Evening Star Newspaper, June 8, 1930, Page 90

[ o THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. €, JUNE 8 1030." Here Is an Un- usually Moving Story of a Modern Woman Who Be- comes fealous of Her Daughter. HE ought to keep him waiting. Narcissa knew that. She ought to be out when he arrived and breeze in on him, balf an hour later from some tea or committee meeting, finding him cool- ing his heels on her little hearth rug, smoking cigarettes in nervous expecta- tion, thinking over what he had to say. Breeze in on him, very casually con- trite, laughing lightly: “My dear! How stupid of me! Did I say 5?7 Narcissa knew all that. She under- stood the art of living. And she un- derstood Dick. Dick had no interest in slavish devotion. Not that Dick had any interest whatever in her devotion, slavish or otherwise. Any more. Not even his note, crashing into her life after an interval of five long years, could shake Narcissa's cynical certainty on that point. But still he had writien. “I want to see you, Cissy. I have some- thing to tell you that only I can ex- plain.” % Despising herself, she went up to her room immediately after luncheon to prepare for that casual call, It _was a losing fight, this trying not to look your age, when it was the un- speakable one at which she had just arrived. Dark, slim and—well—yes, 40, and a widow. But she didn't look it. If it hadn't been for her daughter Patty, she could have passed for—cer- tainly not more than 33. But not even Patty’s denouncing presence at dinner table and in drawing room could make her admit to a day over 37. AT could Dick have to tell her? What was there to tell, after the stark fact, never told, but so dread- fully implied, five years before, that he didn’t want to marry her? She had hardly seen him since. Just casually at parties. Why hadn’'t Dick wanted to marry her? When she wanted, so dreadfully to marry him? Was it just that she was older? With a great strapping child like Patty? Stretched on her bed room sofa, waiting for the hours to pass, Narcissa forgot Dick for the moment, in her maternal solicitude over Patty. She didn't pretend to understand young people. A queer, unawakened generation, for all their freedom and the reckless use they made of it. So self-sufficient, so sure they were right. And yet so very wrong in their persistent undervaluing of the world of sentiment. Why, Patty was grown up. She would marry some day soon. Timmy Livingston, perhaps. He was always under foot. But Patty, of course, might marry any one. arcissa never knew, really, whom she was A ring of the door bell woke Narcissa ab- ruptly from reverie. Was it 5? The clock on the mantelpiece pointed only to 4. But that was Patty’s step on the stair. “Mother? Are you asleep?” That was Palty on the threshold, hat in hand, fresh and rosy from the wind, looking like a wood nymph in her russet sport suit. “I want to telephone.” “To whem are you telephoning, dear?” asked Narcissa. “Timmy,” said Patty briefly. “Timmy’s such a nice boy,” said Narcissa sympathetically. “He's a good egg,” said Patty absently, re- ceiver at ear. “Hello, hello, Tim! Can't you guess? How many other girls ring you up in office hours? I bet our name is legion! Well, this is your side kick. ¥Yes, Pat. Now, listen, Timmy, I got your message. This is just to say I'll be there, dearie, I'll be there. Yes. The usual place at the usual time! Come early. The opera’s a washout. I'll leave before the last act.” She hung up the receiver. “Patty,” said Narcissa severely, “what are you planning? You can’t leave Mrs. Mackey’s opsra party before the last act.” “Just watch me,” said Patty serenely. “You don't know what you can do till you tryi” Abruptly she left the room. Resally, thought Narcissa helplessly, she ought do something about Patty. But not now It was 4:30. Dick would come in half an hour. She hoped Patty wouldn't burst in on their tete-a-tete. But she wouldn’t, of course She never bothered with her mother’s friends Narcissa, having combed, for the last time, her short, dark locks and decided irrevocably on the green, descended the staircase and cog- templated the charming little interior. Narcissa glanced at her image, reflected from the doorway in the mirror over the fieplace. In that golden light, against those faded Geogian panels, she looked young and really lovely, in her soft green draperies. ; The door bell rang. Narcissa felt a sudden suige of panic, Incredible, devastating, to think he had not been in this room since that other IOTHER-IN-LOV By Margaret Ayer Barues. “rll take good care of her,” he said, with grateful humility, “Patty takes very good care of herself,” said Narcissa, proudly. afternoon, five years ago, when she had sent him out of it. She heard the front door open and close. A step on the stair. And Dick stood on the threshold. “Cissy!” he said. Just “Cissy!” And his eager face broke into an ingenuous smile. “How nice to be here again! How sweet of you w0 let me come!” “Your note sounded—urgent.” “It was urgent. But don't let's talk of that just this first minute. I want to look about me, I want to look at you. Everything is exactly the same.” “You saw me last week at the Livingstone ball. Wasn't it Friday? Did you expect to find me irrevocably altered since then?” “Cissy!” he protested lightly. “Don't be captious! Be nice to me, now I'm here! I meant the room, of course. It's really lovely.” The unobtrusive maid brought in the tea. “Scones!” cried Dick rapturously, as he sur- veyed the tray. *“Cissy, why are you the only woman in the world who can achieve real Scotch scones for tea?” He settled back in his armchair with a sigh of pleasure over his fragrant cup of orange pekoe. Delightful, deb- onair Dick. He didn't look a day older. The touch of gray about his ears lent only distinc- tion to his boyish grace. Really, how charming he was, thought Nar- cissa, her eyes averted, her hands busy with the tea things. She would never get over him. Dick broke the little pause. “You don’t know, Cissy, how I've missed you all these years.” That was rank affrontery, but when her eyes met his she felt them soft- ening. “Have you?” she murmured “Don't you know?” he asked. understood me as you did.” “I'm glad you thought s0,” she said briefly. “I felt, myself, I understood you very well.” “You would always understand everything. And you would always forgive.” Narcissa managed a little mocking laugh. “Aren't you growing a little sentimental, Dick, in your old age?” “Do you feel old?” he asked. “I don't my- self. And yet I'm 37.” “Certainly I don’t!” protested Narcissa with indignation. And every year,” she went on courageously, “I have more fun. There's been an awful lot of nonsense talked about the pangs of growing older.” “That’s like you, Cissy,” he said admiringly. “You'll always be wonderful.” “I hope,” said Narcissa severely, “that I'll always be adequate. I feel more—competent “No one ever than I used to. That’s the only way I notice the touch of time. I'm quite equal now,” she went on steadily, “to any situation that might arise.” “I'm glad you feel that way,” said Dick simply. 'HERE was a little pause. Dick replaced his cup upon the tea tray. He rose to stand before the flickering fire. “Cissy,” said Dick, “I've come to ask you something.” “What is it, Diek?” she asked. And her voice was breathless. “Cissy,” he said, “I—I haven’t got the nerve to tell you.” Her heart went out to him. He was really in difficulty. “Dick, you musn’'t feel that way, ever, about me.” He gave her a grateful glance. “I know, Cissy. But this—this is difficult.” Narcissa's eyes dropped before his own. He was obviously deeply in earnest. The old per- suasive note had crept back into his voice. Why —it could only mean one thing. He had come back to take her on her own terms. Dick had come awcoing. She could not be mistaken. She knew Dick too well. “What it it, Dick?” she said softly. “It’s hard to tell you, though I know youll understand.” He turned, suddenly, to face the fire. He gazed a moment, silently, at the flam- ing logs. “You see, Cissy, I—I want to marry your daughter.” Narcissa sat motionless on the little love seat, her eyes upon the tea tray. This—this was beyond everything. This was the end of the world. There was an awful silence. Narcissa would have given her soul to break it. But no words came to her. She sat as in a trance. “You want to marry—Patty?” she said at last. He turned now to look at her. “I want to marry Patty,” he said firmly. “I—I don’t believe you,” said Narcissa. “Patty is a child.” “Patty is 19,” said Dick very reasonably. His face lit up as he added quickly, “And Patty is adorable.” The words stung Narcissa instantly into action. ‘““You can't marry Patty!” she said hotly. “I—I won’t permit it.” “Can you help it?" asked Dick with a sudden flash of anger. Then quickly, penitently: “For- give m, Cssy. 1 didn’t mean quite that.” What a cad he was, thought Narcissa pas- v e 2uih A Queer and DramaticTriangle of the Lover Who Came Back and How He Was Received. sionately. To come back like this, to the very same room, to say he wanted-— Patty. Why—the echoes of their former fatal interview still trembled for Nar- cissa in the circumambient air. Now it was her daughter. And his note of pleading was precisely the same. But this time it had ended in an ultimatum. He had threatened her. But she wasn’t helpless. She was Patty’s mother. She could—but what could she do, thought Narcissa desperately, with a surging memory of the obstinate wood nymph she had faced not an hour ago in her room upstairs? “Have you been much with her?” she asked guardedly. “Why, I've been seeing her all Win- ter. We've been constantly together.” Of course, that was possible. She knew so little of Patty’s companionship. But it seemed incredible that the child should have known him so well and never mentioned him. But Patty men- tioned no one, except in answer to di- rect questions. “Have you spoken to her?” Her heart hung on his answer. It came quickly, reproachfully. “Cissy, do you think I would? Be- fore I spoke to you?” +“I would put nothing beyond you,” she said coldly. “You're unfair to me, Cissy. You're awfully unfair. There’s no reason- in the world why I shouldn’t marry your daughter——"’ “Please——" said Narcissa gravely. “Can you name a reason?” He looked at her keenly. “Is there a reason you could name?” Narcissa’s eyes flashed fire. “I know what manner of man you are,” said Narcissa firmly. “That’s rea< son enough.” “For you, perhaps. But not for me— and Patty. Cissy, listen to me. I love your daughter. I could make her happy. Can't you see, don’t you understand, that the situation concerns no one but me and the woman I live?” “Why, then, did you come to me?” “I came because I wanted to be on the square, Cissy. I wanted to tell you what I was doing before it was done.” “How very honorable of you,” said Narcissa. Dick winced at her words. Then his tone suddenly altered. “Cissy, don’t treat me so unkindly. Don't you know, you who know every= thing, what I've been through over it all? I'm in hell, Cissy. I have been for months. I can’t work any more—I can't think, There’s no one but you to help me. I—I count- ed absolutely on your understanding.” His voice tore at her heartstrings. What a fool she was! She would never get over him. He was watching her intently. “It was foolish of me to speak as I did, Cissy,” he said, gently. ‘“You have my life in your hands, of course, I throw myself on your mercy.” “I can't—be merciful,” said Narcissa pite- ously. “You—you shouldn't ask it.” : “I do ask it,” he returned gravely. His eyes met hers. They were pitiful, beseeching. Before she could reply, the door to the hall was flung open abruptly and Patty entered the room. Dick wheeled to stare at her. “I'm hungry,” said Patty pleasantly. “Can T have a cup of tea? Why, it's Richard! Hello, Dicky bird!” Dicky bird! Narcissa gasped at the word. Dick’s lips curved in a triumphant smile. The child advanced tranquilly toward the fire. “I'm afraid the scones are cold,” said Narcissa steadily. “I like chocolate cake beiter,” said Patty amiably, picking up a piece without a plate and munching it cheerfully, as she perched on the arm of the love seat. NARCISSA gave her tea, looking dumbly up at her, trying to understand, trying to see the child with new eyes. It was no use, She couldn’t. This was just Patty. Her little girl. Strayed from the nursery into the drawing room. She was not even a very tidy little girl, at the moment. She had not troubled to brush her hair. It was still ruffied from the wind. Why, the child looked messy, positively messy, in that crumpled sport suit, with traces of chocolate on her fingertips and cake crumbs in her lap. Narcissa strove to be casual. “You don’t look very tidy, my dear,” she said. “I should worry,” smiled Patty. “There's only Dick. He won't mind.” “On the contrary,” said Dick very edrnestly, “I think you look charming. A sweet disorder in the dress,” he quoted lightly, “kindles in clothes a wantonness ™ Patty twinkled gaily up at him. “Isn’t he literary?” was all she said, as she applied herself to her tea. Narcissa rose abruptly. This was more than she could bear. Dick did not mean to go. And Patty obviously had designs on a second piece of cake. But she—she really couldn's see them together like this a moment longer. Continued on Twenty-second Page