Evening star., 1935-08-02
ar JAZZ BAND ar
An Exciting, Ultra Modern Love Story.
BY Wyatt Rundell.

boon companion-for the evening
and friendships are made-and
broken, where radiant personality
flows from the neck of a bottle and
nothing is asked of the host save
roof and the freedom of his side
board
Paul, in the midst of things, his
resurrection loudly acclaimed. found
it easy to slip back into his old niche.
Surprisingly easy-after the third
highball. But the women had dis
turbing tendency to question, to
probe. That, he resented. 1t seemed
that the failure Of his brief marital
career had merely been a corrobora-
ton of popular prophecy-to be ex-
pected; amusing, even, since the
healing passage of time.
Puny was in his element. His
round face was wreathed in a smile
that refused to come of. He was
gay, boisterous, loud. Repeatedly, he
slapped Paul on the back in an over
flow of affection.
Jus like old times-hey, kid?" he
doomed.
Paul's date, Miss Pansy Sakron-
kowicz, the little dark-eyed tonic"
prescribed by Puny, proved leech
in black satin. She chung to Paul,
gabbled necessarily. He fed at the
first opportunity.
In the den, where he found refuge,
little game was in progress. The
richly appointed room was thick with
blue smoke. About a long, carved
table, Uttered with cards, poker chips
and cut glass, the players faces were
intent under the circle of shaded
lights. Here and there feminine
devotee of the sport perched on a
chair to watch the changing favor
of the cards. Conversation was gen.
eral, animated.
In the midst sat Puny, losing stead
ily, his complaints loud and fraught
with feeling. a source of much badger
ing from his opponents. Observing
Pauls entrance, he flung down his
hand and pushed back his chair.
"Misdeal!" he beloved. Il got a
face card!"
He stalked over to where Paul had
seated himself by the fireplace and
sank into a chair opposite. They
poured drinks from a decanter be-
tween them.
where's your little heart-throb?
inquired the fat boy. with grin.
Out for air." Paul told him briefly.
II hope I've sneezed her name for the
last time"
Puny laughed and drank deeply
from his tumbler.
Hear about Bud and Sue?" Paul
asked idly.
Yeah. The big mug. Will he look
good-wheelin' twins down tn street.
Mark my words, that's Just about
what'll happen"
He guffawed again, hands clasped
, over his thick midriff. Paul leaned
his head on the soft back of his chair
and abstractedly watched the smoke
rings curl over the poker players in
the center of the room. There was
an air of complete inertia about him.
recess of mind and muscles that de-
fed dislodgement.
Well" remarked Puny. THAT
leaves you an NEEDN'T it?"
He shot glance at the other chair,
but received no answer. Paul's eyes
still followed the waiting smoke,
vacant, detached.
Puny twisted in his chair. Paul, "
he said, remember Tod Esmond. the
trombone man we had that went to
New York a couple of years ago?"
The figure opposite nodded listless-
ly. Puny bent closer. II had a letter
from him today. He's gettin' band
together to 60 to the Canal Zone
Panama, y'know. Leavin' in August,
He wants me to go along"
He paused and eyed Paul narrowly.
We'll - goodby," observed that
young man.
The fat boy hunched his chair
closer. He lowered his voice to a
husky wheeze.
Paul" he said, "there Amt
nothing here-for you-any more, is
there"
(To be continued.)