The Waterbury Democrat., 1932-01-11
BEGIN HERB TO-DAY

AlNkNA1s 0E11AAA e4hhu AAkAAbAe FRANCES FENWICK live with their grandparents, once wealthy, now so impoverished that Anne's and Cecily's earnings support the household. The sisters have been orphaned since childhood. The grandparents are known respec- lively as "Rosalfcv and "Grnnd" and they insist on keeping up pretenses of their former wealth.
 Anne, 2S, and Cecfly, 22, do sec rctarial work and Mary-Frances, f5, ia still in school. When the story opens Anne has been en. gagged to PHILIP ECROYD, young lawyer, for eight years.
 Cecily brings BARRY McKEEL home to dinner. She has known him only short time hut is fall- ing in love with him. Mary-Fran- ces and her friend, EI' I''ftNTRUDE are excited about the = wal of . stock company actor .nown as EARL DE ARMOUNT. They g0 down town next day hoping to meet him.
 Meanwhile Anne, at work, is miserable because Phil docs not telephone.
 NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
 CHAPTER x
 Her eyes went past the orchid and-black bathtub in the window to the wide sunlit street beyond. When MT Redfern had conceived the idea of lowering his rent by moving from the west side of the river to this small place on the east side he had said that 1t would be much pleasanter for Miss Fem wick. They were closer to the street, here, and she could look out of the window and watch the peo- pie passing and the traffic all day long.
 He had meant 1t kindly. He knew, as Anne knew, how light her duties were: a few letters and bills to be sent, few items to be posted in the books, an occasional tele- phone call to answer. pay rolls to be made out on Saturdays, and nothing more to be done except for scurrying day or two around the first of each month.
 Since MT Redfern managed to keep his ailng business alive only by constant personal manifestations, Anne was alone most of the time in the office. She read library books: novels of the lighter, neat ly mediocre sort; fictionized biog- raphy, or a newly popular phil osophy; poetry, sometimes, if the bindings were clean and pretty, though poetry often made her sad. She wrote letetrs to the few peo- pie she knew who did not live in Portland--letters 50 long that the recipients felt they required a real letetr" in answer (Anne Fen- wick writes such dandy lettcrsD and so, often, never answered by them at all. She sewed Q little. but guiltily--it didn't look well to be sewing in an office. During the season she went to a nearby market and bought peas and string boans and prepared them sur reptitiously, and with newspapers rcody to hand for coverings. to carry home ready to be cooked for the evening meal.
 Once, for & few happy months, she had attempted short-story writIng; but the following flood of fat envelopes bearing re1ec- tions had drowned her courage, or her conceit, and dissolved her am- bitions for authorship. She had not told Phil about the short stories. She had ben afraid that he would tease her, as he had teased her about the graphology, the French in six easy lessons, the cross- word puzzles. Her defnese had been that they killed time. It was hard for Phil to under stand why a person who had noth- ing to do all day but Kill time should 50 often complain of weari- ness in the evening; and yet. un- doubtcdly, David too was tired af" ter the encounter with Goliath.
 4 messenger boy riding along out there turned his bicycle sharply and dismounted at the curb. Anne's breath caught, put only for the moment 1t took the boy to discover the number next door.
 Phil sometimes had sent flowers to her at the office. Phil, only last year, had said that he hadn't nerve to telephone to her after the way he had acted, and had sent q long letter by messenger. Phil once. ...
 Anne liked her yesterdays, and she had fallen into the quaint habit of playing with them in her mind, of arranging and rearranging them as boys arrange their stamp col- lectlons. Phii's failure to call her to-day was not 50 noticeable put beside tho evening he had left hor house at 10 o'clocf and telephoned from a drug store 20 minutes later. Nothing had been wrong that even- ing; he had wished to hear her voice again, to be ccrtIan that sho