Evening star., 1934-08-12

awake when she got up to 60, and
It was not until week later that, finally,
she shut off the alarm clock and turned
over to find the place beside her empty
Of his long body. The smell Of coffee
came to her, and the sluicing noise
of oranges being pressed down on the
extractor, and through her amazed dis
belief she heard him, murderously on
key whistling.
II am up" he said. as she came out
of the bath room. 'T am up and your
breakfast is ready. The toast is burned
and the coffee Is awful, but am a
young bride and must be treated with
love and tolerance"
And three days of his getting up was
more than she could stand. The fourth
day 1t broke Over her second cup of
coffee she managed to say you really
don't like getting up, Wilton, do you?"
"I hate it," he had said, frankly and
disarmingly. 'I hate it worse than you
have any idea of. But It's my cross, and
can bear it. II you can go to work, I
can get your breakfast"
"Ive been selfish she said. II was
hurt that's ALL I don't want you to
get up any more. Why should you? I'll
get up and get breakfast and then wake
you. All right?"
"Ah, honey" Wilton had said. II don't
really mind. I really don't. This is all
so silly :"
And it had been left at that
But there had been other things. He
had orders for stories which he started
in a sweat of energy and never finished.
He wanted to write his novel, he said,
and wanting to so badly kept him from
doing anything else. So that nothing of
any remunerative value was accom-
plished. True, there were laborious and
abortive preparations for the actual
writing of the novel: Synopsis after
synopsis, charts of plot action, endless
character sketches and analyses which
ended, half the time, in the total elimi-
nation of the character from the plan
of the book.
For year and half this had gone
on. The two elephants had stood heav-
lily on the bookcases in the apart
ment, Winter and Summer. The second
Summer found her too rebelliouS TO stay
In the city through the swelter.
Woodstock" Wilton had said enthusi-s
astically. Sure, give up your job. We
can live up there for next to nothing
and you can rest and I can work"
CHE had given up the job early in
April, and they had gone to the
art colony on better terms than they
had been for some time. The studio
house was new to her; no hot water, a
kerosene stove, no electric lights. With
the addition of only few of their own
things they overcame the effect of the =.
appalling furnishings already there. And
she had waited to see what would result.
The maid, of course, had been left
behind 50 that the rest" which she
had planned became a series of events:
Wrestling with the smoky stove; trying
to burn wet garbage in an inadequate
incinerator; sitting two hours by the
kerosene heater when she wanted bath.
Wilton took to the beachccmbing at
moSphere of the colony, merging into it
as easily as though he, like most of the
resident artists, had been anchored there
for years. Mornings he drove their fifty
dollar, 8-year- car to the post Office
and it was almost lunch time when he
returned. waving the mail, totally un-
conscious of the fact that she had been
sitting there waiting since 10 o'clock he
poured out the gossip acquired in the
village: Carl Walters was to do a set of
doors for the Whitney museum; Rondo
Robinson had taken the job of editor on