The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1925-11-20
BY III. l.. Gates
CHAPTER XVI
T is only in the great capitals

witness or participate III
ga,nering such as Yvonne Coutant
delighted occasionally to preside-ovel
in her town house off the Avenue.
They are not uncommon in Paris
where a Prince of India may at any
time transform a miniature palace
In the Bots into an exotic fairyland
for wild, barbaric fete. They were
brilliant punctuations in the BoheR-
ian calendar Of old Vienna, and in
London, occasionally, a regnant
beauty, perhaps a mannequin newly
married to q duke, or a young
duchess divorced from one, will cele-
brate by turning one night into
enough extravaganza to keep May
fair gossiping for a month.
In America they are rarely accom-
plished. The demimondaine of Paris
and the diplomat from London are
not accustomed to ignoring the
barrier between them when occasion
arises. 1t Is an extraordinary
hostess, in America, who can sue
cessfully bring together all grades
of society, not rich and poor, so
much, as the good and the not so
good.
Yvonne Coutant was one Of these,
She had no scruples when she
opened her house, as to who came
into it. She demanded only beauty,
external grace, and a willingness to
be an appropriate picture for the
shining, golden frame she provided.
zone simply cannot afford not to
be in on one OF Yvonne's affairs, -
Mrs. Brownley Smith, Of the Polo
crowd, repeatedly said. zones hus-
band is sure to be there, and so his
favorite of the moment. I always go
in order to discover who Toms low
ing now. It's the only way have Of
checking up on the fluctuations of
his taste"
Yvonne's own latest former hus-
band, Alfred Coutant, the novelist,
never missed her entertainments. 81
get at least four chapters from every
one of them," he would explain.
She's awfully good to let me come
sort of pally like, you know"
So it was that an interesting COM
pany moved about among the roses
and lilies and daffodils that filled
every corner of the spacious house
with fragrant baskets of flaming car
nations relieving the paleness Of the
threats Of women. And so 1t was
that Joanna stood, arms out.
stretched that she might realize the
line and symmetry Of them, before
the long mirror in her dressing room,
upstairs. The slim body of her was
vibrant with memories Of the day
and eagerness for the night. In hel
eyes were all the ecstacies. Strewn
around her were the things from the
shops-more gorgeous things from
more gorgeous shops than she, alone
ever could have discovered. 1t was
from them she had made hor choice
OR Yvonne had made ii for sr-
and she stood, before the glass a
soft, mellow vision Of lace and chit
fons fashioned by deft fingers and
cunning brains to emphasize that
beauty Of girlhood that only sculp.
tor could display more alluringly
or frankly. On the dressing table
before her were spread the souvenirs
of an hour with Yvonne in the great
jewelry store; wristlets of diamonds,
rubiesN and sapphires; necklets of
platinum chains, as thin as the sheer.
ness Of lingerie, with shining gems In
their delicate pendants.
From all of these Yvonne had cho-
sen single ornament, rope of
rI,f rI, 10
around the slender, partly poised
neck.
Miss Twenty Seven of the Silks
had completed her transition and
awaited her summons into the magic
world below-the magic world where
money bought a smile or a kiss
bought pearls like hers.
ETI HILE Joanna stood before her
WI mirror, Andrew Eggleston sat
49, at the long, carved table in
the somber-toned library of his house
which was not off the avenue, but
still on it, stubborn ghost of the
days when the avenue was Jealous
of its exclusive rank. Joanna's eyes
caressed the loneliness her mirror
reflected; a loneliness that option.
lied, as in alabaster dust, all the
pretenses of her kind. Her toes tin
gled with the promise of adventures
Dimples danced their provocation
about her mouth Through the filmy
web Of chiffons youthful limblines
Knocked at the cunningness of the
courtiere's mask for them; gold
brown hair, Rugged close to the rest
shaped as only painter could con
ceive them-lips and arms and bare
shoulders made a marvellous ensem
BILE of enticement.
andrew Eggleston, in the heavy
library room, also eyed a vision
also the figure of girl, and OF
Joanna's age-but Of a long time
ago, The girl the banker watched
looked down at him from a canvas
held in it's massive frame over the
great fireplace. There was no dane
ing in her eyes, but usefulness
that seemed to reach out to the man
who gazed like a quavering beam
of mellow radiance. The lips were
blood red and full, and shaped for
q kiss, but they were not scarlet
nor voluptuous. They were as if
there was no such a thing as lip
stick. The hair was brown, SHIN
nlering, as Joanna's, but it was not
bobbed--but piled in glorious opu
lence.
The banker, who would have been
young when this girl in the gold
frame was young. passed his hand
across his brow. to break spell