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LUXURY LINER —By Gina Kaus— (COPYRIGHT, 1033, BY GINA EAUS) INSTALLMENT XL. HE officers’ table was the only one where Some sort of festive mood prevailed. But with each drink that Thomas took he sank more deeply into the sadness of his heart, as into a bottomless morass. s grief, as if it had lain in wait for a momentary reldxation in his will, stretched out its arms for him and held in its deathly embrace. He was no longer thinking of Sybil. The time of hatred and wild desire had passed. Me no longer wanted to force her to return to him; no longer wanted to kill her. There was nothing whatso- ever he wanted. He was lonely, dis- couraged, without joy and entirely at loose ends. On this night Luise Clemens sat in the place of honor beside the captain. She again had dimples in her cheeks. She also opened the dance in the ball room. When she returned she found | Francis Hansom of the Evening Press | beside her. | Luise ran her warm, expressive hand | across his golden blond hair: “You are attractive, you Americans. You have such a lovely skin and such lovely silken hair.” Prancis took down a couple of notes, saying, “May I use these comments | sbout American manly beauty in my T2 Luhc laughed. them?” Prancis began to instruct her. “That's how we make reputations in my country. I can put five newspapers at your disposal. We will flood them for two weeks with your pictures, with stories out of your life, with reports about your morning exercises, your slim- ming diet, your favorite books. There is no doubt that you will have a full house at your first appearance. We will make a success of you, a tremen- dous success.” Luise listened to him with a smile end said, “Splendid!” She knew it was not quite as simple as all that, but Francis had a wonderful skin and won- derflil hair, and he was an attractive young man. She always had to have a e! She stroked his golden blond ead with her warm, vivid hand. ‘Thomas had just gone by, seen the isode and smiled bitterly. This was :ge secret of Lllnsels md:lstm;txible youth. She was quite incapable of love —but she was always in love. She had always been able to find new enthusi- asm, new stimulants, to feel warm and to _give out warmth. ‘Thomas found Boris in room No. 3./ Friederike was with him and also a nurse who was bathed in sweat from her long continued work of raising and | lowering Boris' arms to induce res- ylmtmn “It’s no use,” he said to Thomas in 8 low voice, shaking his head, but with- | out interrupting his efforts. It is a desecration of the dead‘i Thomas thought with a feeling of dis- | gust. Why don't we leave him alone now that he has decided to go on the long journey? | ‘Thomas was on the verge of breaking | down, as he had been a little while ago | at the captain’s farewell dinner. It| was the ghostly foreshadowing of the arrival tomorrow. He was the most| ridiculous man on board.’ During the crossing he had lost his purpose in life! | He had been shipwrecked; he had be- come derelict upon the ocean without rudder, without lights. “What is the matter?” asked Fried- erike. He had no idea how pallid and haggard his face looked. “You ought | to lie down for a while. The next room seems to be empty. I will call you at | once if T need you.” And why not? He was completely superfluous as far as Boris was con- | cerned. ‘The next room was very narrow, one of those really narrow, sober, white- washed little hospital rooms. A chair, a bed, 8 built-in washstand. Thomas threw himself upon the bed without even taking off his dinner jacket. He was_neither asleep nor awake; he was in that curious state of semi-conscious- ness where thoughts flit through the owd “Will that interest brain like diinns who have lost their master. For third time he saw Sybil crossing Broedwny on Shortwell’s arm . I must pull myself together. 1 haven't even vet packed my trunk . Then the glass retort crashed on the floor and slst.er Martha screamed . ‘Thomas leaped up with a start. Sister Martha stood beside the bed, her }mnd over her mouth. “God, how you frightened me! How did you get into my room?” His brain hummed. How was it sible that a room could be lived in a year without showing any trace of its occupant? There was not the least personal touch. He apologized. Heavily he began get- ting to his feet. “Don’t get up.” she sald, “I'm sleep- ing _down Mth Mother Weber.” Thomas felt an almost mad anger. The eternal nurse. No love, no passian, | noteven capable of good comradeship. Last night it had seemed as if her eyes might glow with enthustasm, as if her hand could not only help, but also press another’s in intimate friendship. . . . “All right, go along.” She went away but two minutes later she returned. “I thought you might peed me.’ Still irritable, he replied, “No, I don’ need you.” Sister Martha sat down on the edge of the bed just exactly as if he had said the contrary. Involuntarily he closed his eyes; Sister Martha had understood that he was an ill man, though he had neither fever nor | wound. . “Will you do something for me, Sister Martha? Have you any non-profession | clothes? Do put them on!” She laughed. “I really haven't any _ordinary clothes; I very rarely go ashore, but I have a very beautiful embroidered kimono—do you think that will do?” He nodded his head and she opened the closet “An Indian lady gave it to me. Poor thing! She sailed from Europe back to her home, full of yearning and im- patience, and in the middle of the Red Sea she died of pneumonia.” “Have you no longing for & home like your little Indian woman?” “I have no home,” she said softly. She had taken off her apron and her nurse’s cap. “Well, that's how I look,” she said in an embarrassed way. The kimono was of the blue of an Italian sky; it was densely covered with embroidered rose-colored cherry blos- soms. Between them were tiny little birds. It was like an emanation of Spring. She sat down again upon the chair beside the bed. Her stern, goth- ically cool face was flushed. Without her nurse's cap she felt almost naked. Her hair was of the color of wheat, lighter than the skin of her cheeks, | cut short and parted in the middle. In painful disappointment Thomas closed his eyes. He had expected much more of Martha in her ordinary dress. He had been expecting something miraculous from her. He had been waiting for it all night since the suc- cessful operation—as a matter of fact for five days since he had made his first rounds of the ship. But Martha was not a woman. She might be an | angel, perhaps, but she was not a woman. A brief pause ensued. Then Sister Martha said: “Krieglacher came down to see Mrs. ‘Weber before dinner. He urged me very insistently to ask you to join him in the American West, as his assistant.” Thomas looked at her with a tired expression. “I don't know—I don’t think I can.” “I suppose you have a home—people who won't let you go away for a long time—" “I have no home. I have only & house from which my wife ran away.” A leaden silence followed his con- fession. Thomas stared at the white- washed ceiling and brooded. “I am at the end of my rope. I can no longer return to the rose-colored empty house. 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You who are like a saint.” “Oh, God—I!” It sounded so raw and alien in her throat that, fright- ened, he let go of her. “I—a saint!” And now no trace was left of her Madonna-like peace; her face was Bean Bags Restricted. An old Massachusetts Muu 1 the throwing or catching of bean except in designated places. By the Assoclated Press. ), May 4—The National City Bank, oldest of Cleveland's finan- clal institutions, yesterday proposed, in effect, to do for depositors of the un- licensed Union and Guardian Trust Companies what the projected First Na- tional Bank is being formed to do. 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