Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-01-04

was. She-Emily McAndrew-waS to
be married. And to a that
every one said she'd never be able to
When Bruce Leighton her old friend, the
cartoonist, asked her about it. she answered
with mock gravity:
We'll, III tell you, Bru, there's this.
couldn't help it. What really fell in love with
was the way he knots his bow ties" From be-
meath his dark, projecting brows Leighton shot
her disguised look Pacing the sunlit length
Of her studio that fronted Bryant Park, he told
her that she was fool.
But why, Bru?" she asked, with bubbles
Of laughter sparkling up in her gray-green eyes
With the big hand that was SO delcately
adroit at sketching satire in lines of black and
white, Leighton made his sweeping gesture
Because it won't work. He's too darned
spoiled, Winston is" Humping over to the
easel before which Emily sat, he stood there
scowling down at the dark, reckless face that
looked out from her canvas. Hes polygamous.
He won't trot in harness" Leighton said.
Emily looked at him with the musing humor
that was her chief weapon against life.
what man does? Would you?", she queried.
teasing
From his great, thick height, Leighton
3rowned at her.
you know what mean he rasped. Win
ston's world isn't ours His is a world of
fashion. Ours is a world of work know
his crowd. Smooth, sophisticated idlers-the lot
But though every one agreed that to marry
Richard winston was to court danger, there
was not woman who knew him who did not
envy Emily the very risk involved.
How on earth did she manage it," was the
question the gossps asked, and that made its
most insistent query in the mind of Janet
Nugent, fashionable young DIVORCE Of Win
ston's set, who had tried to manage it herself.
For that it might have been Winston and
not Emily who had done the managing, did
not suggest itself to- any one. And yet this
was the truth.
THEY had met at the annual bal masque
given by the Illustrators Club at the Hotel
dies Artistes TO this yearly fete Emily had
gone as Gree, and there was one masker, at
least who proved himself as versed in orecian
myth as he was in jazz.
AS this tall and dark young Robin Hood
whisked her from Leighton, he said laughing:
"Circe, eh2 What a dolt old Ulysses must
have been to have torn himself away from you
IN 80 short time as one little measly year.
When the hour for unmasking came and
they were revealed to one another. she recog-
nized him as the Richard winston whose dark,
compelling face had laughed out at her so often
from the roto section of the New York Press.
fortunes favorite" Thus they had dubbed
him during the days of his spectacular gridiron
career at Yale, the sobriquet clinging to him In
seemed to bear as a flying ace in the war.
Spoiled, pampered, graceless. A darling of the
gods. She knew his story well To see his
boyish figure was to love him, and to hear his
reckless laughter was to forgive the airy inn
pudence with which he passed through life
taking everything gay and beautiful life had
TO give.
Look here, Emily you've got to marry me-"
he said to her one day he was sitting for
the portrait that she was making of him.
stop wiggling, Dick" she said calmly. How
do you expect me to get that funny little duck
tail curl your hair makes at your temple II
you wiggie?"
Plastering back the detected wave with .
rigorous motion:
Don't you dare paint that cowlick," he said
scowling. IT hate the crazy thing"
Certainly I'm going TO paint it. 1t and the
fact that you kneel down beside your bed every
night to say your prayers are your chief assets"
she said
He colored darby
did tell you that?"
you certainly did tell me just that" she
afBrmed
Must have been drunk" he muttered Sheep
bhly.
For moment, and in silence Winston
watched her as she stood so-a figure slim
alive and tawny in her paint-smudged smock
Then with smothered ejaculation he flashed
70 his feet and crossing to her swept her within
his arms
Il love YOU. know you don't give rap for
me. But that doesn't matter. want you and
you're going to marry me-" he said
She did On rapturous blue-gold morning
Of Spring in the chapel of St Bartholomew,
Emily McAndrew. the well known young adj
Sertising illustrator, exchanged the safe har-
ncFage Of her world Of work for the dangerous
hhbal and channels of Winstons world Of play
In that world which was habited by bored
sophisticated people with nothing to do and all
ehe time in the world with which to accomplish
nhiG feat Emily Winston came 10 he reckoned