The Washington times., 1935-11-14

He would have said: i went
to a swell prep school, didn't I?
went to Yale. I've done prac-
tically all the things wanted to
do. -" BY practically all" he
would have meant that he had
not been allowed to do the one
thing he most wanted to do, which
was to write. He would have ad-
mitted readily enough that he had
hated working in his fathers i'm
porting office; but he would still
have grinned derisively at the idea
that he had ever been lonely.
Yet it was true. He had been
q lonely child in q quiet house on
Washington Square. He had been
q lonely little boy in a prep school.
He had been a lonely youth in a
big university. And never at any
time had he appeared to be any
Of these things. AS q child he
had played noiSily in the park
and in his nursery; quite noiSily,
in fact. In prep school and col
1ege he had managed to create
more than a normal amount Of
excitement. Where he was things
happened. Life never stood still.
In the three years he had been
out Of college he had done q good
many pleasant, amusing things.
He was not given to being alone.
He had a positive gift for sur.
rounding himself with congenial
companions. Except for occasional
brief periods Of creative depres-
sion, when he hated being pigeon
holed in an office and wanted
to get at the novel, he would have
informed you quite honestly that
he found life to be an exciting,
satisfactory and ultimately worth
while proposition. Yet, all this to
the contrary, he had had 8 lonely
life.
Perhaps this is bound to be the
fate Of children who are brought
up without a woman in the house.
A woman, that is, who loves them.
Kopp'S mother had died when he
was born, quite unexpectedly in
the thirty-third year of her life.
His father had mourned the loss
Of his fragile, lovely wife and had
been rather at a loss as to what
to do with the child. There had
been no convenient maiden auntS
or widowed cousins to call in, so
he was obliged to fall back on a
succession Of nurses, and, at a
very early age, a good boys
school. With the last of the
nurses-competent, well-meaning
creatures, who left little or no i'm.
preston on him-women ceased
to play any sort of an intimate
part in Kipp's life until a some
what later date when they again
entered it in anything but a ma
ternal role.
He had love affairs. For the
most part these were brief, Stimu-
1ating and not particularly dis.
turbing. Some day he expected to
fall in love seriously. When he
did, he would marry the girl. In
the meantime there were these
lesser episodes there were
girls you met at house parties and
on board ships, there were girls
you loved for a week or a month,
these we're girls you kissed and
forgot and girls you kissed and re-
membered; pleasantly and quite
mregretfully. And there was, more
recently Francine Sayre. But
Francine had gone to England on
q boat that had sailed three weeks
ago
And now there was Ann.
There was Ann a small
girl in a gray wooden dress with a
red patent-leather belt. sitting on
q blue sofa. A small girl with
rumpled dark hair, an exciting
mouth and a way of looking at
you very steadily and directly with
clear smoke-gray eyes
about money" said Kipp SLOW
~. IT was making five hundred a
month in my fathers importing
office. But hated it. I stuck
It out three years to please him
now he's giving me a year
to write the book in. But the
business has taken a licking along
with everything else I'm hav-
ing to manage on three hundred.
It was a chinch when there was
just me, but with two Of us :"
Ann said: "But make about
that much a month, too in
nv shop :"
"Your shop" Kipp looked at
her a little bewilderedly. I'D
forgotten about your shop"
He said then: "You mean you'd
want to keep on with it :"
Ann widened her eyes in sur
prise. "Why, Of course. Why
not?"
'But . :" Kipp shrugged his