The Washington times., 1933-07-15

OdSh ASL uP Ill o. 1AS'
She had won ten thousand
dollars in a single night. 1t
seemed to her that she had paid
for that victory in the coin of
her own youthful decency. her
own fineness, her own ideals.
Under the spell of this mans
personality she had yielded up
her very self. had surrendered
the right to live her own life in
her own way. She was not Pa
tricia Warren any more; she
was Patricia Haverholt.
For a moment Julian HaVer-
holt looked at the sobbing girl
in a kind of disconnected be-
wilderment. Then, leaning over,
he gathered her into his arms.
She wept against his shoulder
quietly, hopelessly. No use tell
ing him what was wrong, even
If she could have found words
for the wretchedness and con-
fusion of her mind.
He, who was thoroughly con-
Wcienceless, thoroughly unscrup-
nlous where anything he wanted
was concerned, could never un-
derStand her belated, poignant
regrets, her longing for a life
shat in retrospect appeared so
nncomplicated, so simple, so de-
cent. She was wracked by con-
science. How he would laugh at
that. A thousand times she had
heard him say that he would
chee1ully knock down to the
highest bidder any principle
he had ever entertained.
Pat Breaks Down
'There, there, my dear, dry
your eyes. I shouldn't have
been so short with you. I know
YOU did your best this evening.
Put my snappiness down to
nerves and natural cussedneSS.
After all, it was a long session."
She allowed him his own in
depreciation of the tears. She
regarded him bleakly, looking
all at once SO wan, so desolate,
so pathetically young, that he
said with bracing cheerfulneSS:
II know you're worn to a
fragile, youngster. Maybe
after the Blair tournament
next week we can arrange for
ten days at Palm Beach, or a
cruise to Bermuda if you'd
rather"
Then, we're entering the
tournaments"
IF Reuben Blair accepts our
entry" Julian paused, said
thoughtfully, IT don't suppose
he will dare keep me out but
he would If he could. That
man hates me like slow poison.
He's been hoping for years
to catch me cheating some
night"
"Why?"
"A matter Of dollars and
cents and pride, Patricia. The
old fuddy-duddy owned the
bridge racket in this town until
my appearance on the scene.
What shock that was to Mr..
Blair!" Haverholt chuckled
softly, continued, until I ar
rived Blair had the country
fooled with bridge of the vint-
age OF 1905. He handed down
weekly pronouncements on the
finer points of the game, he
sold thousands of books that
could have been written by
child of three, his imbecilic
magazine was bought by bridge
players all over the world. Mr..
Blair, in short, was the oracle
of contract. It nearly broke
his soft, sweet old heart to be
shown up by a rank outsider,
by someone not even mentioned
in the social register. He had
always believed that the game
of bridge belonged to ladies and
gentlemen"
Species Of ScOundrel
But you are gentleman"
Patricia protested, not really in
terested.
"A highly debatable point"
remarked Haverholt. grinning.
Tim afraid I'll always look like
q species Of scoundrel to the
boys who were born to high
hats and tail coats and long
dull family trees. That suits
me. I'm something that any
Of them would give their eye