Evening star., 1935-08-04

young man so built for grace that he
could slouch a little at the thin part
of his body and yet lose nothing of
his splendid stature.
II think that's great" he had said
seriously. do you like working? 1t
isn't just rich girls idea of lark, is
it? Being different? Taking work
from some girl who really needs it?"
mo, have to work." she answered
simply.
''I see," John had said. And then,
Look here, you're not in love or
anything like that, are you? I'd like
to see you again. That is, if I may"
In love? That seemed such futile
description of the thing she felt for
Marshall. Just love couldn't make his
lips on hers burn warm and quivering
down through her whole body, couldn't
awaken her in the morning with star
dust in her eyes, couldn't set her feet
iancing to music no one else heard. 1t
took more than love to make her look
up a hundred times day from her
typewriter and gaze into the next office
where Marshall sat behind his big
mahogany desk. Sometimes he would
be staring at her, too, his velvet brown
eyes loving her, the set OF his broad
shoulders loving her, the breathless
thing that had blossomed between
them filling the very air with an iri-
descent light. That was something
more than love; it was a mingling OF
worship and adoration-reverence, al
most. It was as sweet and fresh as
the very first day of the world, as in
tangible as the stars that hung like
frost flowers from the clear, blue shell
of a Summers sky.
She hadn't had time to answer
John, for Raoul and Jennie Travers
had Joined them. Jennie had scolded,
Being snooty isn't sporting" and
Raoul had rushed her aft. saying mo
more dances for you tonight. Miss Sey-
mour. That is, with any one except
me-"
Unaware of the Potomac winds IN
her face, a showering OF Autumn
leaves on her shoulders, Betsy brushed
the tears from her cheeks. She ought
not to be standing here under this tree
alone. thinking, worrying. The sun
was setting and she ought to be getting
home. Mother and father would be
anxious. They would be telephoning
the Office. Oh. she was being foolish!
Libby Stockton didn't mean anything
to Marshall. She was interpreting
fearful things into friendship; she
was interpreting fearful things into
harmless dance, q harmless stroll on
a deck.
After the yacht had docked at the
wharf and she and Marshall had
started of alone in his car for home,
he had appeared to search his memory
when she had asked him II he thought
Libby Stockton pretty.
Pretty To save me, Betsy, I can't
say whether think Libby's pretty or
not. She's o good kid, though"
shes In love with you. Marshall"
EN- love with me7 Libby? Oh,
that's scresmi A perfect scream!"
He had laughed 20 that Betsy had
laughed, too. But not from amuse-
ment--relief. rather. Ugly suspicious
had broken apart within her and had
crumpled into impotent fragments.
She had snugsled under Marshalps
arm. her head ON his shoulder. Once
or twice he had stopped the car on
the side OF the road and had kissed
her lips fierce. wild. young kisses
that sent the blood flying out from
her heart. stirring ptilses IN her throat
and wrists and temples; making her
forget petunia ffock swirling around
dancing green slippers.
Betsy might have fought OF that
strange feeling OF fear. might not have
thought any more about Libby. But
Marshall had avoided her all day at
the ONCE. At 4:sQkrhe had looked out
af tha z.,iyaAs4&s a sAaa fha EfnckfnYa