TO KEEP
/^Jane Abbott
chapter twenty
■ queried Mrs. Winston,
'T “You've gone into the
Diane-”
»oV’i„ an amateur way, Mrs.
"explained. "With Some of
fiends out at the Old Col
,ve’re getting very profes
Diar,e added. “Rufus Kent
:;3" ,L lead— '
"Vafus Kent," echoed Mrs. Win
sharply*
P l-.ns twitched. Here was
D'ahorob! "Yes, Bill’s college
*r 0 you know, the one who
;iShere to go on the Post, who
|,!r'C those editorials. He’s ter
‘■fVver and simply marvelous
'i® movie. I should know! He
5 0Urthe part of my lover and—
he-c convincingly fatal!”
without looking at him, she
■Vi's eyes were hard on her.
W* this is'what I’ve been doing
Svou’ve been working on your
She looked at Page but
11,1 Vas fastening the Clasp of
[bracelet; her bent face revealed
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teur movie, I mean,” said Allithea
Matthewson. “Where will you
show it, Diane?”
“Danny Carver’s giving a party
down on GuS Schultz’ showboat.
We’ll run it off then.”
“You don’t mean you’d go—”
Satisfaction was in Mrs. Winston’s
voice as well as horror.
“Oh, we’re wild to see the in
side of it! And meet Gus-”
Mrs. Arden rose from the table.
“Shall we play some bridge? Bill,
you and I will take on the girls.”
Bill put up the tables. “One rub
ber, Mother,” he said, as he sat
down opposite his mother.
“Of course, you’re tired.”
Was her sympathy only for his
tiredness, Diane wondered, uneas
ily. For her defiance had spent it
self; her anger had left her. She
played stupidly, scarcely rearing
Page’s bids, reluctant to meet
Page’s glance, acutely aware of a
soberness in Bill’s manner that
was not for the game. She was
glad when the rubber was over,
she rose as quickly as Bill from
the table.
There was another round of con
gratulatory hand shaking with the
goodbys. T en they were in the
car and driving away. Diane sat
back in her corner, holding her
breath, waiting for Bill to speak.
Then she could say: “I’m sorry! I
know. I was silly and cheap! ’
Cheap, like Vicky. And she d de
spised Vicky for it. “Something
just sent me off, darling. It
doesn’t matter what—’’
When his arms were around her
she would tell him about the bgby.
But they were almost at the
Chatham Arms before Bill spoke.
And then coldly: “How many
cocktails did you drink before din
ner?’’
Her voice was as cold. “You
saw me!”
“I saw only the one you brought
to the living room!”
He stopped the car at their door.
“You go on up. I’ll take the car
’round.”
She was undressing when he
came in. Frightened, she dropped
down on the edge of the bed,
clutching the garment she had
taken off. What would he say
next? She didn’t know.
He said from the living room:
“Coming out here again?”
“No.”
She heard the click of the wall
switch, his step across the dinette.
He was in the room.
She stood up, desperately will
ing her knees not to double , under
her. “I’m sorry, Bill.” But she
could not say it while there was
that closed look on Bill’s face.
He pulled off his coat, took it to
the closet, hung it there, turned,
“Di, I take it you’re going out to
the club on your father’s member
ship?”
Incredibly, that was in his mind,
not Rufus!
“Family membership, isn’t it?”
“Not mine. I’d prefer you stayed
away until I can afford to join it.
You can find other amusements,
can’t you?”
She picked up a brush from the
dressing table, drew it over her
bright hair. “Why haven’t you
spoken of it before?’’
“Because I was too deep in that
trial to even know what you were
doing,” Bill retorted.
She had set the trap for him,
but she was no less stung by his
admission. She sat quite still, her
fingers tight on the edge of the
dressing ta b 1 e, repeating his
words to herself, as if, together,
they made something she must re
member.
He came to her, put his hands
on her shoulders. “Don’t look like
that, Di. I’m not asking a great
deal of you, an I? You can’t
care much for that crowd you’ve
been playing around with out
there. To me they seem a fearful
waste of time.’’
She did not answer. She let him
think that that was the issue and
that it was closed now. She tipped
her face back to receive his kiss.
But her lips felt stiff against his;
the coldness was creeping up ever
her again.
Bill got into his pajamas. “I m
half asleep on my feet! But it’s
good to know I haven’t a hard day
ahead of me tomorrow!”
He fell asleep almost as soon as
his head touched the pillow. Diane
listened in a .numb wonder to his
regular breathing. After a little
she raised on her elbow to stare,
almost fearfully, at his dark head,
outlined against the white of the
bed linen. ‘‘I’m going to have his
child and I .'don’t reall- know
him!”
• • •
‘‘Are you too sleepy for a little
talk, dear?” asked Mrs. Winston
of Page when they arrived home
from the Ardens.
Page shrank from it; she was
too distraught in her mind to
counter the triumph she saw ill
her mother’s bearing. But to re
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fuse would only postpone the mo
ment, so she followed her mother
into the living room.
Mrs. Winston put her gloves and
bag on the table, sat down in
a chair, a little forward in it,
squared her plump shoulders.
“Did you ever see such an ex
hibition as Diane made of herself
tonight? I felt so sorry for Bill’s
mother. Though it ought to be for
Bill, he has to live with her! Her
boldness, in practically announc
ing before Bill and everyone, that
she’s starting an affair with that
Rufus Kent!”
Diane had given Mrs. Winston
a high trump, and she played it
with satisfaction.
Page dropped her eyes to her
tightly locked hands. She aid not
believe there was anything like
that between Rufus and Diane, in
spite of what Diane had said. Di
ane had wanted, for some rea
son of her own, to shock them
there at the table, or hurt. Bill.
And Rufus wasn’t that kind. It
would be loyal to deny it and at
the moment she ionged, desperate
ly, to give Rufus, at least, loyalty.
But she did not speak.
Her mother read an advantage
in her silence. She went on in a
voice siiky with approval. “I am
very grateful, Page, that you
haven’t permitted him to pay you
serious attention! . He’s quite
impossible! I knew it the first
time I met him and now it’s prov
en by what Diane admitted.” Site
hesitated a moment, then flushed:
“Because Bill made a mistake is
no reason you should—”
“Mother!” Page cried, choking
ly, her face flaming.
Mrs. Winston moved to where
Page sat on the divan, put her
arm over the girl’s shoulders.
“Don’t you think I know how you
felt about Bill? Even before you
did. It’s like that with mothers.
I was so happy about it, I
thought—” Her hold tigntened.
“And when I knew it couldn’t be,
my heart ached for my sweet girl.
I prayed for you, dear child, that
you’d keep your head. And you
have. Any other girl would have
encouraged the first man she met!
I suppose that is why I worried
when that Kent man began com
ing here so often.'Though I might
have known you’d see yourself
that he is quite beneath you! I
talked to him one evening, Page,
when he was waiting for you to
come downstairs. I asked him
about his family. The most he can
claim is a couple living on a farm
somewhere in Massachusetts, an
aunt and uncle. Ordinary farmers,
he made quite definite. He grew
up with them. But he may have
told you—it struck me he was a
little boastful of the fact!”
Page drew away from her moth
er’s hold. “Yes, he’s told me. You
didn’t need to ask him!”
“Your father and I certainly
have the right to know, Page, with
what sort of men you are going
out! ”
Page got to her feet, looked
wildly toward the door. “I’m
frightfully tired, Mother.”
Mrs. Winston rose, too, kissed
Page’s cheek. “Yes, you’re tired.
Run along to bed, dear.”
(To Be Continued)
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Special To The Star
JACKSONVILLE, May 21 _
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