The Washington times., 1935-02-02

jacket in one Of your trunks
why, you haven't unpacked?"
mo" Her tone was icy. II
told Katie I wasn't to be dis
turbed."
On the other side of the door,
Stuart was standing, thinking
furiously. Nov, what have ]
done? If she's angry because ]
took a stand about the studio. E.
she'll have to get over it. I've
got to work"
He went to his bathroom and
turned on the shower. When he
came back after his bath, his
dinner jacket lay on his bed.
CHAPTER XIII
At dinner Sharlene was pale
and liStless. He mother glanced
at her anxiously. well aware that
the letter she had so reluctantly
given her had disturbed her
deeply. Stuart was quiet, too,
She reckoned, however, with,
out Abe Foreman who came dash
ing up to the house just after
dinner to see Stuart.
Stuart went back to the library
where Sharlene and her mother
were having coffee.
ABE Foreman has a sale ar
ranged for that Negro canvas,
Sharlene-you remember, the cot.
ton pickers. You don't want that
anyway, do you?"
Sharlene glanced up, a little be
wildered. Her mind was very far
away. "Why, I don't know, Stu
art" she began hesitantly.
Abe Foreman had pushed him
self into the room, fairly CULVER,
ing with eagerneSs. Good even,
ing, ladies. Excuse me, Mrs
Pennington, but you're making a
mistake to cage his stuff up in
your own home. The public will
soon forget him-hell just be an
amateur home-decorator. These
pictures ought to be out in CALLER.
les, where people see 'em and talk
about 'em. He's got to get a name,
I tell you. He's just local boy
now. New York's got to know
about him-Paris-you can't let
him be just a flash in the pan!
Besides. you got money enough to
buy 'em all back some time"
Sharlene shrugged. Go ahead.
Sell them, if it's best. But do save
me that little tragic figure lean.
ing on the wall"
"Oh, sure, sure!" Abe was
beaming and rubbing his hands.
That's a nice little picture"
Locked Door
Hours later, Stuart persuaded
himself that he had been harsh
and unkind about Sharlene in his
thoughts, and with the impulse to
make it right with her, he tapped
softly at her door and turned the
knob. 1t was locked! He stood
there, startled, but unwilling to
believe, and called her name
gently. There was no answer.
Sharlene, with pages of Kent's
letter spread out on the bed, was
lying dry-eyed and miserable, star.
ing at the ceiling. Stuart's gentle
knock did not rouse her from that
deep, unhappy absorption in the
past.
The next day sharlene was
plunged into the welcome home
whirl Of telephone messages,
notes, flowers, invitations and a
stream Of callers. She pulled
Stuart into the maelstrom, and all
day he met new people and greeted
those whom he had known casu.
ally. Between times, he and Mrs,
Standring got his studio ready for
work, and he telephoned an order
for artists supplies.
Sharlene's strange mood pre-,
vailed, lying under all the hectic
excitement. And 1t persisted as
the days passed. To Stuart. who
did not have the key-that bulky
airmail letter-her actions were
inexplicable.
He tried to work early morn.
ings before the luncheonS and teas,
the dinners and parties, the golf
and tennis, and polo and swim.
ming caught them up and danced
them about like leaves on The
lawn. But he spent most Of his
time pacing the big, bare studio,
trying vainly to get an idea. All