The Waterbury Democrat., 1935-01-31
SYNOPSIS

GALE HENDERSON, pretty, 23, works Co . silk mill. Bl,e and Der brother, PHIL, 1O, support eneir Invalid father.
 STEVE MEYERS. who also Wogks in the mlll, asks Gale to MAEfy him. She promises Co give Ml.ll tsn answer in a few days.
 Itlet night Gale goes skating on sIle river. The Ice breaks and ellf is rescued by BRIAN WEST. &Ayht, whose father, now dead, puiig the milf. Brinn asks Gale nQ wait while hc gets hIs car hut when he returns she Is gone. Brinn arrived home only that day, after spending two years in Paris, studying art. Convinced lIc can mever he an artist, he has come home to work in the mill.
 Brian has been assured by ROBERT THATCHER, general manager of inc mill, that thc mill ,emplOyes are well paid. Tine cx- { @ct opposite is true but Thatcher schemes 10 keep Brian from dis. towering this. On a tour of the mill Brian secs Gale and recOg- mizes her.
 CHAPTER X
 Brian Westmore sat before the shining new desk with it's fresh green blotter, It's calendar pad with a place for memoranda, tho chunky, flat rectangle in which pens stood poised. He touched the nnimeographed sheets before him, moved them with restless fingers.
 There was everything on that desk, everything in the pleasant, Bunltt office that the well-appoiLt- cd office should boast. A cradle telephone stood conveniently at Brian's left; copper ash tray on the right.
 Over against the wall stood a fil- Ing cabinet with barren files. Brian knew because he had exam 1ned them. There were two chairs in the room beside the one he was sitting in, both pushed stiffly against the wall. There was q large framed photograph of the silk mil on the wall which Brian was fac ing and a map of the United States | directly opposite.
 In the top desk drawer on the | right was supply of fresh station cry bearing the mill ietterhcad. |
  freshly sharpened. No one knocked on the door. There was no one to sit in the chairs. Even the memorandum pad was completely blank.
 Brian pushed the mimeographed | pages from him. He stood up and walked to one of the two windows, stared out at the broad, brownish space between the buildings and the high wall surrounding the mill property. A truck was moving along the paved road beyond. A smell truck. II might belong to grocer or il dry cleaning place, or even Il florist. Was there a florist in the town? Yes, of course---
 Brian turned his back on the truck and forgot it. He stared Ut the photograph of the mill and saw instead, q girl with gray eyes and dark, Wide-curving brows.
 'Jhe looked pretty" he thought, "eyen in that blue apron-thing."
 Not quite as pretty as she had the other night, standing fin the firelight, with the wind blowing her hair where 1t had escaped from her cap, and the blaze put ting color Into her cheeks. And yet she was the same girl. Oh no doubt of it! He'd recognized her the minute he saw her.
 Brian hadn't been sure whether or not she'd recognized him, be- cause she'd hurried past so quick ly. And yet, for an instant, their eyes had met. Probably she was as much surprised, seeing him, as he had been to sec her, there in the silk mill.
 "I wonder" he asked himself for the dozenth time, what her name is?"
 There were way to find out. of course. There must be. Why , couldn't he just go up 10 that big fellow in the room where she worked and say, That girl there yes, the second one from the aisle. What's her Eame?'
 That would be the simple, direct way, but he couldn't do 1t. He couldn't because he was Brian Westmore, whose father had built the mill, who would one day own 1t, and she was mill girl. He could scarcely believe it, even yet. There were dozens of mod erateIy Well-to-do families in the