Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-04-26

lips. And IS for Barbara herSelf-she had
never married; and the welcoming warmth IN
her gray eyes seemed to hold something deeper
than mere liking.
A s IL at q touch ON his shoulder, Philip sud
denly raised his head, dizzy and shaken by
the shock Of an unlooked-for discovery. The
world about him-sleeping hills. cleaning river
moonlight and misty lghts-vas ostensibly un-
changed: yet now It seemed irradiated with q
beauty Of well-nigh unbearable poignancy.
while before him stretched, shining and golden,
six months Of heaven.
Real heayen-not just vague promises. For
though one's code forbid one to marry a rich
woman for hfe 1t deesn't-for six months (.
with $e,000. One can keep ones secret; dis
senable the pain; endure anything-and other
bridegTooms have died within the year.
Bowling his head once more on his hands. he
thanked God inarticulately for the sentence Of
death which had rendered Barbara once more
attainahle.
He bought a car the next day, q low-slung
gray roadster with wire wheels that winked IN
the sunshine, and a WITHDRAWING engine,
whose mere CULVER under his hand. after the
kind which he had hiteFto felt able TO afford,
made him feel rehabilitated and carefree-and
WE'LL gave his order for a comfortably extensive
wardrobe The ring ne had. lie had bought It
10 years before on the eve Of his sailing from
France.
Barbara was standing on the broad stone ter
race as he drove up the long gravel sweep be-
tween the rolling lawns, her eyes deep with tho
warm look Of welcome which had been 50 hard
TO bear.
"Bsrhara-" he began, little hoarsely
But as he stood before her there In the windy
Spring sunshine, the realization that at last he
might make even o move toward ending the
years Of deprivation caught at his throat. Bar
bara, though, as Barbara would, understood.
Have you grown sensible at last. Phil. dear?"
she said softly. 1--WE wondered II you ever
would"
They would be mafried quietly and SOON they
agreed, and 60 abroad: an unhurried ramble
to the quaint corners Of the Old World over
looked by the Summer throngs Of tourists in
their frantic dash for self-improvement. The
gray roadster would go with them. They would
take turns at driving; stop when and where the
spirit moved them. And as the brief time that
was TO elapse until then passed there grew upon
Philip . sense Of incredulous wonder that for
the granting Of this hitherto unhoped-for boon
the price enacted should be so small
Not that there wouldn't have to be hard
places, Of course There had been the afternoon
when the pain, which usually gave fair warn
ing Of its approach. descended without any,
crushing and almost uncomfortable. And the
merciful little pellets which would rob It Of its
sharpest edge were at home in his desk drawer.
He bore 1t without sign. feeling queer imper-
sonal sense Of interest IN the hideous crescendo
Of torture that the human frame can support
II It must-until he tainted
It was when he had finally struggled back
shaken and exhausted. from the black Depths
to find Barbara's arm beneath his dizzy head,
Barbaras gentle touch on his damp forehead,
Barbaras concerned voice In his ears, that the
temptation to tell became all but irresistible
To hide his face In the soft silk Of her dress
and blurt out. like any coward, the whole
miserable story; the pain that no one knew
about the other hard things; the sentence that
had at last given him herself. He had the silly
conviction that If Barbara knew about the pain
it would be easier to bear. But he managed to
fight down the impulse to hurt her, too and
explained that the sudden hot spell must have
rather done him up.
But there could be harder places.
It was only the next afternoon, their wedding
but few days distant. and Philip had lunched
with Barbara In the restful GOODNESS Of the big
dining room, dimmed against the MONDAY heat.
els any Of these the letter you were expect
ing, PHILIP" she asked as they passed into the
library afterward. II had Patrick stop at your
rooms for the noon mail when he went into
town"
ONE Of them was. Another was one Of the
intimate appearing pieces Of advertising
that invariably shook one by their failure TO be
letter from an old and tried friend. The
What could the old boy be writing him about