Henderson daily dispatch. (Henderson, N.C.) 1914-1995, 1936-09-02
Eah1EOVe isn't Importan6
E@M>> By, ZOuHSE 1ERRO[D NY

thought staggered her.
But no direct declaration came
that evening.
Christian satisfied himself with
obvious hints, prowling about the
subject as though he wanted to be
entirely sure of his ground before
ne made a definite proposal.
He spoke of his intense loneli-
ness, now that his three children
were married. The big house out
near Ann Arbor-ScOtt Farms
was like morgue, he declared,
since Elizabeth's departure. An
army of servants within call, but
no one to talk to. He pictured
himself eating solitary meals IN
the quiet dining room, with only
the ticking of the clock to keep
him company.
From this, he switched off to
tell Of his wish to travel; to drop
business cares for a year or so,
and take world cruise, spending
months in the Orient, or along the
Mediterranean.
But even that won't afford ma
much pleasure, if am alone.
Shared pleasure-shared pleasure
that is what I am longing for"
His eyes searched Gays exquisite
young face with hungry intensity.
She lived through the rest of
that June evening, and the long
hours of the following day, like a
person in a trance. One thought
drummed continuously in her
mind: Christian Scott wanted to
marry her!
Saturday at the Pontchartrain
club. A big crowd for lunch. Peo-
pie hurrying to and fro past the
courtroom, meeting friends, dashing
off to keep appointments. End
less swish of revolving doors, clat-
ter of heels across the marble
floors, drone of electric fans, con.
fusion Of voices. And the check
counter was the busiest, noisiest
spot of all.
"Miss. I'm afraid I've lost my
check, but you can"
(Which way is the main dining
room?"
"Hey, check this golf bag in a
hurry! I can't lug it"
did my husband leave word
where to meet"
Gay, in her gray silk uniform,
managed somehow to be polite and
efficient, though her thoughts were
miles away from the scene of her
duties. Christian Scott wanted
to marry her!
Perhaps it wasn't true. Perhaps
she was just conceited little fool,
to imagine he had serious inten-
lions. Then, recalling the things
he'd said last night, the way he'd
looked at her, Gay knew in her
heart she wasn't deceiving herself.
What it would mean, to be Mrs.
Christian Scott!
Stables - diamonds - custom
built cars-social position-travel
-marvelous clothes! All the mil
lion and one things she had longed
for all her life, now so close to her
greedily clutching hands!
But-could she marry Christian,
really, if it came to showdown?
Could she tolerate his ardent love-
making, the fumbling touch of his
chilly hands, all the intimacies OF
marriage? Gay shrank away from
the prospect, half shuddering.
Why worry? After all, Chris
tian hadn't actually proposed yet.
No use crossing your bridges until
you came to them.
So, all through that long June
Saturday, Gays thoughts ran on;
while she handed out checks. hung
up hats and coats, and answered
questions. with automatic pre-
cision.
She came home from work in
the evening, so hot and tired she
could scarcely drag one foot after
the other. The weather was OPP
pressively humid. Thunder growled
in the distance, and lightning drew
livid lines along the western hori-
ION, but no storm arrived to bring
relief. Gay had no engagement
for tonight, and she was honestly
glad. It would be pleasant to take
a cool bath, then go to bed early.