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Show lLM Sylvia Taylor THE STORY SO FAR: Joan Leland, pretty secretary to Arthur Mulford, San Francisco importer, is amazed and angry when he unexpectedly discharges her with two weeks' salary and refuses any explanation. The bewildered girl arrives at the apartment she shares with ber sister Sybil, feeling thankful that one of them still has a position, only to be told by bcr sister that the beauty salon where she works, is closing up. Over the pro- ) tests of Sybil, Joan answers a secretarial secre-tarial ad requiring some night work. The fascinating proprietor, Karl Miller, en-sages en-sages her at once, at a salary of $50 per week and Insists upon paying her In advance, ad-vance, even though she lacks references. Sybil suspects something sinister and divines Joan's quick interest in Karl. She pleads with her not to take the Job and the two quarrel. Joan accepts Karl's dinner Invitation. Now continue with the story. hiW III i! "All right! From now on I'm not saying another word. You can do Just as yon like, Joan." Murdock. Tell your sister she can i start work Monday morning." j "Oh thank you!" Joan cried. "It's1 so kind of you, Karl!" He rose, came around the desk "Has it made you happy, Joan?" "Of course," her eyes faltered beneath be-neath the steel-blue eyes. Karl Miller laughed softly as he drew her into his powerful arms. Sybil's warnings rang in her ears; but the pounding of her heart over-! came them as her lips blindly met his. There was strange magic in Karl1 Miller's kiss. How long Karl held her in that embrace, Joan did not know. When he released her he put a hand beneath her chin and looked deeply into the green eyes that were filled with emotion. "Oh, Karl!" Joan cried softly, but before she could say more the office door opened and a man entered. His eyes caught the little scene and he turned to go. "Sorry, Karl! See you later." CHAPTER III Joan felt Karl's irritation towards Sybill. "My parents are both dead," she explained. "Syb feels that she has to look after me." But even Joan was annoyed to find Sybil waiting up for them later that night. "It's almost two o'clock," Sybil snapped. "What's the idea?" Karl Miller looked amused as he stood hat in hand in the doorway. "In that case, I shall say goodnight good-night without further delay." When he had gone Joan turned furiously to her sister. "Why did you have to say that? I'm old enough to manage my own affairs." There were deep circles of fatigue beneath Sybil's blue eyes. Her voice seemed to echo like a warning through the old-fashioned, high-ceil-inged rooms. "You've got to quit working for Karl Miller! You've got to quit tomorrow!" The sisters stared at each other In the dimly lit room. Joan threw her head back defiantly as she cried, "You've made Karl angry! You had no right to do that." Sybil smiled ruefully. "He looked more amused than angry. "It's up to me to look after you, Joan. I feel responsible since mother and dad are gone. If anything happened, I'd never forgive myself." "I know, Syb! And we mustn't quarrel about it." She yawned and started for the bedroom but Sybil caught her arm. "Then you will quit working for Karl Miller?" "No. I will not. I'm twenty years old, Sybil, and I'm not going to let you or anyone else run my life." The grandfather's clock in the corner cor-ner chimed. "Two-thirty," Joan observed, evading Sybil's worried glance. "We'd better get some sleep. Don't you have to work in the morning?" "No. Today was my last day. From now on I'm one of the unemployed." Joan his eyes were void of any emotion. emo-tion. "Get that orchestra leader on the telephone," he said. "I have some instructions to give him." "Yes, Mr. Miller!" and as Joan dialed the number she found herself her-self more than ever intrigued by this man who had offered to help her sister. This strange enigma that was Karl Miller. At six o'clock Joan decided to go home for dinner. In two hours she could easily make it and she was eager to tell Sybil of her good fortune. for-tune. Her sister looked up in surprise as Joan burst into the living room. "What on earth are you doing home? You didn't by any chance quit?" "Don't be silly!" Joan cried, throwing her hat on the table. "I have wonderful news for you. Karl can get you a job at the Ritz Beauty Salon." Sybil . was genuinely surprised. "The Ritz? That smart new shop on Post street?" "Nothing less! Isn't it wonderful? Karl knows the owner. He's going to call her and fix it up for you." "But it's one of the best shops in town," Sybil said unbelievingly. "Of course! Wasn't it nice of him? Honestly, Sybil, how can you dislike dis-like a man who is so kind? Imagine his thinking about a job for you today, to-day, of all days, when he's so busy with the club opening!" Sybil was standing by the window. win-dow. "Doesn't look like a very good night for it. It's going to rain." "Is that all you can say!" Joan cried Indignantly. "Karl said maybe, may-be, since you didn't like him, you wouldn't want his help. But I thought you would." Sybil turned, "You're right, Joan! I do need the job. You may tell Mr. Miller that I appreciate it very much." Joan turned back to her desk with flaming cheeks but Karl Miller did not seem embarrassed. "It's all right, Paul! Come on in. I don't think you've met my new secretary. Miss Leland, this is Paul Sherman." Joan was forced to look into a pair of brown eyes. Their owner was tall and lithe. He had a quick smile, brown curly hair. It was a good-looking face, with its straight nose and square jaw. ' "I'm very glad to meet you," Paul Sherman said emphatically. Joan acknowledged the introduction introduc-tion and turned quickly back to her typing. What would this man think of her? Karl had said, "My new secretary," sec-retary," which implied that they had not been acquainted long. Joan told herself that she didn't care what Paul Sherman thought, yet for some indefinable reason she did. "Paul is my right-hand man," Karl said, opening a panel in the wall which revealed a tiny but complete com-plete bar. "He manages the club. You'll probably be seeing a lot of each other. Have a drink, Paul?" The other sat down and crossed his long legs. "A short one. I have to get out front again. Things look good, Karl . . . What do you think of the club, Miss Leland?" At the unexpected question addressed ad-dressed to her, Joan started. "It's very nice," she replied, dark lashes sweeping over her embarrassed green eyes. She had an uncanny feeling that Paul Sherman was staring star-ing at her, conscious of her embarrassment. em-barrassment. She was so confused that she made three mistakes in one line. It was not easy for her to turn emotion off and on as Karl Miller did. She marvelled at his coolness as he sat on the edge of his desk and talked to Paul. "By the way," Paul was saying,, his eyes still on Joan, "Eric wants to see you. He's in the bar. Wants you to meet some people." "I'll go then. Coming, Paul?" Paul finished his drink. "I'm right with you, Karl." Joan was relieved when they had gone. She pushed back her chair and made no pretense of finishing the letter she had been typing. It And you expect me to quit my Job? Oh, no, Syb! I'm making a good salary and whether you think so or not, Karl is a gentleman." "Maybe so," Sybil said as she snapped off the lamp, "but I don't trust him." The next day Joan Leland arrived at the Club Elite promptly at two o'clock. Karl Miller's office was filled with baskets of flowers. Tonight To-night was opening night but Karl was unruffled behind his desk, impeccably im-peccably dressed in a gray suit, a red carnation in his buttonhole. She was glad that she had worn her best black dress. It was an expensive ex-pensive sophisticated dress, the kind of dress Joan knew Karl would approve. ap-prove. Heavy silver earrings were her only ornament, and she had used a touch of mascara, a dash of dark red lipstick. Joan had the assurance assur-ance of a woman who knew that she looked her best. Her green eyes sparkled as she closed the office door behind her. "Good afternoon," she said demurely. de-murely. Her employer was not the type to evade issues. "I've been thinking about your sister, Joan: Tell me something about her." Joan removed her hat and coat and smoothed her black hair before she replied, "Sybil's a little low right now. You see, she's just lost her job. The beauty shop where she worked has been closed." Karl laughed. "Then perhaps that was why she was in such a bad humor?" Joan did not notice the coldness of her sister's reply. She was happily hap-pily unconscious of the expression on Sybil's face. "How about dinner? I'm starved. I have to be back at the club by eight." Sybil broiled the chops while Joan made a salad. "I see you're wearing your good black dress to work. What's the idea?" "Why not?" Joan retorted. "I'm making fifty dollars a week now and I have to look my best." "You didn't seem to think it necessary nec-essary when you worked for Mr. Mulford." Joan put the salad bowl on the table and set places for two. "You know how I feel about Karl, Syb!" she said in a low voice. "Why make it hard for me?" "All right! From now on I'm not saying another word. You can do just as you like, Joan. Maybe it's none of my business, after all." Joan put an affectionate arm about her sister. "Don't feel that way, darling. But give me a little credit for knowing what I'm doing. I'm not a child, you know." Sybil smiled as she turned back to the stove but she said no more. As Sybil had predicted, it was was thus that Paul Sherman found her when he returned to the office a few seconds later. She started guiltily when he came in. "Oh, it's you again!" "You don't seem too pleased to see me," Paul observed, shutting the door carefully behind him. "But as a matter of fact, I came back on purpose." Joan stared at him in disapproval. "You mean that no one wanted to see Karl?" "Oh sure! That was legitimate, but when I saw a chance to slip away, I took it." His friendly smile made it difficult to be offended. He said it with such apparent honesty hon-esty that Joan was not angry. She sat down at her own small desk beside be-side Karl's and mechanically inserted insert-ed a sheet of paper in her typewriter. typewrit-er. Karl suddenly leaned forward. "Would it please you if I could help vour sister?" The girl's lovely face lifted innocently inno-cently to his. "Oh Karl, could you?" "I think so. A friend of mine, a Mrs. Murdock, owns the Ritz Beauty Beau-ty Salon. If I ask her, I feel sure she will be able to use another experienced ex-perienced girl." Joan's eyes were shining. "The Ritz Beauty Salon! Oh, Karl, that's wonderful!" It was one of the best shops in town. Sybil would be thrilled. "Of course," Karl continued, ''your sister may not want any assistance as-sistance from me since she so obviously ob-viously dislikes me." "I'm sure Sybil will appreciate it very much," Joan assured him. "It was sweet of you to think of her, Karl." But with a swift change of attitude atti-tude Karl had ground out his cigarette ciga-rette and when he turned again to raining when Joan reached the club but the weather had not seemed to affect business. Already the first guests were arriving. The bar was crowded. Gay laughter, conversation, conversa-tion, tinkling glasses made an exciting ex-citing combination of sounds which spelled success for the future. Joan felt a little thrill of pride as she passed on down the corridor to the office. She settled herself at her desk and began to type. Karl was not there. Her mind wandered as she worked. Only a week ago she was working for Arthur Mulford. ,Now everything was different. Life had turned a fresh page, which Joan felt sure would be filled with adventure. It must have been fate that she answered an-swered Karl Miller's advertisement. Fate that Mr. Mulford had gone out of business and been forced to fire her. She was thinking so intently that when he opened the door she felt the color rush into her checks. And she knew that his keen eyes had observed her embarrassment. Karl seemed pleased. "Everything's "Every-thing's going fine. Couldn't be better. bet-ter. By the way, I spoke to Mrs. "Well," Joan asked flatly, "What do you want?" Paul laughed, displaying even white teeth. "To talk to you. You needn't be so annoyed. After all, I am the manager of the club." Was there a hint of cynicism in his voice? "I'm sorry." Joan said, trying to smile. "I guess I'm not used to this type of .work yet" "That's what I am getting at," Paul said seriously. "How did you happen to come to work for Karl Miller anyway?" (TO BE COSTIWED) i |