Carolina watchman. [volume] (Salisbury, N.C.) 1871-1937, 1934-11-30

Hast, into a side street.-The a small
alley. And then he stopped the cat
in front of the building that she
indicated.
II suppose" he said with a child
ish usefulness, that you'd not like
to have me come up, and wait fol-
you in the studio? I'd be very
quiet"
But Ellen shook her head ir
swift terror, a terror that was in.
spired by a certain sense of EN-.
barrassment.
"Not now, Tony!" she said. "No'
till five. I'll be down here, at thu
door, waiting then" -
Only Ellen-wearily climbing
the stats to Dicks high attic
studio-didn't know how Ions
Tony sat in the red roadster, besid.
the front door of the studio house
With his hands clasped tight OF
the wheel, and his mouth not very
firm, and his eyes staring straight
ahead at nothing at all.
9 Just before she knocked ON tn
door of Dicks studio, even as he
hand was raised for the knocking
Ellen remembered her weddin,
ring. She couldn't have forgotten
it-not really it was such a gal
liant, glittering small ring. She drew
it off so sharply that one of its blu
stones scratched her l~ittlest fnge
of all, and folded it into the corne
of her handkerchief, and placed tn
handkerchief in her pocket. Sh'
transferred the other ring, the grea'
solitary sapphire, to her right hand
She felt like a feminine Judas a
she did it.
Dick was standing before
huge canvas, with his paint-markee
shirt carelessly open at the throat
and his hair rumpled, and his eye!
intent upon some detail of his pic.
ture.
She went behind the screen ir
Dicks studio. And got out of he,
blue crepe dress Cher wedding
dress!) and put on the white buck
skin suit and the coral and tur-
quoise beads. And like a little girl
only one dressed up to play pre-
tend-she emerged from behind
the screen, and took her place in a
kneeling attitude, with her two
pink palms cupped together in
front if her, and her face raised to
the smoky blur Of the studio cell
ing. She was an Indian priestess,
you see. A very young one-suit-
able to belong in any school.
Dick made no comment. He
painted with bold, sure, brisk
strokes.
1t was four-thirty. Ellen, count
ing the. strokes of the clock that
sounded from the Metropolitan
Tower, not so far away, wondered
if Dick were almost through with
painting. Dick was painting absor-
bedly. She knew that she couldn' t
break into his absorption, no matter
what came of it! The years with
her mother had taught her not to
interrupt creation unless some des-
'peration drove her to it. However,
she asked herself, wasn't marriage a
desperate matter? Wasn't it, in the
final analysis? She began to count
her heartbeats-each heartbeat was
a second, wasn't it? She counted for
a long while.
The clock chimed again in the
Tower. 1t was four forty-five.
almost done?" she ventured
nervously. But Dick didn't answer,
which meant that he wasn't.
There was a shuttle of feet on
the stairs. Ellen started, her nerv-
business growing, before she realized
that the shuttle was too light to be
made by Tony's feet. 1t must be
"a girl who was coming.
1t was a girl. 1t was Claire, per-
groomed from her slippers of
suede to her soft straw beret.
II didn't expect to see you here"
she said, "after what I heard! I
thought for ono that I might get a
break and find Dick by himself"
Ellen hadn't heard the last part
of the other girls speech. Her
whole being stood forward, on tip
toe, to catch the first part of it.
"What have you heard?" she
asked, in a breathless little voice.
From the tone of her," she said,
you'd think our eve lamb had
something on the old conscience,
weak and SKINNY