Evening Star Newspaper, May 26, 1929, Page 102

o0 The Story You Have Been Waiting For. It Will Hold You to the Very Last Word. ¢’ I \ £ and Manners with the Great Viec- sorians,” “is their lack of dignity. They have no sense of code. Think of Gladstone, or Dis- dians,” “said ‘Mr. Kirby Roberts as saeli, or even Bismarck running around the- world having love affairs in their old age. They had something better to do.” ‘Mr. Kirby Roberts shook his beautifully prushed, distinguished head sagely and sadly. «And then think of Uncle George,” he con- ' eluded, as if nothing in the way of contrast could be more complete. It was all a matter of very real concern to Mr. Roberts; for, although it was absurd for & man mature in mind, body and experience to be burdened with a guardian at all, Uncle George was, nevertheless, his legal guardian until next November, when he himself would be 21. And, if one must have a guardian, even technically, one might at least expect him to provide an example of conduct. to guide, in- struct, and restrain in those matters of de- corum proper to a gentleman. Did Uncle George do that? On the contrary, all the guiding, instructing, and restraint exercised since this expedition to Europe to improve Mr. Roberts’ cultural background had begun, this fruitless frittering of time on a gaudy, frivolous continent, had been exercised by Mr. Roberts himself. “It is sad,” he commented, “when & man does not acknowledge the obligation and feel the propriety of his years.” He gazed thoughtfully from the front win- dow of their suite in the dignified Hotel Grand. Pown beyond the ordered lawn, solemn with its formal walks and spaced palms, was the Bay of Cannes, and Mr. Roberts sniffed at that myth about the blue Mediterranean. Blue? ‘Well, if ons cared to be romantic, yes. Of course, all seas were at times more or less plue. But Mr. Roberts was thinking of the crashed ideal of his Uncle George and not gbout the imaginary colors of seas. 3 ....,, v OPP‘ the pler of the Cercle Nautique a trim white steam yacht was anchored, and Mr, Kirby Roberts noticed that yacht. In fact, he'd noticed her several times before during their wanderings, at Corfu, at Agadir, and had wondered at the coincidence. This time he no- ticed something more; for a young lady in an apple green bathing suit was swimming from the deck of that yacht, diving like a bird, run- ning up the ladder and diving again. At least, Mr. Roberts supposed she was a young lady, although she might not be a lady 'and she gight be 40. Old women were doing all sorts ©f juvenile tricks these days. Some of them still danced. He went into his own room and brought back his -very powerful marine glasses. "He deter- smined the lady was fairly young, *perhaps 19. ,,, She_was also, although her white~bathing cap eoncealed her hair, personable, s S * It was of even greater interest to Mr. Roberts that the reasonably young.and personable.lady wvas apperently in some distress. Each time " ‘ghe gained the deck she paused, buried her face i her arms, and seemed to shake. with: sobs. She dived, swam, climbed, sobbed and dived @gain, interminably and appealingly. T« Arthur,” suggested Mr. Roberts to his uncle’s gnan, “see if you can find my swimming suit, I think it's quite warm enough for & dip.” _ ~There was a seaplane landing float at the end of the pier and he made his plunge from ' there. He swam leisurely and meditatively to- _ ward Africa, paying no attention whatever to such intervening objects as yachts. He demon- strated his indifference to yachts by swimming _‘far peyond one of them and approaching it . only casually on his return, not from Africa, precisely, but at least impressively from the pouth. i +Once or twice he rested, granting a critical glance inland to the, in his personal opinion, somewhat overdone rococo beauty of Cannes, the purple loom of the Esterel headland, the “ blunt square tower dominating the Old Town, -hialf-hidden villas studding the green back- . .ground of Alpes-Maritimes foot hills, the white ,&nd bright !ines of hotels and-smart-shops on the Croisette, pinned at one end by the great sirchitectural calamity known as the Municipal Casino. Uncle George, no doubt, would be sable to describe all this later as fluently as a guide. These reflections upon his guardian were terminated by his own proximity to that yacht and his own obligation in the matter of young 3adies in distress. He was aware that the dive, climb, sob, dive process was still continuing and, in fact, quite before he was, in a sense, ready, a white capped little head and & button- yound face made up chiefly of, as he decided, Rilac-colored eyes, bobbed up out of the depths ¥ight in front of his nose. “Oh!” said the face. *Oh!” said the face again, “Please excuse me for getting in your way.” “But, my dear lady,” sald Mr. Roberts, tread- $ng water, “you're not in my way at all.” His dignity was equal to that test, too. “In fact, I Wwas coming, if you will permit me, to offer HE trouble with parents and guar-’ he closed a volume called “Modes - THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHIN( A whisper reached Mr. Roberts. "“Oh, don’t tell me——" she said—— “that is the man who has pursued us from Casablanca and Agadir and Corfu” you possible assistance. You seemed to be in distress.” “Distress?” The young lady did a few dolphin plunges and an expert roll. “Distress? I'm more at home in water than on land. Oh, you mean the tears.” “Yes, I mean the tears.” He followed her up the boarding ladder to that yacht’s deck. “You see, the Mediterranean is salty enough as it is,” he said, and was secretly pleased with the remark. A gentleman should have the right word at the proper moment. “You’ll pardon my addressing you without an introduction, I hope. I'm Mr, Kirby Roberts, as a matter of fact.” “Oh, teally! ¥'m Miss Scripps” she said and offered him a cane deck chair with a pretty dignity. “Do you know, something urges me to confide in you, Mr. Roberts. Isn't it a cu- rious fate that we should happen to meet like that—just when I most needed help, or at least a confidant? Do you believe in fate, Mr. Roberts?” N/IR. ROBERTS admitted his fatalism. “Yes, one .realizes as ‘he gets older,” he sald, “that what will be will be.” “That's so true,” ‘agreed Miss Scripps. “Of course,” she went on, “you mus¢ not think I'm quite as old @s I Jook, Mr. Roberts. I'm so often taken 22 '0r:23. I'm really 18 I think Mce, A0 perience, inevitably leaves its mark.” e “I only hope,” he said solemnly, “that I can, in some manner, lighten e burden of your unhappy experienga, Miss Seippe” - The lMiac-cglored eyes gleamed with :new tears. “If I only—had some oneé to confide in,” she sald, “Some one who would sympathise and not condemn. You see, Mr. Roberts,’ it's about my—mother.” She covered her face, and Mr. Roberts feared, for the moment, that:she could only recover her poise by more diving. But she fought it out bravely, alone, . “It's so terrible, Mr. Roberts, to have a mother whom you love, but of whom you.can't approve. - Do you realize, Mr. Roberts"—Miss Scrippé’ pretty white throat was full of husky tragic throbs— - “that this is not even our yacht?” : Mr. Roberts hadn't realized it, but he .was more interested in what she'd sald about mothers., He leaned forward intently.” “Miss Scripps, I know I can help you. I feel for you about your mother. you mean, an help and, perhaps—perhaps, you also ‘ecan strengthen me. I, t0o"—his gaze fell in the shame of admission—"I, too—have an Uncle Miss Scripps’ fingers.touched his arm with impulsive sympathy, . “We must be friends. . At - least, I hope.your Uncle George does not go on yacht parties and make love right and Jeft before your very eyes. That's what the men on this yacht do. Even Mr. Dixon, who owns it. And the ladies of the party permit it. It's mot, of course, that I do not believe in love. I think that love must be the most wonderful thing in the world.” “Yes,” agreed Mr. Roberts thickly, “it is. But not for mothers and guardians. Perhaps we can lead them.to understand that. Shall we try? Will you shake hands on that, Miss Scripps?” ¢ By this time Mr. Roberts stood at the bottom of the boarding ladder, bowing adieu to his collaborator in reform. The dignity of his farewell, however, was marred when he lost his hold on the ladder and plunged into the cold water of reality, otherwise the Bay of Cannes. But he recovered himself, bowed while he trod water, and struck out for the pier. His dignity was equal 0o much more than that. - especially un SO S I know exactly what. I shall give you confidence and - IN justice to Uncle George it should be said that Mr. Roberts’ poor opinion of.him was not quite a unanimous verdict. Several days later as he waited in the’ sitting room of their suite for the return of his nephew, ward, heir, and severest critic, several points might be mentioned. He carried his 49 years, if not with the dignity of the “Great Victorians,” at least with an iron gray distinction that im- pressed a few men and affected an occasional lady. He had converted an inherited quarter sinto a complete and comfortable million. His bachelorhood was the result of a true romance faithful to its bereaved end. There were pleas- ant, deep lines in his face and a lurking gray twinkle in his eye that not everybody under- stood. Perhaps Mr. Roberts himself didn't always understand that twinkle. He put it down to Uncle George's innate frivolity, but at mo- ments it-made him uncomfortable. For ex- ample, when he returned, tousled and puffing from what had come to be a customary dip in the Bay of Cannes, his guardian sald flip- pantly, “Well, Kirby, old boy, did you catch any megmalds?” In other words, he could never be sure ex- actly how much Uncle George knew, or pre- cisely what he meant to imply, except that it was certain to be ‘silly and undignified. “I enjoyed a bit of Jieklthy exercise, if that's what you mean,” he said, glancing suspiciously at the window sill, wheré the marine glasses reamained as he had left .z ¢I dare say, sir, that all the mermaids §t mes had been ’luredbww 3¢ hope of dancing & ) with my distinguished guar- Uncleé George: laughed. “Perhaps he said. ~“I'm pretty hot stuff at it.” ’ . “Hot stuft!” Mr. erts shuddered at Uncle ' George's ‘vulgarisms, - From the doorway he re- . forgot to tell ‘marked: “Are you aware, sir, that the Phocians who Setfled on this coast something over 4,000 years .ago had ‘s Thythmical music quite as primitive as jazs and .denced very expertly to it? Of. course; some men,” he added, “some men have advanced a bit beyond those things 1" the brief interval” . : “By the way, Kirby,” said his guardian, “I we're dining at the Ambassa- this evening. - It's's ‘gala night, but you ‘at the entertainment. I want to you about,_ something' important, and 5 “f shall be glad,” he said, “to talk to you for & change about some- thing important. Perhaps I'll leave the ladies to you. I've some reading to do.” “No,” sald Uncle George—that confounded glint of insincerity in his eye—"that won't do. I especially want you to meet these ladies, & mother and her daughter. The daughter, I hear, is serious minded enough for you and the mother’s childish prattle amuses fmbeciles like me.” “This matter of importance, sir?” Uncle George sat up straight. He seemed to his nephew to be almost i1l at ease. “Well, you see, Kirby, old boy,” he began, paused, and then plunged on—‘“you see, this business of getting married is a very important matter. In fact, I'm embarrassed to do so, but I think it only fair to discuss it with you.” “You needn’t be'embarrassed, Uncle George.” Mr. Roberts sat forward himself. It was a sub- ject he recognized as both important and in- teresting, and he was pleasantly surprised that his guardian was considering his future suf- ficiently to bring it up for discussion. “Why should you be embarrassed, sir?” he continued. “The truth is I- was going to inquire of you about certain phases of the problem myself. For instance, Uncle George, just how much is my income and do you consider it sufficient for a couple to begin with? Simple, of course.” Mr. Roberts was glad to see that Uncle George was relaxed and at ease again. “I'm really surprised to find you so inter- ested, Kirby. What I wanted specifically to find out was your view as to older men marry- ing—" Mr. Roberts met that with a gesture of broad disdain. “Oh, that,” he said. “You hear of it, now and then, some old idiot who has lost his sense of propriety allowing an equally light-minded woman to fool bim out of his money.” “You think it would be impossible for the light-minded woman to love the old idiot, per- haps?” Mr. Roberts felt that his guardian was in- dulging in obscurities again. In a way, it was rather surprising, he thought, that, Uncle George himself had not become irresponsibly entangled in some belated attachment. It would be no worse than he expected .of Uncle George. “I'm afraid I believe,” he said, “that for a real man, the dead line for love should be 40. Thirty-eight might be betier, but 40 will do. By the way, Uncle George, how old are you now2” . ... « hams ..,“Nine years beyond the dead line” replieq _his uncle, with some acidity. “Let's talk about n “Well,.if-yowl permit, Fd like to-ialit"to you .about something which has concerned me great- " ly—your running around to night clubs—Uncle George, it isn't dignified.” : | The gleam was once more in the corner of DUncle -George’s eye. “To be honest, Kirby,” he said, “I expect you're right. You see, the role of your guardian is almost too much for me. I think some one like Mr. Pilley would be, perhaps, more satisfactory.” Mr. Roberts, now that he’d taken the plunge, expanded his theme with the enthusiasm of true reformer. .“Of course, I don't. presume to criticize, Uncle George. You're no worse than ,most people. There's very little dignity any- where. I've met a young lady here, in fact, inadvertently I've seen her frequently and tried to relieve her distress. Her mother, it seems— . they're on board.s yacht—has been pursued from one port to another by some old Romeo whose conception of life is tea dancing, baccarat and night clubs. The poor young lady feels very badly about it. What can ome do for her? What would you suggest, sir?"” . Unecle George sighed. “I'd suggest that all the old Romeos go home and realige .that they are only fit to play 18-handicap goM.” < A’r the entrance to the Ambassadeurs their guests awaited them. Uncle George felt rather proud as he led his nephew, ward and severest critic forward to be introduced. Mr., Roberts met an undoubtedly besutiful lady, who had tightly coiffed brown hair and black lashed, cobalt blue eyes. And then, in a white bodiced robe de style, Mr. Roberts met Miss Scripps. £ The first thing he noticed, once his surprise was over, however, was that Miss Seripps was not noticing .him. Her face was turned in blank dismay toward his preoccupied guardian. Finally Miss Scripps leaned vaguely toward Mr. Roberts, but her stare never wavered. A whis- per reached Mr. Roberts. “Oh, don’t tell me”"— she said—"that is the man who has pursued us. That is the man from Casablanca and Agadir and Corfu. Oh, don’'t tell me, Mr. Roberts, that——" Mr. Roberts was not telling her anything.