VERNONIA EAGLE, VERNONIA, OREGON
MAIDEN VOYAGE
KATHLEEN NOURIS
| Copyright, Kathleen Norrie.
CHAPTER XIX—Continued
—1 li­
ne came In, looking rather pale
and tired on this hot day, and Joe
wheeled up a chair for him, and for
a few seconds the conversation was
confused and general. Presently he
said to Tony:
"Everything serene In the city
room ?”
"Oh, perfection,” the girl an­
swered. "Greeny Is afraid to ask
me for my copy, even, and Fitch
hasn't been out at all.”
"You mean you two haven’t seen
each other since the other night?”
Ruth asked. “Right in the same
office!’’
“We’re on the same paper, not In
the same office," Tony reminded
her.
“I see your brother’s engagement
announced,” Larry said.
“Oh, yes. And Clift’s In seventh
heaven.”
"He’s marrying one of the Bly
girls, isn’t he?” Ruth asked Inter­
estedly.
“Mary Rose—yes. The little cur­
ly one. There are five of them, I
believe, but only three out.”
“Well, that’s very nice,” Ruth ap­
proved.
“Oh, I have to go, and I hate to
go!” Tony lamented. There was a
general repetition of engagements
for the week-end as she went to the
door.
Don’t forget your book!” Ruth
called.
"Here, I’ll give It to her!” Larry
followed her to the door. In a few
seconds he was back In his chair
again, and they could hear her
speaking to Chevalier as he let her
out
Caroline Polhemus sat on, Idly
chatting, planning, sipping more
Iced tea. In her heart she said:
“Of course. Of course that’s It!
Good heavens, how completely ob­
vious. One could see It the Instant
he came In—poor kid! She looked
sick. Ruth doesn’t know. She
wouldn’t It would never occur to
her that her impeccable Larry and
her round-eyed, blue-eyed little
friend In the white hat—Larry,”
said Caroline aloud, “where’d you
pick up this clever little Tony of
yours?”
“I didn't. She came over to Pied­
mont to cover a club story a couple
of years ago, and had tea with Ruth
and your grandmother. She got a
great case on Ruth, and they’ve
been friends ever since.”
An hour later, when Joe and she
were alone before dinner, she had
an opportunity to ask him direct
questions.
“It’s serious with Miss Taft, Is It,
Joe?”
“I like her awfully,” Joe admit­
ted, flushing..
“And do you think she likes you?”
the sister pursued.
“No,” Joe answered briefly. “I
know she doesn’t”
"Perhaps there’s some one else,”
Mrs. Polhemus said.
"No, I don't think so, Carrie. I
think I’d know It if there was any­
one else.”
“I think you wouldn’t," his sister
assured him, affectionately scornful.
She watched Larry curiously, close­
ly, all through the evening. Did he
care, too? It was hard to tell, with
Larry. She wondered If he had
said anything to Antoinette Taft at
the door. "I’ll bet she and the im­
peccable Larry made a lunch date,”
Caroline thought
Larry had Indeed breathed a
“Lunch at one tomorrow?” and
Tony had assented with just one up­
ward glance of blue eyes In the few
seconds they had bad together.
Then he had turned back into the
room, and the girl had gone on her
way, her senses in confusion, her
mind hardly conscious of what she
did and said.
The days since the Walllster In­
terview, and the scene In the of­
WNt! Service.
fice, and the Incredible moment
when Larry had come Into this
same room to find her alone, had
passed without a glimpse of him.
Tony had been feverish, despairing,
heroic, broken by turns.
On the day of the luncheon she
went down to the city office looking
her best and with her blue eyes
at their starriest She and Larry
had made no engagement to meet;
supposedly It would be there. Tony
settled down to her dally round;
wondering Just how and when she
would hear from Larry; she worked
away busily. It was twenty min­
utes to one; it was one o'clock, and
still no sign and no word. She
called his office on the telephone.
“Larry, this Is Tony.”
A pause. Then he said quickly,
briefly:
“Coming right down.”
"For some reason she felt ashamed
of herself, chilled. But there was
little time to think. He did come
down, entered the almost empty
city room, stood looking gravely
down at her.
“Come along.”
They went out together, and
Tony walked with him to the garage
In Montgomery street and they got
In the car together. Almost with­
out speech they drove through the
park and to a restaurant by the
shore.
"This Is a lovely place,” Tony
said, almost timidly. For something
in his manner was new, was a lit­
tle formidable.
“This used to be a great old
roadhouse. But lately it’s gone
rather respectable and goes In for
women’s lunches.”
They were placed at a little win­
dow table and could look out across
the wide ocean boulevard.
“Well, this is nice,” Larry said,
when he had given the order.
“Have you forgotten our lunch
date that we made yesterday?”
Tony asked.
“No.” Larry put his hand In his
pocket, took out a scrap of pa­
per, tossed It to her. Tony looked
up at him surprlsedly when she
bad read It, read it again aloud.
“ ‘Dear Tony,’ ” she read. “ ‘I
can’t lunch today; something has
come up that I can’t get out of.
I’m sorry, Larry.’ Were you going
to send me that?” she asked.
“I’d rung for the boy.”
“Oh, Larry, and then I tele­
phoned? I'm so sorry.”
"Oh, that’s all right It wasn’t
Important”
They were having an oyster
cocktail, she and Lawrence Bel­
lamy. She bad made him take her
to lunch.
Suddenly somehow it
was all very flat and stupid in
the bright noon sunshine. Why
should she be having lunch with
Larry, or, for that matter, why
shouldn't she? Larry and his wife
were her friends.
“Well, what did yon think of the
famous Caroline?”
"Oh, she’s beautiful." Had they
come here to talk of Caroline?
"Isn’t she? But of course it Isn’t
that Charm — personality — some­
thing. Nobody knows quite what
it is that Caroline's got but she's
got It.”
“Her busband died?”
“Walt Polhemus, yes. Both hus­
bands died.”
“Both? She hasn’t been married
twice T’
“Oh, yes she has, and she’s been
engaged all over the place. She's
going away now to decide between
a perfectly splendid fellow, another
Walter, Walter Fritsch — he’s the
tennis champ, or was—and Phil
Polhemus, her husband's brother.”
“Never a dull moment for Caro­
line,” Tony observed drily. “Why
Is she going to China?”
“Phil Polhemus is there, but I
don't know that it’s that
Her
great friends the Faulkners are in
Peking—he’s military attache, and
it's a chance to see China under
the most pleasant auspices—Tony,
my dear," Larry said, breaking off
the brisk, interested thread of his
conversation, changing his tone,
saying the last three words rue­
fully, hopelessly, appealingly.
She looked at him, and the blood
left her face, and she could not
speak.
“I’m so horribly sorry,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to say this—nor to
come to lunch today, nor to ask
you yesterday. But the minute 1
went Into the room and saw you—”
“I know,” she said, in the pause.
“It Isn’t what I want to do or
ought to do, Larry,” she said, in a
low tone, looking down at the ta­
blecloth without seeing it or see­
ing anything; “it’s what I can do,
now. I think and I plan—It’s no
use. It’s no use.”
The desolate notes of her voice
died in the air. Larry was looking
down, scowling; now he looked up.
“Tony, may I talk for a min­
ute?”
“I guess you’ll have to, Larry. I
don’t seem—’’ she smiled forlornly.
"I don’t seem to have anything to
say I”
“Let me say this, then.” Larry
got so far and stopped short He
considered, frowning, with nar­
rowed eyes staring into space, and
a bitten lip. “It’s only," he re­
commenced simply, “that there’s
nobody like you—no one. You're
—you’re Tony, and that means
you’re everything. I’m not saying
what I mean to say,” Larry said,
stopping again. “I love you so
much, my dear,” he added. “I love
you very much.”
Tony was silent looking down.
He saw two tears roll over her
cheeks and splash on her locked
brown fingers.
“That isn't it,” Larry began
again, with an effort. “No matter
what—what we feel for each other,
that Isn’t the question, is it?”
“No, that isn’t It," Tony agreed
trembling.
“Of course it’s Ruth.”
“Ruth,” she said.
“Things being as they are there’s
no happiness anywhere for us,
Tony, no—no out.”
“No out"
"I’m not going over the whole
thing; what she did for me years
ago, what she’s always done for
me, what—what our kid meant to
her and to me,” Larry said, think­
ing it out as he spoke, hesitating
between words.
“You know all
that. You know her, how she clings
to her own people, how—how—
“It would kill her,” he said, af­
ter a pause.
“It may kill me," Tony offered
simply.
“Then what shall we do, Tony?"
the man asked.
For a while Tony did not speak.
“Do you know that I never—nev­
er have loved anyone before?” she
asked then, looking away.
“Is It true, Tony? Is it really
true, my dear?”
“Doesn’t that give me — any
rights?”
“It gives you every right, Tony.
I’m the one that’s bound, my dear.”
“All three of us unhappy, Instead
of just one," the girl said.
"She’s not unhappy.”
"She would be. If she knew.”
“She mustn’t know.”
"Larry, you remember last week,
when we were talking, when Aunt
Meg came in?”
“I had meant to say then what
I’m trying to say now. But we had
so little time.”
“I’ve been In a fever since then,”
Tony said. “I’ve not been eating—
nothing matters, Larry, except if
men wear coats like yours, or walk
the way you do, or if the telephone
rings.”
"I know,” he said.
"Oh, isn’t It too bad!” Tony ex­
claimed presently, in a shaking
voice.
•T’ve thought that What a hor­
rible pity It 1st What a waste!
I’ve thought of going away. But
—being just well started on the
paper, and having no reason to
give her—no excuse—”
"Larry,” Tony said after a bit
"how long does this feeling last?”
“You mean our caring for each
other?”
“For it doesn’t feel as If it would
cure up — very fast — ” Tony fal­
tered. with trembling Ups,
"If you mean how long I am go­
ing to feel that you were made for
me and I for you,” Larry said,
looking down at his knotted fin­
gers, speaking very low, “I think
It is going to last all my life, Tony.
I don’t dare let my mind wander
to the thought of what I would
do If I were free. I can’t let my­
self think what It would mean to
have you as my wife—mine, keep­
ing my house for me, waiting for
me at the end of the day. We
have to forget all that We have
to go on from here.
“No, my dear, there’s only one
way. I’m not going to see you
again. We’ll pass each other in
the elevators sometimes; I'll be
downstairs In the city room only
"All Three of Us Unhappy, Instead
of Just One.”
when I can’t help It. Except for
that I’m going to try to forget you.
I’m going to tell you now—once
and for all—I’ve been so hungry
to say just this to you—”
The luncheon was over and they
walked slowly out of the restau­
rant together and stood In the sun­
shine outside, near the parked car.
"No, I’ll not even say that to
you, Tony,” Larry said, steadily,
standing close to her, looking down
at her.
"The wonderfulness of
you — the — the everything that’s
you — isn’t for me. I hope,” he
stumbled on confusedly—and she
knew that he was saying what he
had determined not to say, losing
his bearings completely as she
looked at him, "I hope they're all
for some—some luckier man—”
"Please—” the girl said breath­
lessly.
“You are so beautiful,” Larry
whispered, "I love you—I love you
so much, my girl — my little
Tony—”
He turned abruptly and walked
about the car and got Into the driv­
er's seat. Tony got In on her own
side, they drove for some minutes
without speaking.
“You're going down to Monterey
tomorrow?"
“Yes. Cliff’s driving me. His girl
Is at Pebble Beach for Easter week.
I’ll be with Bendy.”
“We're taking Caroline down to
show her the sights. But I’m com­
ing up, Sunday night.”
"You'll not be at Joe’s house­
warming, then?”
“No. I think It’s better this way.”
There was a long pause. When
Larry spoke again they were at
the door of the big office building.
“I’ll drop you here. I have to
go up to the club for a minute.”
“It’s good-by, then, Tony said.
She got down and said a muffled
“Good-by, Larry,” and turned away.
“Oh, my God. help me, help me.”
CHAPTER XX
DENDY had a square, sound lit-
tie boy with a shock of black
hair on his hard little head; even
Tony admitted that he was one of
the fascinating tiny babies of the
world, and Brenda regarded him
as she regarded Alvin, or rather
perhaps as she had once regarded
Alvin, with reverential awe.
Tony, watching her sister per­
form the solemn ritual that was
Anthony’s going to bed, fell into a
dream. Bendy was happy, and that
was all that mattered.
“Tony, you’re not keeping any­
thing from me?”
"Darling, what should I keep
from you?”
“I mean—are you still making
yourself unhappy, are you still—I
mean, how much do you see Larry
Bellamy?"
"Let’s see. Two weeks ago, once,
when I got Into that Oakland mess,
and he came out to the house—
and Thursday at Ruth’s when her
niece came; I told you about that.
And—let’s see—Friday at noon in
the office for a few minutes—”
“Don’t you see him every day in
the office?”
"I do not"
“But, Tony, you know what Pm
trying to find out. Do you still feel
as you did last winter?”
"Yep."
A pause. Brenda looked thought­
ful, shook her bead. Tony hummed
lightly.
“But, Tony, Ruth. She’s been
so kind to you.”
“I know. That's where the catch
comes In."
“Will you see him at Dr. Van-
derwall’s house on Monday?”
“Larry? No. He’s not coming
down.”
“Why not?"
“There’s something else he has
to do. He's bringing Ruth and all
of them down to Del Monte to­
night, but he’s going back tomor­
row."
Tony looked at the telephone.
Larry’s voice was at the other end
of it; the Bellamy’s party would
be at Del Monte now. Every fiber
of her being seemed drawn toward
It
Life went on In the contented,
the almost smug groove that Bren­
da and Alvin had chiseled out for
themselves. The baby went to
sleep, and there were tomato salad
and bran muffins and a cold cus­
tard for supper, with Alvin dis­
coursing upon the superiority of
the meatless meat
Tony lay awake al! night; all
through the quiet Sunday she felt
like an animal bound In a net; her
mind, her soul, the very muscles of
her body seemed jerking them­
selves away from this tame scene
of Brenda’s Interests, Cliff’s girl
and her mother, and the dull lunch
at the Bly cottage — salad and
strawberries and hot rolls and pink
sliced ham—
“Noblesse oblige," she said to
herself sternly.
Brenda was no good at this
party; she was sitting in a trance
most of the time with Anthony in
her lap, saying rapturously to any­
one who would listen: “His first
little social event, and I do think
he’s good I" and Alvin was throaty
and opinionated. Cliff was so ri­
diculously absorbed in Mary Rose
that he could not see anything else.
Tony threw herself Into the busi­
ness of being charming; she was
the personality, she was Cliff’s tre­
mendously clever sister, who bad
so much fun reporting on the Call.
She told them some of her adven­
tures, and she saw that Cliff was
proud of her; fat Mrs. Bly lis­
tened in rapt delight and said that
Tony was as good as any actress
she had ever seen.
The festivity dragged on. Tony
sat next to Dr. Bly at luncheon
and painted so attractive a picture
of the young Tafts and their or­
phaned struggles that the doctor
said feelingly that he wished that
his own daughters hadn't been born
with all the Landvae money be-
hind them: It wasn't a good thing
to have life so smooth.
ITO BE CONTINUED)