The Omaha morning bee., 1924-12-04

The outside life went on, faster and
more steadily than ever as he felt
the increasing need to forget. in II
he followed Mary; the visit to DIM
church marked the point where she
passed him, definitely. in ability 10
use money and realize social values.
She made the plans, answered and
sent out the invitations, mapped out
the budget chose the people and de
cided when TO go home. With 1t all
she kept an apparently untouched re-
serve. both mental and physical: she
never seemed tired or bored or in
doubt, and she kept time for at least
an hours practice every day.
She enjoyed herself, he discovered.
and she did so we'll and was so intel
figent and sane about it all that he
could not grudge her her enjoyment.
fie thought she probably had an ideal
of wealth. and was enabled to realize
It better now for her youth of emo
omy and discipline. The ideal com
prised gayety, freedom. a certain
.,rispness of mind and urbanity
above all urbanity. 1t wasn't a Who'll.
ly bad notion: come, good friends, let
us enjoy the best there is in the world
and each other, and forget the rest.
But there was something more to it,
he thought. Why Schumann every
morning. especially preceded by finger
exercises? He could not see what
they contributed to social uses; she
ALMOST never played to people in New
York and her talent seemed out of
key in their life. When he asked
her. she merely said that she loved
music, now that art could never be
the one all.important thing in any
bodys life. except for a very few. and
they were geniuses. or. at least artists.
But in it's place it was delightful.
Kit thought of the number of peo-
pie they went round with in whose
lives art played no part whatever.
primary or secondary. and decided
that he had married a rather remark
able woman. She was likely to be
very unhappy. some time, when she
discovered the sort of man she had
married. Meanwhile 1t was just as
we'll that she shouldn't think about it.
He would wake up somewhere be-
tween nine and twelve in the morn
ing and almost always find himself
could hear Mary's laborious Czerny,
or phrases out of Brahms or Chopin,
filtering up from the drawing room.
She was generally out before he came
down. and he would not see her till
late in the day; in that case he would
usually find note on the breakfast
table:
II lunch out today, and so do you.
IL. l1a a
to bother about.
Dinner here, 1880. Dyers. Marie
Chavaux and some others. Get some
bridge cards, there's a dear. All ours
are filthy.
"Hoffingtons' music. Drummonds'
dance. Plaza. ] told Elizabeth and
George Carey we'd meet them at the
Rendezvous around two. Got a clean
shirt?-M'
He would ascend to his old bed
room, which he now used as a study,
light a pipe and sit down before his
typewriter. In fifteen minutes he
would be at the telephone. arranging
for a squash game in the afternoon
or making an appointment with
lawyer or a tailor or answering a
call for Mary. One piece of tele-
phonic business suggested another,
and he soon came 10 the conclusion
that it was so near lunch time that
he wouldn't bother about his book.
Lunch was at one of the clubs. al
most always with somebody. And
there was generally some one TO talk
with afterwards till at least three.
Then he would wander into the
library and pick up book or a
magazine: no hurry. nothing this art
ernoon but squash. And Mary
bridge cards. And call up Cooper 10
see about his shirts.
BY the time he came to. 1t was TOO
late for anything but his squash ap-
pointment. When 1t wasn't squash
he had to have his hair cut. or look
in on some damnable boring tea
party he hadn't had the sense to get
out Of If he waited in the club TIL
FIVE o'clock he was always sure TO
get caught in a bridge game. and
would rush out OF the building with
his coat tails flying. at 7:25.
Dinner was time Of relaxation:
Mary on deck; everything perfect.
Bridge. mixed bridge for small stakes,
soporific stuff. At eleven or so they
would make general exodus TO some
private party.
Whirling about with juggling light
fiappers, silent, distraites, awkward,
apparently not enjoying themselves.
He did not enjoy them particularly.
either. but always danced with them.
for no reason that he could make
out, except that he was only twenty
five.
Often In the ballroom and invari-
ably in the coat room some OF the
younger men could be observed under
the influence. Spasm OF revulsion;
wasn't good form in my day. Oh,
we'll, your day Is past. my BOY. Youth