Evening Star Newspaper, August 8, 1935, Page 24

THE EVENING STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, THURSDAY, AUGUST 8, 1935. He had felt their laughs | rattled from his head. That laughter | in the morning to the man who owns | had been disputing their claim for e ——————————— LOVELY LITTLE FOOL B ILL, BUT GIVES ADDRESS |isu, spesker, specitly insatca by ‘A Slory of Washingtons Socz Set WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE. Betsy Sevmour, a lovely little Govern- ent clerk, is in love with Marshall Van vanter, who also professes to love her, ut pays marked attention to Libby Stock: ton. - spoiled daughter of old and wealthy Washington family. At a gay ‘lcmmg party and later at a dinner given y Jennie Travers she meets Raoul de Prudentio. Latin American diplomat, who becomes infatuated with her beauty, and ohn Storm _of Boston. who is studying aw in the Capital. and who later comes room at the Seymour home. Betsy pleads illness at the Travers dinner and #sks John to take her home, but. instead, they go for a long drive. During this drive John tells her something of his past life and disappointment in love, and $he suddenly asks him to kiss her. This | an went on, roughly, “Go on to bed. If you don’t, I'll spank you as you've never before been spanked.” He went back into his room and clicked the lock behind him. He waited for & moment, until he heard Betsy’s door close softly; then he turned out his light and threw himself across the bed. For a long while he lay there, looking up at the fantastic shadows that the recurrent flashes of lightning etched on the wall. He thought of the girl who had come out of the stage door of the burlesque house; the girl who had sung the slightly indecorus but very witty song in the first act. The fellows from school had made a scramble for her. This was a lark! * * * this was different, off the beaten path! * * ¢ this was something that would make mothers and fathers cut off allow- ances! But the girl hadn't seen the others. Her eyes, as black as musca- tel grapes, had looked up at him. She had said, gayly: “Hi! there, Blondie!"” She was full-breasted but slender; She just stood there in her pink pajamas. She had father's Bible in her arms. he does. first lightly. the and tell her that some tir to learn to_love him home she finds her brot in his room. In his hane knows that Terry hates Marsha immediate fear 1s that Terry is going to kill Marshall. CHAPTER FIVE. (13 OOD heavens, no!” Terry laughed. But it wasn't Terry's light, contagious laughter. It wasn't really & laugh at all. It was something hol- Jow and forced and frightening. “There’s nothing wrong, I tell you. Now g'wan to bed!” He grasped her by her shoulders, turned her around and marched her through the door. When she faced him in the hall, a wide-eyed, stricken little face, he bent swiftly and kissed one of her pale cheeks. “Please don't look like that, Betsy. I telk you * * *’ He hesitated and ‘WHEN the days are hot—light, crisp food is best for you. Try a big bowl of Kellogg’s Rice Kris- pies. They crackle refresh- ingly in milk or cream. They’ll set you up. You'll enjoy Rice Krispies at any time of the day. Extra delicious with fruits or honey added. Ideal for supper or at bedtime. Full of nourishment, yet easy to digest. Children love Rice Kris- pies. And you couldn’t give them a more sensible food. At all grocers in the Mother Goose story package. Made by Kellogg in Battle Creek. Quality guaranteed. He had looked hard into her eyes un- der their thinly plucked brows; eyes so black and deep that not a light | showed in their depths. His hands | had trembled, so he had held them in his pocket in a semblance of ease. He had hardly known what to say | when she had hurried him away from Plose don't fedk me. T (And never forget that the Listen!— get hungry e s e every lovely girl.) Order Camay, now, from T P ————e - NEW YORK, N. Y- beating against his back, the amuse- ment in their eyes following him down the alley. But it had been the kind of laughter he could take. He and the girl had found a Chi- nese restaurant, & table in a shadowy rococo cubicle. She had ordered whisky. When he had hesitated over his wine card, the girl laughed, hold- ing to his eyes with hers, taunting him. She knew he was young and his face had burned for his 20 years and inexperience; but he had not let his gaze drop from hers. “Whisky, too?” she had asked. Laughter still in her eyes. Amusement dancing in the corners of her soft mouth, “I'd kill any one for laughing at me,” he had said, furiously. Meant it, too! Her eyes and lips calmed. “Sorry, Blondie,” she had said. “Got you wrong, I guess.” She had reached across the table and had touched her hand to his cheek. Her fingers had been light and cool, but they had burned him like fire * * * a fire that flamed down his throat and across his shoulders, searing his senses. Once he had wondered what the first touch of a girl’s hand would do to him. Now he knew. Terry writhed on the bed. Sweat broke out in beads on his temples. He tried to remember how often he had stood at the stage door after that| night. Twenty nights? * * * thirty? Could it really have been a month of nights? Terry rolled over on his stomach, buried his head in his arms and some- thing like a sob caught in his throat. He couldn't do it. He wasn't a cow- ard, but he couldn’t kill. What did it matter if the man had come into | Sonia Karsoff's dressing room, if he had thrown back his round, swarthy face and had laughed. “Robbing the cradle now, Sonia?” Laughter. “Can’t pull a job in New York without finding | diapers hanging on your clothesline | when I blow in, en?” Raucous laugh- ter, shattering the ears, as the swarthy man had lunged across the room, plercing laughter as the man had caught Terry’s shoulders and had shaken him until his teeth had almost /4 i $500 everr YvEAR FOR LIFE $100 ¢ YEAR FOR LIFE 1210 ADDITIONAL CASH PRIZES Write a Camay slogan—10 words or | less. \ Camay wrappers and mail to Box 668, { Dept. C., Procter & Gamble, Cincin® nati, O. Or see your dealer for details. | LISTEN IN to Barry McKinley on tely. | she was taller than Betsy when she | the “Dreams Come True” program, S | came over and stood close beside him. | WEAF and N. B. C. coast-to-coast | | network Tues., Weds.,, and Thurs., |34SE.D.S. 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And let Camay's beauty bubbles start you toward new loveliness today. eyes of the world . . . particu- larly the eyes of men . . . turn with admiration toward your dealer. You'll be sur- prised at its very low price. Attach three green-and-vellow | ———""""" was in this room now—riding in on the lightning, ringing and gonging from | ish the walls. Sonia’s terrorized voice was here, too, crying out, “Let the kid alone, Tige! Let the kid alone!” ‘Terry’s hands clenched against his pajamas. The beads of sweat rolled from his temples and into his open mouth. The veins in his neck swelled to livid welts. He'd kill any one for laughing at him and making a fool of him before Sonia. He could kill that man * * * he could kill that man * * ¢ “Terryl" He didn"t hear. Laughter was beat- ing against him. Stark madness was clawing at his brain. “Terryl" Betsy's voice at the door. A soft, pleading voice. “Terry! Open the door! Please!” ‘Terry leaned up on his elbow, dazed. The pain in his head fell to one side and pressed like a burning, fiery ball against his eye socket. He got up slowly. “I thought * * * I * * * told you to go to bed.” He stood there for a moment in the dark, helplessly irresolute. Sweat was slimy in his hair and on his cheeks. He brushed his arm across his forehead, and the moisture soaked into his pajama sleeve in a dark, ugly blotch. Betsy didn’t come into the room when he finally snapped on the light and opeend the door. She just stood there in her pink pajamas, her impu- dent bow-trimmed mules peeping out from beneath the ridiculously wide pants. She was swaying a little, like a Please! small frond with sudden voluptuous | life. She had father'’s Bible in her arms * * * the old Bible, dog-eared and yellow with two generations of use and faith, the records of all their | births written in a fine English script in the back. “Promise me on this, Terry,” she begged, “that you'll return that pistol AN ARCTIC TREAT FOR A TROPICAL DAY! TN QA&A Made U ur Ow oy .THE SOAP OF it. ,:nm you won't do anything fool- Quick tears magnified the boy’s eyes. He turned away from her, shame- faced, and leaned against the foot of the iron bed, as if for support. He was exhausted now. His body ached. His eyes felt as if hot fingers were trying to probe them from their sockets. “Don't be 50 damned dramatic!” His voice was thick. But after a moment he put his palm on the shabby old Bible. “I promise,” he said. He was blink- ing to hold the tears in his eyes. “You're so * * * s0 square, Betsy. fellow would be a low hourd to do anything to hurt you.” The tears fell from the corners of his eyes now and ?heml:we”d his blond head to hide And while he spoke something in Betsy snapped into a horrible aware- ness. It was like being unconscious and awaking to a torturing pain. Terry | had wanted to kill some one. She hadn't been sure when she had tiptoed through the hall with the old family Bible in her hands. But now she knew! Terry had hated some one enough to want to kill him! The soft stillness of the house was ruffied the next morning by a burst of telephone bells and the lugubrious boom of the parlor clock striking 8. Betsy flung a plaid woolen bathrobe around her shoulders and hurried through the cold halls to the rattling instrument. Sleepily she adjusted the receiver to her ear. Raoul’s voice was as bright as if it were noon instead of 8 o'clock. Betsy must forgive him for calling so early. He was off for Fairfax and wanted to be sure to reach her before he left. He would call for Betsy tonight around 10, he said. A legation reception. In- deed, at the legation representing the country that might soon be at war with his own. Didn't Betsy know all about it? Didn't she ever read the | papers? Hadn't she read of the quar- | rel over the boy? The two countries six years or more. She'd enjoy watch- ing, he assured her, pompous Minister Planiol bow to him, tell him how de- lighted he was that he could come, when the height of his ambition was to thrust a knife in the back of any De Prudentia! Diplomats! Oh, Betsy had a lot to learn about them if she was going to be the wife of one! “I didn't know I was going to be the wife of a diplomat, Raoul,” she laughed. “Are you sure Jennie didn't serve you too many potent drinks after I left last night? You're not by any chance talking to me with your head A | swathed in icebags, are you?” “Betsy! How could you? And as for being the wife of & diplomat * * * well I shall tell you about that to- night.” ‘Then he hung up. Mrs. Seymour was at the foot of the stairs when Betsy turned from the telephone. Her eyes were as blue as the squares of her gingham apron. “Did a diplomat ask you to marry him, Betsy?” she asked, & little awed., “No, Raoul didn’t ask me to marry | him, mother,” Betsy answered, dimp- ling. “But if he is as serious as he | sounds, he probably will tonight. Not | that it makes any difference.” “Not that it makes any difference? You mean, you'd turn down a diplo- mat?” Before Betsy could answer, her mother’s eyes had sobered. “There ien’t,” she asked quickly, “anything between you and that Marshall Van Devanter, is there, dear? He seems to be a nice enough young man, but there’s something about him——" Her alarmed voice trailed off. Betsy's face changed utterly. “There was something, Mother. But not now. ! Not after what happened at Jennie's | dinner party last night.” Betsy was just finishing breakfast when she heard Marshall's horn slit- ting the foggy morning. (To be continued tomorrow.) 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