Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise., 1938-04-29
CHAPTED 1

Sne0 q clear llSHC Will NdIIilIH oClll III
it, over the park where the leaves
were translucent gold and apricot and
ashes of roses, over the pathways
where belated nursemaids hurried
reluctant charges homeward, over the
lawns where the first fallen leaves
were brilliant against the autumn
faded grass.
That last clear sunlight lay warm
ly across their shoulders, where they
sat, shoulders just touching, but not
regarding each other any more, not
talking any more.
He said to the leaves swirling, to
that warm air that yet, under it's
warmth, held promise of cold when
the darkness should come: "You
know I wish 1 could do something to
help, Denise"
She moved just little way from
him, said brightly to the empty path
ahead of her: "After all, it's not the
end of the world, Keith. Neither
Father nor Mother will starve; and 1
myself will live to buy new silk stock
ings, 1 suppose"
A policeman passing by said to
himself: Society people, quarreling.
They only come into my park to quar-
rel, or ride horses in a patronizing
fashion over the brdlepath-as if it
wasn't long enough to show their
skill" For one Of the nursemaids
had that day snubbed him for a pri
vate chauffeur, and his life was en-
bittered. However, he was very
young and resilient policeman, so he
added to himself, "The girl is pref
ty." and glancing at her again, ignored
the young man altogether. So the
policeman became one of the few peo-
pie who ever saw those two together
who did not think: "The mans much
handsomer."
He was; he was a gorgeous young
man, from his shining brown hair to
his shining darker brown shoes. He
was, and had been called, heavens
gift to stag line, man wasted out
of Hollywood, the handsomest man in
his class at Hillsville School, the
handsomest man in his class at Prince
haven.
He was also Cor despite all that)
rather nice, so that he suffered now,
knowing that he was completely fail
ing to rise to a crisis, and knowing
Denise knew that too. But he could
not, would not ask her to marry
him, especially now that her family
had lost all their money. His own
father would not possibly increase his
allowance. His father was continual
ly angry as it was, because he showed
no aptitude for the family business
and preferred to waste his time paint
ing. How on earth would he support
Denise? He didn't suppose he could
get a job at twenty dollars week
if he were put to it; and those shoes
she had on. if he knew anything about
girls clothes, cost forty.
And yet-raising his eyes from her
pretty feet, to her hands crossed in
her tweed-skirted lap, he was con-
scious that those hands were trembling
and he wished, oh, he wished he were
really dominant sort of person like
his father, who could get his own
way, and order other people about.
He'd order his father to give him the
Maryland house, with enough to run
it.
She said, END of Denise Rendale
and Keith Sheldie!" very softly, as
if speaking to herself.
"Why do you say that, Denise"
He knew very we'll; but he was start
led, none the less, that she admitted it.
She answered lightly: Because we
sha'n't be meeting at many of the
same parties. Pm going to business
school; and at night, early to bed"
"What you mean is, that I'm not
asking you to marry me now, not
telling you that I'll look after you
and your father and mother. Yet you
know l love you"
"I know you've said so, Keith. Let's
not go into it."
He spoke very slowly. 81 can't
look after you, or them and you real
ize it."
"You could try {. Fl. No, for the
sake of my pride, shall be sorry af
terward that 1 said that, so consider
it unsaid, please. really should be
starting home. Felicia's waiting for
me-" But she did not stand up, feel
ing the most curious difficulty in man
aging her knees, as if they belonged