The Daily Worker Newspaper, June 25, 1927, Page 8

Aimmunition Drawing by Maurice Becker An Appointment At One Gus only met him once, but that one time was sufficient to convince Nancy that she found her beau ideal at last. With that came a miraculous change in her behavior. She began to feel gayer, sing when she’d find an opportunity, and laugh; without feeling that life cheated her of something she wanted and sought. Having that which one often visualizes in dreams turn to reality has differefit effects on different temperaments. To Nancy that one meeting with someone who had long lived in her subconscious mind worked wonders. She felt that she could now face people without fearing that to themselves they might think, “poor girl without a lover at her age,” This was a greatly exaggerated belief, for most people she came in contact with did not concern themselves about her to that extent. But, because she herself did entertain such notions, she fancied that everyone else did too, Now that worry was over, she told herself repeatedly, with inherent sat- isfaction. One change that this meeting with him brought about, showed itself in the attitude towards her father. Nancy now spoke to him minus the usual resentment which characterized their former con- versations. His constant wish to see her “married off” was a source of torment to her, of ‘which both were cognizant. She recalled the many men he in- vited to dinner, ostensibly for a “chat” as he told them, but underlying his benevolence was the un- pleasant fact that he wanted them to meet her, her, it was always her. Nancy was the oldest of four girls, comprising in part the Brown family. That she was in the way of her younger sisters she had no doubt. And, that they pitied her for not having a suitor at her mature age she also knew, and bitterly resented any men- tion on their part “that she was a lovely girl and would yet make an attractive marriage.” This eajolery no longer served its purpose. Nancy was conscious of her thwarted desires, and at various times tried to sublimate them by stimulating an ar- tificial interest in other fields. Failing in that she continued to fret and resent the encroachments her “people” made on her vanity. At twenty-eight environment molded her into a hard, disconsolate woman. Ill-favored by the fates, she suffered from an illusion that everybody con- spired against her. This was an imaginary fancy born out of a fruitless quest for things she couldn't attain, and foremost among them was a “fellow” as she oftimes confided to herself., She met a number of such objectives from time to time, but could never establish a permanent friendship. Something in her manner set a barrier which could not be easily bridged. Should she in the company of other girls be picked up by men, Nancy would be the one to receive least attention. She knew it, and wanted to be more frivolous, but always a somewhat coached propriety held her back. With the ensuing years this contrary streak was beginning to wane. It disappeared entirely when she met him. They met on a Bronx-bound subway train. It was during the evening rush hour, and crowds of homegoers kept jostling against each other. Nancy boarded the train at Times Square. At the following station he stepped in, She noticed, but didn’t give him any undue attention, at first. Under her right arm she clasped a book, and in the other held a hat feather wrapped in tissue paper, which she had just bought. Before long felt a hand brush behind her back, the motion giving her a little more freedom. Nancy looked up and beamed a polite “Thank you” to a stalwart figure. He was waiting for just such a break. “I don’t want you to crush your flower,” drifted from his lips, Nancy hesitated before carrying on the tete-a-tete: “It’s not a flower, it’s just a cheap little hat feather, but thank you just the same.” Her tone was friendly. He smiled, and responded immediately. “But you may erush the leaves in your book.” This sally made her laugh. Just then the train lurched around a turn, and before she knew it she was falling in his arms. “I beg your pardon” she flushed. He felt that he had already “made” her. “Why, what did you do”? he inquired with assumed naiveté, Her eyes screwed up, she looked him over, and was visibly impressed by his appearance. “You're quite a smart aleck, aren’t you”? “You bet I am, with smart girls like you.” Both grinned, as they at- tempted to read each other’s mind. The train rolled to a stop. The crowd was gradu- ally thinning out, until several passengers remained, Nancy and her new found friend took seats, — 4 By ALEX JACKINSON “Going to Starlight?” he asked of her, after a while. “Are you?” “Yes,” “So am I,” echoed Nancy. A second later she re- gretted having said that, for she was on her way home then, and had no intention of going to where she signified. However she resolved to go thru with it. : They reached the 177th Street Station. “We get off here,” he informed her. Nancy arose. “This way.” He took her by the elbow and steered her way to the street. There were many other people on their way to Starlight Amusement Park, and ‘together they wended up the crowded thoroughfare, “By the way we haven’t been introduced to each other yet.” It was she who broke the silence. “No, we haven't.” “My name’s Nancy-—Nancy Brown,” she interrupted quickly. “George Spence is what I an- swer to.” They shook hands and expressed satis- faction at having met so unexpectedly, That was how they met, their parting was equally as thrilling to her. He took her home in a taxi, A necessary prelude to his motives. In the hallway he held her in his arms and vowed enduring fidelity. Nancy was a flutter of excitement. Hitherto when she met a men she acted coldly, indifferently, always feeling inferior to him, and it was that feeling which drew a gap between them, so a girl once told her. At first Nancy resented this frank disclosure, but later gave in that it was true. She determined to follow a friendlier course in the future. Had her mother known that Nancy was indulging in one of those*flirtations she was repeatedly warned against, Mrs. Brown would have been frantic. For years she dominated her daughter’s relations with men, oftimes politely barring entrance to those she labelled unsuitable. Now Nancy passed the stage where the prudence her mother advocated was con- sidered safe. George Spenee partly lied in giving that name. Only the first was correct. He never gave girls his right name, at least not the first time, When he saw Nancy on the train platform, he resolved to “pick her up,” not that she appealed to him much, it was merely that he was alone on a Saturday night, and wanted to be with a girl, any girl. (Continued on page 6) ‘