New Britain herald., 1929-07-31

cessful playwright. But Jack is jeal- ous and old fashioned. He protests that he does not like to have her write filth and muck. Molly has changed a great deal, he reflects, during the few months that have elapsed since her graduation from college. Her dearest friends, Tn col lsge days, were Rita Melnotte and Ruth Woods. both of whom were sc cretly married before commence ment. Bob infinitely preferred the old friendships to Molly's new ones. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
 CHAPTER XIV
 The weekend in New York con- stituted two days of wretchednes5 Molly had expected praise and en- couragement from Jack. And she received instead disparagement and censure. He disapproved strongly of her work. He was jealously resent tul of Red Flynn, and hated, he ad- mtted, the ways of all newspaper men.
 Why don't you write something worth while, Molly" he pleaded.
 What would you suggest?" she had inquired, frigdly polite.
 But Jack was vague. "Oh. some thing nice" he floundered, You used to write sweet little verses. And l bet you could write pretty cto all the high class magazines. My gosh, Molly, you don't have 10 write for such a screaming newspaper"
 But l want to earn money, Jack" she had defended herself. Poetry doesn't pay anything. Be. sides, I'm nc poet. AS for children ma gazines-" She fluttered her white little hands despairingly. T tell you, dear, steady job on a newspaper is best. It assures an income, you see, and doesn't pro- hibit me from taking fling at your high class magazines. Or even try ing my hand at a play"
 Jack groaned. That play again Of all the sordid. rotten themes, you picked the darndest. If you want to write play, why don't you write about something decent ?"
 Tt doesn't pay she informed him tartly.
 How about Peter Pan?"
 But that was ages ago, dear. Eugene O'Neill doesn't write fairy tales, nor Charlie Macarthur and Ben Hecht. Take the outstanding successes. Crime plays. or sex playS, all of them."
 T want to make money" she tol1 him wearily. ito buy all the lovely things 1 dream about, and go all the lovely places I've read about.
 But it isn't only money that ! want. l want to be somebody, Not just little Molly Burnham who mar ried that nice young man, Jack
 Don't let me crarnp your style he injected bitterly
 And so they quarreled and bick~ cred, and Jack never guessed tha;, womanlike. Molly would have for sworn all her dreams of wealth and fame for a man who could dom,- nate her. So he criticized and found faults, and adopted quite the wron, tactics, until Molly was glad when it was time to leave.
 Tt hasn't been very nice week end she confessed penitently at parting. and I feel as though lt was pretty much my fault. I guess I'm awfully selfish I love you with all my heart, Jack. But getting married, 10 cook pot roasts and darn socks. and budget on s45 week, doesn't sound half so TO- mantle as it used to. I've had my taste of independence, and found 1t sweet. DO you hate me darling, for being modern and hardboiled anl all the horrid things you aboml. nate?"
 Hate you," he cried. "Oh. Molly dear. if l were only good enough for you. and clever and rirh,"
 She put her fingers 10 his lips
 "Sh, Honey, we're both going 10 knock 'em dead"
 In the morning Molly went di- rectly from the train to the court house. As she approached the building she was conscious or q curious atmosphere of suppressed