badminton and Bridge." A second of silence followed, broken bro-ken finally by Mary. "Was there any mail for me, Lelia, in the eleven o'clock delivery?" Lelia's shoulders jerked, as if she had been abruptly jarred out of a reverie. "Yes, I believe there's a letter from Hawkinsville. And, by the way, there's a box of something or other for you, delivered about an hour ago by a Western Union boy. Looks like candy, and I hope it is. I'm perishing for the want of a chocolate-covered mint." "The letter from home can wait an instant," Mary thought. "At least, until I see what's in this package." pack-age." She untied the ribbon, and tore away the glossy orange tissue that covered the box. An envelope-enclosed card, tipped from its position by her eager fingers, fell to the floor. Stooping, she picked it up and read, "Fruits from Italy to a lovely lady, with the felicitations and adoration of Umberto." "Just so much eyewash!" she told herself. "The man scarcely knows me. I'll give the stuff to Addie. Maybe she'll like it.". Then with a commingling of eagerness ea-gerness and apprehension, she opened the letter from Ellen. Mary dear: There's really not a thing to tell you. but I know that you worry when you don't hear from home every now and then, so am writing anyhow. Dad still hasn't been able to make any connections, Mother is getting thinner thin-ner every day from worry, and Aunt Mamie goes sadly about with the usual chip on her shoulder. She has taken to referring wistfully to one Harry Archer who visited at Grandfather's house twenty-five years ago, intimating that he was desperately In love with her, and that It was ust too bad she didn't marry him. I asked Dad on the Q. T. 11 the guy really had been In love with her, and he replied that if he was. he managed to exert wonderful self-control. All Dad can remember about Harry Archer's visit was that there had been two picnics pic-nics at Hick's Bluff, and, in both cases, Harry had to be hit over the head with a club In order to get him even to go through the motions of being Aunt Mamie's Ma-mie's escort. Browns Business College have put me first on their list for any possible job that may present itself, but I'm afraid the chances aren't so hot. I hope you're having a wonderful time. Have you seen Radio City yet? Give my love to Aunt Linnie and Lelia. Devotedly. Ellen. P. S. Chris Cragg was married to that Ilsa Graceland in Chicago last Saturday, and is bringing her to Hawkinsville the end of the week. Everybody's dying to see what she's like. For an instant, the room went quite black before Mary's eyes, and it was only with supreme effort that she kept from slumping to the floor. So, Chris had married, after all! Of course, he had told her that he was going to. Of course, he had been honor-bound to carry through; yet all along, there had smoldered in the back of her mind the thought, "If he really loves me, he won't marry Ilsa. He can't! He'll surely tell her that he loves someone else that his marriage to her can't go through!" But the marriage had gone through last Saturday! Chris had now been married for five days. With fingers that seemed numb, she picked Ellen's letter up, tore it into tiny pieces, and dropped it into the waste basket How surprised Ellen would have been had she dreamed of the portent of that postscript! post-script! "Thank God," Mary thought gratefully, "nobody not even Ellen knows how desperately I care for Chris! Nobody knows that I care at all!" At last, she turned from the dressing-table, and moved toward the bed. Blindly, she dropped to the bed, heedless of the satin spread that covered it, and lay there in a disconsolate heap, like a child that has been sent to his nursery for punishment At last, the tears began be-gan to come, and still unmindful of the coverlet, she buried her face against the protecting privacy of the pillow, and gratefully let them fall. She did not know how long she lay there, but the winter darkness had fallen outside when Lelia finally entered the room and snapped on the light. "Mary, I didn't know you were here!" she said, glimpsing the huddle of Mary's body on the bed. "Have you been asleep?" Mary sat up, trying to avert her haggard face from Lelia's gaze. "Yes," she lied. "I was asleep. What time is it, Lelia?" "Six o'clock, darling. Hadn't you better start dressing? This is the night you and Linnie are going to Jerry Taylor's, isn't it? He's sending send-ing the car for you, Mary?" "Yes?" "I wish you'd wear my ermine wrap tonight. It would look simply ravishing on you, and I know Aunt Linnie wants you to appear particularly particu-larly beautiful. Jerome's quite a person, you know even though he is, in my humble opinion, the worst sort of renegade." "But, Lelia," Mary demurred. "I might get it soiled or tear it." "Don't be ridiculous, darling. I want you to wear it It'll look divine di-vine with that silver-threaded eve- i ning frock of yours." j "All right," Mary replied listlessly. listless-ly. "Thank you." But sie was think- 1 ing, "What difference does it make how I look? What difference does anything make. Chris is married." Three-quarters of an hour later, Mary, a transformed person, stood before the mirror of the dressing-table dressing-table The hot bath and icy shower had brought life and color back to her weary body; miraculously wiped from her face the ravages of sorrow. sor-row. Lelia had dusted just enough She picked Ellen's letter up and tore it into tiny pieces. rouge over the soft curve of her cheeks to disguise their pallor. Her lace frock clung lovingly to her body, and fell to the floor in an eddy of silver and white. Three orchids of deep purple perched lightly on her left shoulder, and now and then smoothed their soft petals against her cheek. Addie had just brought them in with the announcement that Mr. Taylor's chauffeur had delivered deliv-ered them, and that Mr Taylor's car was waiting at the door. "Well, if you ain't a dream!" Addie Ad-die cried. "Why, honey, you look just like a princess." Mary, suddenly aware that, had it not been for Lelia, she would never have been able to dress that evening that Lelia had practically pulled her together turned impulsively impul-sively and kissed the other girl on the cheek. "Thank you, Lelia. You've been sweet to me tonight. You're always sweet to me." Linnie Cotswell, looking handsome in a trailing gown of maroon-colored lace, appeared in the doorway "Ready, Mary? Why, my dear, you're a dream! I didn't know my family tree could produce such royal roy-al fruit!" Mary never quite knew how she managed to get through the hours that followed It was like a hectic nightmare a nightmare made up of spacious, flower-filled rooms in Jerome Taylor's penthouse; of Jerome Je-rome Taylor himself, faultless in black and white, a gardenia in his lapel; always at her side, always looking at her with admiring eyes. Dancing with Jerome Taylor to the tune of "September in the Rain," and thoughts of Chris! A constant pain in her heart, a lump in her throat that could not be swallowed, and thoughts, unforgettable thoughts, of Christopher Cragg! (TO BE CONTINUED) |