Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise., 1938-12-16

Of the waters. Nostalgia caught him.
Was it for Italy? For places? Beau
ty?
For the right companion?
For love?
Hours passed. With extraordinary
fleetness for Ann. The after-theatre
crowd arrived, surging into II Rocco,
so that tiny space upon the dance
floor grew infinitesimal. That meant
that Paul could hold her-perhaps un-
consciously-more closely as they
danced. He did so.
Came a South American bolero. He
had booked Rosalind, his hostess, for
this number. But Rosalind was in no
condition to attempt the intricate
steps. They sat it out.
Ann knew the dance. The music
seemed to sweep her over blue tropi-
cal seas. Across the floor of the
nightclub, a tall, definitely cookbook
ing man was approaching the table.
"May l have the pleasure of this
dance, Miss Delafield?" He stopped
in front of her.
It was Tim O'Hallahan, the silk
manufacturer.
Volatile Irishman that he was, Tim
danced the bolero with grace and
verve.
Few at the Ell Morocco could per-
form it. Many fell by the wayside,
figuratively speaking. Except for a
couple of professional dancers, soon
they had the floor to themselves.
The eyes of many people were upon
them. What was Paul Bradley think
ing, wondered Ann.
Presently, over Tins shoulder she
saw him rise from the remains of din
ner-the walters were now clearing
away for supper-and accompany the
hostess out to the crowded bar.
The music finished with wild bang
ing on the drum, and click of the cas-
tanets. Lets go out to the bar, Miss
Delafield. We deserve bit of wee
snifter after our performance" her
partner suggested in his rich Irish
brogue.
Knowing Paul was there, Ann was
10th.
One empty little table-for-two was
near the long counter. Tim grabbed
it. Hailed a waiter. Before she could
stop him he had ordered bottle of
"Shure an it's an unexpected pleas
ure, running into you here, Miss Dela-
field. l was at a loose end. Drop
ped into a show and came on here,
shure that I'd find some of the boys.
But niver did I imagine such good
luck!"
The waiter brought two glasses,
and the bottle of champagne set in a
bucket of ice. He twirled it about.
81 can only wait a minute" Ann
said nervously, "I'm in Rosalind Bar
clays party. I'll have to go back"
"Not until we've drunk to the oc-
casion," replied Tim genially, light
of very obvious admiration shining
in his eyes. "Hey, waiter, get a move
on!"
"It isn't cold enough, sir"
"The devil with it! We're thirsty!"
Tim grabbed the bottle, wrenched the
wire off, and with terrific pop and
splash the cork flew to the ceiling.
Paul Bradley turned around. Saw
Ann with the silk manufacturer. They
exchanged mods, briefly.
"Shure we can't get away from bust
ness! But it's not business Pm think
ing Of" said Tim O'Hallahan, contra
dieting himself in true Irish style.
''I'm thinking of girl with eyes at
bewitching as the sea pools in the
rocks of Connemara! With voice as
sweet as the breeze over Killarney!
Here's to that darlin'!" And leaning
towards Ann, he tipped his glass to
his lips and drank deeply, beaming
at her over the rim.
"What a wonderful command of Ian
guages, Mr.. O'Hallahan! Blondes and
brunettes, 1 suppose they all get that
toast from you?" she laughed.
"Shure only one gets it, Miss Della
field. Och! don't be angry with me!
'Tis long time I've been waiting for
this moment!"
There was no stopping Tim O'Hal-
lahan. Rosalind's long table was de-
serted, all her guests being either at
the bar or on the dance floor. And
there was something stimulating in
his open admiration. Handsome, we'll