The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1933-09-20

AAS AANA AAASoAA w w ~ WSAS
Patricia said dryly. HE simply
didn't think. He has made = real
success in \ thinking business, yet
he has made a mess of his life by
not thinking when thought was
needed"
Directly Mrs. Brownley's soft
hazel eyes lifted. DO you-hate
me-Patricia a."
mo. oddly ! don't. I rather like
you."
"I'm glad. I like you, too" After
another silence she said: "May I
come and see you? don't know
anyone in Paris-You're 50 sensi-
ble-and L."
"Of course" Patricia gave her
address and phone number. "And
now ! must 60. Come and see me
whenever you like"
"Ill 20 too. I'll phone you to-
morrow, il ] may"
Eyes. Do" Anything to get out.
Patricia was not surprised when
Jack failed to call her the follow
ing morning.
"Oh, I've treated him abomina-
bly,. ] had no business to meet Jim
mic after I'd promised Jack" She
called his hotel and was told he had
checked out. No. he hadn't left .
forwarding address.
Feeling sick beyond words, she
went to her easel and began paint
ing out the pretty girl she had
started. She covered the canvas
with burning blue across the ton
drawing it down to meet . waste
Of yellow sand that stretched away
and away to infinity.
Her father watched her IN sur.
prise. She was not studying land.
scape painting. Often she painted
m inconsequential scene into /,
pretty girl picture; but he had
never seen her attempt anything
Of this sort.
She worked on and on. neve,
speaking, laying in light and hea1
and aridity with amazing skill. UNI
til the feeling Of it began to rri,
him. And Ill 1t once he knew tha1
she was transferring. not imasina
ton to the canvas, but emotion
Emotion % tremendous that tn,
technique was unconscious. A thou
sand details were filled in wher,
yet not one object lived, details Q,
blown sand, tiny depressions an,
uprisings that made the seen,
more and more barren and hone
less. Presently, she painted in ,
single tall cactus withered A,
black. Then . tiny impressionisti
figure. whether man or woman. i,
could not tell. Yet the figure -
alive. deep in sand. telling tovar,
the distant and wretehed caetus
Il wonder what for" he thoueh,
All at oncs she slapped. Locke
at 1t . long tims: theh laid dow,
her pallet and brushes.
"Well." she said. With . van ~
tempt at her bautsrine mill
what do you think Of mo ~ ,
landscape painter7"
y think you've been vastin.
your time on the thing you've 50,
doing. There's genius In that"
The bell rang. She hesitated
Then went to the door. Mrs. Brown
Icy. serenely smiling, haxel eve
wisttul. appealing, stood there.
y didn't phone. I Was in th
neiehborhood and I took ! chanc
Of your being In"
Some in," Patricia invite
.Dadums. this il Mr.. Brownie,
She was at Palm Beach vhan :
were there. I called her The LA,
IN Sand. ! ran into her the an
evening in-Rus Do l'opeya. ~
didn't spsak IN Palm Reach but =
spoke in Rue d l'opera,'' ~
added With ! brittle laugh.
IN this way she let Mr.. Rro~,
~ know she had told her fathe
nothing.
Americans always speak ava,
from home" hs smiled aftAr th
greetings. 'They may live n I'm
Same apartment house IN NJ,
York and never speak; but in th'
Backwards q Paris they -
frisnds." -
sit down. Mn. D.owaley.r al.