Evening star., 1935-08-05
CHAPTER III.


snug around his bronZed throat.
~ He was smiling, an awkward,
shy smile, and as he took off his hat
a lock of yellow hair fell over his
forehead.
Betsy stood looking at him for a
moment. Last night on the Kings
ton yacht she hadn't really noticed
John. Her stricken eyes had been
too full of petunia satin :. shadows
leaning together up at the bow Of
the boat. Now she saw that his eyes
we're very gray and friendly; and she
had a strange, irrelevant feeling that
he would never say cruel, harsh words.
She liked his mouth.
I'm John Storm" he said. You
don't remember me, do you?"
"Oh, indeed I dol" she said quick
1y color flooding her cheeks. I'm
just too . too surprised to speak,
And then, You're not by any remote
chance our new roomer, are you?''
She was looking at the big suitcases
on the top step.
Third floor front" he said, grin
~ 0dOIC q bdl4d1 dlld I'LL eau
bare precept. The world is certainly
one small place!
He brought in the two suitcaseS
big walrus bags plaStered with
gay little foreign stickers &. . and lum-
bered up the steps with them. Betsy
watched him until he disappeared
around the stairhead. Then she stood
as if transf1xed. listening to his tread
on the second flight. At last she took
a soft breath and turned to her
mother, who had come out into the
hall from the dining room.
Mother!'-softly, so John Storm
couldn't hear. Il met him last night
on the cruise! Isn't that funny?
He told me my voice was like silver
BELLS"
AS Betsy bathed ana dressed for
Jennie Travers dinner party she
could hear John moving about in his
room above hers. She was going to
like him up there, she thought. The
movement of his feet on the bare
floor was friendly as friendly as
his gray eyes and his awkward. rather
shy, smile. Johns arrival had made
her forget some of her troubles. yet
dress from the closet and took it of
the wire hanger she pale6 visibly.
Shed never like that dress again.
1t brought back too poignantly the
thing that hurt her most the
bright swirl of petunia satin . d.
Marshall and Libby. She put the
dress on because she had nothing
else she could wear 70 a formal din
ner; but she didn't pirouette before
the mirror in it. She kept saying over
and over, avoiding ner reflection: "I
shouldn't blame the dress! 1t is a
nice dreSS!" And she tried hard
to like it because mothers stitches
were on the halter neck and mothers
tired hands had carefully pressed the
billowing skirt.
Later, when she heard Terry open
the front door and Marshalls voice
saying, Hello, Terry! How're you,
Mrs SEYMOUR" she noated like a
soft breeze down the creaking old
stairs.
Lovely, lovely!" Marshall said, as
II he had never before seen the white
taffeta His voice seemed very big,
yet soft and tender. Perhaps that
was because she stood so close to
him. Oh, everything was all right,
after all! Marshall hadn't changed
The realization of this made relief
and happiness sparkle in her eyes,
dance on the high lights of her golden
hair, dimple the corners o. her mouth.
Even Terry, scowling at the front
door, obviously dishking Marshall and
being rude enough to show it. didn't
rob her of this recaptured ecstasy.
Betsy flung a wisp OF a velvet
Jacket over her shoulder, blew her
family goodnight kiss =. lingering
q little on her fathers kiss and
took Marshalls arm. They hurried
down the three white steps and across
the ancient brick walk to the car.
Libby Stockton, wrapped cozily in
her white ermine evening cape, turned
languidly on the front seat to greet
them. Betsy didn't see her at first
She didn't actually believe that Libby
was there; not until Marshall opened
the rear door and helped her into the
lonely back seat and Libby said, in
her husky, cultivated drawl Hello,
there, Betsy, darling" Then Marshall
went around and slid under the steer
ing wheel next to Libby . next to
Libby! And in Betsy'S heart. some
how cold and lost III dark, deep
place where tears seemed to be falling,
q part of her youth died.
Jennie's house was ready for the
party; flowers filled the amber glass
cornucopias, the Limoges vases, the
crystal bowls, the old silver cham
payne buckets on the hearth. The
gentle scrape Of vioiln strings and