Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 234, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 January 1927 — Page 10

PAGE 10

Follow the Thrills of a Young Girls Dangerous Love, Through the Life Held a Promise of Something Deeper and Finer When Sonia Began Her Married Career After a Wild, Disillusioning Year and a Half, But Sonia Went Through Fire Again

By VIDA HURST CHAPTER I Sonia sat in the well-appointed waiting room her husband lared with Dr. Robert Wallace, beating a devil's tattoo with jr heels. Don had promised to take her out for dinner. An >ur ago he had telephoned that he was ready, yet on arrival ie found the door to his consulting room plosed. “Does Dr. Stillwtaer have another patient?” she asked the Oman at the desk. Esther Lane, bored and thin with the weight of forty, unved years, smiled. ‘Mrs. Wallace came in just after he'd telephoned, lie irely will be through pretty soon.” &he snapped the rubber band about her appiontment book ■ id shoved it into a drawer. What a day! \ ou’d think half the women in San Fran-j sco were ailing. And those who weren’t brought their babies, to see Dr. Wallace.” “Well, patients are what we.crave,” Sonia announced leerfully. “If only a tenth of what you say is true, it looks if my husband had been wise to start in for himself.” “I’d say so. \ou know, Mrs. Stillwater, lie has a way (out him. . . . Something chivalrous and protective that st paturally makes a woman want to put her head on his shoul;r and cry.” “You are very loyal.” “I’m very wise. I’ve worked for lots of doctors and I know l kinds.” She lowered her voice, glancing over one bony shoulder wards’ the office of Dr. Wallace, which was open and empty. “Now that one’s different. They like him, too. Telephone 11s all afternoon. ‘Oh, Doctah, this is Mrs. So-and-So. I was andering if I have remembered your instructions correcth . . . ’ iving me time to get off the wire, but, lady, lady, he’s not ding this woman.” Sonia moved to the window. She was not interested in a laracterization of the design, young child specialist. Eai*u. Don had admitted that Miss Lane talked too much, it he had added, “The old dear makes up for it by her warm art. None of these frozen efficiency -experts in my office.” “Asa matter of fact,” she continuel, unquelled, “there e two of us he’s not fooling. Mrs. W. never comes in but she ids some excuse to' look at his book. She’s on to him.” Sonia still said nothing, uncomfortably conscious that any nervation might be misconstrued. Presently Miss Lane rose, ljusted her mechanical marcel, and removed the glasses from •ed, kind eyes. I “I’m afraid I’ve been gossiping.” Sonia smiled. “Sounds like it, doesn’t it? But I know you don't mean unkindly.” The older woman donned a nondescript felt hat and shiny, uch-worn coat. “Why is it,” thought Sonia, dejectedly, “women like that ill insist on wearing tan?” “Well, goodness knows she has reason to be suspicious, Dut en so I like to seo a wife leave her husband’s business alone.” “Poor thing! No excitement of her own. The only kick e has is synthetic. From other people’s emotions.” Sonia sighed as the door closed. She smiled as she remembered it had once been the dread her life that she might become old and thin for lack of love, ttle danger there had been of THAT. But what in the world as keeping Don? Elaine Wallace was the picture of health as the door lened. The softly lighted inner office made a gracious backound for a lady whose small, black eyes glittered like diaonds in a pretty, animated face. “Hello, here’s Sonia. I suppose you’re furious.” “Certainly am. Don phoned me an hour ago.” Glancing up eagerly, to meet her husband’s eyes, Sonia was Irprised to sec Hwit he looked very serious. “What’s the matter, old thing? Dreadfully tired?” “Some busy day,” he admitted wearily. “Just a moment, pnia, while I change my coat and wash my hands.” The two women chatted. “Seens to me you’re awfully festive for a Chinese dinner ►vvntown. ’ ’ “Did Don tell you where I wanted to go? You khow I have iver gotten over my first thrill with it. But we’re going to e theater afterwards. Why don’t you and Bob come, too? e haven’t been together for a long time.” ‘I don’t know where Bob is,” his wife answered. “Also I dest food they have there and smells. Makes me ill for days forwards.” She readjusted the brim of her smart velour. “I like your hat,” said Sonia. “Do you? So does Bob. He says it’s tli£ most becoming ie I’ve had for a year.” “Bob notices good looking clothes, doesn’t he?” Sonia rearked idly.

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“What do you mean? Has he been raving to you?” The other woman’s brittle voice startled Sonia. “Why no! 1 don’t even know what made me say that except that he always seems to admire the things you wear.” “Very neatly done, my dear! Well, goodby, I’m on my way.” “Is there anything the matter with Elaine?” she asked later, after Don had ordered chow mein. “Will you ever learn, honey, that the ideal doctor’s wife never asks questions?” “I ought to know it by this time.” “•You ought to know if there were anything wrong 1 wouldn’t tell you. But as a matter of fact Elaine was not consulting me professionally.” “THAT for me!” “Exactly!” Don sighed but his gaze rested on the vivid face opposite. “I wonder if you know how fascinating you are?" Her broAvn eyes flashed an/instant response. “Oh, darling, that’s wonderful. You’re talking just like a lover.” v “Don’t I always?” “Absolutely not,” she sniffed. “Most of the time you're just a husband.”

But was any other husband in the world so adorable? Tripping by his side, hurrying as always to keep up with his long stride, Sonia wondered why fate had been so good to her. She loved Don Stillwater so much that it frightened her. Often, in the night, she woke, trembling to think how deeply she loved him. The memory of his faith and patience at a time when she had been worthy of neither made her passionately grateful. But if was not only-gratitude she felt. She told herself her love was a magic combination of admiration, companionship, physical attraction, and sheer delightful interest in the man himself. He would have interested her if hej had not been her husband. Had won her affection while she was fascinated by another man. Love had developed all the sweetness in her nature, but Sonia was not blind. She knew few marriages that were so satisfactory as her own. Why should she —Sonia Marsh of Stockton —have been so fortunate? It had been her never varying question since coming to San Francisco as Don’s wife. She regarded him with childlike awe and a reverence both touching and amusing. Between acts at the theater Sonia found herself thinking again of Elaine. She had felt a secret understanding fluttering between the other woman and Don as she stood poised in his door. Elaine reminded her of a scintillating, scarlet butterfly. Perpetually on the wing! She had always interested Sonia, who hud known her only as Robert Wallace’s wife. She was about thirty, restless, sensitive, darting from mood to mood. Don had known the Wallaces since he was a boy. He had told her they had played together as children. . . . Sonia, for the first time, wondered how much that intimacy might implay. Then she smiled. “I believe I'm jealous,” she confessed, as they drove home. ‘T should think you would be.” Did she imagine it or |was there an unusual depression in his tone? Sonia leaned out to put her hand over his on the wheel. "You know I’m not, really. Only if Elaine WASN’T consulting you professionally, why can’t you tell me what it was?” ‘‘Don’t be foolish,” he answered rather curtly for Don. ‘‘Surely you, of all women, do not expect me to betray a confidence.” c“lt must be about that husband of hers,” Sonia said, wickedly. He rose to her bait at once. ‘‘Why do you say that?” ‘‘He’s quite a flirt, isn’t he?” “Is he? You seem to know.” even if that were it,” she continued, determined now to confirm her suspicion, “I don’t see why she needs to weep on your shoulder.” “What makes you think she did?” i “Oh, Miss Lane says they all do.” “I'm going i.o have to chloroform that woman.” “She knows too much, doesn't she, darling?” “She talks too much,” he replied, grimly. “There is nothing strange about. Elaine consulting me, Sonia. We have been friends since we were children.” “I know.” “In fact,” continued Don, deciding he might as well give her all the information he could, “Elaine and I were engaged at one time.” “Why, Don Stillwater!” “Anything startling about that?” “There certainly is. We've been with them for nearly a year, yet you've never told me before.” “Never thought of it before. We were both 17. I was spending the winter here.” He chuckled without much amusement It seemed to his wife. “She led me a dog's life.

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Temper like a wild cat. I never knew what to expect next....” “How long did it last?” Sonia asked, careful to betray no flicker of her increasing interest.

SONIA

"Six months, I suppose. I went home and when I came back it waa all over know how tnose tilings are?" v But Sonia was silent. For some reason she had never imagined Don Stillwater in love with any one but herself. All of his later years had been spent away from Stockton. In college, in France, in the hospital ....It made her see him in anew light. Engaged to Elaine! Why had he never spoken of it before? What connection did it have with the hour they had spent in his office that afternoon? She told herself that nothing could ever make her suspious of Don. She would have staked her soul on his loyalty. But why, when Elaine Wallace confided her troubles to him, need it depress him so afterward? And why the “snap" in Elaine’s good-by? Sonia w’ondered. CHAPTER II Morning found Sonia, fresh in pink gingham, behind the coffee pot. She prided herself on the breakfasts she prepared for her husband. Later in the day a girl would come to clean the flat and prepare dinner. But breakfast was Sonia’s hour. She rose first, bathed and dressed while Don answered his telephone. Determined that if anything were bothering her “sweet old Don" she would not add to his worries by mentioning it. He smiled at sight of the breakfast table, with its blue and yellow cloth, gay dishes, orange juice in cocktail glasses and one yellow rose. “Always the artist, aren't you, honey?" “Meaning what?" questioned Sonia, testing the bubbling coffee. “The yellow rose, for one thing.

It wouldn’t be without them, Sonia.” She reached across the table to give him a pat. “Why wouldn’t I love them? They make me think of you. Don't you remember bow you used to bring them to me?” It was seldom ei'her of them referred to the past. A cloud flickered across Don’s face, but he did not answer. And she had learned by now that his silence often had more meaning that his reply. Sonia reproached herself for having brought anything unpleasant into the only time they were ever sure of having together. “I believe I'll start swimming lessons,” she announced, suddenly.” “Good idea! You don't have enough exercise. That's with half the women who come into my office. Strenuous physical exertion would blow the cobwebs out of their minds and cure their imaginary ailments.” “You wouldn't have any patients in that case.” “Oh, yes I would. There is plenty of real suffering in the world. It would give me a chance to devote my time to it.” She gazed at him wistfully. “Your work is the biggest thing in your life, isn't it?" “It has to be. honey. I'de be a mighty poor doctor if it weren’t.” Strangely enough his answer neither annoyed nor distressed her. j She told herself that was one reason she admired him. Didn’t she know

bat her part in that work was not a small one? It was she who sent him forth, rested and refreshed, for the day's battle. He came home, exhausted, to her eager arms. What better position could any woman ask? Certainly not Sonia, whose devotion must find expression in service for the one she loved. She rose from the table to follow him to the telephone, wriggling inside his arm while he talked. The little habit never failed td amuse him. But this morning his arm did not tighter about her. His face showed no semblance of a smile. Like a disappointed puppy, she crept away. She was back, however, in time for his farewell kiss, lifting a* face which showed na sign of her inward misgiving. “ ’By, old thing! Let me know what time to have dinner.” “I will. Better start those swimming lessons. It will do you good.” She returned to the living room, thoughtfully. So intangible yet so sure is the instinct of love. Something was bothering Don. Something connected with Elaine Wallace. Sonia was as positive of it as if he had told her in so mifny words. Yet she knew if she pinned him down to a direct question he would not admit that anything was wrong. “Well, I shan't do it,” she told herself, severely. "Whatever it is does not concern kne. I refuse to worry about it. He is entitled to his own thoughts and his own Secrets, even if he is my husband.” But the gallant effort brought tears to her eyes. It was hard to apply her code of sportsmanship to the man she loved. Determined not to let marriage deteriorate her standards of personal liberty, Sonia had

found it difficult before now. There | were times when it would have been J so much easier to be sheer midvictorian “female,” and relax into tantrums of tears. thought, opening the door for Tom, who entered with his unfailing, obsequious greeting, she really did not have enough to do, She decided to go that very day and arrange about swimming lessons. Half an hour in the pool left her invigorated and radiant. Don had been right. She was becoming “soft” and too sensitive. She would swim two or three times a week. And perhaps Elaine would play golf with her. Because she knew Don would be in the office at noon, she stopped to see if he had time to go to lunch. When she entered the waiting room she knew there was no chance. “Are these people all waiting for Dr. Stillwater?” she whispered to Miss Lane. “Everyone of them. They don’t start bringing the kiddies until 2 o’clock as a rule.” Sonia, glancing in Dr. Wallace’s open door, saw the young child specialist going, through his mail. “I won't bother my husband,” she said, to the woman at the desk. “I thought if he wasn't busy he might have lunch with me. Since he can’t, I'll run along.” Halfway to the door she decided to go in and speak to Robert Wallace. They had been rather intimate with the Wallaces when the two doctors first opened their office. Sonia felt that Elaine might suspect her of not promoting the friendship, which was of long standing between the other three. Nothing she disliked more than to be thought petty. So she entered Dr. Wallace’s door with a gay “Good morning. How’s everything?” Instantly he was on his feet, with a charming smile. That smile,, thought Sonia, must be the secret of his fascination. Since falling in love with Don, she no longer cared for handsome men. Yet she admitted that Robert Wallace’s features were worthy of any movie star. “Bless your heart, Sonia. Come and shake hands. Haven’t seen you for ages.” “That’s the reason I stopped,” she explained returning his clasp, warmly. “You and Elaine must come over oftened. Don enjoyed our bridge games so much last spring. We must try to have some more.” He closed the door and pushed forward a chair. “Sit down and talk a moment. What have you been doing? You look like a million dollars.” She smiled. “Count on your noticing my new coat.” "It's stunning, Sonia. Do you know I am always admiring your clothes?” She gazed at him in surprise. “Mine? Certainly not! 'Tve heard you raving over Elaine's." “That’s when Elaine's around. I never miss a thing you wear. Your taste is exquisite.” Sonia was not impressed. She was accustomed to masculine admiration as well as Dr. Wallace’s flirtatiousness “Sweet of you to say so,” she returned, cheerfully. “I have a mania for clothes. Always have had. Perhaps because my mother makes them.” “You mean your mother makes yours?” “Some of them. My mother is a dressmaker. A wonderful one.” said Sonia, stanchly. “I was carrying home a dress she had made for Don’s mother the day he first took notice to me.” “Is that so? Some way I have always pictured you in the lap of luxury. Servants, jewels, ’n everything.” Remembering her childish dream of emeralds and elegant surroundings Sonia smiled. “Everything but! I don’t think I ever escaped washing the dishes in my life until I came to San Francisco.” He gazed at her from long-lashed hazel eyes. “You interested me the first time I saw you. Something mysterious in thtfse green eyes. As if they were concealing secrets . . .” “The secret of my last bill at Iligbee's,” laughed Sonia, rising. He came across to her, putting one arm about her shoulder in a friendly fashion. “Don’t think I believe that. You’ve lived, tny dear.’/ She faced him. uneasily. Had he heard a rumor of those past hateful months? “I don’t know what you mean,” she faltered. “Don't you? Think, it over. Some day I may decide to answer the challenge in your eyes ...” 1 “Oh, well.” thought Sonia, hastening down Euclid avenue. “He probably didn't mean anything. Merely his line.” But supposing he did? Supposing that old hydra-headed scandal should lift itself no\y to hurt Don? The thought was like a hand constrict ing her heart.

“Oh God,” she prayed, "anything j but that. I’m willing to pay any other price. Endure any suffering.” She stopped in a drugstore for a malted milk. Her healthy appetite for lunch was gone. Could it be anything connected with her affair with Franklin Crane that worried her husband?” Her restlessness increased as she returned home. She decided to call Elaine and ask them to dinner the following night. If they had heard anything she would force the issue. She would find out if she had been mistaken in the coldness she fancied in Elaine's voice. If there was anything wrong she preferred knowing it. Without consulting Don, who left their rare social engagements to her, she called the Wallace apartment. But before she had time to voice her invitation, Elaine said, “Oh, hello, Sonia. "Were you just talking to Bob?” “No. Why?” “He said you were, that’s all. I was in the office when you called.” “Do you mean over the telephone, Elaine?” X “Certainly. Why the secrecy, my dear? lit’s no crime, is it?” “But I didn’t,” Sonia answered, bewildered. “I was in the office at noon. Why should I call him?” “That’s your business.” Sonia was furious. Bob was trying to protect someone else, of course. But why Involve her in a lie? She tiled to make her voice as cool as Bhe continued. “There is no reason why I should deny a telephone conversation with Bob, Elaine. But I called to ask you both to dinner.” “When?” “Tomorrow night. It’s been so long since we rere together.” “I’m sorry,’' Elaine answered, coldly, “but w couldn’t possibly come. I proml ?d Bob’s mother." Sonia replaced he .receiver, sick at heart. She *elt confident now that the Wallaces mi t have heard. CHAPTER m It was a very grave Sonia, who greeted Don that evening. She could not make up her mind to tell him her suspicions. But she wished hungrily, that he would bring it up himself. He looked so white and tired. So worried! Sonia was sick at heart to think, perhaps, he was upset on account of her. But she dared not ask him a second time concerning his conversation with Elaine. Obviously, he did not care to discuss it. She tried to talk of inconsequential things. He tried to appear Interested. It was a relief to both when they could leave the table for the comfortable silence of the living room. Don smoked his pipe. Sonia turned the pages of a fashion magazine. Finally he said. “You were in the office today?” “Yes. Why?" “I wondered what you wanted. Miss Lane said you were in to see Bob.” “For two minutes,” Sonia replied, annoyed. “I told her I came to drag you out to lunch but when I saw your waiting room I knew there was no chance.” “She told me,” Don answered, adding, “You know I seldom get away at noon.” “It would be a lot better for you if you did. I don’t think much of sandwiches and milk sent up from a restaurant." She continued her desultory reading, announcing causally, “I asked the Wallaces to dinner tomorrow night.” “Are they coming?” “Elaine said they couldn’t. She said they had promised to go to Bob’s mother’s.” Don puffed in silence. “Well, they probably had.” “They had not,” she repeated, positively. “Because Tom works for Bob’s mother and she’s in New York.” Don looked at her in astonishment. “See here, Sonia, you’re probably mistaken.” “No, I’m not. fflaine didn’t want to accept.” “Don’t be foolish,” he insisted. But his mouth became suddenly grim. Then the telephone rang. Sonia had learned to hate the shrill, discordant, Jangle- which was sure to interrupt their most intimate moments. She listened disgustedly. But Don’s voice was so reassuring. So kind! She could imagine the quieting effect it must mave on the distressed patient at the other end of the line. “Don’t be frightened, Mrs. Morton. I’ll come right over.” She ran for his coat. "Will you be gone long?" “Can’t tell, honey. It’s Mrs. Mor-

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ton. She should go to the hospital if I can persuade her.” All traces of weariness had vanished. His eyes were alert and keen. “Goodnight. Don’t sit up for me." She went to the window to watch his car disappear in the rain. How she loved the lights gleaming on sodden pavements, the clanging street cars, the swirling, never-end-ing traffic that was her city. And this flat, carefully furnished by Sonia and Don’s mother, was like a little castle. Here was the beauty , she had always craved plus the deep, ( inner, satisfaction of loving and being loved by a. man like Don Stillwater. How silly to permit herself to be disturbed by the coldness of Elaine. Whatever her reasons! Supposing she had heard rumors of that old, disgraceful affair. That was one of the chances Sonia had taken when she returned to San Francisco. Don had said they would fight it out together. So long as he had no regrets she had nothing to worry over. But the nagging thought persisted that, perhaps, he did regreat, when he saw her with other women. Elaine had always been a "nice” girl. She tried to comfort herself by thinking, “Well, he didn’t want to marry her. She wouldn’t have made him happy.” Don had Insisted on claiming* Sonia as his wife after ho knew the sordid details of her affair with Franklin. He trusted her. Why be upset over little irritations when the important things were so right? She decided to be sweet and happy so that he would forget whatever it was. She would “doll-up” a procedure which always pleased the sober doctor, and prepare a lunch for his return. Eleven o’clock found her enchanting and mysterious in cream georgette and lace. Her narrow eyes and smooth, blaok hair gave the effect of a nun. In a most wicked costume. It was the sort of contradiction Don appreciated. And Sonia know it. , In the kltohen she had put out. J cheese and pimento for sandwiches. • The chocolate was ready to boil. - He entered, hggaard with fatigue. “Thought I told you not to sit up?” “I wasn’t sleepy. , , .” He held her away from him, drinking in her beauty with thirsty eyes, suddenly burying his face in her neck. “I love you so. If you only knew how much I love you. . . “But I do know it, flarling.” Did sh * imagine it or was there an unspeakable sadness in his tone? “You have bewitched me, Sonia.” With cool, satiny palms, she caressed his face, cooling. “I have a little lunch all ready for you. , .” They ate in the breakfast room, Sonia chattering like a magpie, determined to slay any slinking, threatening ghosts. But when they had finished, he toow a medical Journal and started for the sunroom. 1 "You aren’t going to sit up any later?” she begged. “Yes. There’s a oe I’m interested in. ...” He held her in his arms, tenderly but she fancied, impersonally. As if his profession were already pushing between. “Goodnight, honey!” “Oh, goodnight!” cried Sonia. She was pouting as she crawled into bed. The next morning as Sonia was making out her grocery list the telephone rang. To her surprise her mother’s voice answered. “I came up on the train. It is all right for me to come out?” It was unlike Anna Marsh to make an unexpected appearance but Sonia was delighted. She greeted the thin, plainly dressed figure with a lump in her throat. What tragedy darkened those say eyes! Anna’s secret, told only once, had seeped into her features, hardening all the gracious lines into irony. “Mother, you look thinner." “I’ve lost seventeen pounds.” “What's wrong? Suddenly the reason for her visit flashed into Sonia's mind. “You aren’t sick?” Anna removed her severe, little hat and sighed. “I’m afraid I am. I came up to consult your husband." Alarm contracted Sonia's heart but she answered, confidently, “Well, he can fix you up, I'm sure. Now you sit down while I call the office and make an appointment. Don’s doing so well, mother, Mc’s so busy.” She felj. humble before the luminous sweetness of her mother's smile. “I'm so glad, Sonia. It’s wonderful the way everything has come out.” (To Bo Continued.)