Henderson daily dispatch. (Henderson, N.C.) 1914-1995, 1936-07-22
CHAPTER 1

AA /~AA ~ SAAo te'>AA~~
lounge struck seven.
Gay heard it above a multitud
Of other sounds: roaring Of motor
outside the club entrance: sWisl
OF revolving doors: jangling O
telephones; CHATTER of converse
ton. On Saturday night. tn
lobby of the Pontchartrain clul
was the noisiest spot in Detroit
Gay thought. :
IT was fun, though! This wa:
GAYS first week as check girl al
the Pontchartrain. and she lovec
IL. The hubbub and confusion
The continual procession Of mer
and women passing through the
lobby. sleek and arrogant In their
evening clothes. Even though you
weren't part of it yourself, it was
exciting to be on the sidelines
looking on.
No one realized, or cared. that
she was watching. She stood be-
hind the check counter, a demure,
slim figure in her gray silk uni
form.
"Here's your check, sir"
1.-The cigaret lighter out OF your
pocket? Certainly, sir"
Just a minute, miss, and I'll
take your things"
you're quite welcome, sir"
A tall, lean young man in dinner
clothes tried to give her a tip. Gay
flushed. He must be a new men,
Der or someone's guest.
I'm awfully sorry. We're not
permitted to accept tips. Thank
you just the same. though"
The young man flushed q little,
too. In the tanned bronze Of his
face, his dark eyes were smiling
steadily at her. Almost as though
they were friends, Gay thought.
He walked toward the elevators,
but before entering the car he
hooked back and smiled again at
her. A charming smile-half
friendly, half questioning.
"Wbuld you mind giving me q
httle attention."
Gay came abruptly back to
earth. A girl in green georgette
was tapping on the counter.
do hurry" the girl fretted.
'sPeople are waiting for me. up
stairs"
Gay checked the gold brocade
wrap with racing fingers.
Eyes, miss. I'm so sorry"
Only IS minutes more. Then
the other check girl. Jean Briggs,
would come on duty. Gay realized
suddenly that her arms ached.
Funny, you didn't notice you were
tired till someone was rude or i'm
patient.
The pile of wraps ON the check
counter seemed never to diminish.
Overcoats, with gloves dripping
from the pockets. Galoshes-for
1t was raining outside, the dismal
sleet of late March. Gorgeous
fur coats. Tiny jackets Of ermine.
Fragile chiffon capeS with fox or
sable trimming. Gay had to work
fast to keep up.
She slipped each garment care
fully onto a hanger, handling the
expensive wraps caressingly. What
would it be like to own adorable
things like these; to snuggle your
chin into soft furs-mink, or silver
fox, or chinchilla? Would she,
Gay Elwell, ever have such luck as
to marry a rich man, who would
buy wonderful furs for her?
Why not? IF you were smart
If you met somebody with money,
and played your cards right
"How's it going, kid?"
Too busy to look around, GAY
knew Jean Briggs had arrived.
Rough. friendly Jean, with her
bright red hair and good-natured
smile.
Gay answered heerfully,
"Everything's just fine"
The other girl set to work, NOV
ing with the automatic precision
that comes from long practice.
Better scram while you have the
chance" she advised.
There's no particular rush. I'll
help hang these coats"
What a palw Jeans whisper
was filled with mock admiration.