Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1940-05-31
CHAPTER IL

understand III just WHdI way ~ AoH
Griff Morgan who makes it impor-
tant. It isn't anyone, really. It's
Just that the idea of music and dane
ing and pretty clothes and lots and
lots of people" Her lovely mouth
curved in a faint, wry smile. "Dar-
ling, can't you realize miss that sort
of thing in the same way you missed
this" she made an all-embracing
gesture, "when you were in the city :?
It's like hunger inside of one. A
hunger that grows and grows. To-
night will satisfy that hunger. You
do understand, don't you?"
Brent nodded. "Sure, I under
stand. Otherwise, I wouldn't be go
ing"
you're not looking forward to it!'
"Ill be like fish out of water"
But, why?" March demanded.
"You used to enjoy parties. Remem-
Der the grand times we had with Con-
chita and Pete and Terry"
"Conchita and Pete and Terry
aren't millionaires, in case you've for
gotten"
"But they're the same sort of peo-
pie as Griff and his friends" March
insisted. Money has nothing to do
with that, They like to have fun and
do crazy things" Her voice faltered.
"I-I'm afraid I'm that sort of per-
son, too, Brent. I can be serious anc
responsible just so long and then
have to let off steam"
Brent said briefly, "Okay, honey"
He leaned on one elbow and his head
bent to hers. Their lips met in =
Quick, hard kiss that left March mo-
mentarily breathless. Nor was Brent's
voice quite steady, adding, Gust re-
member we walked out on a party
once -.
It was two o'clock before Brent left
for Tomahawk. March waved good
bye to him from the Lodge steps,
then went back into the long, low
ceilinged lounge with the huge stone
fireplace at one end, with walls OF
hand-hewn logs, unchanged since Jas
Randolph's great hands had put them
in place forty years before. The
lounge was the original log house
where James and Abigail had lived
Brent had left it unaltered, except
for making it weather-tight and In
stalling electricity. And March hac
furnished it with the rugged simpli'
city it required. Thick Indian rugs
in barbaric colors. Grapes Of rough
homespun at the wide old windows
Deep easy chairs and sturdy tables
and unobtrusive lamps with wrought
iron bases and mellow parchment
shades. The dining-room and kitchen
had been built on behind. And there
was a broad stairway and sleeping
accommodations for twelve guests
But none of the rustic charm OF the
place had been sacrificed. Some
times March wondered what sensa-
tions must be Abigail's, moving about
this great room that had been her
home, where she had lived so long
with the man she loved.
The lounge was deserted now. From
the beach below came sounds OF
splashing and laughter and the high
voices of children shouting. This was
the hour when most of the guests
swan or took sun baths or padded a.
bout in the shallow edge of the water.
Today the sun was hot and direct and
the lake calm. The sunshine came in
through the uncurtained windows and
fell on the bright rugs. From the
kitchen came the low drone of voices.
March moved in that direction.
Brent's grandmother was just put
ting a chocolate cake into the oven.
On the cabinet were pies, hot and
golden-brown, smelling richly of fruit
and spices. The two girls who help
ed her and who served as mattresses
in the small, spotless dining-room,
were shelling peas at long-table.
March said, "Ummm, does that
smell good! No wonder all the cot
tagers are neglecting their housekeep-
ing privileges to come over here and
eat"
Abigail chuckled appreciatively
shutting the oven door on the pans
of rich, dark batter.
"Can I help?" March asked.
"I've finished" the older woman
told her. "Jane and Lou can clear
up when they're through with the
vegetables. I'm going in the lounge
and sit-unless there's a bridge game
in progress"
"There isn't, Everyone must be
down swimming, or taking maps"