The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1926-09-30
Saint and Simmer
BIZ ANNE AUSTIN

me, George. I love mothering them
all-Dad, and Mother and Junior and
Cherry and Joy. You don't under
stand that l love to give"
II want to give, toto give you
everything lovely. that you ought to
have and can't. Fine soft silks and
gracious velvets for your wonderful
body, and delicate food that you
don't have to cook over hot stove;
books and leisure and travel to feed
that clever brain of yours. Listen,
Faith, I'll hire the best housekeeper
in town to look after your family"
I'm glad Dad didn't hear you say
that, she interrupted sharply. 1.-THE
Lanes don't take charity, George.
We're as proud as the Lincoln Pru-
tits. Oh, lists not quarrel! Don't
you think I want to marry you, and
live as your wife will live-Beauti-
fully? But can't, George. I would
be broken in the plunge, George, no
matter how fine and soft the bed l
landed on. You knew that, when
you sketched that picture you want
to paint. Let's be friends, George.
I've never had a real friend. I love
you in SO many ways"
"All right" he said abruptly,
springing to his feet. "Wel have
our swim now and then take it easy
going home" He reached a hand to
help her rise.
"Friends?" she asked, when she
stood beside him, holding his hand
in both Of hers.
He looked away, as if his eyes
were searching for strength in the
imperturbable beauty Of the low,
wooded mountains. Then he turned
back to her. his face illumined with
that sudden, gay smile of his-a gale
ty that touched her heart more than
his tears of few moments before
had done.
"Friends" He shook hands Wig
orously. I'D rather have you for
friend than any other woman as
wife!"
They talked eagerly, as If to prove
their comradeship as George drove
|
back to the city. Now that he knew
he could not haven ear heart, George
Pruitt reached out hungrily for her
mind. ibid you ever read" was
the burden of their swiftly shut
tied conversation. He would bring
her Somerset Maugham's "Of HUI
man Bondage" which he liked bet
ter than any book he had read In
ten years. Did she know Rupert
Brooke's poems? He had had a
sophomore enthusiasm for them dur
ing and Immediately after the war.
He was still young enough to ad-
mire the young English poets boy
ish disillusion and idealistic cyni-
cism. Did she have the Oxford
Book Of English Verse? He would
give her a copy tomorrow
'tGeorger' Faith cut in sharply.
gripping his arm. Wasn't that
Bob Hathaway who passed us just
then? Quick! Turn around! Catch
up with him! It's awfully important!
Pleased"
Without wasting time with ques-
tions or quibbling, George swung his
car in a wide circle, without losing
speed, then accelerated to forty miles
an hour. Bending over the steering
wheel, he watched the road for
chances to cut in between cars go
ing less swiftly, grinned at the
curses the drivers flung at him, and
gained steadily on the dark green
roadster in which BSb Hathaway sat
alone, hunched over the wheel, his
head bare, the late afternoon sun
glinting on his thick chestnut hair.
~ When the cars were almost
abreast, George clapped palm on
the horn button and kept it there
until the hoarse clamor caused Bob
Hathaway to turn his head, in anger
and fnpatience, to investigate.
Hello, Bobw George sang out.
"Can you pull up by the road a min
ute? Faith, wants to speak to you"
Hello" Faith smiled into his hag-
gard blue eyes when he came strid-