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Show "TRAILER "GIRL en By VERA BROWN c too warm, the top's down on my car." Past the bridge he maneuvered his car expertly through the traffic of downtown West Palm Beach. Lynn began to have misgivings again about Mrs. Warren. But why, then, had she left Lynn to languish on the beach? Lynn instructed Terry now which streets to take. It was getting dark when they came to the trailer camp at the far side of town. "Let me out here," Lynn pleaded. "Think I'm going to let you get away like that? I want to know where I can find you, young woman!" wom-an!" He drove on briskly, turning into the cinder roadway between the little trailer houses under the palm trees. "Which way now?" "To the left." Lynn gave up. Mrs. Warren would have to know. "The last one straight ahead, the maroon one." Terry drove slowly now. His car came to the end of the trailers and he stopped. Lynn gave an exclamation excla-mation of dismay. There on the edge CHAPTER 1 1 "The trouble with me is I'm a snob! '" The blonde girl in the scant white bathing suit chided herself as she lay inert in the hot afternoon Florida Flor-ida sunshine. Then she buried her roughened hands deep into the sand so she could not see the broken fingernails. She tried to pretend she was not Lynn Morrow at all, but somebody glamorous and grand and rich, somebody who was happy and surrounded with friends. She pressed her deeply tanned cheek into the warm sand and closed her eyes to keep back the tears of loneliness. lone-liness. The laughter of a group nearby on the Palm Beach sand floated and hung on the hot air. But Lynn continued - her .black brooding. So this was life. Dishes, scrubbing, pressing, minding Buddy when Mrs. Warren was away. How Lynn hated it. Not but that Mrs. Warren was kind, but what a life for a girl. Just then a car slowed down up on Ocean Drive. A young man parked it where he had no business to park and got out. He seemed to stroll casually down on the beach. "Oh, oh! A pick-up, and we're helpless," said one of the young men who had been watching Lynn. But her eyes were closed and she nothing in particular, but Lynn was enjoying herself. Terry was famous for his small talk and he did himself proud this afternoon. He told Lynn he was waiting for his father to come from New York with the family yacht, that his sister was blonde like Lynn, only not so pretty. And the admiration admira-tion in his eyes was very comforting comfort-ing to a lonely girl of 18. Time slipped away. She grew nervous. Mrs. Warren was much later than usual. Never had Lynn stayed so long on the beach on Thursday. What explanation could she give if Mrs. Warren saw Mr. McNair? Terry, sensing her nervousness, talked faster. He pretended he noticed no-ticed nothing, tried to find out where Lynn lived. But she was extremely vague. The sun was getting low, casting a more golden light on . the palm trees along the boulevard. Where could Mrs. Warren be? Mentally, Lynn figured whether the 50 cents in her bag would pay for a taxi. Surely Mrs. Warren would not leave her stranded here in her bathing bath-ing suit! "Wish you'd let me take you to tea; we could walk up to the Breakers. Break-ers. Wouldn't take us long." "I'm sorry, but I can't today; maybe some other time." The minutes dragged. Terry did his- best about tea,, but Lynn was of the palm trees where Mrs. Warren's War-ren's trailer had stood for two months was an empty space. "She's gone " Lynn's heart was beating fast. Silly to be so excited. She. must,, have had the trailer moved that afternoon. Probably that was why she was so late. But Lynn could not understand, for their spot was a choice one in the crowded camp. She and McNair Mc-Nair sat there in the car for a moment. "Where's the office? They'll know where the trailer is," Terry said. He had to back out to the first camp crossroad and Lynn directed him to Mr. Alexander's place. As they got there Lynn jumped out. At least this would keep Mrs. Warren from asking too many questions. "Thank you so much, Mr. McNair," Mc-Nair," Lynn turned to Terry. "I'd better wait and see what happens." hap-pens." "No, please don't. Then Mrs. Warren War-ren won't have to know you brought me home." "When will I see you again?" "Next Thursday afternoon." And Lynn ran into the office. It was hot inside, and old Alexander Alex-ander sat . behind his homemade desk reading the evening paper. "Where has Mrs. Warren's trailer been moved to?" Lynn asked. did not see the newcomer. "I beg your pardon, but aren't you Miss Marion North, from Boston?" Bos-ton?" he asked, as he stopped above her on the sand. Lynn sat up hurriedly and brushed the sand from her cheek. "No, I'm sorry." There was an irresistible twinkle in the young man's eye and Lynn suddenly smiled. "May I sit down?" he asked as he dropped beside Lynn on the sand. "You know I'm not Marion North," Lynn accused. "Of course I do. But it is a good approach." "I don't think so " "Well, I'm talking to you, am I not?" "It worked. That's what you mean?" "Exactly." He smiled at her like an impish bad boy. Lynn laughed at his audacity in spite of herself. He was quite right It had worked and she was glad to talk to some- 1 w j Besides, he was such a personable young man with a shock of curly r brown hair and a deep tan. "How about a drink?" he suggested. sug-gested. "No, thanks." Lynn felt this had gone far enough. She was lonely, but after all Mrs. Warren would be along to call for ber shortly. The young man seemed to ignore her hesitancy. "I suppose I should introduce myself. my-self. I'm Terry McNair." He waited expectantly for Lynn to speak, but the name meant nothing noth-ing to her. She had no time to read the Palm Beach society columns. There was an awkward pause. "I'm Lynn Morrow," Lynn told him finally. "Let me drive you home." "I have a friend calling for me." The conversation dropped again. But Terry was persistent. "Come, now, don't freeze me. Here I've driven by every day this week hoping to see you. You were here last Thursday, you know " "Yes." "I'm really a nice guy. I like your looks, thought you'd be nice to talk to." He leaned toward her eagerly, ea-gerly, pleased with amazing gold-flecked gold-flecked brown eyes. "Am I?" Lynn's pert little nose was entrancing, McNair decided. "Not as nice as I thought." "I'm really not trying to be rude," Lynn interposed. "It's just that I must leave shortly when my friend comes." "Then let me sit here and talk to you. Tell me about yourself." "There's really nothing much to tell. I'm from Vermont " "I knew there was something I liked about Vermont." So went the conversation, about "You know I'm not Marion North," Lynn accused. firm. She had already been reckless reck-less enough. "I have some candy in the car, I'll get it," he said, and jumped up. While he was gone Lynn had an insane desire to run away down the beach, and she hoped fervently that Mrs. Warren would come while McNair Mc-Nair was at his car. But she did not. Terry came back with the candy and they munched on it Lynn was hungry. A cool breeze had sprung up and Lynn pulled on the white beach coat which Mrs. Warren had discarded and given to her. "Now look here. Why don't you let me drive you home? This is nonsense. Maybe your friend is held up. You'll catch cold." Finally, in desperation Lynn stood up. Her amazing brown eyes were hard now. As she spoke her voice held a deep bitterness which surprised sur-prised Terry. "All right But I might as well tell you now. Then you can do as you want to. I live in a trailer over in West Palm Beach. I'm a maid. I take care of a trailer and look after a child. I'm a 'domestic,' I think you call it." Terry was speechless. He had expected almost anything but this. But he should have known. Thursdays Thurs-days maids' day out The public beach in the afternoon. It seemed very simple now he knew. Lynn started up the beach toward the boulevard. Terry put his hand on her arm. "So what?" he laughed, and there was relief in his voice. "You can be a maid for me any time. Come on. Let's get going. You won't be any Looking over his glasses, the old man started hunting for something in his desk. "Oh, you're the girl who worked for Mrs. Warren. She's gone." He said the words casually as he continued con-tinued his search. "Gone?" Lynn repeated the word as though she did not know what it meant "Gone where?" "Here's a letter she left for you." He found the missing document and handed it to Lynn. Slowly she opened it. It was a penciled scrawl, evidently written in a terrific hurry, and Lynn could scarcely make it out "Don't go to the police. I am sending your clothes and two weeks' pay to my attorney in New York. I had to do this." A card was inclosed, in-closed, giving the address of Clarence Clar-ence Mortimer in the Empire State Building. That was all. "What am I going to do?" Lynn was unaware she spoke aloud. Old Alexander pretended he did not hear. He was so acutely embarrassed embar-rassed Lynn wanted to laugh. "I'm getting hysterical." She turned blindly and tumbled out into the night. She shivered in her thin beach robe. Once outside she leaned against the flimsy porch post Her feet would not take her further. What was she going to do? Stranded here in her bathing suit with 50 cents! She was trembling now in complete com-plete panic. And she did not hear Terry calling her name. He got out of the car and came over to her. "How'd you make out?" He could not see her face; saw only the white blur of her. "Where'd your boss go?" "I don't know." (TO BE CONTINUED) |