Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-04-20


accompaniment of this chant:
IF tie river was whisky and I was duckl
I would dive to the bottom and never come
up!"
Mr.. Lynn had raised pale, questioning eyes.
What Mrs. Lynn did was worse, so far as
Nancy's inner comfort went. She acted if
no foreign sound had penetrated her conscious
ness. She began, with slow animation, to speak
of the last club meeting.
For Is minutes more Nancy had lived dual
existence CHASTITY to recall. Outwardy she was
calm sweetly alert and entertaining. Inwardly
she seething with anger, fear and shame.
For the singing had kept on, changing with
great versatility on the soloists part into sew
eral minor keys, until at last the lyric of the
bibulous duck had been abandoned and Jack
had run down the stairs, as usual kicking up
the hall rug and then kicking it straight again.
At the living room door he had stopped aghast.
His expression was really penitential.
why didn't know you folks had comet
Well, say, I'm sorry. I guess you must think
I'm the prize bath room tenor! How d'you do,
Mrs. Lynn How dyou do. sir"
Dinner had been announced. But in spite
of the excellent viands and James really per-
feet service, there something wrong. Mrs.
Lynn's attitude more and more conde-
scending as she tried to converse with Jack.
Eve just been reading a new book on psyche
analysis. Are you at all interested in it, Mr..
Blair?"
Jack returned promptly: ST can't see"
"Oh, do tell us about it, MRS. Lynn; I'm
really so interested!" Nancy had interviewed
and from that time on had made the CONVERSE
ton three-cornered, while Jack ate steadily on
with unmistakable appetite
After dinner it had been little better. The
subjects Jack introduced were so plebeian. He
had even asked Mr.. Lynn If he was having any
trouble now with the ash man, and If he knew
which kind of fertilizer was best for raising
peas. And he didn't act really interested when
Mr.. Lynn was telling about his old pieces of
pottery and his first editions.
The guests left early. There was something,
something in the air of their good-bys which
gave Nancy constrictedafeeling in her throat,
though her smile was stin sweetly upon them
until the door rad closed Then she had sunk
miserably into the nearest chair.
Jack" she said and there was bitterness IN
the tones, they'll never come again!"
Gosh, hope not" Jack had agreed calmly,
as he stretched his long legs before him and
clutched his pipe and tobacco box Say he's
the driest old bird outside museum. He
ought to be stuffed, that fellowI Poor old beg
gar, though I'll bet he can't even call his
toothbrush his own with that woman around
him all the timel'
"Jack!' Nancy's voice was stern. ''You
must remember these people are my friends
and the kind Of people I want To-"
"Oh, all right, honey. Like 'em if you want
to. Say, wasn't 1t great though, about old
Griscom? Got under his skin at last, Ell? He's
a good old scout when you once understand
him."
But Nancy was not to be dissuade6
Jack, those awful songs We could hear
every word! Why can't you be careful and act
like gentleman"
A ND that had been ALL She had gone
silently to bed and pretended to be asleep
at once. Against Jacks invincible good humor
she felt helpless. She couldn't argue with him;
she couldn't change him, or explain to him
why she wanted to. He met everything with
his impervious cheerfulness. And she was sick
of it, AS she sat now in the early morning,
having reviewed all that had passed she knew
suddenly that her abilities were being wasted
as Jacks wife. She was capable of taking her
place on a higher social and intellectual plane.
She was being held back by an uncultured
husband. That was the bald truth.
And the provoking part of it was that Jack
was really clever, If he would only take pains
to show it to the right people, If he would
only try as she was always urging him. to
enlarge his appreciation of the best things.
She felt startled and shaken by the discovery
1t seemed so diSloyal to admit it. But the
anger over last nights happenings still burned.
1t was by its light that she saw herself an
injured and disillusioned wife. She saw her
love for Jack overcast by a shadow.
Through the day, she went about her
duties, the heavy sense of unhappness alter
mated with feeling of interesting sophistica-
ton. She had become one with all the i'm
portant heroines of fiction who were made of
finer clay than their husbands. Little vignettes
of comparison kept popping into her mind as
she worked. She saw herself conscientiously
reading Shaw's last play, while Jack sprawled
in the big chair with the sporting sheet wide
before him, and his pipe emitting great puffs.
He wouldn't even smoke cigarettes. And they
were so much more refined than a pipel OF
course, he did read stacks of books sales
manshiD and a few on travel h,lt outside of