The guardian. [volume] (Boston, Mass.) 1901-1960, 1940-05-04
Dawn of Desire
By FRANK PEARSON
Mcclure Syndicate-WNU Service.)

tum high above Wall Street was to
be Immediately conscious of the Sc
we're setting that served only to en-
phasize the austerity of the great
financier's expression, so frequently
displayed on front pages and roto-
gravures. There was not a single
soft or rounded line in the great,
square office room, as there were
none in the harshly angled features
of Dewitt Wright.
The financier's stenographer-sec-
rotary was one of those young wom-
en- who craved all the things of life
that are both beautiful and secure.
She wanted marriage; home of
her own-and children to love and
scold. Her name was Jane Warden,
and there was something angelic
about her.
Dewitt Wright was one of the
most eligible and desirable bache-
lors in New York. Jane Warden
was his secretary by reason of her
skill and intelligence. How could
she surmount this business barrier,
and influence him to see her now and
then through eyes that would re-
veal her desirability as a woman
and companion rather than a keen,
efficient tool?
One day when Jane was particu-
larly blue over the prospect of drab
servitude that stretched before her,
she CHANGED on the formal card of
a well-known astrologer in one of
the magazines. In one corner of the
card appeared this simple line: "Let
me help you
Jane took fifteen dollars from her
slim bank account and sought the
sacred, incense clouded ante-room
of society's pet astrologer. Jane was
nothing if not direct.
81 don't want a signed, figured
horoscope with all my likes and dis
likes. 1 just want to know one
thing-how can I win the man l
love?"
Madame Francisco's reputation
was not without foundation. She had
helped many. She liked this girls
directness.
Warden? Sit here in front
of me. Tell me the date of your
birth, and the hour as nearly as
possible-then let me look at you a
little while two three
minutes"
Jane did as she was bid and the
ceremony proceeded. Nine. Fran
cisco's great dark eyes seemed to
hold the girl spellbound; her mag
| netism embodied Jane in wealth of
| sure appraisal.
you are not human enough" the
woman said softly. "Stop being the
cold angel your name suggests. Do
some little human thing ike-oh,
anything that will show this man
without words that he is always in
your thoughts"
Dewitt Wright loved flowers. Aside
from his pleasure in it he was vague
ly aware that the rose in a slender
vase on his desk, every morning
fresh and fragrant as dew itself,
was in some strange sense mes
sage or an emblem.
But the financier was a busy man,
not fashioned for the subtleties OF
romance, so morning after morning
he remained in his state of passivi-
ty regarding the rose until the day
when he CHANGED to arrive extraor-
dinarily early. His office door was
flung wide and his rubber soled goh
oxfords were noiseless on the wide
cement approach.
What he saw from his threshold
gave him pause. Jane Warden bend.
ing over his desk, with the early
sunlight from a tall window unseal.
ing gold glints within her trim
blonde bob She was arranging his
rose in its receptacle with delicate
fingers that, now he thought of it,
seemed moulded for caressing. With
graceful movements, utterly una,
ware of the hungry eyes that Gov
cred her, Jane stopped and patted
into puffiness the flat little leather
pillow she had but lately installed
in the financier's rigorous desk
chair
Something far alien to his being
something queer and warm stirred
in the heart of Dewitt Wright. He
pictured this girl in his bachelor
palace-arranging flowers, pattine
pillows, using the wand of youth tc
turn solitary domain into an init
mate home. Dawn of desire! Ac.
acknowledgement of a great lack! He
retraced his steps far down from
the door as quietly as any Gather
wheeled and entered his Office with
his accustomed authoritative tread
Jane was sitting ready for dicta
tion-poised at her desk as usual
They exchanged the customary neg
ligent good morning"
At closing that evening, Dewitt
Wright watched Jane Warder
straighten her desk, cover her type
writer, sharpen a pencil for the mex
day, and don smart hat and tai
lored jacket. Ideas clashed in hi:
brain. Oh, to say something to her
For the first time in his powerful life
words failed him. Sudden terror
seized him as she spoke her brigh