HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Advance-Times, 1940-12-19, Page 10PAGE TWO WINGHAM ADVANCE-TIMES
figure that one out.”
“Dot,” Dusty said. “I’m terribly
serious about what I said before. Let’s
At that moment Dot glanced up at
the clock on the balcony and discov
ered to her horror that she was al
ready half an hour late and that she
must run to keep her appointment.
And while Dusty poured her into
her coat, steered her across the
crowded sidewalk, commandeered a
taxi, stuck a dollar bill into the driv
er’s hand, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll
look after the young cousin, but it’s
a heck of a way to treat me.”
He shouted through the cab win
dow. “But when I find this Sue Gar
land, what’ll I do with her? Sue Gar
land, I said.”
Dot’s lips moved but lie couldn’t
hear as the taxi drove away.
CHAPTER II
Dot, in white fur scuffs, her face
.. shining and pink, her hair pushed be
hind her ears, padded out of the
shower. She pulled the terry,, robe
about her slender body and surveyed
the contents of her blue satin-quilted,
scented closet. Then, with a reckless
■motion, she took the new scarlet
frock from its hanger and threw it on
the bed.
It was a comfort, she observed, as
she chose fresh lingerie from the neat
piles in the drawer, to have a personal
maid to keep one’s clothes in order.
It was Stephen who had suggested
this several-times-a-week service. And
" it had made the greatest difference in
her life. Now she wasn’t likely to dis
cover, as slie had in the old days with
Dusty, an unsuspected run in her
stocking, a rip in her glove.
She brushed the shining mass of
short light hair and let it fall into ac
customed waves. She was lucky, she
thought, to have dark eyebrows and
lashes which never needed accenting.
• Lots of people had tried to describe
the color of her eyes. Dusty said they
were smoky, while Stephen insisted
that they were the color of wet slate.
As she slipped the bright dress over
her head and fastened the zipper, she
gave herself a smiling glance of ap
proval in the long mirror. She heard
Stephen Emery moving about in her
small kitchen, and called to him. “Are
you finding everything you need?”
“Yes, everything,” Stephen called
back. “And what about hurrying a
bit, my girl?”
“Don’t be so brutally impatient, I’ll
be right out.”
When she appeared a few moments
later Stephen surveyed her with un
disguised admiration. “Right nice!”
he said. “Well worth waiting for.”
He was a rather large man in his
middle thirties, always well-dressed,
always beautifully at ease. He had
that pallor which sometimes accom
panies exceptionally black hair, and a
heavy beard which had to be shaved
twice daily. In contrast.to his.sturdy
frame were his hands with their long
tapering fingers.* Dot had marveled at
the sensitivity of those hands as they
explored the surface of a Tanagara
figurine, or a carved Chinese ivory.
Dot spread the red brocade skirt of
her dress on the white leather love
seat, conscious of the bright contrast
it made with the turquoise rug. Ste
phen Emery was nearer to her than
anyone else in her present' world.
Eight hours and sometimes longer,
practically every day, had been spent
in* the closest association with him for
the past seven or eight years. Togeth
er they had built up the fustly old
crepe paper house of C. C. Mitcheltree
into a smart firm, sound and financial
ly successful.
Stephen had fallen heir to the busi
ness in a curious way. He had been
in a motor accident with young Caleb
Mitcheltree, his roommate at Harvard.
Stephen had been , thrown clear, but
Caleb was fatally injured. In his ef
fort to comfort Caleb’s father, sudden
ly old and broken, Stephen became in
dispensable to him and eventually he
found himself head of the sixty-year-
old crepe paper company.
Before Dot had taken the job at
Mitcheltree’s she had planned to paint
portraits to hang in the Metropolitan
Museum. Portraits of beautiful wo
men and men of affairs. She was still
at the Art Students’ League and
rooming with Dindy Morris down on
Thirteenth Street when Dusty Paine
came into her life. o Something had
clicked between them almost instant
ly. She could never quite forget her
paint-smeared smock and the way the
orange firelight had played on Dusty s
face, They ate spaghetti and a green
salad, and shared a bottle of wine.
For a long time she and Dusty had
talked about getting married. t But
they didn’t do anything about it —
and now Stephen Emery wanted to
marry her.
Dot’s eyes were tender and wide as
she looked at Stephen.
“Now, don’t pull that startled fawn
stuff,” Stephen said. “You must have
known that I am in love with you,"
“Dot’s hands were limp in her ‘lap..
“In a way, I suppose I have known
for a long time.”
“Well, what about it then?”
Stephen took out his cigarette case,
opened it flat and tapped the cigarette
on the back.’ “It isn’t as if we Were
taking a hasty step — as if we weren’t
rather well acquainted. We are pretty
sure of each other’s tastes, reactions
and all that. Besides, Dot, I admire
you tremendously. Honestly, I can’t
think of anyone who possesses your
admirable qualities. Really, dear, you
attack a problem like a man.”
Dot’s scarlet mouth curved into a
one-sided smile. “Stephen, dear, are
you giving me a raise or are you ask-'
ing me to be your partner for life?
Really, my pet, when you can so luc
idly give the reasons why you are in
love— well — one just wonders.”
Stephen blew out a mouthful of
smoke. “Darling, you and I have been
in Mitcheltree’s too long. We have
learned to talk things over too well
and too clearly.” ‘
Dot’s small hand rested on Steph
en’s huge brown one. “It is stupid of
me not to have thought ahead to this
moment.. And when two reasonably
compatible people see as much of
each other as we have, it is a pretty
inevitable moment.”
“There! That’s exactly what I
mean. Cause and effect. Propinquity.
You are behaving like a dehumanized
scientist. Dot — stop thinking for
once, and listen! I love you!”
Stephen rose and said abruptly,
“Which is an awfully inadequate way
of telling you so. You see, I haven’t
loved many women.”
“Stephen, dear, I respect you—”
“Oh darn!” said Stephen. “When a
woman begins by respecting a man,
she doesn’t love him.”
“If you’d please let me finish,” Dot
said quietly, “I was going to add that
I honestly don’t know whether I love
you or not. We’re together too much
—as you say—that I haven’t any per
spective.”
.“All right, let’s call a conference.
We have a proposal here to consider..
To begin with, an offer from Mr. Em
ery which I strongly urge Miss
Graves to accept.”
“This offer includes—”
“A full partnership, profits shared
fifty-fifty.”
“And what about the losses?”
“This kind of partnership is ‘for bet
ter for worse, for richer for poorer
. . . until death us do part’.”
“What is the firm name and style
to be?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Emery.”
“That sounds all right.”
“I believe we are agreed. All we
need to go ahead is the acceptance of
Miss Graves.”
“'It’s an awfully good proposition,”
Dot said, smiling, “-one that deserves
the fullest consideration.”
“Would you like to have Mr. Emery
put this in writing?”
“A confirmation by letter would be
an excellent idea.”
“Perhaps you’ll send me a memo
to that effect. Listen — it’s no use
stalling, Dot. It will always come
down to the same thing. I love you
and I want you as my wife.”
“Stephen, darling, there isn’t any
one as important to me as you — ac
tually Tam so fond of you. As for
loving you, I wish I knew.”
Stephen said then, “But are you
sure, angel, there isn’t anyone else?”
“Well,” she said, “there’s Dusty.”
At that Stephen exploded. “It
stands to reason if you haven’t done
anything about Dusty Paine in ten
years, you aren’t going to.”
“That’s true,” Dot said, “on the sur
face, but the circumstances of our re
lationship have been unusual. We’ve
both been so busy.”
“Busy!” fStephen said, outraged.
“Too busy to get married! If you
don’t mind my saying so, Dusty Paine
is a blithering'idiot. Come on, let’s
go out to dinner!” ’ .
In a nearby restaurant Dot thought
about Dusty. She was trying to find
in her own heart the reason for her
drifting — and Dusty’s. It had been
her fault; she had never so much as
lifted a «finger. Dusty was always
there — and only now did she realize
how much they meant to each other,
and how far their lives had grown
apart.
After dinner Dot said She was aw
fully tired and thought she’d go to
bed eartv. Stephen said good night in
the vestibule of her apartment house.
He reminded her that their confer- -
ence this evening had been in dead
earnest and he begged her to make
up her mind.Dot had not even taken off her
things before she dialed Dusty Paine’s
number, “Dusty,” she was going to
say, “Dusty, I have something awfully
important to tell you. No, I can’t
wait. I must talk with you right
away.”
Only there wasn’t any answer. And
there wasn’t any all evening though it
was long after midnight when she
gave up and went quietly to bed. And
the next morning there wasn’t any
answer either. By the time Dot reach
ed her office, the woman from Chi
cago was there and life took posses
sion of her so fiercely that she didn’t
try again until noon, Dusty’s secre
tary said then that she was sorry but
she didn’t know where he was. He
had gone to the boat fairly early and
hadn’t come back. Should she have
him call? ' ,“No,” said Dot slowly. Don t bo
ther. I guess it wasn’t important after
all.” . , V ,
And then she realized with a little
shock of surprise that she had com
pletely forgotten about Sue Garland.
CHAPTER III
Dusty Paine waited at the dock.
The wind blew under his coat, 'cold
and penetrating. It was a nasty time
of year for a crossing. Irritated, lie
shifted his feet and wondered what he
was "doing there, and why he was al
ways involved in Dot’s affairs; in
some extra-curricular activity such as
4 this.
It was not so simple after all, this
meeting a completely unknown per
son on ’the dock. It had involved lit
tle thought and organization on Dus
ty’s part. Now, as the*returned voy
agers trailed down the gangplank, he
wandered over to the G’s where the
blue flags swung on a line over mis
cellaneous luggage. He had tentative
ly identified two other girls before
he saw Sue. But once lie had seen
her, there couldn’t be any mistake. At
first it was just the feeling that he
had seen her before, but as he ap
proached her he saw that there was a
vague family resemblance to Dot.
She was sitting on a trunk, swing
ing her'heels. A heathery tweed coat
hung open loosely, topped by a green
hat with a tall feather. Pier eyes were
clear blue, and brown hair curled un
der the absurd hat. Dusty thought
she must ride well and. swim, and
■ that she would make an entrancing
companion on a camping trip. There
was something about her eyes which
made him know that she loved life
and new experiences and that she was
enjoying this moment of waiting for
an unknown man to meet her.
He had intended to glance casually
at the labels on the luggage, but her
eyes’ met his and rested on the gar
denia in his lapel. As Dusty looked
quickly down at it she asked in a voice
that was light but full of inflection,
“Could you, by any chance, be Dusty
Paine?”
Dusty smiled as he took out a sheaf
of identification papers along with her
letter to Dot.
“Don’t bother,” she said, and there
a was a gleam of amusement in her
eyes, “please. Your radiogram des
cription was faultless!! Camel’s hair
coat, gardenia, Scotch plaid scarf,
walking stick — it was sweet of you
to come, but where’s Dot? Isn’t she
with you?”
There was worry in her tone. “Be
cause — you see—”
Dusty said quickly, “You mean you
need some money to see you through
the customs. Nobody ever has en
ough ready cash.”
“Oh!” she said in a relieved voice,
“how did you guess? I bought more
than I intended to in Paris, and with
the tips and everything—”
Dusty said, “Everybody, landing
from Europe, ought to be met by
somebody with a bank roll, for no-
bowdy ever comes back with enough
money. The first time I returned
from abroad after college, I arrived
in White Creek with exactly three
cents.”
Her eyes opened wide. “White
Creek? Why, that’s where I came
from — originally. I mean Gran lives
there. Are you one of the knitting
mill Paines?”
Dustin’s jaw was grim when he
said, “My family ran the mills there,
but not much is running now. You
must be the little girl in the white
dress I Used to see skipping about on
that sea of green lawn at the Graves
house on Main Street. I used to think
that rustic summer house in the clump
of bushes would be one of the most
wonderful places to play. I even re
member when your mother was mar
ried. There Was a strip of white vel
vet running to the summer house and
it was decorated with dll kinds of
white flowers — I was just a small
boy and the iced cakes in little bas
kets were the most delicious I have
ever had in my whole life.”
Sue nodded. “And in the winter
time Gran would sometimes let me
skate on that mill pond of yours —
and do you remember how the Roar
ing Branch came tumbling out of that
gray stone building, all foamy and all
colors when the mills were running?”
Dusty smiled down at her and not
iced how clear her skin was, and how
nicely pink her cheeks from the salty
damp air. “I think I should have stay
ed in White Creek and watched you
grpw up. I must have missed some
thing exciting!”
When she smiled, one eyebrow lift
ed itself higher than the other. “But
I had freckles, and my hair was
dreadfully straight, and for a long
time I had to Wear a .brace oH hiy
teeth. I was a terrible trial td Gran
—* she . cpUidnh understand how I
missed being beautiful. All the Grav
es girls were beautiful. She decided
it was because my father was a Gar
land and I took after him.”
“All’s well that ends well,” said
Dusty. She wasn’t beautiful, he real
ized, looking at her closely. Not in
the same way that Dot was beautiful,
with, her small perfect features. But
Sue had something else, a thrilling
physical energy, a fund of humor
which gave her mouth, a little too
large, a rare appeal.
The customs men in their blue caps
came along then and while they were
pawing through the trunks and bags,
Sue Garland was thinking that with
her heedless buying of that love of a
dress she had put both herself and
her cousin in a particularly embar
rassing position. Dot was - the only
person she could turn to until she
could straighten out her financial af
fairs with Gran. And Gran's last let
ter had not been encouraging—some
thing about the income from the es
tate dwindling, and more taxes. In
fact, Gran had been distinctly discour
aging about any extra money this
quarter. But Sue would have to bor
row a little from her until she could
* dig up some vocal work for the fall,
and winter season. It was a jolly
thing, in a way, to have’ a voice. You
didn't have to carry any equipment
with you. Writers had their type
writers and artists carried enough
paraphernalia to camp in the wilds of
Canada — but a singer had only a
bunch of music in the bottom of a
trunk, and if she had the training Sue
Garland had had, most of the melody
and the words were engraved deep in.
her heart and memory.
She racked her brain to recall
scraps about Dusty Paine. She had
always thought of him as more or less
engaged to Dot. Dot, she observed,
as she took a sidelong glance at Dus
ty. always had the rarest luck! The
Paine mills were very much a part of
White Creek and in her early child
hood the sound of the machinery in
the old stone buildings, the noon and
five o’clock whistles, were all fascinat
ing and romantic. But there had been
that terrible accident when Mr. Paine
was killed and then the mills had
closed. She remembered that there
had been two Paine boys, and how
Gran had shaken her head as the ma
chinery slowed to a stop and the
whistle blew for the last time. She
said that if the boys were only older
it wouldn’t have had to happen. Then
the boys were sent off to school, and
she had been away and, except for
brief vacations with Gran, she had
practically forgotten about White
Creek.
She liked Dusty’s level eyes, the
color of tree bark, and his wide, well
cut mouth above a broad chin. She
liked his easy way of handing her in
to a taxi and the drawling way he
said, “Now when we?ve dumped the
luggage at Dot’s, I' think we ought to
go Somewhere and celebrate your
homecoming.”
Dusty hadn’t, when he started out
in the morning, intended to say any
thing of the kind. He had a fairly im
portant conference at three-thirty, and
now he was planning to phone his
secretary that he wouldn’t be back
this afternoon. It seemed a shame to
leave this bright youngster, obviously
at loose ends, to her own devices the
whole afternoon. Dot. lie knew, would
be late aS usual. She might even for
get that there was a Sue Garland, or
telephone absent-mindedly and say
that she’d been called to a conference,
or had to meet a man.
So Dusty cancelled his engagement
and they had a magnificent lunch
While they talked about Paris and the
LdndOti theatre, the (jonfusioti ip Ettf-