Evening Star Newspaper, November 17, 1929, Page 110

S 4 THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C., NOVEMBER 17, 1929. HE SECOND IRONY_ByMargeryLbndMa}/' A Man’s Love Cools, and in Order to Woo Another Girl, He Plans a Dishonest Way to End His Engage- ment Honorably With Unexpected Resz{l 15. ELIA and Susan! Susan and Celia! One slender, swift-moving, star- eyed. = The other—well—the girl to whom Peter Ames was all but formally engaged. Susan he had known always. But Celia, she whose hair had the tawny glints of Autumn, he: had met in his home town of Maxwell a few months after his return from the Conti- nental travel on which he had embarked when he was graduated from Yale. “And that—the fact that I was engaged to Susan before I met Celia—was the first irony,” he explained. With this irony Ames himself had had little to do. His father, a pompous old autocrat, ‘who exercised a control over his family a8 well as 5,000 acres of cotton-growing land, had seen to that. we want for the boy,” he had announced, his arrogant, humorless gaze fixing itself on Susan Eaton, whose father’s acreage had shown the amazing versatility of spouting oil as well as sprouting corn. Thus early, for all the world like medieval barons, the head of the house of Eaton and the tycoon of the dynasty of Ames had agreed upon the marriage of Peter and Susan. 'AND to Peter, who had flown kites with Susan and been taught from infancy to accord his father the respect that a subaitern b “For a month of your society I'll pay you a thousand dollars. I've certain pri- vate reasons for wanting to smear this town with crimson.” pays his chief, the prospect was not disagree- able. Indeed, he grew up with the idea, ac- cepting this arrangement for his future as unquestioningly as he did the tradition that an Ames should go to Yale. From Yale and his European travel Ames emerged, dark, lean, ardent with the sinews of a sportsman and the polish of a beau. Nice chap! In fact, a dashing fellow who was im- mediately hailed as congenial by the gay “oil” set which had invaded and enlivened, enriched and enlarged the borders of Maxwell, a once drowsy town. Of this set, which the aristocrats of Max- well more tolerated than welcomed, Tom and Gay Painter were leaders, and it was beneath their hospitable roof that Peter first saw the Cartwright girl. It was late on a Summer’s afternoon when he met her. She and Gay Painter, whose house guest she was, were sitting on a swing in the red-tiled patio when Ames and the oil magnate sauntered in from a set of tennis. PA!:NTER. who was jovial and had a crude idea of wit, introduced them. He juggled cocktail shaker in one hand while he prod- Ames in the ribs with the other. “Here he is, Celia,” he announced. “Peter Ames, himself. Entirely eligible. Money in the bank and muscles in his legs. Free, some- what sunburned and well over 21. He's the beggar whose snapshot caught your fancy. You know, the dark man that thieving old gypsy predicted was going to make mincemeat of your life.” At this badinage, Ames, who was far from the experienced philanderer that Painter liked to picture him, felt a flush creeping up beneath his coat of tan. The girl, however, did not share his ill-ease. Accustomed to her host's noisy mirth, she met this sample of it with a smile that — “Not a marriage, but an alliance is what - K quirked the vivid corners of her mouth and lent a glimmering merriment to her eyes, disturb- ingly green-gray eyes that were thickly fringed by black lashes. “Idiot!” she said. Then to Ames, in soft, throaty tones that brought an odd stir to Peter’s senses, “When you've known him as long as I have you'll be used to his poisonous humor.” From the tea wagon, where he was very busy mixing sugar and orange juice and gin, Painter boomed: “Now, Cecy, don't deny that fortune-telling hooey you and Gay fell for yesterday afternoon.” She laughed. She had a charming laugh, Ames thought. Her hair was shot through with coppery gleams and at the base of her throat there was a small, satiny hollow. “Oh, I don’t. Yesterday Gay and I went superstitious. We motored out to the gypsy caravan that’s camping on the edge of the city. A woman was there—a bent, old thing, with beady eyes and a hooked nose and incredibly long, red earrings. We gave her $5 and she read our palms.” Smommmd,smmdn:m upward to Peter’s gaze. “She was quite startling. She told me all sorts of things about my woolly past. She said”—with an oblique, twinkling glance—“that soon a man—a very g:rk and slender man—would walk into my . With a curious sense of elation, Ames sat down beside her. Lightly supporting the wrist of the hand she outheld, he bent over the tell- tale paim. Noting how clear and jasmine white her skin was against the sun bronze of his own, he quickened. Recklessly, with a headiness—an exhilaration that was not the effect of the gen- erous dividends that Painter was declaring: “Well, here I am,” he said. That was the beginning of it. In the impromptu gayety—the hours of bridge and dancing that followed—Ames was so acutely aware of her that he found his ears straining - to catch every note of her voice—his eyes turn- ing to watch every movement of her tawny, lissome body. “I love you—I love you——" Over and over, as his seeking gaze met hers, his mind kept say- ing “I love you—" FOR suddenly he knew that this girl with the gray-green eyes and sweetly ardent lips, was like wine to him. For him all the light of life lay in this girl’s keeping. ving met her, touched her, having read of her lips, having seen the sun hair, he knew that he could nsver e marry Susan. And yet, of course, he had to marry Susan. as that long, taken-for-granted and the fact that under the archaic his code, it was not honorable to be honest when it came to affections that had cooled. With his slightly mocking air of having drained life’s cup and found it tasteless, Ames explained this paradox. A gentleman, he said, might act but must If an engagement were to be severed, tradition demanded that the lady be accorded the questionable satisfac- break. Thus, he continued, who found himself labor- of an unwelcome attach- slender man, would walk into my life.” intention of forsaking the stodgy path of duty until the last night of the Cartwright girl's visit, But there was a moon that night. Caught up like a silver disc in the blue loft of the heavens—a moon. And breath of jasmine on the air and far away, like some dim, sweet dream, the plaint of minor music. “Celia!” » “Peter!” 1 For a moment he stood looking down into the uptilted fiower of her face. Then, in a swift surge of irresistible passion, he swept her up into his arms. Brokenly, with his lips against the sweet flame of her own: “Oh, my dear, my dearest,” he cried. THE next day, in a frenzy of despair, Peter lnt_:ervlcwed Maggie Collins. To a man bent on establishing his total in- eligibility, no more expert a collaborator than Maggie could be found. A twinkling, snub- nosed creature, with a plump figure and a roguish eye, her specialties were men and mar- riage and she frequently boasted that she had done her mite towards keeping Maxwell’s di- vorce statistics on a par with those of more progressive cities. She was, she confessed, a Bad picker but a good loser and readily agreed to assist Ames in trumping up any brand of notoriety he de- sired. Regarding her significantly he stated his proposition. “For a month of your society, I'll pay you “Needless to say, sir, your engagement to my daughter Susan is at an end.” a thousand dollars. You see, I've certain private reasons for wanting to smear this town with crimson. And though I shall not expect as much of you as a kiss, your job will be to create the impression that there’s no limit to what I ask—and get,” he said. Nor was this impression difficult to create. In common with most small towns, Maxwell had an avid relish for scandal and it was not long before tongues began to wag. For, im- mediately after the Cartwright girl returned to her home in Virginia, Ames plunged into a whirl of fevered hilarity. Stretching out her hand, she held it upward to Peter’s fascinating gaze. “The gypsy said that soon a man, a very dark and VERYWHERE you went you saw Peter and with him always was Maggie Collins with her bracelets and her laughter and her damningly possessive air. Thus boldly, as if she were a crimson flower worn against a black label, he flaunted her. One saw them at race meets and regattas. One glimpsed chem skimming the boulevards in Ames’ crouching, boat-like car. At night they appeared on dance roofs or gathered their friends together for noisy cocktail bouts in the bachelor flat which Ames had leased as a setting for his profligacy. £ And it was here that Susan’s father, a beak- nosed old reactionary, came to denounce him as last. “Your conduct is an outrage, sir” he thun- dered. “One expects a young man to sow a few wild oats, but you have carried your affair with this notorious Collins woman to indecent limits. Your infatuation is an open scandal. There is no excuse and no forgiveness. “Needless to say, sir, your engagement to my daughter, Susan, is at an end.” At this successful culmination of his plans, Ames was elated. So jubilant, indeed, that when Madge came in an hour later she found him beaming with joy. “The curtain is about to ring down on our little comedy, Madge, old girl.” Making a sweeping bow, he drew a check from his pocket and extended it to her in & flourish. “You'll never know what a service you've done me. It gives me unbounded pleas- ure to present you with a thousand iron men,” he said. : Bv'r Madge was not a trusting soul. Experi- ence had made her wary. She eyed the check with suspicion. Lighting a cigarette, she ansWered: “Just why you've staged all this fake whoopee, I dén’t know. Nor care. You're a good egg and’l like you. But payment can be stopped on cl and if it’s all the same to you, I'll take mln‘ in cash.” * Pdgr a moment, with amusement twinkling from¢ his dark, engaging eyes, Ames stood re- 'ng her. “What a doubting Thomasina you turned out o be! However, if it's gold you want, it's goldeyou shall have.” He picked up his hat. “I'm’off to the bank at once,” he said. “Just wait ere. I'll be back in a jiffy.” Om his walk to the bank to cash the check whicR Maggie suspected, Ames congratulated hims®lf. He was free! Without stooping to the dishohor of honesty; without bruising the frae gile fower of a woman’s pride, he had extrie cated himself from a distasteful entanglement. Spirned by Susan he was free for Celia. And so d¢licately, so subtly had his coup been o fd that neither Susan, to whom he had been Ry nor yet Maggie, through whom he had i*.on his coveted release, had any suspicion of it. He scongratulated himself on the success af his pl and held his head a little higher as he reflected that he was the captain of his fate. H2 had khen able to look after himself and secure the he sought. He had displayed tact and diplorhacy and they had brought success. Of course his father was being unpleasant, but even he codldn’t make him marry Susan when Susan hersel! didn't want to marry him. Poo. Susan! In his new freedom Ames felt a littlé sympathy for her. He hoped she hadn't taken :the affair too seriously. He really hoped that the engagement had been merely a matter of forr with her, sponsored by family influence, : Continued on Twentieth Page