The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-05-19

his ego that she had enttrely tor- gotten him in the excitement of the French story. While her en- thusiasm was a credit to her, 1t was hardly fiattering in this in- stance. He repeated to himself that he was not in the least in love with her. No man could love a girl like that. They might be friends but never sweethearts. He was annoyed with her for making him realize this truth. Yet he could not get her out of his mind.
 Instead of taking the taxi to his apartment, he dismissed 1t and swung toward Fifth Avenue. He would walk home. He reached in his pocket for his pipe. AS he puffed on it, he decided that he was suffering from nothing more than wounded vanity.
 The morning air felt cool and crisp. He took a deep breath. It was going to be a lovely day. Cold perhaps, but healthy after that stormy weather. He had not walked down Fifth Avenue in the morning for years. It recalled to him those first struggling days when he had come to New York a shy, eager boy, impatient for success. Women had not been m- different to his charm then, but could he say as much today? He frowned and reviewed his past.
 Born in Philadelphia, 40 years old. Unmarried. Set in his ways. Quick-tempered. Life started for him when he skipped the senior year in Harvard to enlist. Barely 19, he saw 8 months fighting be- fore the Armistice. He stayed in Paris and drifted into journalism. His first job was on the Herald. Then New York the old World. The Sun.
 He thought of the nights he'd worked till three and four in the morning as cable editor. He saw the copy desk. Heard the click of telegraph instruments and felt dog tired again as he recalled those tramps across town to the subway in the dawn, after the cables closed down. He remembered the sudden despair that had driven him to ship as sailor on a boat bound for Syria. And he thought of the day two years later when he re- turned, tough, hardened and healthy, but broke, and slept in City Hall Park. The Gazette had taken him back. It gave him no satisfaction now to know that he was managing the paper. He puffed on his pipe. What had life made him - a misanthrope - re- cluse?
 Bitter as his thoughts were, they seemed constantly to be receding. His most vivid interest was not him. self. Instead, he was still thinking of Mary Franklin. There was that vague irritation in the back of his mind. He was curious about her life. It gave him a momentary pang to realize he knew little of it.
 Still thinking of her he started, good morning. The elevator man as 8 familiar voice wished him of his apartment house was speak ing. His thoughts had carried him to his own door.
 His home, 8 four-roon apart ment on Lower Fifth Avenue, was pleasing but unpretentious. It had large living room, bedroom, small study and kitchen. They contained nothing that was not essential but everything in them was right. Only the books he cared to keep were on the shelves. The furniture gave the same im- pression of having been selected with discrimination. The coloring of the rooms reflected his person. ality. In the living room, which ran the full length of the front of the apartment, the predominant ing tones wer warm rust reds and deep browns. There was a great deal of crimson in the study and the walls of his bedroom were a light, cool, remote blue.
 He flung, open the front win dows. The atmosphere was stuffy after the fresh air he'd just filled his lungs with. Impatiently he started toward the kitchen.
 Sam he called.
 A door at the rear of the hall opened hurriedly and a black face appeared. "Yassuh, MT. Tom" I'm going to bed. I don't want to be disturbed for two hours"
 A row of white teeth gleamed as cheerful grin spread over Sam's black features. "Yassuh, MT. Tom"
 Ladd smiled in appreciation of Sam's good-humor and strolled to- ward his bedroom. Never, in the five years he'd had the boy, had Sam forgotten to smile. Ladd guessed that was why he kept him, even when his cooking was indif- ferent. his cleaning sketchy and his valeting questionable. The Negro was willing enough to learn. Now if he, Tom Ladd, had wife she would train Sam in the little things that made a servant professional.
 Thoughtfully he began to un- dress, and then while he was still at the collar-removing stage. he reached for the telephone which connected directly with his office.