Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-07-20

"Good-b darling"
"Good-by, darling!'
Both spoke almost at once.
Then swift feet hurrying down the
stairs, and Tom would put down his
paper and a frown would gather be-
tween his eyes.
This couldn't go on. 1t was Just
as If Nan were going out to earn the
living for the family. He would have
to get up earlier. that was all. Why
did it always take him so long to get
started at anything?
BY this time his conscience would
be troubling him so much that with
out waiting to dress he would go
directly into the studio and start his
work. He hadn't found it so easy to
get illustration. He hadn't kept at it
hard enough. Editors had forgotten
his name. They didn't know his work
and they did know that done by other
men. He was always going to get up
some samples, but somehow he never
did.
His black and white work carried
him along, but that was all. and 1t
troubled him increasingly. He was
relying too much on it. But he could
always be sure of being called on the
telephone for that. while trying for
illustration meant plodding from office
to office.
About II Nan had been posing an
hour for some other artist and Tom
would just be getting down to his
work. At IL she would have posed
two hours and there would be still
another one before she stopped TO eat.
Tom. however. would be hungry
and would go out to the kitchenette
and forage in the ice box. Then he
would return to his work.
There were days when he stuck
pretty consistently to his orders be-
cause he had to. But as the Spring
progressed and New York began TO
turn green and the squares were filled
with color he longed to paint. He
| kept telling himself that he simply
, must not yield to the temptation, but
there came an afternoon in early April
when he did yield.
| He got out the unfinished portrait
| of Nan. He knew that he could finish
| it from memory. He didn't need her
to pose for him now. lie knew every
| little change that passed over her
| features. He knew because she had
given herself to him and he loved
| her.
He knew that he ought to get the
| other work out, but he succeeded in
pushing the thought out of his mind.
In 10 minutes he was absorbed. He
forgot everything else but the work
in hand.
The light began to die in the studio,
but he didn't notice. He didn't even
hear Mans key in the lock, and then
| she spoke.
TOM
Life rolled back on him. He heard
the sounds in the street, and here in
the studio her voice.
Look, dear, a dinner for the gods.
1 splurged tonight. A little chicken
all roasted, green peas and an ALI
gator pear. What could be more gor-
geous2 Did you finish that work?
1t has to be in tomorrow morning. you
know. and we did promise to go TO the
| theater."
Without waiting for him to answer
she had flowen into the kitchenette
with her provender.
do you know" she called out. "I'm
looking forward to tonight. 1t will be
fun to go out and mingle with the
elite, and it's long time since we've
done anything but go to the movies.
It's not wise to get into rut,
although l don't need a lot Of excite
ment." And then, because he hadn't
spoken, she repeated her question.
How did the work go, dear?"
The work had gone wonderfully.
Tom had painted to his hearts con-
tent, but it wasn't the work he should
have done. He had forgotten all
about Helen Sheridan's theater party
for tonight. He hadn't known 1t
would mean so much to Nan. Oh,
well. he could work after the theater.
What did it matter?
Continued in tomorrow's Star.
| tCopyright. 1877