Evening Star Newspaper, July 26, 1931, Page 70

THE S’l‘NDAY_STAR, _WASHINGTON, D.. C, JULY 26, 1981 W H ER E L O V E IS .—B)/ Virginia Terhune Van De W ater Read This Story and Then See 1f You Have the Rare Power to Analyze a Face and Find Romance, No Matter How Deeply It May Be Hidden. YNTHIA WESTLAKE, fiction writer, was searching for subjects for romantic sto.ies. That was why she had come to Scarlatti's Rest- aurant tonight. Scarlatti's was popular, yet the prices were not exorbitant. It had an atmos- phere all its own. It had, too, a fountain and hanging pots of ferns, and a marble floor, and against the walls were some plaster siatues. There was also an occasional bit of carving on the celling. “Rather picturesque, isn't it?” Cynthia ob- served to he: escort, &’ good looking man of 40. “I have an order for several short stories, love stories, you know. I ought to get inspiration from watching some of the people here tonight.” “With my help,” John Glenn supplemented. “yes,” she agreed, “with your help, if possible. But I wonder if you have the secing eyve.” “I see only you when I am with you,” he averred gallantly. “you are a delightful fibber,” she reto:ted. “And because successful fibbers must have good imaginations, perhaps you will help me stw some of our neighbors. Now, for instance, ) at those people next to us. Let us call their table Table No. 1. Can you detect anything romantic in that pair?” “Can you?” Glenn parried. Cynthia nodded. Glenn gazed at table No. 1 to see what he could see. Seated at it were a man and a woman. The woman might have bzen pretty once. Now she was faded and there were dcep lines at the corners of her mouth. The man was thin and dark, with a nervous manner. Both lacked animation. “Husband and wife, of course,” Glenn opined. “And they are bored!” “Lots of married couples are not bored by each other,” Cynthia reproved. “Yes,” Glenn admitted, “but not as many as there used to be. I suppose that is because there are so few love-matches nowadays. People used to believe in love. Now most of them don't.” His companion glanced away. She appreciated with a sudden consttiction of the heart how much she beiieved in love. She could not bear it if Glenn laughed at it! Was it absurd that she, at 30, was in love for the first time in her life? ERHAPS that was why she now suspected romance where she had been blind to it before. When a certain editor had asked her if she could do some short romances for him she had agreed readily. He had said that he was tired of sophisticated stuff. “The stories need not be of silly calf-love,” he had added. “But I am sure there is still ro- mance in the world. Don’'t you know there is?” “Yes,” she had replied briefly. “I know there is. I will write the stories.” She had repeated this conversation to John Glenn, and he had smiled skeptically. “It is something new for you to turn senti- mentalist,” he had teased. “But if you are out for subjects for love stories, let me help you look for them!"” She had accepted his suggestion., and had mentioned Scarlatti’'s as a restaurant at which one could see many different types. She must not let John's admission that p:ople did not believe in love come between her and her search for material. She supposed she ought to be glad to be his very good friend. Yet—— Her companion's voice broke in upon her musings. “A penny for your thoughts!™” he challenged. “They are not worth it,” she laughed, flush- ing hotly. “I was mooning on the subject of friendship, and editors, and the stories I must write. You said you would help me. But you did not give me any constructive ideas about the p:zir at Table No. 1. “What about that second table now? I sup- pose all you see there is an elderly woman and a young man. Mother and son probably. To me there is something pathetic about them. I am sure that, could I look into their hearts, I would find romance there.” “Pilial and maternal love,” Glenn said. “All very sweet, of course, in a humdrum way, yet nothing romantic or tragic about it. But look at Table No. 3. The<re is youth for you.” Cynthia looked. Youth, certainly. A hand- some man. A girl too much made up, yet pretty. The man was leaning across the table talking earnestly. The girl was listening with an indifferent expression, crumbling her dinner roll into tiny bits. Occasionally she answered with a fleeting smile. “She is bored to extinCtion, too,” Glenn com- mented. “No good fiction stuff at Table No. 3. Nor at Table No. 4. While I cannot see the woman's face, from the expression of the man with her she must be giving him the devil. He looks as if he were going to cry, or swear, or break a blood vess:l. Whstever is going on there—it is not romance.” Cynthia Westleke shgok her head. “Ah, well!” she sighed. “I may as well resign my- self to the fact that you are not in a mood tonight to help me in my quest.” “But,” Glenn ventured, “you must confess that you are having a good dinner.” “Yes,” rhe admitted, “the dinner is good. And,” with a little laugh, “so is the company. Really, Joan. you know you are a nice person to go anywh re with, even if you are exasper- ating’y practic 1.” His ready Jlaugh reassured her. Thank heaven, he did not suspect the truth! “You are giad there is nothing romantic about me?” he smiled whimsically. “Yet really I cannot detect a hint of anylhing in- triguing at any table but our own. The sub- jects at Tables 1, 2, 3 and 4 are just common- place and uninteresting.” Cyrtria Westlake did not seemto hear him. John tyid hime<e!f th-t she was unusually pre- occupied and silent this evening. HE thin, dark, nervous-looking man at Table No. 1 sroke in a low voice. “My dear, you are eating hardly anything. You have no appetite. But you ought to have —now that it's z1l settled.” . The lines about the woman's mouth deep- en:d, tears sprang to her eyes. As she did not iook up, the man did not see them. “I can hardly believe it yet,” she murmured. ;rPerhnps it's because it's too wonderful to be el “But it is true,” he said solemnly. “I am free at last—after all these years of waiting.” “It seems almost wicked,” she protested, “to be happy when our happiness comes from the d:<ath of anothor person.” The manshook his head and swallowed hard before replying. *“She’'s been worse than dead for 10 ye:rs. Ten years since her mind failed! T~n years in an asylum! Even if her death did not mean that we could marry—we ought to be glad she has been released.” “There's something else I'm glad of, dear,” the woman said softly. “It is that you never tried to get a divorce—or anything—on the ground of her insanity. Somehow that would not have been fair.” “No—not fair,” the other agreed. “If she had been bad, or done anything wrong, I would have been justified in divorcing her, but—it wasn't her fault that her mind gave way. I'd promised to stick by her for better or worse —and it just happened to be for worse.” Once more the tears sprang to the woman’s eyes. She winked them back. “I've been in a kind of daze ever since I got your letter this morning.” “Yes,” the man spoke slowly, almost incredu- lously—“now we are going to get married and live together always!" “Soon?” she asked with trembling lips. ‘“Yes—as soon as you can get ready. Dear— we have lost 10 years. Please don't let us waste any more time!” The woman lifted her tired and tear-filled eyes to his. Back of the tears he saw shining a light that betrayed what she could not utter. He drew a long breaii of joy. His romance had begun at last. . eagerly. 11| SHALL be gone for only a year, mother,” the young chap at table No. 2 was saying “It is a wonderful opportunity to make good. Really it shows what the firm thinks of me that they are sending me down to Brazil—instead of some other chap that's been with them longer than I have. It proves that I've done good work—doesn’t it?” “Indeed it does,” the mother replied heart- ily. “And a year will soon pass.” “I am glad you take that view of it,” the son said. “I was afraid you'd dread my going away—that you'd be missing me.” “Of course I shall miss you,” the mother rejoined with a smile. Her companion was.too happy to notice that her face was paler than when they entered the. restaurant. A year! The doctor had said today that it could not be more than six months at the longest before— Thank God the boy would not be here to see her suffer! Yes, thank Gobd! She would be alone—but she must not think of that. Now he need never know until it was all over! “And,” she said aloud hopefully, “as soon as you come back you and Madge will get married, won't you?” “Yes,” was the joyous response. “I stopped tc see her on my way here just now and *7ld “You are glad there is nothing romantic about me?” he smiled whimsically, “Yet really, 1 cannot detect a hint of anything intriguing at any table but our own, The subjects at tables one, two, three and four are just common- place and uninteresting.” Cynthia did not seem to hear him. her about Brazil. She was all broken up at first,” his lips twitching. “But then I ex- plained that it meant a big raise, and that we could marry just as soon as I came back. Mother—you wiil be glad of that, too, won't you?" “And you won't be Ilonely—even after I am married and Madge and I have our own home? We want our own little home, you know. But there will always be a place there for you when you come to visit us. Promise me that you won't be lonely.” “I promise,” was the grave rejoinder. “You children must have your own home, just as I have always had mine. And—I shall not be lonely. I shall be entirely satisfied.” “Oh, mother,” the lad smiled, “how easy you do make things!” The mother smiled back. Only six months— at the longest! Only six months! “Of what are you thinking?” the son asked suddenly. “Of your romance, darling,” she said softly. - 11 DERHAPS,” the man at table No. 3 was saying, “you have suspected all the time I was in love?” The girl to whom he addressed this remark continued to crumble her roll into bits. “Have you guessed that I was in love?” he insisted. She nodded. “I have suspected it.” “And you did not know that it was Betty I loved?” he questioned. “Why, my dear, you must have been blind.” “I—I—never thought about Betty,” she stammered. ‘“She seems so young, somehow. I suppose it's because she was the baby of the family.” “The first time I saw her—when Phil. in- troduced me to his kid sister—I loved her. I made up my mind then that just as soon as I ;ns making my own way I was going to marry er.” His companion raised her head and looked at bhim. “You mean,” she said sternly, “if she will have rou.” The man flushed. “Of course I mean that. But—while I do not deserve it—I am pretty sure that she likes me.” “Has she told you so0?” “Well,” the man laughed happily, “she has admitted that for a while she was jealous of our friendship—yours and mine. She thought it was you that I was coming to see so often. Of course it was—at least you were my excuse, and a mighty kind and friendly excuse you have been, too. I took it for granted all the way through that you knew I was in love with Betty.” “I just did not think of it,” the girl said lightly. “As I have told you, Betty always seems such a kid to me. I suppose I took it for granted that you came to our house so often because you and Phil are such chums.” The lie was spoken calmly and easily. So easily in fact that the man beamed with satisfaction. “Well, I am glad that I have not acted like a Continued on Thirteenth Page