The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1936-01-02

the house Where ne naQ uVeQ III
Spanish Pass, the way they did
now to see the little house where
Mark Twain had once lived, up
near Angels Camp.
And now he had his arms
around her.
His face was close to hers. She
was looking into his dark,
troubled eyes, questioningly, a
little worried. He had his arms
around her, and that was nothing
he'd often done it before, but.
this was different . This =.
She could see her own image in
his eyes, and now there were
tears in his, and his hold on her
was tighter, so tight that he was
hurting her. She wanted to tell
him that, but his face was so
near to hers now. She shut her
eyes, and his mouth closed over
hers.
Christie love you! I love
you'll I love you"
It didn't matter that she was
crushed, that he was hurting her
now. Gene loved her, and she
loved him. This was what you
read about in books. this was the
miracle of wonder and beauty.
This was life and death and
agony and ecstasy come to her,.
today.
Christie, don't you love me,
too? Darling, you must love me,
too-Say it! Say it,"
She chung to him, nodding her
tousled golden head.
From the back garden, where
the apricotS were ripening on the
trees, came the wranglinig Of the
bluejayS.
The pink Castillian roses that
climbed almost to the top of the
pines near the porch, gave off
their languid, dusty perfume in
the afternoon heat.
Christie, tell me! You must
tell mel"
But it was all too new. too
beautiful and terrible and deSas-
tating. She could only cling to
him, shielding her dazzled eyes
from the light that was brighter
than the sun.
CHAPTER III
The birds wakened her, as they
always did.
For a moment she lay very still,
listening, half smiling, still reluc-
tant to open her eyes.
Then she remembered. She felt
the roughness of the blankets, the
harsh Springiness of the pine
boughs beneath her. For a mo-
ment, pure panic seized her. She
hadn't dreamed it then. 1t was
real. She must have been crazy.
For seconds that seemed like
hours, and minutes that stretched
to eternity. she lay with eyes
closed, hand clenched till finger
nails bit into palms, tense, ach-
ing bundle of misery.
What had she done? What
awful thing had she, Christine
Cooper, done? Whatever made
her.
With the back of her hand she
wiped the perspiration from her
forehead. With a great effort Of
will, she made herself stop that
senseleSS shaking.
She opened her eyes, looked
about her cautiously.
When she saw that she was
quite alone, the first Suffocating
panic left her.
She was lying on a bed Of pine
boughs, in a little clearing par.
TALLY surrounded by young pines
and laurel brush. The ground was
covered with a thick, dark green
carpet of the whit e-flowered
mountain misery" that smells
like witch hazel. Lefty, the old
mother dog, was curled up beside
her.
Somewhere, not far away,
horse whinnied. A dog barked, and
a bushy tailed gray squirrel
scolded raucously from the giant
cedar just beyond the little clear
ing.
Christie stretched, and yawned.
She was fully awake now-except
for nice. comfortable laziness-
and she remembered everything
and wasn't scared and panicky,
the way she'd been at first,
What was there to be scared
about? Everything was all right
she was camping out. just as she
had done dozens and dozens of
times before and that it was
with Gene, and they were alone
on the mountain was all right too,
because they loved each other,
and when two people love each
other nothing else matters. =. .
Everything else just has to work
into that pattern, that's all.
Dad. But Dad would under
stand. He'd be surprised. but he'd
understand. He'd buy a ranch for
Gene, or give him a mine.
"Gene!" She sat up, on the fir
Dough bed, and shouted for him.
She was going to ask him whether
he'd rather have her ask Dad for
a ranch, or mine. Or maybe they
could stake a claim-Dad would
know about that-and do a little
ranching too. But not raise cattle,
because Gene didn't like that. Just
vegetables and turkeys.
"Gene!"
He didn't answer. She could hear
him chopping wood way down
below the creek. She could smell
coffee. ton PerhanS Il maS inst as