The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1937-03-26

so that he would not have to lower
his voice or cramp his style. That's
what is wrong with her. That's what's
wrong with all American girls. Cut
to a pattern, the more like each other
the happier they are. Absolutely NJ
glamour. Polished and colored and
clipped and dieted into a row of
hidden, nothing held back to allure.
All as hard and bright and handsome
as-as the Persian Room at the Plaza!
No glamour left"
It seemed to him that Luis
answer sidestepped the issue a bit.
He said: But you are naive, amigo.
GLAMOUR! Glamour is merely the other
side Of the hedge. Myself I am q
Woodworking Argentinian sports" pro-
be surprised at the amount of excel
lent glamour I possess for most Anglo
Saxon females! The foreign RS, the
ordinary manner of a gentleman OF
my locality. And, my dear Wilson, we
Latins are so far from being glamor-
Gus that we haven't wen a word for
it!
While Wilson had been discoursing,
the young across from them
had rung the bell with precision. She
10Y rose, and focusing her beauti-
4O44y Ako6S wv VA 4AAAA
said in excellent, icy Spanish, II
thank you for the great gentility of
your compliments" She was gone
down the aisle with the ease of a
tight rope performer.
Luis grinned. "That1l teach you'll"
he said to Wilson. He put his sleek
head over the bus side. ANITA" he
called, "hola, Anita!" But a taxi had
swallowed her. Women are odd" he
told Wilson in a ,,philosophic voice.
II don't want to hear anything
about her." Wilson said bitterly, and
discussed other matters until the bus
reached Fifty-eighth St., where he got
off and walked across to the Plaza.
The Persian Room at the Plaza had
to do with wilson's bad disposition.
No mural painter likes to have a
client hint that other decorations are
nearer what he likes for the ballroom,
take notes Of them. And no mural
painter of Wilson's standing would
have submitted if Helen's mothers
ideas about incomes hadn't been so
clear. He entered gloomily.
The girl called Anita had stood
stock still and furious for just the
second needed for her to repeat vici-
ouSly, "The Persian Room at the
Plaza!" A cruising taximan naturally
took her words for a direction and
held his door invitingly open. She
her there.
She would look over this Persian Room
just like her, all so hard and bright
and glamourless. She went in and
sat down. She never drank, believing
1t to be bad for a steel nerve h
wished to keep entirely steel. Shit or
dered caravan tea and looked leisure
ly around her.
Brightly lit, brightly colored. Little
tables around a good dancing floor.
Panels OF slim, large-eyed Persian
ladies dressed in their brightest clothes
communal husbands. An orchestra to
which Anita tapped a buckled blue
shoe. She saw nothing wrong with
the Persian Room.
And then suddenly there was. For
the young man who had been so rude.
the bus-mate Of Luis Mendoza walked
in and sat down gloomily all by him
sell close to q wall.
Anita was given to swift decisions.
and around a waiter and sat down
with Wilson Harden. She removed her
organdy. gloves and dropped two
creamy-brown silver-nailed hands or
the little table. She lowered her ex-
trayagant eyelashes and lifted them
again.
The senior did not, perhaps, know
ina this poor little one spoke Span
ish?" said she.
"I-!-no, I didn't" he said mad
equately. "Oh, I say, I'm sorry!"
He noticed a queer ring on her
middle finger. A black stone carved
INTO demons that twisted themselves
up to her knuckle. She followed the
direction Of his eyes.
Not standardized, my ring-no?"