Evening star., 1935-06-30

which glorify its wastes lie
crumbling Druid altars, ancient graves and
ruined stone huts encircled by fallen walls.
Such hut circle is Grimspound 1t lies
on an empty hillside between two higher hills
equally deSolate and is reached from the
road by deep-beaten path. At the point
where the path lifts from the highway, on an
August afternoon, Cyril and Hope parked
the roadster unpaCked the tea basket and
steamer rug and started up the hill
They were both about twenty years of age
and of the lean, out -of-doors type. Cyril was
five feet ten nearly two inches taller than
Hope, Both were dark. Cyril's features were
hawk-like with deep-set black eyes under
overhanging brows. Hopes face was oval
with an extremely fine, clear skin Her full
lips were a deep, natural crimson Her eyes
were grey and large. She wore yellow linen
trock which went particularly well with her
black hair. Cyril affected the usual British
ensemble OF grey slacks and tan coat; a hor-
rble color combination and. as Hope had
assured him many times. peculiarly slipshod
in its effect.
There comes the fog.' he remarked II Jolly
we'll an a fool to have let YOU come"
Let me!' protested Hope. I'm not an
English gir!'
'Nobodyd ever suspect you were if he
heard you speak, retorted Cyril.
Hope gave him a clear look We'll | take
that rs compliment, no matter how you
meant it And wanted to see Grinspound
again before we return to America. fog or no
log
so you said before" Cyril started rapidly
up the path. There was nothing humorous
about Dartmoor in fog, and he was angry at
himself lor giving in to Hope.
She evidently felt little guilty. herself.
Tor she continued to re e-explain. II wanted to
come because this is England more English
than anything I've seen or ever hope to see.
The England ofroadsde auto-camps and jazz
bungalows may not be mine but this - She
looked gloatingly at the purple of heather.
the yellow of gorse and at that huge granite
circle above. which before history began. had
enclosed a living hamlet. Keeping pace with
Cyril she grinned at him. You'll be more rec
onciled after your tea old timer Not but
what I'm hungry myself. ate no lunch
thanks to Aunt Mary and her lecture. Your
father doesn't hate the Americans bit more
than she hates the English
My father doesn't really hate the Yam
KEGS" protested Cyril. "How can you say
that when you've never talked to himo"
Aunt Mary made me read lot of his
editorials she's been clipping. Took me an
hour this morning" Hopes grey eyes were
resentful. He's carrying on campaign
against the United States, and he's doing it
ceverly. He doesn't go after the big things
He harps on what he S pleased to call our little
barbarismS; our slang, our atrOCiOus use of
English. He's deliberately building up an
impression that we're nation of savages. He
has an enormous following, I'm told, and he's
making those followers despise America"
Cyrilhalt set down the basket and caught
Hopes hand. He was very pale. I'm sorry
about that" he assured her. But it doesn't
matter as far as you and | are concerned"
"Of course, it matters" exclaimed Hope
He's had a rotten influence ON you! You're
perfect darling about everything except my
country, but your attitude toward us is simply
impossible. | often wonder why endure it
or why you bother with me-
Cyrils face went scarlet then white again
Bother with you he shouted Then his
voice dropped and, to his rage, he felt tears
in his eyes Bother with you! Why. I'm in
love with yOl1r'