The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1928-05-05
CHAPTER XIV

OOLOR-all colors swirling to-
" gether in mad kaleidoscope
of incredible beauty; the muted, in
sistent throbbing of a violin played
by an unseen artist; the rosy glow
of light which apparently had no
source; the rustling whisper of
silks; the polite, subdued buzz Of
middle-aged conversation; the Shrill
but musical clamor of very young
voices; the subtle, faint odor OF
French perfumes; the stronger,
more sickening odor Of too many
dollhouse flowers
Sally Barr, who had been Sally
Ford, was play acting" again. She
was playing the role Of society
debutante. She was "play-acting"
and enjoying it, with sort OF sur
face enjoyment that made her look
the perfect picture of the popular
and beautiful debutante.
She knew that her cheeks were
like tea roses, her sapphire eyes as
brilliant as the jewel whose color
they had initiated so perfectly. She
knew that her wind blown bob of
cleaning, silky-soft black hair was
ravishing, that her period cos
tune" of sea-shell pink taffeta and
silver lace, made sinfully expensive
by it's intricate embroidery of seed
pearls, was the most beautiful dress
worn by any debutante at the sea-
son so far.
She knew all these things because
] the enviously ecstatic compliments
of the other girls had told her so,
because Enid Barr, her mother, who
all these people thought was only
her adopted mother, was luminous
with pride and joy in her, because
even Courtney Barr, with whom she
still felt ill-at-ease, looked like
pouter- pigeon in his possessive sat-
isfaction.
But Sally Barr was play-acting
and the Sally Ford she had been
looked on, in a skinny little white
lawn dress edged with f1ve-cent lace,
and watched the performance with
critical eyes, or, rather watched as
often as those hungry, desperate
eyes turned away from the door, I'M
able to bear the sight OF newcomers
because none of them was David.
The Sally Ford in the skinny
little white lawn dress which the
orphanage provided for Sundays
and for rare occasions wondered
how these strange, glamorous people
could not see her beneath the sea-
shell pink taffeta with it's silver lace
and precious seed-pearl embroidery.
And this Sally Ford whom they
could not see kept telling herself
over and over that her dreams had
come true; she had a mother who
was rich and beautiful and tender
and wise-nearly always wise, wise
except about David; she was living
in a mansion more magnificent than
the orphaned "play-actress" had
ever been able to conjure; she was
beautiful and popular; these strange
people who were "in society were
here because Sally Ford-no, Sally
Barr!-was making her debut, was
being accepted as one of them.
She told herself these things and
her eyes again darted to the door,
for the sign of a penniless, 23-year-
old farmer boy who would be as
much out of place in this ballroom
among these strange, glamorous
people as Sally Ford in her skinny
little white lawn dress.
Three words hammered their
staccato message ceaseleSSly on her
listening, watching nerves: Coming.
Thanks. David" Three words
which had broken the silence of
two and a half years. Coming
thanks-David- Coming - thanks -
David
Darling, this is Mrs. Allenby, a
very old and dear friend of mine"
Sally Barr smiled her shy, sweet,
little-girl smile and Sally Ford
noted the success of it critically as
the frumpy, dyed-haired little old
lady passed on down the receiving
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