The Bozeman courier., 1927-07-22


)eople when deeply stirred.
Don't let's marry now. Let's wait
awhile. Think it over. Go away. See
he world. This blamed SNUG country.
This awful place. Love is blood red, ter
,ible. I can teach you love. Go away
lie collected himself. Look here, why
don't you do this? Go to France or some /
place, consider this thing and see life. !
In a month, two months, three months |
half a year, a year, two years, cable |
me-" Dorothy suspected a fear Of re-
sponsibility that disgusted her.
And it was at this crisis that she re-
reived a letter.
10 bis rue des Fleurs, Paris.
My dear little girl:
This is from your mother whose voice
you have not heard and whose face you
have not seen for twenty-three years.
We have taken an apartment in Paris
for awhile and I am wondering If you
would like to run over and visit us. I
am getting older-I am forty-eight
Marco will be glad to see you, but II
you do not want him will send him
away. He can go and live somewhere
near.
have not asked you before because
knew your father would not let you
come, but now you are twenty-four and,
hear, very much your own mistress.
-
that is in my heart lest it sounds hypo-
critical, but will tell you when see
you. -.
Dorothy raised her head and stared
across the breakfast table at her father.
He was eating boiled egg nervously and
Grossly. AS long as she could remember
he had eaten boiled eggs nervously and
Grossly. Tears came to her eyes. She felt
the haunting sorrow she had felt so
often, the haunting sorrow that comes to
the imaginative person when he, or she,
touches dead romance or reflects upon
the spent life Of earlier decades.
Carrots filled with faint-smelling bro
cades or silks, empty small pleasure
houses in the dripping autumn grayness
of a park. Dorothy had a photograph
of her mother. A little face, poignant,
big eyed, peered out from under the alb
surd high piled hair Of an earlier genera
ton Dorothy tossed her own blonde
bobbed head.
! That night she told her father Of her
! intention The publishing house had
granted her a leave of absence as long as
/ She wanted in the hope that she would
| begin a much predicted but not yet
started novel, and she had plenty Of
money saved from her income and hel
salary.
Mr.. Quinn did not move, but the deer
lines about his mouth stirred. He con
| tinued to gaze into the depths Of the
fire, his chin sunk forward on his breast
"Have you nothing to say?" asked
Dorothy at last.
| Nothing"
That was always his way-always. II
his presence there was neither joy no
lferceness.
The interviews with William Hewitt
and William Fonda del Concrete Wer
longer, although not any more satisfac
tory.
William Hewlitt's throat worked as i
he were trying to swallow a cough drop
you're tired of me already?"
Don't be silly. There's never been al
already really. We're not actually en-
gagged. want To go away and thin
things over. Besides, I want to see m
mother. I've always wanted to see her.
"Why?"
Dorothy sighed. She foresaw aeons c
bleak misunderstanding with WilliaT
Hewitt. Imagine a man asking a gil
why she wanted to see her mother
especially a beautiful, a romantic,
courageous mother, a mother who, a
alone and defenseless, had anticipate
the bravery and revolt Of Dorothy's ow
generation by twenty years?
William Fonda del Comercios throa
did not work when Dorothy told him he
plans. Instead, his dark eyes narrowe
and yelled themselves. Good girl" /
= congratulated her. 81 thought you ha
some sense. When you're ready, cable
"What for2" asked Dorothy sharpl
IF I cable any one it will probably
n Bill Hewitt"
: "Oh, no, it won't" said Fonda d
n Comercio confidently. mot after Eurol
5. and your mother. Your mothers a bra
Il woman, Dorothy. With her as an eXamp
a you should be great woman. She d
what every one wants to do"
IS Dorothy flushed. She had vision Of
e slim, grave woman, still pretty, in a lol
! gray French room with soft lights. Pc
t. pie like her mother were as likely as n
Vt to turn religieuse. Dorothy had oftC
e thought that she herself, after she HI
S, seen enough OF life, might turn religious
=. But she supposed that her mother wou
d, keep up some sort Of intimacy Wi
writer's and painters and musicians.
Y William Fonda del Comercio, pursui1
= his own thoughts, sighed. cit would
- heaven to awaken typical American g.
~ like you-make her into what she real
could be. You are typical, you know,
= all your Swank. I will teach YOU"
n "There are moments" remarked Dor
% thy coldly, when I consider you e
most unpleasant small black beast
4, my acquaintance. You'll teach me not
1r ing unless I'm married to you, and
nj don't think that will happen, becaui
er Just at present, I'm engaged to Villa
" This-fundamentally a lie, a,
}, the moment after she had uttered
ne Dorothy was sorry, for there was som
thing about Fonda del Concrete that v
II heady and alluring.
er That night her father, after dim
came to her where she was sitting befC
,o soft coal fire in the library, and lea
r ing his arms on the mantelpiece, look
=, down at her. He was going out son
~ where, and his thin, tall figure v
so youthful in its dress coat. Dorothy, p'
is haps because she was going away so so'
ep wondered why a white waistcoat and
d white tie suddenly gave a man an 6
u pearance of charm and gayety, especia
OF when the man had fine gray hair brush
re back from his forehead, and bl
IN thoughtful eyes, and a clean shaven frC
10 colored face. Her father was really "
n handsome man, Dorothy thought, VII
he took any trouble about himself. A
It. distinguished. That was the trouble W
1It the facas Of most Of the VOl1nQ men