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Show (C'dy I KITTENS HAVE CLAWS I ,,J WV By FAITn ELLEN SMITH "VrOU'VE got to go after them," ft .1 Doris said. She sat on the up-Wred up-Wred wall seat, opened her bag, fk out her vanity case and her , "wet case. "That's the trouble A you- Yd're mousy." Tm what?" Nan asked. She sat the stiff, hard chair on the other ' e of the' little table and took oft 1 oves They were white gloves, jbed -shabby by repeated clean- , ; msyV said Doris. "Mousy t -Is never get anywhere. Remem-r'J Remem-r'J r what I said that first day we . Eaiph going up in the eleva- V, '.you said, 'There's the man I'm tag to marry, unless he's got a 'f e and ten kids'." I! )oris studied her reflection in the jjrror of her vanity.' Her hand, . I long, crimson nails : ; gleaming, patted ; This the crisp blonde I ll , waves beneath her j ' WeekS srnall hat. A large J.jjj . . diamond on her fln-W-t C ger kindled to Fiction green and orange ck flame under the yuu,., I subdued lights of jug':' the dining room, n rfell, he had a wife and one kid, M li I did it, didn't I? Do you sup-am. sup-am. "se I got him by sitting still and editing for him?" "No," Nan said. 1 used my head. I found out he "irked for J. B. Simpson. I made 2',r'" to the Simpson crowd when I asm them in the washroom and took o calling for that dumb egg of an K'xras girl for lunch. I got intro-ticed intro-ticed to him " 1 remember," Nan said. 1 worked to get', that man. If I misti'dn't, I wouldn't have an apart-linsfcfflt apart-linsfcfflt on East Sixtieth Street and s set of summer furs that cost een hundred dollars and my own r and a house in the country rt fall, when Ralph gets his motion .... Now, about this in ?" she said. p.'What' man?" said Nan. Color of ie Sewly open wild rose flooded her !e. Her childishly honest brown .gn-kjj were starry. "How should I know what man? I fen't seen you since I had you to l wedding six months ago. A girl it' i attractive to men and shows -k'Sie initiative might be married in : months. But of course you're kind that will drag along wait-! wait-! for him to wake up and know Iff Jj're on earth until he marries Wainebody else. . . . You wouldn't so bad, at that, if you took a JH:le pains with yourself and got Jhm decent clothes." Jflan, who had started to slip off Mto) coat of her suit, buttoned it ii8in. The lining, she remembered, d ripped a little on the shoulder. "And you'd be a good bet for me man who wanted a sensible, onomical wife that didn't mind usework." "Thank you," Nan said. "You would! I never could learn to boil water; but the way you used to cook and scrub and fuss around when we lived together ! Well it's lucky I had what it takes to get a fellow that can afford a servant. ... But, of course I'm younger than you are." "Eleven months," Nan said softly. ". . . Just a baby, really. Ralph always calls me Babe. . . . Did I tell you he's in line for the vice-presidency?" vice-presidency?" "Is he?" "There's the man I'm going to marry unless he's got a wife and 10 kids now." "Sure of it, my dear! J. B. depends de-pends on him for everything. He and J. B. are like that. . . . Remember Re-member the fellow came up to the apartment with him the week before be-fore we were married?" "Of course. Why wouldn't I?" "Well, you moused around as if you were only half there. Hardly opened your mouth all evening. That was J. B." "Was it?" "There you go! That's just what I mean. You don't take any interest. inter-est. Now if this man " "But what makes .you think there is a " 1 "It's written all over you, darling. You're in love. I never saw a worse case." Nan's big brown eyes lowered to her glass. She became peony-red. "Well, if you don't see fit to confide con-fide in your best friend, that's your business. But you let me tell you this for your own good. If he's worth having, don't let some other girl beat you to it! You will, though. You're1, all set for being a neat little old maid, living on a pension and loving a pet cat " "I don't like cats," Nan murmured. mur-mured. Doris extended a toeless suede sandal and a slender, silk-clad leg. "Cats!" she said. "Look at that run." "I see it," Nan said. "Ralph bought me an angora kitten kit-ten for my birthday. The darn thing must have been at these stockings. "I'll have to dash in somewhere and get another pair and put them on. You come with me, and you can have these. They'll do for you, if you're careful mending them." "I can't come with you," Nan said. "You can't? Why not?" "I've got a a kind of a date." "A date with that man, of course! Where?" "Oh never mind." fi , f: H : I'M "Don't be silly! I'm dying to see him. I'll drive you there." "You needn't bother. It isn't far. Just back to the office." "Oh!" Doris said. '.'Waiter, bring the check. We're in a hurry. . . . Didn't I tell you? Nobody but you would think of slaving away at the office on a lovely Saturday afternoon. after-noon. You ought to call your man and make him take you to the movies. You ought to keep after him. . . . Ready?" "I'm ready," Nan said. They walked out of the dim cocktail cock-tail lounge into the sunny freshness of the afternoon. "I guess I'll get my stockings over there at Bryand's," Doris said. "We have charge accounts at all the big stores. If I buy them at some little shop I'll have to pay for them myself, and they cost five dollars. dol-lars. You don't mind if I don't drive you to the office, do you?" "I don't mind at all," Nan said, extending her hand. "Good-bye, Doris." "I'll give you a ring," Doris said. "You must come up to dinner some night when I haven't company" and tell me all about your romance. I'll be seeing you." Nan walked the two familiar blocks to the familiar building but she did not go up to the office where she worked. She took the elevator to the' floor below it and stepped out into the spacious reception room oi the J. B. Simpson company. She walked past the deserted information informa-tion desk toward the private offices and tapped lightly on one of the doors with the tips of her gloved fingers. A man's voice called, "Come in!" She went in. The man got up from behind a big desk and came to meet her. He was tall and becomingly gray-haired. gray-haired. There were laughter wrinkles wrin-kles around his keen eyes. "You're late, Nan," he said. She put her arms around his shoulders and lifted her face for his kiss. "I've been with Mrs. Jenkins." Jen-kins." "Who in seventeen kingdoms is Mrs. Jenkins?" "You know. The girl I used to live with. The one that married Ralph Jenkins." "Oh!" he said. "How is Ralph Jenkins, by the way?" "He was a good man until that designing cat got hold of him," the man said. "Now he has alimony to pay one woman and another running run-ning him ragged for new cars and this and that and he'll be lucky il he manages to keep his job. . . . 1 hope you're not seeing much oi her. You're not her kind, thank heaven!" "Oh, she's all right," Nan said tolerantly. "She did us one good turn, anyway. You know you always al-ways say you fell in love with me that night you came up to the apartment apart-ment because I kept quiet the entire en-tire evening." "My little mouse!" he said fondly. Nan winced. "But you won't have much chance to see her after we're married mar-ried anyway. When we come back from abroad we'll be at the country house most of the time. Unless she comes out there. . . ." Nan smiled. "You needn't worry, J. B. She won't come out there," she said with auiet certainty. |