The Washington times., 1934-08-31

the leaving
Of cards at ~ q
the front <>''"~
door, by the heien HS'"rS
chauffeur in the family car,
station wagon, or even by a
taxi driver. Sometimes the
official wife leaves cards lin
person." This is a triumph
for the recipient of the visit.
A certain woman prominent in
"official Washington" not only
has always called lin person"
but once she called
But here's the story: Mrs.
Benton McMillin is its heroine
or Lucille Foster McMillin,
Is most people call her since
her husband, Senator McMillin,
Of Tennessee. died and his
charming widow became a Civil
Service Commissioner.
Mrs. McLillin, as everyone
knows, can't be a cool, detached
character. She's tremendously
enthusiastic and personal in all
Of her undertakings. So it was
quite natural that she should be
particularly anxious to leave her
card Gin person" for a certain
recent dinner hostess. When the
butler opened the door he told
Mrs. McMillin that:
MADAME was not receiving
today"
ooh, I'm so very sorry" said
Mrs. McMillin, in her deep, be-
quilting vOice-she studied for
the stage.
Madame, though not receiv-
ing, was at somewhere
near the front door, in fact. She
heard the tones of the disap-
pointed caller and came forward
herself and urged Mrs. McMillin
to come in. The visit was pleas
ant. Mrs. McMillin departed,
strengthened for the round of
calls she still faced.
Everywhere she went she in
sisted on leaving her cards her
self. She rang so many door
bells that she must have be-
come a little confused toward
the end of the afternoon. For,
when the front door of a vaguely
familiar house opened and she
was saying her litany. els ma
dame at home?" and the butler
was replying Madame is not re-
ceiving today" she was aston
ished, not to say harassed, to
see madame come forward again.
It was the same madame! The
same house! She'd come Sec
ond time by mistake. Heavens,
what could she say?
ooh, I'm so SOrry-T mean I
came back to see if-that is I
think I must have dropped my
pOcketbOok. I mean my glove"
she said wildly.
Madame and the butler po-
ftely looked under sofas and
behind pillows for the glove
no, the pocket book-and could
find neither. They were both
in Mrs. McMillin's hand. Laugh
ing appreciatively and nervously,
Mrs. McMillin murmured vague
apologies and fled.
Henry w. NevinSon, whom
Sir Wilmott Lewis says IS the
sort of a person the British
Empire should be proud to have
produced and whom David Gar
nett has called "the noblest
romantic of his generation" has
published another book. The
book shops in England and
America are showing it with
enthusiasm. I'm the Dark
Backward" is the title.
Henry Nevinson has visited
Washington many times. Every
one who has met him remem-
bers him. He's a tall, handsome
fellow with perfectly white hair
and Van Dyke beard, the bluest
of eyes, the pinkest of cheeks
and the most delightful humor.
His latest work, according to
one reviewer, is "a fascinating
record of one mans journeys
into that strange dimension
the dark-backwards. Nevinson,
like Ulysses, is a reflective man
of action and has made himself
q part of all the manifold ex-
perienceS through which, in the
course OF a long and adventur'
Gus lifetime, he has passed.
Nevinson has been a news
paper correspondent, a crusader
for lost causes, a traveller
through the world in war and at
peace. Naturally, he is adaptable
and at ease on all situations.
Henry Nevinson was not al
ways as famous in America as
he is now. once when he was
at q dinner of the Gridiron
Club and was about to be in"
troduced with other author
guests, his host whispered to
him quickly:
''Have you ever written q
bOOk?"
"JuSt 81" replied NevinsOn.
Money For I