The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1935-06-21
CHAPTER THIRTY-S

THEY sat down, still talking in
i dilatory fashion, and Miss Daisy
appeared, fluttering and refined as
ever. with her bright, intelligent
blue eyes sparkling under fan of
stiff white hair and her dotted swiss
! crisp and questionable.
The talk went on over an omelet
and salad, over bloomy purple figs
in a bowl lined with that heavenly
shade of turquoise glaze. Rather
I inc Joined in the conversation
6reamily. Very well then, she would
60 to the Millards for tea. She drove
the coupe more capably than Miss
Vincent anyhow. She didn't mind
going. II was just that this sun and
ease got into your blood somehow.
You hated to make a single extra
effort.
Later Katharine had just a
glance at the book, but it seemed
stale and dull to her. The people
were all busy saying clever things.
There was a fox-hunting country
background, and she tired of it
quickly. Nobody, she thought re-
belliously as she shut the covers,
wrote of any real things nowadays.
They we're all busy making cpl
grams or shocking you or some
thing. 49,.
She resolutely turned down the
blue cover on her narrow, dark oak
bed in the cool. cell-like room, and
lay down to nap. She would shut
out all unpleasant thoughts. She
simply would not let them fly about
like midges, to torment her. She lay
there, still in her rumpled thin
frock, her arms locked behind her
head.
Where was Michael Heatheroe
now? On the high seas, probably,
bound toward the British Isles and
his fabulous inheritance. Well, that
part of her life was over and done
with. 1t had been a mad interlude
1t didn't, as John was fond of say
ing, add up" 1t didn't make sense.
The scorer she forgot about it, the
better for her.
She had not expected to fall
asleep, but she did. Perhaps it was
because she had slept rather badly
the night before. Nights we're so
long. and moonlight on the desert so
hauntingly beautiful.
NTHEN she awoke Miss Vincent
w was tapping at her door.
Aren't you coming, ny dear? The
Millards will be disappointed"
Well, she might as well go. 1t
would be something to do.
What we're the lines of that poem
Of Margaret Widdemers she had
read aeons ago. not realizing the
truth of it?
They've flowers and cakes and candlelight
And chair by crowded chair.
And I am very sweet and kind
Because I do not care
Il am very good.
AMI talk TO these around me
As a courteous lady should.
The room will softly split across
And roll to left and right
with all its smiling pasteboard folks
And colored things and light
And let me run into the grass
And climb a sunset hill.
And find three hours one year ago.
When I was living still.
Well, that was the way you felt.
You talked and smiled and went
through the motions. but it didn't
really mean anything. That poem
told it ALL
Presently she put on a sleeveless
green frock and a little belted silk
Jacket that matched it. and she
rouged her lips carefully because she
was so pale. and she ran down into
the patio where Evelyn Vincent was
waiting.
Dear me, aren't you splendid"
Miss Roxana, recovered from her
headache. was stretched out in a
deck chair in the shade, knitting.
She looked up admiringly. "All the