Evening star., 1934-06-21
SHANGHAI ROSE
BY ANNE FORESTER
Author Of ~Spits Wife"

Larry. dear, please! Come back
here. and let me tie it up-Now this
Is silly, Larry. You're behaving very
badly" Firmly Rose led his waver-
ing steps to the small room in the rear
where her baby lay sleeping on the
couch. Stale smoke, cheap scent and
the everpresent odor OF long dead
dinners filled the odorous cubicle; but
the girl noticed nothing. felt nothing,
save the pity that tugged at her heart
for this man. Accustomed as she had
grown to his startling changes of
mood-"one moment riding the crest
Of the wave. the next moment under
the rugl" as Bertha Harris had put
it-Rose had never grown accustomed
to seeing him as intoxicated as he. was
tonight. Not even at that unfortunate
party at the club. Then he had been
pleasantly, agreeable drunk, smilingly
tolerant Of kindly world. Now he
was rancorously, stubbornly intent on
defeating her efforts to send him
home. :. Harvey had been like that,
too, at the end. Sick terror overcame
her, but she fought it back. Why,
this was Larry-po0r, dear old Larry,
10 be cared for, protected from him.
self
She couldn't, Rose realized. send
him out on the street like this. 1t
would mean losing his job, if Luke
Hewitt heard-he might be hit by a
car
As though invoked by the thought.
faint, scraping sound came from out
sloe the small window OF the room. A !
grating sound, like foot fall on the
gravel. Rigid in her chair, Rose sat
Tor q moment; then, impulSively she
new to the window and jerked down
the shade. II some one outside saw a
Asht here at this hour-if some one
came and investigated
Larry was sitting where she left
him, propped stiff1y in the old leather
chair by the table. His voice gradu-
atlng 10 gentle dolefulneSS. droned
meaninglessly on. Ones own blood
Is very interesting-ver-r interest,"
ing" he said.
what was she to do, Rose asked
herseif miserably. Anxiously she re-
garded the baby In the bed. She
could not rouse the child now to 20
nome. Larry might prove unman-
sseanle; Kitten would be terrified.
"Smatter with you, anyway, Rose?"
inquired the persistent voice of the
man. Here am all filled with bon
homie and je ne sais quoi-n' everv-
didn't - And you look M Eium. Brace EIgn..
up, girl" He leaned confidingly
closer. Don't you know that life is
1S
lnat! You have nothing to worry
about" His glance held a sly.
knowing CLINT. Not a thing-don't
let any one tell you different! Larry
knows! Poor lii Rose ought
10 be taken care OF, that's what
Goud1"
The big shoulders sagged, his face
twisting oddly. What is 1t. ANYWAY.
this life?" he said, "A little dust Lit
by 8 spark-spark goes out"
Larry, dear-win you listen"
I'm listening. You listen" he
spoke with sort Of detached exact
ness. His brief squirt OF turbulence
had faded. Listen while I tell YOU
that it's better to have loved and lostI
-Much better, so they say. But it
isn't! I'm one Of them, Rose-'bereft
Of love and hate, such things as-as
make men live!' There won't be any
sweet fugitive mem'ries for OIL Larry.
HIS rough, brown head went sud
denly down into her lap. But not be-
lore she had seen the hopeless despera-
! ton in the blue eyes: caught the
strained, unguarded ache In his hoarse
voice that betrayed the secret of Larry
Morgan. Not before the startling
neartbresking knowledge came to her
that 1t was she whom Larry loved:
she whom he had meant by his words
Just now. She had simply never
thought OF such q contingency in
connection with Larry. Why Larry
was q comrade, Larry was-just
Larry.
Love. and the things love did to
one were never for her again. She
was dead. that Rose-who had mar
ried Harvey Therrold. That foolish.
creoulous, believing girl, who had been
so easily swayed and beguiled. Only
tnls cold, analytical woman was left.
She did not love Larry; did not love
any one. she thought wildly! But
she wanted Larry's friendship-his
dear, perfect. understanding compan-
ionship.
AL the mother in her yearned over
him lying there, as she had yearned
over the young Harvey in the first
days OF their marriage. 1t was her
kinShip with his suffering. she who
mad suffered so much herself; her
woman'S eternal answer TO q mans
! need of her.
He lay still after awhile: she took
his tired head into her arms and
softly rocked back and forth until his
breathing grew more quiet. There was
something pitifully defenseless about
that big frame now; something help
less about the clinging, big fingers
| clasping her own.
Dawn came into the sky outside
and still she sat there. A cold, gray
ish light that seeped gradually into
the room through a curtain of thin,
falling rain. The man stirred.
Gould you-kiss me goo'night,
Rose?" he said. Jus once"
She stopped and kissed him gently
on the cheek; then rose and drew the
old worsted afghan over him and set
tied him more firmly in the chair.
He was already asleep.
(TomorroW-Miss Abby Takes