Evening Star Newspaper, September 4, 1935, Page 28

B—12 8 PHYLLIS MOORE GALLAGH ER CHAPTER XXXIL ERRY was smiling faintly when he came back into the parlor. He would look healthy, Betsy thought, if it wasn't for that #something hurt and crushed beneath the rich sunburn. Would he never get over Sonia’s death? She thought: “If he could only learn to care a little for Jennie. She loves him so. She'd make him happy, t0o.” But Betsy knew even as she thought §t that Terry never would. That not as long as he lived would he marry any one . .. love any one but the little dancer. Some men were like that, and Terry was one of them. He would go through life with a shad- owy hand in his, with shadowy, twin- kling toes matching their stride to his. ‘The memory of that day at the hos- pital rushed over her. The Depart- | ment of Justice officials had filed into Terry’s bleak white room and had begun to talk about the $10,000 re- ward on Tige Williams which Sonia had requested go to him. Terry had turned his emaciated, tortured young face to the wall, wanting to die, moan- ing: “Blood money! Oh, my God! ... how could you think I'd touch t!” He had lain there for days aft- erward hovering between life and death because the desire to live had drained from him. Were she and Terry destined to go through life with gaping wounds in their hearts? For Terry there was no hope, no possible hope, but for her—her heart began to speed—speed as it always did when she thought that some day John would come to| her . . . some day . The terrace was bright with man- made incandescence challenging the remote eternal sparkle of the stars. The trees of Rock Creek Park made magic silhouettes, and there was a breeze, delicate, vibrant, soft as the feel of satin. In the distance the fig- ures of a cathedral’s spires were etched against the night. Varnee, the orchestra leader, was conducting his “boys” through a med- ley from “Go Into Your Dance.” He/ stood on the dais, slender, blond, with glancing blue eyes beneath sensuously drooping lids, his baton moving in a restrained manner. A fourth of Wash- ington’s girls were secretly in love with him . . . shop girls, Government clerks, subdebs, postdebs and wicked young widows—all the mixed crowd who patronized the Terrace. Several wealthy matrons were known to ha- bituate the night club just to sit near him and bask in the warmth of those glancing blue eyes. As Betsy and Lieut. Nelson, a tall young man, bronzed by the seven seas and two years in Hawaii, with hair as black and slick as an Indian’s, went down the flagstone walk, followed by | Terry and Jennie, Varnee movedw gracefully to the microphone. The‘ medly had just ended with a crashing | of cymbals and dancers were flnng‘ back to their tables, { Varnee said, in his small, subtle voice that made women sigh and fall in love with him: “Ladies and gentlemen! The next song, “Stay as Sweet as You Are,” is dedicated to| Mrs. John Storm, who was Miss Betsy | Beymour, one of the loveliest debu-‘ tantes of the season, and who recently‘ sold her first novel. I hear—from a| little California birdie, my frans—that her book will soon be made into & motion picture and that the glamorous star, Miss Barbara Stone, will appear in it. Mrs. Storm is coming down yon flagstone, folks! The little girl| in pink! Give her a hand, folks! Give | her a great big hand!” In that one moment when the or- chestra was mute there was wild ap- plause and people turning their eyes toward the flagstones. Betsy's cheeks | were flushed, her eyes blue stars, her head poised as perfectly as a flower. ‘There were whispers—“Lovely!” Why, | brush against the starched shoulders of strange men's mess jackets. Betsy's temples were burning with embarrassment as she trailed the bowing, ingratiating waiter to a table set at the edge of the terrace. She was trembling and her heart was throbbing in her pulses like a jungle tocsin. Varnee had called her Mrs. John Storm. Mrs. John Storm. The first person to call her that. And every eye on that terrace had been turned on her: had seen her with her fingers thrust through Lieut. Ames Nelson's arm. John Storm's wife! As if reading her thoughts, Terry caught her hand under the table and held it in his own. He whispered, “Chin up, baby! Every cne here will think Jennie is with the Navy and that you're with your big brother. Guess father was right to have me | tag along.” Betsy sat there, locked in a proud rigidity. Her own vocie sounded child- ishly shaken when she spoke. “I'm being silly and emotional, Terry,” she said. “Maysie Parker told me I was working too hard. I guess I am. Maybe I need to get out more often. I've almost forgotten how to act.” Ames, sensing Betsy's discomfort, looked about the table, gathering them all with his dark, compelling eyes. He said, felgning indifference: “Take a peep at that moon, folks. It's a half pint to the ones in the Philippines. But it's rather a noble output for Washington. Now, isn't 162" Betsy looked up at the stars. At the orange wafer moon struggling through the clouds. “It gets a lot of people into trouble, I imagine. Makes you see beautiful eyes with- out noticing the cruel turn of lips, makes you see dark waving hair and THE EVENING STAR, WASHINGTO! jaw.” © Her volce was soft, but it sounded a little vague, as if she were thinking of something else. She was calmer now. Her pulses had quit throbbing. A blank cool- ness was gaining in her. She sat quite still listening to the song that was being played in her honor and looking at the girls swaying in rhythm to the music. She could use this scene in her new novel. Girls in chiffons and organdies and dainty voiles . . . pretty as poems. Only last week fur coats had been neces- sary. Washington was like that. The seasons changed without any warn- ing. They never seemed to drift one into the other, leisurely melting. They just changed abrutly overnight. You went to bed under quilts and blankets and you arose to a day of stifling heat and humidity. It was then, with life itself seem- ing to drain out of her body, that Betsy saw John Storm across the candle-lit tables. John Storm in a white mess jacket, with Angelica’s fair head leaning close to the sun- shine of his. And with them a gray- haired old gentleman who looked so like John he could be no one else but Cabot Storm. Of course it was his father! Exams were over at the university now and John would be graduating soon. Funny she hadn't thought of that part of his life all Winter . . . his burning hopes, his ambitions, the plans to succeed his father. That inner part of his life that no girl would ever touch. John looked up then and Betsy's eyes hurried away because his own had caught them, holding them accusingly, and she lacked courage to face what she read in their gray depths. She knew, too, that he and his father had seen her come in, had heard Varnee's dedication of the song, had heard the leader call her Mrs. John Storm. She said in her mind, wildly: “I thought I would die if I ever ran into John like this with Angelica! But here I sit, doing things with my hands, saying things with my Hps, and no one on this terrace knowing that my heart is thundering in my ears . . . that I want to crawl on my hands and knees and beg John to for- give me!” It was then that Betsy saw over and beyond John a figure coming slowly down the stairs to the terrace— missing the domineering thrust of a|a figure with a cigarette in his fingers, white linens accentuating his dark- ness, that swaggering importance about him which she had once thought her here. Terry's eyes followed Betsy’s stricken gaze over the mage of sleek heads. He saw John, Angelica, Marshall, Mr. Storm. The Seymour jaw jutted and his blue eyes blazed. He said in his thoughts: “All we need now is that hell-caz Libby and well have one happy, bird-like little nest!” As John Storm got up from the table and started toward her, Betsy felt stified. A wild turbulence within her seemed to grow until it pressed hot and restless beneath the surface of her flesh. She could not move. She could only sit there watching him, with a fixed smirk of a smile, rapturous ache throbbing in her heart. She wondered, panic-siricken, if the marvel and fear of what was happen- ing to her showed in her tace. In the dim reaches of her mind she heard Ames Nelson say something about the music at the Cat's Eye, heard Terry quickly ask Jennie to dance. Now John was beside the table, tow- ering tall and bronzed and blond above her, saying her name, nodding to Ames Nelson and to Terry and Jennie. To Be Continued Tomorrow. MRS i Virginia Home Sold. BLUEMONT, Va, September 4 (Special) —Clayton Hall, property of Mr. and Mrs. E. G. Beale of Blue- mont and Clarendon, has been pur- chased by Mrs. Elizabeth Shawen of Washington. The property consists of a residence built in 1797 and 10 acres of ground. MOTOR O1}. . BAYERSON OIL_ wonxs coLuUMBI BAGGED for Fall! 'S The Swagger, Top Zipper and Top Handle bags sketched here are just a hint of the smart ones "just arrived! In calf, shrunken pig, diced grain or alligator calf. Black, brown, C., WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1935, CHINESE CONSIDER RUSSIAN PROTEST Organized Spread of Communis- tic Pro da Source of ‘Worry at Nanking. By the Associated Press. NANKING, September 4.—China may follow the lead of the United States in lodging a protest at Moscow against policies and programs outlined in speeches and resolutions at the re- cent Congress of the Communist In- ternationale, the Nationalist govern- ment foreign ministry indicated un- officially today. A spokesman explained that an or- ganized spread of communistic propa- ganda is particularly important to the government now in view of the anti- Communist campaign going on in West China and a nation-wide effort to eradicate communistic influences. ‘The spokesman said, however, that China’s lodging of a protest at this| time would be delicate, as the Na- tionalist government is “anxious to avoid prejudicing of the outcome of current negotiations for a Sino-Rus- sian treaty.” ‘The negotiations for the proposed treaty have been going on intermit- tently since 1932, when Sino-Russian|s point of Norfolk, Va. ‘The Mannela was asked to notify the schooner’s owner, Lumber Co., of Shamrock, Fla., that all aboard were safe. Braun of Jacksonville and a crew of seven or eight were aboard. diplomatic relations, severed in 1927, were restored. SHIP CALMED 4 WEEKS 800 MILES OFF COAST Steamer Relays Message From Schooner Missing Since Early August Storm. By the Assoclated Press. JACKSONVILLE, Fila., September 4. —The steamer Mapnela reported to Coast Guard headquarters yesterday she had been in communication with the schooner Alvera, from which there had been no word since she left Jacksonville August 3 for Ber- muda. ‘The Mannela's message said the Al- vera had been blown far off the course and then becalmed for four weeks at Furniture Lamps and Clocks CATLIN’S, lnc. 1324 N. Y. Ave. N.W. Nat. 099 Lighting Fixtures (Special) —The Parent-Teacher As- sociation of the Bladensburg Elemen- tary School will meet for the first time this season Friday night, at 8 o'clock, in the school. % Enjoy Southern ; SEE “MISS AMERICA” CROWNED QUEEN AT ATLANTIC CITY TWO - DAY EXCURSION SATURDAY, SEPT. 7 GalaHollywoed! 25 ool e e ROUND American Beauty Ball, TP Bathing Beauties in mammoth Beach Pageant on Sun Leave Washington 8:00 A. M. Sar- Returning, leave to 6:30 P. M. next day — ample time for the beach theill of @ lifetime. o e ONE-DAY EXCURSION SUNDAY, SEPT. 8 ROUND TRIP.. 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