Evening star., 1936-07-18
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= - UbypMLl6 MOORE GALLAGHER TN
yPHYllH MOORE GALLAGHER 4

angry virginia, ana dICer thanking
Mr.. Carroll, they returned to Annapolis.
The days that followed in New
York we're the fullest that Patsy
ever knew. leaving no time to let
her thoughts linger on life and its
storehouse of bitterness. Save for
brief intervals necessary for shop
ping. the walks on Riverside drive
for her health and the numerous in
terruptions that Valance and the
gay social life of the city provided,
Patsy worked and studied and prac-
ticed all Winter long. She had q
small apartment in Barrow street.
But most of all Patsy liked the
two afternoons a week when she went
to Dmetrieff,s studio for her lessons
Dmetrieff was tall, swarthy man,
with gray eyes beneath shaggy black
brows, a mop of untidy gray hair and
an unkempt mustache. He said that
his years numbered so, but he looked
much older. Hard living. victim of
strong emotions, intense reactions,
had aged him. But his smile was
disarming, and for all his pacing nerv-
ously up and down the room, Patsy
was deeply fond of him.
No matter how poorly she sang
from Schubert. Greig and Wagner
when he expected the full -throated
richness and plentitude of voice that
turns criticism into praise-making
the art of criticism and adulation
one and the same thing-no matter
how often he went off into a tan
trum because he thought he de-
tected tobacco smoke on her breath,
quiet always followed his storms
A quiet when she and the great i'm
presario would sit before his blaz-
ing fire drinking strong tea and nib
bling on cinnamon toast.
It was on one Of these afternoons
that the great impresario had sur
prised her by asking: You have been
deeply hurt, have you not, my little
bird?"
She had said: "Yes, master-yes,
have. How did you know" And
she had wondered If that ache in
her heart. which would not stop or
even lessen with time, II that con-
slant tormenting desire to give up her
| career and crawl on her knees to
Lee, showed in her face.
That afternoon Patsy had hurried
away from Dmetrieff's studio with
tears brimming on her lashes. Fer
long while she walked on River
side Drive. each step she took SEEM
;,,o -
piness.
When at last she reached her little
apartment. she sat for a moment
studying a large photograph in its
silver frame before she made her de-
cision. Then she picked up the pro-
digiouS New York telephone directory
and turned to the classified section
Of metropolitan newspapers. Her face
sobered and unshed tears magnif1ed
her blue eyes when editors voices
over the wires told her that they had
never heard of Lee Cavendish VINO
wrote an aviation column. BY the
time she made the last call and real
lied that she didn't know where to
find Lee-that she might never see
him again-the tears were no longer
brimming on her lashes, but were
falling rapidly down her cheeks.
That evening when she sang at
Vallance's night club, the chatter in
the smoke-fllled room ceased for the
first time since she had appeared
there. The rattle Of dishes ceased.
too, and the only sound in the room
was the low. aching loveliness of her
voice-a voice that went through those
who heard and caught them up in
the throbbing sweep of the melody.
All eyes turned on her and discovered
that not only was her voice perfec-
tions own, but that she, too. was
goldenly beautiful and somehow pa
thetic.
When she finished and bowed, the
walls reverberated with sudden rap
turous applause. For a moment she
had stood still. incredulous, her hand
pressed over her heart. Could this
be the same Indifferent audience of
last night and all the nights Of the
Winter? Could this be the same audi
ence that had laughed and talked and
eaten steadily through their suppers
while she sang?
The orchestra leader had said. his
eyes excited: Encore, Miss Warfield,