The Washington times., 1937-03-12

and feel i'll. You were so nervous
before you went to bed. You don't
mind, do you?"
He could not tell her that he had
been so lonely for her. He would
appeal to her pride, if he must, to
keep her, even to reminding her Of
her fathers debt, though time was,
when he would not have thought
of doing that. But he would never
ask for her pity!
II don't mind. What do you want
to do today, Gilbert, before the
papers come in?"
AS if now that she was so soon
to be done with him, there was
nothing she would not do for him! /!
He thought that, but he only
said: Lets have breakfast sent
up and then go walking. They say
the bluebells in Kew Gardens are
wonderful, and I've never seen
them" From very long ago the
voice of his tutor came to him,
telling him Of English bluebells in
Kew Gardens in the spring. He'd
never told Denise about his tutor
or much about his childhood or
himself. She wouldn't have been
interested.
He came back from his own
room, dressed. to tell her chat he
had telephoned, that the Ameri-
can newspapers would not be up
from southampton until late after
noon, and watched her try to pre-
tend not to be disappointed.
She tried very hard all that
bright afternoon to be gay, to be
interested in whatever he said.
Under the formal trees, along the
neat paths where even the riotous
spring bloom seemed made deco
Gus to suit English taste, she
walked with her arm in his. And
dowager walking Stiffly on the
arm Of her companion said, loud
enough for them to hear: "Ameri-
can honeymooners. Really" He
watched the quick pink color rise
in Denise's cheeks. but he held her
arm inside his.
Denise said: "Does it make it
up to you at all, Gilbert, that I
like you. that I wish I'd treated
you better2"
"You don't have to make up
anything to me, if you're right,
and you sail tomorrow"
She turned her pretty head and
regarded for an instant the black.
substantial back of the dowager
moving away from them at a
stately pace. when I'm old like
that, wonder whether I'll remem-
ber spring days like this that are
so beautiful they are exciting, the
scents and the colorS and the
sounds of bird,Songs."
He thought: "She's %. That
woman looked past 10. Fifty years
from now, will Denise remember
anything about me, more than my
name, or that she was married
to me for a little while? If she
sails tomorrow, she will remember
no more than that" For the
strangest doubt had risen in him
all that day, watching her conf
dent face, that perhaps she was
right, and, being right. he would
lose her forever. But almost
almost, with her arm on his, his
smile so serene, her voice friendly,
he could wish-that she should
have her wiShl
They walked back along that
path where the bluebells were
thick under the great trees that
had seen Elizabeth ride by, per-
haps, and the Stuarts, and the
whole Of modern English history.
So they passed the dowager again.
He caught a glimpse of her face,
composed, empty, the face of an
elderly Englishwoman Of a good
class. In the eighties, in tight
waiSted frockS and absurd below
cred hats, she must have walked
under those trees, a young girl like
Denise. What did she remember
from that time? Nothing that
showed, that warmed ner face, re-
membering.
He said to Denise: "If you should
sail tomorrow, dear do not quite
forget me. Remember perhaps to-
day, the bluebells and the clear sky
and the lawns"
(TO be cOntinued)
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