Evening Star Newspaper, December 16, 1934, Page 96

Ob ject of Pity. ALl llllilinuiliiiiiiililllrziiililiiiiiniidiianinliiiililiiiiiddiisy ULIETTE dressed carefully. She had to look exactly right on this, her first day back in town, when everybody she met would be look- ing to see if she were showing the ravages of having been jilted. The black satin frock covering her slim figure revealed everything and con- cealed—just enough. It made her golden hair more golden, and her pink and white skin more pink and white. It was a dress which was part of her trousseau. “Swanky!” She said to her reflection. “Nobody would dare accuse you of a broken heart.” The telephone rang shrilly, and she hurried to answer it. It might be Bill! “Hello!” There was something excited and hopeful in her voice. “Oh, Jim!” She said, the eagerness gone. “I was upstairs, had to run.” «Jim!” It was a wail. “You're shut up with the measles with your sister’s kids! That's perfectly awful! Can’t you get out? “Oh, darling, I know how sorry you are! But I wanted to go to that dance tonight! “No, there's not anybody else! Every=- body’s dated up! Well.” Something like this would happen, when she wanted particularly to go to that dance. Bill would think she was home grieving; that she hadn’t the nerve to face him and his new girl. She wanted to cry, but she wasn't going to. She might as well go on to town. Certainly there was nothing to be gained by stay- ing at home. Absolutely nothing! Jilted! Ditched! “Darn! Darn! Darn!” she muttered to herself as she guided her little red roadster through the traffic. She was still thinking it, though not voicing it, when she stoppéd at the Plaza for tea. Some of the crowd would probably be about, and she’d find somebody to talk to. She and Bill used to come here for tea and cinnamon toast. Probably he would be here with Helen. Something like that might happen. Expectantly she looked about, but there were no familiar faces. SHE sat down at a table by the window and, after she had given her order, stared pensively about hef. Who wanted to drink tea alone? Who wanted to be all dressed up in a knockout of a dress, when there wasn’t any handsome male sitting opposite. Now tonight, if she had a man to go to the dance. “Oh!” She almost said the word aloud for, moving directly in front of the door and sitting down in the big chair opposite the tea room directly in her line of vision, was the most handsome man she had ever seen. And all at once she knew what she was going to do. It wasn’t done in polite society, but—— She fumbled with her purse, jerked out fountain pen and a calling card, wrote rapidly. It was a sketchy note, asking him to come to her table, and as the waiter came back, bringing with him her tea and toast, she gave him the card and instructed him to wait for an answer. Tense, she sat watching him read her message, noting the look of surprise that flashed across his face, and then he was standing, following the waiter. Women’s eyes followed him as he strode across the tea room. Any woman would turn to look at a man like that. Her heart was in her throat, and she couldn’t think quite clearly, but he was beside her, and IIIIIIIII I I I IS I IS I IS 17 SIS I ETIIIIII I/ 7SI LI I LTI 7L 1L IAEIS LTI SIS I L LI L LI LLf LI ILIIL LI/ ILLIL LSS IIITILLI 7Y JILTED JULIETTE B )/ Donna Ashworth This Heroine Had Been the Gayest of the Gay, Adored, Beloved—And 'Then, Suddenly, She Becomes an A Star Magazine First-Run Story ', NILLTL 7711 IS IIILLIL LIS LIS ETEL LTI ELILLLLLL 1AL LLLLLLLSIISISI I IEL AL L L7171 she saw twinkling brown eyes, and the flash of white teeth. : “I—I wasn’t sure it was you,” he was saying, for the waiter’s ears. “I looked, but I hadn’t seefi you for so long.” “I wasn't either,” she answered in a low voice, holding out her hand, “but I knew I couldn’t be mistaken.” Then he was sitting opposite her. The ; waiter had gone to fill his order. “Was I too bold?” she asked, laughing a little, * “Could you be?” he retorted. “I was just sitting there in the lobby watching you, thinking you the loveliest person I had even seen, wondering if it were pos- sible in a strange town like this to make your acquaintance. And then your note came. I am John Derry.” “And I am Juliette Jackson. There are always ways of meeting people, aren't there?” “Without benefit of introductions!” he teased. “With notes carried by waiters to strange young men in hotel lobbies,” she answered, laughing, her eyes glowing. “I wanted assistance.” “At your service, Juliette. I like your name. I'll be your Romeo.” “Lovely! That's what I want!” AND then Juliette told her story. She talked swiftly, bravely, a little mock- ing smile on her lips. “...80,” she concluded, “he jilted me. Everything was ready. Our wedding day was set. But he found another girl. She had just moved to town and he lost his head. That was six weeks ago. I've been gone for a month, and tonight I wanted to stage a comeback. There's a big dance—one of my friends is giving it—at the Country Club. Everybody will be there, including my Bill and the new girl. Everybody is pitying me and wondering how I'm going to face things. And an hour ago my date called me, and of all the things that could happen told me that he was quarantined with his sister’s children, who have developed the measles. I came in here, down in the depths, and saw you. I thought maybe you’d help me out.” “You mean——-" He met her eyes steadily— “You want me to take you to the dance so you can play the game of not caring?” “Exactly.” “I may be married.” “I don’t care if you have a dozen wives.” “I may be a criminal.” “I don’t care if you've murdered 10 men.” “I may be an escaped lunatic.” ‘““The crazier the better.” “And I may be none of those things.” “You look like a million dollars,” said Juliette, smiling a little, “and everybody will wonder where I met you, and who you are. You’'ll have a good time. I'm not a flop, exactly. I always get a rush, and will probably get a bigger one to- night because all the fellows feel sorry for me.” He reached for his pen. “What’s your address?” he asked. “And do you wear gardenias or orchids?” “You're a darling,” laughed Juliette. “I wear gardenias, if I have them. Bill always sent them. I'd love them tonight, especially.” A SLIM blond girl in a black evening dress with gardenias nestling against her shoulder, Juliette smiled back at her reflection in the mirror. Yes, she decided, she was exactly right. John Derry! She liked the name. She liked the man. Though he had probably told her the truth about nothing. He had probably never seen Princeton, and was no doubt married with a half a dozen children instead of the bachelor he pre- tended to be. He probably wasn’t a law- yer at all, but a pretzel salesman or some- thing like that, bored, and seeking ad- venture. She hoped he wouldn’'t em- barrass her by trying to make love to her. He didn’t seem like that sort of person, but you couldn’t tell. Anyway, he looked like a million dollars, and that was all she wanted. He was standing before the fire, star- ing down at the coals. She caught her breath excitedly. In a tux, he was posi- tively devastating. Even her own cracked and broken heart tried to dance about a little on its decrepit legs, and she won- dered a little curiously if broken hearts were ever mended. “Hello, Beautiful,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “You're lovelier than I thought.” “I wish you'd tell Bill that tonight, if you get a chance, she retorted gayly. “It will help my wounded pride, you know.” “All right I'll tell him, any number of things. Are you ready? I've been trying to think where I met you.” She laughed as they went toward the door. “It was at my aunt’s. You fell for me at once—oh, terribly hard—and you followed me here. Of course, its illogical, but——" “That I should fall for you?” “Isn’t it?” S “Hardly! I was just thinking how log- Ical it was.” “Oh!” She gasped when they were outside. “You have your car! I thought we could use mine.” She noted as he helped her in that it was an expensive make, with innu- merable gadgets on it. BILL. . . . She struggled against the weakness which suddenly engulfed her. It didn’t seem possible, when she and Bill had been going together for years, that this was some one else beside her. “Tonight!” She began to laugh hys- terically. “Oh, John, tonight was to have been my wedding night! I—I had for- THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGY ~ < — = S — e SN — swered gotten until now. Tonight! Oh, what a funny world this is! I—I think I'm going to cry!” “Don’t!” He snapped savagely. “Don’t be a fool!” She looked at him through tear- blurred eyes. “Do you want everybody pitying you? Do you want Bill laughing at you be- cause you're still crazy about him? For- get that tonight was to have been your wedding night! Thank your lucky stars it isn’t, if this Bill is the sort of fellow who falls for every pretty girl he sees!” For a moment she said nothing. Then: “I—I guess you're right,” she said a little weakly. “But you don’t understand. Helen Robinson is really beautiful.” “Helen Robinson!” “Yes.” She look at him, startled. “Lo you know her?” I know a Helen Robinson who used to live at Fair Haven? Do you know where she’s from?” “Fair Haven, I think—I—" “I lived there until just about three years ago. Helen was at some girls’ school while I was at Princeton. I took her to our junior prom. I thought she was a knockout then.” “Oh!” All at once she was clinging to his arm, her eyes frightened, pleading, her voice breaking. “You won't tell her about this afternoon, about tonight, about the things I've said.” “Of course not.” He promised re- assuringly. “Keep a stiff upper lip, Jul- iette, my dear, for you've got a good sized job on your hands tonight.” He brought the car to a halt in the driveway. There was the usual group of men clustered about the door, and Jul- iette spoke to them gayly, laughing a