Brownsville herald. [volume] (Brownsville, Tex.) 1910-current, 1928-05-29
RESTLESS LOVE
g By Samuel MoTH1iH. 1929
EELEA5ED IsY CENTRAL ERESS ASSOCIATION

with d~elicacy and with an ~epicurean
understanding. He could tell wines
by their flavor. He always mixed
the salad dressing himself. She
knew that he was a. much nj home
along the b%oulevards or Paris. even
az Rome and Madrid. rs here in New
York: and she wondered IL she'd
ever know those unbelievable places
herself. She wondered. too. with a
stir in her breast, who would be her
companion on the journey.
The complexity of the man taxed
her understanding. An epicure. he
was yet at home at any carelessly
Bohemian meal. An oItspoken mod
ern r%ealist. he appeared to dwell
imaginatively in the region Of pure
fancy. A man (the thought brought
2 flutter of the darby frineed eye
lids) whom a number of had
loved with something rear tragic in
tensity. vet a tireless worker Of aus
tere daily habits. A grim thinker
with the reputation Of a wit. A
proud man, who knew his public and
his place before il. vet something
Of the sensitive child. A literary
s~ensualist governed BY a rigid artis-
4 TIC tOE~EltHNGs An AuEAOIp OILt0 IN
spired writer with an unerring sense
of word values. and an elusive deli
eacy of taste, who yet talked, at
times, like a slangy boy. who went
10 ball games and played Kelly pool
at his club. He knew CeEanne and
Picasso and James Joyce; knew,
indeed. with some intimacy. most of
the leaders of the modern ~iconoeias-
tic thought.
He also knew ball players, prize
fighters. negro poets. Russian dane
ers. He had two or three children,
in some suburb or other. in whom,
az in their mother. he seemed sober
ly. honestly. 70 have lost interest.
He wasn't, Stella told herself. the
suburban type. He vas cosmopoli-
tan. Really something Of n super
I man. You had to be honest with
yourself about such things. Conven-
tional folk couldn't be expected 10
understand him. You didn't find his
sort in books, or in the routine sort
or life.
or late his personality had color
ed and, in deepening measure, en-
veloped her. She couldn't help talk
ing like him. even in n cropping way
Of thinking like him. And many OF
what she supposed to be her personal
convictions. to be maintained with
f~ervor. were little more than echoes
of his. Yet Stella had color and per-
sonality Of her own. There had been
vigor in the BaHots long generations
before Pearce Bagot drifted rather
aimlessly into the pulling tzngle
called living. She could be crisp
and decisive enough when not toe
close TO Ernest Hallam.
His new novel, Flame" he told
her. had just been put under the ban
Of censorship in Boston. His pub
Usher was dashing up there on lns
Owl with a lawyer.
Are you going up 7" she asked.
II rather think not. They've been
Mt me about il. OF course"
why don't you? I should think
you'd want to fight
"Oh, you have to fight EN-. But
that's the publishers job. It's all
SO vulgar"
Stella's pretty mouth twisted into
a faint smile. poor old Boston,
tans could only be made. somehow
for just a minute. to look honestly
into their own minds"
1T would scare 'em 70 death. I'll,
only the morbidly oversexed sort Of
folks that are so frightened about
sex"
"0f course"
by the way. Stella. YOU haven
told me when you're going"
! ITO BE CONTINUED