New Britain Herald Newspaper, July 25, 1930, Page 25

D p—y CHAPTER 1 It was a stormy night in mid- January. The pavements were swept by drenching rain, and a piercing wind was blowing. In that cosmopolitan corner of New York called Greenwich Village the streets were almost deserted by 10 o'clock. From blinds of the'little cafes and drink- ing shops came bursts of music and laughter. Halfway down the narrow street Bastien Dumont, tumbling:down the steps leading to the Cafe Ture and pushing open the door, was met with a twang of a mandolin and a light, gay tenor volce singing *Funic- uli, Funicula.” sheets of astien was Anglo-French, one of a score of struggling artists who frequented the little cafe. The place | was something like a.club for the | indigent who would sip the wine of | life, but who must have it cheap. There were two rooms at the Cafe Turc—the first just below the level of the street, small and low ceiled, with the bar, the. coffce urns, and | a reredos of bottles on the left; the second a few steps lower still, much | largér, equally low in pitch, with sanded floor and some dozen tables, big and little, ranged”round the walls. These walls displayed a col- lection of sketches, logacies from various artists. One night a great man had sat there and laughed over his winé, and had turned and drawn a girl's head on the wall behind him. His *had been a name to conjure with At the door the young man paused. blinkifw, and expelling a grateful breath. “Peste, what a night! claimed. Grouping his way through the blue-gray fog to the shining counter, he shook the proprietor by the hand. “What a night!" he cried in a warm, vouthful voice. “Is Judy here?” The proprietor returned Dumont's greeting and answered his question in the French language, which the young man had used “I have not seen Judy vet, M Dumont; but she will doubtless be here. Chummy is in there.” He jerk- his thumb toward the inner room Dumont passed on, calling out a greeting here and there to friends who sat in smoke-encircled groups. Between the two who was singing to his he This was Dan, the waiter and gen- eral factotum of the establishment —a lanky being who-looked like a | elown in his baggy clothes. Dumhont ordered coffee and cog- nac. dnd, entering the inner room, was noisily greeted by a crowd of men at one of the larger tables. Room was made for him, and he rat down among them. PR the opposite side of the réom to the one at which Bastien Dumont had joined his friends, two men were sitting. Of the other tables, most were occiipled v groups of twos and threes. From time to:time glances of curiosity were directed at the two men. For one thing, they were not habitues of the place, and it was seldom that strangers came to the Cafe Turc. One of them. however, was known to several people there. He was Vincent Stornaway, a suc- cesstul portrait painter, who had long ago abandoned any pretense of | a bohemian life. He exuded pros- perity with his faintly picturesque clothes, his flowing tle, his golden- brown beard, pale cheeks, and clear, healthy skin. His companion was known to no- bedy, and various Whflattering com- ments were passed on his appear- ance. He was unprepossessing to a degree, his pallid face being fleshy At a table on and heavy-jawed, his eyes pale and | small and sunk in puffy bags, his forehead low and equare and livid | against a band of coarse, black hair. He had a big, hooked nose and a thick ne¢k, and there was a sin- istér suggestion in the straight line of' his lips, which were thin and peevish, and contradicted all the | rest of his face. “A libertine with a bad temper,” murmured clever Tony Leigh, the behind the closed | ex- | rooms the man | mandolin | ‘rose and looked at him expectantly. Judith Grant (cruelest caricaturist with heart in the world “Good shot, Ton said another man. “I wonder who the chap can by the kindest As a matter of {companion was financier, whose fact, Bruce Stornaway's Gideon, & which the insurance company with Gideon was associated. Durin| | sittings Gideon had shown interest in the life of artidts, and the two men had become friendly to a certain extent {nd#on had asked Stornaway to his apartment on Park | { dinner avenue, to see a real bit | Greenwich Village. Stornaway had thpught of the Cafe Turc, of his| | long-past struggles, and had brought his host to what he had described | as New York's nearest approach to the artist life of Paris. | The rich man looked about him | | while he smoked his fat cigar. From | his little eves no one would have |known what he was thinking— | whether he despised these shabby, | long-haired, lean-faced youths, these | | queer-looking women with their | eves full of visions, or whether there stirred in him some vague envy of | the ardent minds that can transcend hardship and want, and can work, suffer, and enjoy on the wings of a great idea N To the left of Vincent Stornaway |and his companion was a young | | woman sitting at a table all alone. As other men and women came in, | nearly all of them greeted her, agd |some lingered a moment by her |side. A man now and then asked | her to have some refreshment; nobody sat down at her table | She answered all greetings in the | same way without enthusiasm, as a matter of course. She accepted re- freshment every now and then. From time to time she smiled a beautiful smile, like that of a child. | Bruce Gideon turned with an in- terrogation to Stornaway. who, as it happened. could enlighten him | “That girl has a remarkable story,” the artist said in a low | voice, turning toward his compan- ‘Mn so that his words should not carry ‘ “Not exactly.” “Too colorless.” His voice, kept low in imitation of the other man's, was surprisingly soft—quite at variance with his appearance, and almost {woman's. “She | beautiful | vears ago,"” of the "poorer Gideon answered. was considered the most girl in New York some the artist continued. He {pointed behind him to the glazed | sketch surmounted by the crape- | decorated wreath. “Chanlery did this | head of her. She was like a young Diana then Gideon had paid his homage to jthe dead master's work as he came in. “Good Lord!"” he said. “You don't | mean that's the same woman? What happened to her?"” “Love.” replied Stornaway. fell in love with a boy who used practically to live here—Alan Steyne, an artist. At least, he was trying to be an artist, and starving mean- | while, It was one of those terrifio | passions. They were inseparable— couldn't breathe apart. She was | working at Willoughby's art achool. }Sm was about 18 at the time, and he was a few years older. She'sthe daughter of an Englishman. I've | forgotten his ' name—he died in Switzerland, climbing—I can't re- member which mountain. Her mother was dead long before.” Gideon turned, and his small eyes made a quick survey of the young woman's fairface. “I thought she didn't quite fit In hgre,” he said. “Go on, Stornaway. This is most interesting. | “One day Alan Steyne disappear- ed—just like that, without a word— just deserted her. She wasn't the kind that could stand it. It wasn't an ordinary love affair— not on hex | part, at any rate. She didn't exist apart from him, and everyone thought he was equally fond of her. |T used to come here quite often in those days, and I saw a good deal of them portrait the artist | was painting as a present from an | uch | md had expressed a desire | but | “Do you think her beautiful?” | like a| “8he | NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, FRIDAY, JULY - DANCING - DY CORALIE STANTON and HEATH HOSKEN “What became of the Gideon asked. “Nobody knows—never heard of since. He was clever, but impatient —didn't care about going through | the mill. He's never done anything tellow?"” |heard of him. The girl went to pieces—nearly died, you know; and when she struggled- back again she was like she is now.” | “Do you mean she’s mad?” asked rich man with interest. ‘Not exactly. Silly, I should say —not quite all there—childish.” “And how does she live “Everbody looks after her, as far | as I can make out. She's the pet of this place. At first she must have had a little money. She didp't seem | to have any relations. Little by | little she became the adopted child | of the chaps who come here. She | never painted since Alan Steyne left | |her. I don’t quite know how it's | managed, but nobody would let her | want. “Lately she’s been living with an- |other girl—a girl they call Judy | Judy is more or less of a newcomer | —since my time: but I've seen her | | when I've been here. I don’t come | often. Someone told me that she was | looking after Chummy. I think she's | a mode} herself— a queer, savage- |looking sort of a girl.” “How long ago did this happen? | Gideon asked | “Let me see—about seven vears |ago, I suppose. Yes; it's five years |since T used to come here regwarly, |and then Chummy was quite an in- stitution. | A slip of a girl pushed opeh the door and came into the Cafe Turc. | She shook herself like a dog, and | the raindrops fell from her in | showers. Everybody in the front room knew | [ ner. | *“Hullo, Judy! Cheerio. Judy! Wel- come to the ark, Judy!" - The girl answered them all with | laughing words in a voice that was husky, partly by nature, and’ partly owing to a bad cold. She advanced with & series of shakes, and finally }dn'rsfl\,d herself of t abby mack- |intosh she was wearing.' Underneath, she had a very short skirt of a |dark tartan, and a bright-green jersey with threads of gold showing here and there. On her head was a | battered, white-telt hat, very much pulled over her eyes | Judith Grant's face was gaudy | with its cheap paint and powder |and lampblack that sullied and dis- | guised the wonder 6f~4its youth; buu it was charming, for all that, and | flowerlike. Once a man looked at it he often had to look again and | again. | She had a mop of short, red-gold hair and big eyes the color of dark- | purple pansies, and a mouth that was alwayvs laughing. She was very small. Artigts used her as a model th |&r the line of her neck and shoul- | |dets, and for her hands and feet, which were pretty nearly perfect. | " sometimes, when her protession | failed her, she got into a chorus. | |8he was a born dancer, but ehe never stayed long, and had never |achieved promotion on the stage. | | For one thing, she had no voice, and she was so small that ghe was lost {n the crowd Her entrance ln'o the inner room was greeted with' another chorus. | Everybody knew her. “Hullo, boys!” she cried, as she {jumped the three steps in a beund She looked around and saw the fair | girl alone at her table. “Ah there's| my family!” she exclaimed, walk- ing over to Chummy, and flinging | down her mackintosh on a chair| and her hat on the top of it. | | She sat down beside her friend, | {and Den brought her a steaming | |tumbler of punch. Two or three of | {the men at the big table came over ‘flnfl talked to the two girls. Bruce Gideon's interest was mani- festly aroused. He sat silent. watch- ing them. Chummy, the fair girl, | smiled at the men and talked. She looked quite vacant except when she smiled. They evidently treated her as a child. One of them patted | her hand kindly as he moved away Presently the young men had ally strolled away. Gidson turned to Stornaway. “Could you introduce me?" he |asked. “Do you know them®" | “On, yes,” the artist replied with |2 smile. The two men rose and walked | over to the girl's table. and Storna- | way told them who he was in his| | charming way “I don't expect you remember me, Miss Judy,” he added; “but I have had the pleasure of meeting vou. I don't come here often now— don’t get time, worse luck!” | Oh, but, of course, yoyre a great Judy doubted whether Chummy | remembered that she was Clarissa forley, or that she had ever lived| in another world and had relations and friends who were not perenia'ly impecunious. Judy shook out her mop of red- gold hair when she had brushed it | | well. She was perfunctory with H«r‘ | cosmetics this morning, and left he; | flower face very nearly as God made | | it She found that Chummy had a | heavy cold. While she dosed her, and lit a fire out of her scanty stoc of fuel, she began her uneasy as- sault on her friend's dormant mem- | ory. | “Chummy, dear, would you be | glad to see an old friend again?" “ “What friend?” asked the other | girl, with her innocent smile. “'A real old friend—some one you were very fond of, old girl!” | “I'm fond of you, Judy, and Ba: tien and Michael and all the boys, said the deep, bell-like voice. “I know, but this is somebody you knew long ago. Don't you remem- ber, Chummy? Some orfe you loved very much.” Suddenly she flung her {arms around her friend’'s neck anl hugged her. *“Some one you lovel very, very much!” “A man?" asked Chummy. | “Yes, a man." | “I Jove men—I love them very much,” said Chummy complacently. “Yes—but one man—u« quite par—l | ticular boy, you know, not like the in the art world, or one would haye i | wouldn't | how she'll | the best way you can. | “on, | mont appeared first, | He looked as if he a | sit | 1v into his face | high hat, COPYRIGHT IO bY others. He's coming back. see him tonight.” “Oh!" said Chummy “What do you mean?" Judy gave it up. 5 ey | During the day she went to Bis- tien Dumont’s attic “I can't prepare Chummy,” she told him. “She won't take it in. And she's got a vile cold. She can't g to the cafe tonight. Anyway, I let her meet him there, in front of all the boys. T don’t know take it ou must tail and bring him to s You must tell him Of course, as soon as he knows.he'll want to come at once. I'll expect you tonight— about nine. Chummy mustn't he kept up late. She clasped her hands, excitediy Bastien, what a wonderful thing! When she sees him, it must ali come back to her—it must be all Ynull‘ blandly. him about her, her at our place wight!” best.” he promised it is a nasty job.” Judy went home and passed a dav o feverish excitement. She threw out hint after hint to Chummy, who was quite unrespons en tLe “I'll do my obediently; “but ve. | piainest words did not penetrate the | darkness of her mind Judy spoie thennce right out lover—Alan He is com- “Chummy, your Steyne—has come I ing to see you toni smiled her baby CHAPTER IL o'clock Judy had every thing ready. Chummy sat in air like a lovely doll Judy made the room as clean as she cou There were two ight-colore shawls pinned on the drab walls. She had recklessly invested in eight vellow jonquils, which brought sun- | stine into the dingy p The ket- | tle was singing on t Listening wth caught ligtht, hu the stairs. St landing. The g Judy's of a naked gas je the black frock skirt and neck, showing that lovely. innocent curve of throat and shoulder that artists raved about. A string of rad | beads hung about her waist. Hor thin stockings consisted chiefly of | darng, and the cheap, exaggerated shoe could not disguise her perfect feet Foosteps sounded on the stajrs. It seemed to her that they lagged. Du- his companion half a flight behind him Judy devoured his apmea with her bright, excited eyes. This was Chummy's young man. Ho often she had wondered what he looked like How often had wondered at the fidelity of a heait that could be plunged into dark ness by the disappearance of any man on earth! Her mind grasp details. o a tall figure and Chummy smile. At nine er ears, footst out ried went on moment had arrived was white in the ligh t. She wore a | very short in the| low in eat sleeves he she was too feverish to| She got an impression a handsome | face, which struck with its supreme f g looked strong and energ! to jump over the moon, His eves held hers with them—and something e fair, and his face was ver: avs got enough ough* whi he wanted. Those were Judy's first impressions. He addressed her in a voice whos naturally careless ring was contr dicted by the anxious look in his eyes. fiss Grant. it is wise for me to see M tonight? Dumont has told 1 (h\nl I am so dreadfully sorry | I mean, oughtn't ha to He broke off, looking Judy shook her mop of red-gold h like a bright waterfall It's no good prepa answered quickly “I've tried. Oh. Mr. Steyne, w vou, that'll do the t Dear old Chummy, it! Will you go in alone? P He looked frightened “Oh, no—please come krow, she may not—" udy!” came Chum from inside the room you? Why are you time? I'm cold.” Judy went to the half-open dod beckoning to the men to follow her She saw Alan Steyne close his lij tightly and square his shoulders Inside the room Chummy sar | the chair by the small fire. 1t the only chair fit for anybod in. She had a pale-blue wool shawl around her shoulders, set off her fair loveliness so she looked like am angel on an oli- do you really think ss Morley o eve lessly W such a loag and | tashioned Christmas card one to see yOu said Judy a “Here is—some Chummy, dear,” choked voice. Alen Steyne stood in front girl who had lost her wits for love of him. He stood there, awkward and ill at ease, with deep conce:n in his eyes,. Clarissa Morley smiled up blan Then she blew b of tha nose After that pause “'Say something—speak to cemmanded Judy in a tense whisper. | “Clarissa!” said Alan /Steyne. “Clarissa, don't you know me? I there was a dreadfy hert” | | have come back! PRI Mr. Stornaway. the girl answered, with mischief in her eyes that lighted them and made them sparkle like amethysts Stornaway introduced G Judy nodded to him and presented him to her friend, whose name she gave as Miss Morley Chummy looked at straight. soulless gaze He saw that her eyes were golden brown, and that her beauty was really faultless, and must have been startling when illumined by inteli- gence. him st {although she “Oh'" she said in her deep, like voice. “Oh, ugly man! ugly man! Man just like Pun Gid v t at all €ouch Halan in it. He press the glea \ an embarrassed | times during tr himself smiled | night. The girl d two rooms at Iy adding to his the top of a high building in a busy typical- figure | thoroughfar far from the Cafe he other girl. | Turc £, 1 had one room your name,: which latter he asked. When ion the ill-nature disappear the face. but it gained bell- Very him about Chumm know how. I only here just the same {to prepare I said we were all s0 1l have about FAThEr i oy Judy tried to suj sheer smile broadl resembla of fun oy doesn’t gave Gideon s distinet an people eferred etimes. Cafe was had and r nd 8 1o said it ummy wspaper and home, CF g a longer, Judy. I'm il “I've seen Alan Ste, back he whispered. come have new You shold have seen her w sketched h “Bah sick rough tk the many blur: newcomer he shook asked Alan io. Chum- warm su A w : ome boy t and talked and he and over to her t down b talk to Dumont There was som lean pigturesq looked at Y that he was not his warm, ri Ied one to suppose. H both tender and on the gi He drew h table in a cor “I have have the Chummy break it to her Judy? I've come back'" The name was heart in letters o had i, and broken-down ch he carefully Judy basket most Don't youi Turc every What fun those days were was nearly starving--and you S Uhiaadie N Ghummy s ed so beautifully! And we used FaTRe TS0 ke slayer in Central Park. Surely you of Chummy’s youth!" mt nber, Clarissa?" e peated| Not a trace of enlightenment in a low voice full of ame into Chummy's face, s T e b o a5 come to the after all the old g ich 1o tten on Judy flam ever seen the back scorn you cafe long gay. I room ‘o oard in her looked at Tri- ed him. Her eyes box of an a mont as she ol tioned her. He to look us up. here tomorrow night. 1 said he was comi I asked hig to cor didn’t tell| e plainly . T simply didn't | | you're not “He can't make love to her wnlle‘ CHELSEA HOUSE we're there.” i Dumont followed her. Chummy and her lover were alone They were an unconscionable time fetching the cups and the bis- 8. When they came back, Steyne had moved nearer to Chummy, and e was looking more like an angel than ever. “I like this boy,” she said ing with a purring sound going to be great friends.” ey drank beef tea and ate d smoked and laughed nobody would have known that ad not enough money in her pu o buy their food on the morros n o'clock before ave Dumont smiled radiantly at Alan him to come again. The other three felt very queer, #d spent an hour in an ra udy dismissed the men wi'h but she felt flat anl s she went back to Chummy sileite laugh- We are was 1 Steyne took his 1 went with hi Chummy and aske nutes later Ch b 4 asleep. with plaits lying like silvery cables on the pillow Judy shut the door out upon the lani- to her own ro eps on the s and Steyne ran up, bre: With one hand off his hat, with the othar something from his over- immy her n foot thless. 100k very rapidiy You wo d. Miss ( v ‘coming back well. Dumont told about poor Miss Morley, you about her condition, and wr angel you've been to her. Of ¢ it isn't and as an old of hers T want you for hgr, you know, to get her things she wants—nice things to eat, and clothes, and all that. Please do say offended!” some b k notes. Judy flushed crims was regular little Lucifer in her pride but for Chummy's sake she a ed with a spasm of gratitude, ci ng at the notes and holding as if they burned her. “[ mustn't say no, of course. I'm not offended. It's for Chummy, and seeing that you're going to marn her it's only right. Of course, I ¥now it's been rotten for her he:a She's not like me or like lots of our little crowd—she's a lady, and all at. T suppose vou'll want to r away at once and put her in an | friend to take this— He held out them ! some nice place until you're married. Steyne murmured something more about her goodness to her friend. “I've done nothing more than any of us would do,” Judy answered | warm “We all loye Chumry. | - all Chumr friends—every one of us.” And you are her guardian angel, Miss Grant.” “Oh, Lord, no queer, hoarse voice me her guardian, if ' said Judy ir “You m you lik her call | but there's precious little of the angie about me. Ask those that know me The young man smiled and held out his hand. Judy looked a lit:le abashed as she laid hers in it Good night, little guardian,” said. “May meet soon!” Judy's lay snugly in his close, firm grip. It was only a mo- ment, but it seemed a very, very Jong time before he released her d turned and went clattering the stone stairs, Alan (To he continued) Last Chancee! Only a Few Days Left to Get FOR YOUR OLD PEN or PENCIL (any kind or condition) on the purchase % L g \ of any Parker Duofold Pen or Pencil e . YOU have aiways wanted @ Parker Pen or Pencil. Now own one! 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