The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1937-07-19

Antoinette Goddard.
Sunlight filigreed on Brock
Milbank's picture in its hand
some silver frame on her dress.
ing table. The perfume of
Brooks roses filled the air with
lingering scent. Petals were
scattered like drops of hearts
blood on the great white bear
skin that made an island on the
parquet floor. Well, what matter?
There would be more roses-her
favorite flower-from Brock on
this morning of her birthday,
and presently the telephone by
her bedside would be ringing and
the man she was going to marry
would be telling her that he
could scarcely wait till their
luncheon today at the St.
Francis, and she would thrill to
the endearments that made this
polo-playing scion Of the old San
Francisco Milbank family the
fascinating lover he was.
ones twenty-fifth birthday!
Lacking a Brock, it would be the
right moment to do little
mental stock-taking. In France,
for instance, passing this land
mark meant to Golfer Sainte
Catherine-make ones official
entry into old maidhood, if un-
wed!
Antoinette laughed aloud at
this, for her, impossible Situa-
ton! Life had run very smoothly
for the only child of the old
pioneer family whose timber in
terests we're far-flung in the
northwest.
And to think I once worried
about q career, wanting to be a
writer, a singer, a painter!" she
addressed Brooks picture from
the dreamy depths of her bed.
But the moment you popped the
question, I knew the real, the
only career for a woman is CIV
ing herself to the man she loves,
making a home with him, max
ing him happy and to the devil
with careers and all the stupid
makeshifts that girls kid them
selves with"
It had been six years since
her debut. Previous to that,
there had been two years in
France. Later, a trip to Honolulu,
Tahiti, and the Orient. Oh, she
had travelled! More, she had
surprised everybody, including
herself, by winning her diploma
from the University Of Stamford,
majoring in French and English
literature. That had been a
year ago. It had been fun
attending tn university with its
gracious campus, cheerful coed
spirit and gay parties. The uni
versity was within easy reach of
her fathers ranch.
It was at her graduation festiv-
tiles that she had renewed &C
quaintance with Brock Milbank-
red-headed, captivating Brock Of
the chameleon moods and sophis-
ticated air. Debonair! That was
the word to describe him. And he
was oddly good-looking, despite
his small head and rather closest
eyes that were flecked with brown.
When one of her friends told her
that he could turn charm on and
off like a faucet, Antoinette had
been indignant. To her, Brock
was utterly winning. His. moods
only lent him a fascinating myS-
terry. When he had proposed to
her on that never-to.be-forgotten
weekend at Del Monte, she had
accepted him Immediately.
Now, as she lay in her bed in the
solid old mansion on Mob Hill that
had been built by her great-grand.
father in the days of gold"
through the open windows over
and beyond Brooks picture she
could look far down to the blue
water of the bay, hear the sirens
Of 1nnumerable craft, and by sit
ting up in bed, she could glimpse
the Golden Gate leading to other
lands.
But home is where the heart
isl" thought Antoinette. Was ever
a city so magical?
Home
They would live in San Fran
cisco, she and Brock. Here they
knew everybody who was anybody.
Theirs would be the pleasant life
Of the so-called idle rich. Why
caYil at the term? Why scrabble
for gold as her greatgrandfather
had done, when bride and groom
had plenty?
AS befitted the union of a Mil.
bank and a Goddard, they would
entertain. Perhaps a yacht. Polo
at Santa Barbara. A summer
camp at Lake Tahoe. Golf at
Monterey.
She rose, a slender, long-Iimbed
girl in blue silk pajamas. Slipping
her feet into mules, she walked
over the bearskin rug to Brooks
photograph, lifted it and kissed it
-IOVer its silver rim, she smiled al
herself in the glass. And what she
saw mirrored there, would have
given almost any woman in love
confidence.
Luminous dark eyes, deep-set anc
dreaming, and fringed with in
eredibly long lashes, gave back he,
smile. So did her softly curvini
mouth that was like a bright ret
flower.
Her throat was long and slim
and white, and she had a prou'
manner of carrying her sleek, darl
head. There was something of tn
smoothneSs of the wild ducks Il
its polish, in its quick, nervou