The Waterbury Democrat., 1932-04-05


 In time she would forget. She must forget. She was Stevens wife now. Only this morning she had promised to c1eave unto him through sickness and health. through poverty and riches. There was no escape from those solemn vows.
 She heard whispering tree branches against the window panes, the tapping of invisible water, the sleepy, occasional chirp of a nest ing bird. Outside were fireflies drifting to and fro. Outside was the velvet blackness of a perfect night. Inside the table gleamed with candlelight shining on fine old, silver and china and touching the purple of hothouse grapes. Across the table Steven smiled at her, so proud and confident, so se- rene and sure of her love.
 She could not break his heart.
 She must try to remember. she thought sardonically, that if her own heart broke it broke amid pleasant surroundings. This was the life of which she had dreamed. She had it now. What blind fools girls were and what fool she her. self had been. There was no one else to blame. Not even her mother. Ellen knew she herself had decided that love could be made to yield to affection and grati- tude, to ease and luxury.
 She must be good sport, play out her chosen cards. She was too generous-hearted to make nig- gardly surrender. Steven deserved the very best that she could give Under his affectionate regard Ellen forced herself to eat and to re- spond, as best she could, to his mood of deep and quiet happiness It almost brought the tears she had held back when she saw how very little of herself it took to make him happy.
 When he bent across the table to kiss her Ellen's lips were willing fresh and young. She knew some thing was lacking from that kiss that never would be there, but Steven did not know. His arm: frightened about her. His voice filled with passion as he whispered that she was his own.
 Somewhere she heard the ringing of a telephone and felt an inward gasp of relief as he released her She saw her husband frown, saw the queer, unfamiliar look fade from his eyes.
 "It's Symes again. I imagine he told her irrita bly. He's called a dozen times to-day. Fergus told me-"
 Ellen felt a dull surprise.
 You haven't talked to him ?"
 I'm not going to. He's not to spoil my first evening with my bride. Oh, Ellen, Ellen"
 Again the girl was swept with fear. Steven was her husband. He had a right to use that possessive, caressing tone. She belonged to him.
 Fergus appeared on the veran- da.
 Ut was MT Symes calling. sir" he said to Steven. II told him you were not to be here tonight as you informed me. but he was consider erably upset. He said it was inn perative for him to see you, sir.''
 Its always imperative for him to see me-" Steven grumbled. This time he'll have to wait until morn- ing. We'll stop at his office before we sail"
 "Very we'll, sir"
 Fergus was gone with one curi- ous, sidewise glance at Ellen-a fieeting glance that seemed to the girl to convey contempt and con- demnation, as if Fergus thought she had no right to be sitting al Steven Barclays table.
 T don't like that man," she said sharply.
 "Then he's lost his job." Steven told her.
 "Oh, I don't want that!" she pro- tested. dismayed. Its only that he makes me nervous"
 
 She arose from the table and went to one of the windows pulled aside the silken curtain and stared out at the night. Soon Steven was at her side.
 Would you like to see your new home. now?" he asked. 'You haven't even seen half of it." T would"
 He led her through the vas house, snapping on lights and snapping off lights, showing hel one perfect room after another There were flowers everywhere cut from the gardens and hothouses o1 the estate. Everywhere there wal evidence of luxury and taste. Last of all Steven showed hel the suite that was to be her own