Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1935-09-06
CHAPTER XXXIV,

n Breathlessly she stumbled
IL through the rock garden, be-
meath dropping silverish dogwood, de-
tanning thorns of rose bushes clinging
to her billowing skirt, sharp-edged
pebbles slipping into her sandals.
Tears were wetting her face, her
throat, splashing into dark blotches
or the pink mousseline as she reached
the shining crescent Of parked cars
before the terrace. With her mouth
twisted into a stark, desperate little
line, she searched frantically for
Terry's car. If only Terry hadn't
locked his car. If only g.. only.
Terry hadn't locked the dilapidated
little automobile. Betsy hurried blindly
into it, slamming the rafting door,
stepping remorselessly on the rusty
starter. She backed the roadster out,
turned it through the driveway,
headed it at shocking and ire
mendous speed up Connecticut avenue.
She neither knew nor cared where
she was driving. She wanted only
the wind rushing against her face,
solitude. forgetfulness. Vaguely she
knew that she passed stately white
apartment houses, the low rambling
homes of the rich; that she turned
down into road where the foliage
of green elms melted together above
her, shutting out the moonlight.
Vaguely she was conscious of the rustic
wooden bridges and the old stone mill
of Rock Creek Park and the low
means of the animals in the Zoo
nearby animals afraid of the
night which instinct had not taught
them to understand. She did not cry
out like they, but she was afraid, too,
of darkness of this suffocating
darkness that had dropped down upon
the golden sunshine of hope.
And as she drove not once was she
conscious of the bright lights of a car
that trailed her. car that stopped
when she stopped, turned when she
turned, drove fast when she drove
fast. Always behind her
1t was long past midnight when
reason returned to Betsy. She drove
more slowly now, her fingers closed
tensely over the rough wood Of the
old steering wheel. Why had she let
this thing happen to her? Why had
she been too proud, too terror-stricken
to fight for John? Why had she just
stood by and listened to Jennie's
stories of John and Angelica. refusing
to take her advice, doing nothing?
Why had she let her heart grow
numb and bitter and dead so that
she might forget that wedding in
the little house in Georgetown 4.
that she might forget John? Every
thing! Forget! AS If she could ever
forget!
Tonight she had had her chance
She had been in Johns arms. She
could have told him that she loved
him, she could have explained. But
she hadn't. She had just danced
and said nothing and made it easy
for him to 60 out Of her life &.
to 60 to Angelica She had thrown
him back to Angelica
Suddenly Betsy sent the car ahead
In great throbbing leaps. Her fingers
were trembling now, but her young
face was all alght. 1t had come to
her, overriding all the tears and
doubts and sense of false pride that
had grown in her heart-she would
60 to John. She'd go to him! If
there was one little spark of love left
IN his heart for her she would awaken
1t. Shed fight now. Shed humble
her pride at his feet and be fiercely
happy in doing it! Shed make him
understand make him!
o1nvS lob
drove up to the curb. How many
times had she made Terry drive her
past this apartment house lately-how
many times had she stared up at those
big French windows. trying to visualize
John studying, reading, listening to
the radio. Now she sat there at the
curb in the dim light of a distant
street lamp, steadying herself.
She must not be nervous, unstrung,
when she went up to John. She took
q wispy handkerchief out of her purse
and brushed it tremblingly across the
faint mist of perspiration on her tenn
piles. She clicked open her vanity
and touched her lips with crimson
and dabbed lightly at her nose.
There was cracked rear-vision
mirror in Terry's car and she tried
to see her reflection in it. But she
couldn't.
II probably look like an Indian on
the warpath," she told herself, and
laughed, nervously. "I'l1 scare John
to death! I'm scared to death my
self! Oh, God, help me with this!
Help mel"
Betsy got out of the car. her heart
beating fast, and hurried across the
pavement. At the trim lockwood
hedge she glanced up at the window
once more for reassurance-and
stopped short! Her face turned
starkly white. Her hand few to her
throat, cropping at 1t to relieve the
choking.
There, 1mned against the faint amber
light was John. John and Angelica.
John drawing Angelica quickly into
his arms, bending and kissing her!
kissing her! She had come too
late too late to fight too
late to do anything! John Storm
wasn't Marshall Van Devanter {.
one for promiscuous kissing. II he
kissed Angelica he meant it :.
meant it with all his fine heart and
soul and body!
Betsy didn't look up at the window
again. She bit her lips to keep from
screaming and hurried back toward
Terry's car. The tears were so big
in her eyes, blurring the trees and
street and sky, tumbling them into
one, that she did not see the girl
who stepped in front Of her did