SIXTH INSTALMENT
"But now,” said Ellen, "you’d
better take me home. And then
you’d better go home yourself, and
go to bed and get some sleep. And
when you wake up, have black
coffee—lots of it. I’m not saying
have coffee,” she endeavored to
laugh, "because I think you need
it, because I think you’ve been
drinking, or anything. You said you
hadn’t, and I believe you. And—”
It was such a long speech, Ellen
wished that she might give up the
effort, that she might just stop talk
ing and let her head lie back on the
broad shoulder beneath the Pierrot
suit. "And, after you’ve had your
coffee, sit back and go over the
facts in the case. And if you still
feel the same way about marrying
me, by noon tomorrow, come
around and we’ll get down to cases.
My name? It’s Ellen Church. I’ve
been forgetting that you didn’t
know who I was, either. You’ll find
that name below a bell this—” she
gave him a street number, "address.
And if, after the sleep and the coffee
and the thinking, you still want to
go on . . . Well, a marriage license
can be had, they tell me, up to four!
If we should happen to get together
tomorrow, perhaps I’ll let you buy
me one. But if you,” she was able,
by gritting her teeth, to make her
voice seem casual, "if you don’t
show up, I’ll know you’re complete
ly normal again; I’ll probably be
that way, myself. No,” all at once
she was shivering violently, "don’t
kiss me—not now. Don’t you dare
to kiss me! If you come tomorrow,
there may be years of kissing ahead
of us ... If you don’t come, we’ll
have one less moment to forget.”
Her heart said, "Oh, God, don’t
let him stay away.” It said, also, in
swift panic, "Don’t let him come. I
can’t pretend with him much
longer. And if he comes, I’ll never
be able to do anything else but
pretend!”
The taxi turned sharply through
the dawn, and made for the nearest
park exit.
Tony came the next day, slightly
before noon, looking a trifle older
then he had in his tousled Pierrot
costume. Seeming less sun-browned,
less sure of himself, but somehow
more dear than ever—infinitely
more dear! Ellen, starting forward
to meet him, could hardly hold back
her arms. They seemed to be on
springs—on springs that dragged
them forward, toward him.
Ellen—she wasn’t looking quite
so vivid herself, as she had in the
brief costume of a page boy. Her
hair was parted demurely in the!
middle, and she wasn’t made up.
She wore a plain little dress of navy j
blue crepe, with white linen collar]
and cuffs, and small, strapped black j
slippers. She was like a school girl!
in appearance.
"Well?” she asked.
The red rushed up under the,
brown of the boy’s cheeks, but he j
managed to speak just as nonchal
antly as she had.
"Very well, indeed!” he answered.
"Oh, very—”
And then, without quite knowing]
how they got there, they were in:
each other’s arms and he was kissing 1
her oddly shaped winglike eyebrows. 1
\nd she was quivering, close to sobs,
igainst his shoulder. ;
Without quite knowing how they!
got there they were in each |f
other’s arms. il
_____-I
For a moment they stood to- .
;ether, so. And then Tony spoke. 1
"I guess,” he said, "that settles it! 1
O^e will be married as soon as pos- !1
:ible. How,” his voice was close to '
sreaking, "how could you send me \
lcme, as you did, last night?” I
"This morning!” corrected Ellen.
Tony’s face had a high, uplifted
look. He paid no attention to the
correction.
"You had me worried,” he said,
"stalling that way. Pretending that
you hadn’t fallen for me, and that
my bank account was all that mat
tered.”
Ellen raised a slender hand—half
in protest, half in a gesture of with
drawal. •
"Listen,” said Ellen. "Stop and
look and listen! You’re going too
fast, Tony—you’re assuming too
much. I didn’t mean to worry you
last night, and I wasn’t stalling,
either. I wasn’t pretending not to
like you, for I do like you far better
than any of the other men I know.
But I suppose it was, really, your
bank account that finally sold me—
on marriage, I mean. For,” her
heart thudded sickly at the false
hood, "I don’t love you, not as love
goes in novels. I won’t ever love
anyone that way. I’ve always said
that marriage would have to be sort
of lukewarm to interest me, and I
haven’t changed my mind! What I
mean is, I don’t love you madly. I
don’t believe in love, not for girls.
It’s all right for men—with a man,
love’s only a gesture any way!”
"Most women,” said Tony, and
he spoke with the conviction that
every rich young man possesses,
"would be afraid to talk as frankly
as you do Ellen, if they really didn’t
care! They’d be afraid of losing me
—and my bank account—”
Ellen tossed her head until'the
curls of it were all a-dance.
"I’m not afraid!” she boasted.
How could a boy guess that the
boast was so hollow?
"I suppose,” Tony went on, "that j
I’m sort of old-fashioned, in some!
ivays. But my mother and my father I
svere married for thirty years. My!
father died just two months before
ny mother went away, and when
;he followed him (and say what you
ivill, it was heartbreak, for she
ladn’t been ill), she was calling—”
:he boy’s voice shook, "calling his
tame. I believe in that kind of mar
iage, myself.”
Ellen’e eyes were staring far
way. i,
"My mother loved my father un
it they both died,” said Ellen. "And
tiat, her imitation or Claire s shrug j
I was piteous, "and thats why I don’t1
jbelieve in that kind of marriage. 1 •
I want to get what I can out of life j 1
j—I want to squeeze life dry, like a|
sponge. If you marry me, it will j
have to be on those terms. You’re I
not to expect too much from me. q
not too much love, or too much',
'gentleness, or too much loyalty. I’ll!
j try not to do anything to put any>
jsort of a blot on your name—you
jean pretty well count on me, there,
because I’m not the type! But I shall'
continue to have my own friends,i
and to go out with them. And I’ll -
keep on with my work, if I find I’m|(
not busy enough running my mar-;,
riage. I’ll—” !]
One of the first things she had;,
noticed about Tony was the
(Strength of his jaw line. It widened
I_. _ ■ II T.l
iti iiw v> j in an uuu iiiduiiii. xu 11
amc blunt.
"What,” said Tony, "if I make a |
ew remarks and stipulations? As',
ang as this seems to be a mutual
ontract we’re drawing up! What
f I say that I’ll have as many wo
nen friends in my life, as you have
nen? What if I say that I’ll find
ny excitement elsewhere, if you
lon’t keep my home peppy enough? ■
X^hat if I say I don’t care about the
dots that I put on the family name,
s long as wearing the family name
:an be held so cheaply by my wife? j
X^hat if I say I thoroughly agree .
vith your theories? That what
rou’ve said can go—double!”
Ellen’s hands were folded in her
ap. They looked like calm little
ingers, but in reality the nails of
hem were biting into her pink
>alms. Tony—oh, he mustn’t go
bout with other women! Not when
le was her husband. She—reversing
i single standard to fit her own
juaint measure—could be less fas
idious. Because she knew that other
nen wouldn’t ever matter to her.
lut how could she be sure that some
ither girl wouldn’t matter to Tony?
ihe starred to speak, changed her'
nind, and said something entirely
lifferent from the thing that she
lad intended to say .
"At that, our marriage should
vork- out better,” she said, "than
nost marriages. It’s being built on
perfectly honest, fifty-fifty, cards
in-the-table basis.”
Some of the buoyancy seemed to
[ Shuddersat "Death”
i
CLEVELAND ... Joe Bade
(above), 17-year-old youth accused
of murdering a woman shop keeper
in a hold-up a few weeks ago, now
shudders every time attorneys in
the trial mention “death” or
“electric chair.”
have gone out of the heir to the
Brander millions. Only his dog
gedness, the strong line of his chin,
was left.
"It’ll work out all right!” he told
Ellen. "Say when!”
Oh, the throbbing of the heart
in Ellen’s breast! Oh, the persistent
beat in her temples. . . .
"Why,” she said, and her voice
sounded like a stranger’s voice, even
in her own ears, "why, the sooner
the better! It’s just after twelve,
now. Maybe if we took a taxi, we
could catch us a license right off,
and be married, and have a bite of
luncheon together, before three. At
three o’clock I have a date to pose
for Dick Alven, in his studio. He’s
doing a mural . . .” She broke off
before the torrent of Tony’s words.
"Do you mean to tell me,” he
was shouting, "that you’d go off,
right after the ceremony, and pose
for some artist? Do you mean to
tell me you’d leave your husband
to go to another man, so that he
can paint you into a dirty little In
dian picture?
Ellen was interrupting.
"Long after our marriage is over, I
rony,” she said hotly, "long after;
ive’ve stopped being Dick’s mural\
will go on, giving beauty and fine
less to people. It’s not a dirty
ittle Indian picture, Tony—Dick
s a great artist.”
"Great artist be hanged,” grated
rony. "I bet he’s in love with you,
he—”
Ellen’s face was burning.
"If it’s going to be like this,” she
aid, "when we’ve known each other
sss than a day—well, then, I guess
ye’d better call off the whole busi
less.”
But, suddenly, she was in Tony’s
rms' again, and his mouth was
gainst her mouth. And the whole
arth whirled dizzy about them.
And, then with her hand tight in
’ony’s, and a blue, small hat
lamped down over her ears, and a
yhite, strained smile on her lips,
dlen was being whirled away—to
yard lower New York and the mar
iage license bureau.
Only they weren’t going in a
axi. Tony was driving a scarlet
lolls-Royce roadster with a special
>ody and a mean way of nosing
lirough traffic.
The document which gave two
roung people the right to join their
ives together was properly authen
icated. It was witnessed and seal
id. And then the man behind the
iars was speaking.
"Want to be married here, now?”
le questioned. "The clerk can do
he job—”
Ellen had a desire—a keen desire
—to scream. No, she didn’t want
:o be married in this dark, dusty
room. Not to Tony—to T(Jny
vhom she loved—to Tony who
would be her husband.
But Tony, with a blush creeping
down until it covered his firm, tan
ned neck, was stammering out
something.
"No,” he was saying. "Not
here. I want to be married in a
church. Only married once,;
y’know.”
The man who had sealed the pap
ers said something, here, about be
ing an optimist. I
"As for that,” Tony added, as
if he were speaking in his own de
fense, "we haven’t a ring yet!”
Ellen, glancing swiftly down at
her slim, ringless hands, was flush
ing, too. Why, she had quite for
gotten about a ring! Of course,
they’d have to buy one, wasn’t it
all a part of the marriage service?
"With this ring—’’something
like that?
Her embarrassment made her
forget to be dishonest.
"I want to be married in a
church, too,” she told the man be
hind the bars, and the man lauehed
at her vehemence.
It was only when Tony had slid
into the driver’s seat of his car, and
slipped in the clutch, that he sigh
ed and spoke.
"Thank God, that’s, over!” he
aid.
Ellen sighed, too.
"The first hundred licenses are
the hardest!” she told him, but he
ignored her flippancy. Instead,
guiding the car deftly through the
traffic, he reached down and brief
ly patted her hand.
"Such little baby fingers,” he
said. "Wonder if we’ll find a ring
small enough to do any good?”
They did find the ring. All the
way up in the Fifties. A slim
little circlet of sapphires ("because
they’re more like you, believe it or
not, than diamonds!”). And a great
single sapphire on a gossamer hoop
of platinum.
"Your engagement ring!” Tony
remarked.
"We’re on our way,” Tony said,
as they paused in the heavy early
afternoon traffic on the -avenue,
"to the Little Church Around the
Corner. It’s a bromide, I suppose,
to be married there. But I’ve al
ways liked its green handkerchief
of a lawn and its green shrubs—”
Steadily, to keep the panic from
rising, from submerging her like a
sea. Ellen turned her eyes from
Tony’s face. Somehow, when her
eyes were on his face, she couldn’t
see, or think, clearly.
The car turned, sharply, into the
side street. And there stood the
church about which so many le
gends have been built, the Little
Church set friendly-wise in its
green oasis of lawn.
(Continued Next Week.)
—Buy In Salisbury—
OUT
Basham, the boxer, had been
signed up to, fight a huge negro.
On the eve of the match his backer
nodded towards Basham’s room and
inquired of his trainer:
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"Yes,” came the retort. "He’s in
one now. He’s just seen his oppon
ent.”
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PUBLIC SALE
I will offer at Public Sale on my farm 2
miles west of Salisbury, on the old
Mocksville Road on
Saturday, December 1st, 1934
Beginning at 1 p. m., the following
15 Head of Dairy Cattle—All Milk Cows—
Guernseys and Holsteins; 1 Registered Guern
sey Bull—4 years old; 2 Mules; 1 Manure
Spreader; 1 Ford Tractor, Side Plow, Disc Har
row and Wood Saw; 1 Wheat Binder; 1 Corn
Harvester; 1 Ensilage Cutter; 1 Drill; 1 Roller,
1 Mowing Machine and Rake, together with
Sundry Plows and Other Farming Tools; also
Milking Utensils, Including 1 Pulsator, 6
Milking Units, Cans and Buckets, Motor Pump
and Cooler.
Having sold my farm and dairy I am offering
the foregoing to the highest bidder for cash
and make no reservations. Any of the above
may be inspected prior to date of sale.
November 15, 1934.
T. W. WATKINS
1
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