Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 42, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 June 1928 — Page 25

JT TKE 29, 1929.

ggr CHAPTER 1 ■eRTIE LOU stood on the brink of the great adventure. She V was thrilled to the core of her youth-firm little body. And no one guessed it. Her own mother had not been permitted to see behind the mask of sophistication she wore to conceal her shy, dreaming soul. And not even Rod had known how happy she was. For Bertie Lou would not talk about it. She was afraid of being sappy. So she posed behind an armor of hoots and jibes for the weakness of sentiment. It was the code of her day among her friends. But tonight she could not fear at her happiness. It made her feel like a traitor to the other girls—this being so old-fash-ionedly palpitating and concerned. “Wouldn’t they razz me!” she thought. She knew she ought to be asleep. Marriage was a million years old—nothing to get excited about. And she was excited. No use trying to be blase for her own benefit. Not on this, her last night as Bertie Lou Ward. Tomorrow she would be Mrs. Rod Bryer. She let herself dwell upon the event with much the same thoughts that might have filled the mind of any maiden of yore on the eve of her wedding day. The influence of her friends melted away before the wonder in her heart—the thousand questions, the fears and eagerness.

That was only for tonight. The next day she would be modern again—a clear-eyed, know-what-it’s-all-about miss. No one would have to know that she had been misty-eyed ( and hesitantly prayerful the night before—just like any sap who believed in fairy tales. She thought of the advice one 17-year-old Solon had given her: “Don't let it get you, Bertie Lou. If you don’t like it, you can chuck it, you know.” “JBut it does get you—no matter how wise you are,” Bertie Lou whispered into the warm darkness of her room. And that was the nearest she ever had come to wisdom. She lay a little longer, lost in the enchantment of standing on the threshold of anew life, before the heat of the summer night pressed unbearably in upon her. The little breeze that had sprung up at sundown had died down again. Her room had grown sultry she had gone to bed. Bbißertie Lou threw back the sheet Slat covered her and slipped her BSli-tanned legs over the edge of ■Fti. She felt around with her toes Wot her old mules and thrust her feet into them. They clattered a little as she crossed the bare floor and groped her way down the hall to the sairs. Her mother called to her: ‘‘Bertie Lou, is tha, you?” I Bertie Lou halted in surprise. Her mother was a sound sleeper. But Bertie Lou did not know what it meant to have a little girl getting married on the morrow. Perhaps her mother was suffering from the heat. “I’m going down [for a drink,” she answered. “Want h glass of ice water?” “Don’t drink ice water, honey. There’s sorpe lemon juice in in a bottle in the refrigerator. Let the water run a while.” "The whole water supply is hot enough to boil an egg,” Bertie Lou replied, and went down the stairs on the banister. She didn't do this for sport—it was too old a habit for that—but to save time. She made a glass of lemonade for her mother after she’d had her own and started back upstairs with it Oh the way she passed the hall door leading to the dining room and a sudden wish to take a peek at the wedding presents seized her. She put the lemonade on a stand and opened the door. The light from the hall shone in upon the gift-covered dining table and Bertie Lou stood looking at the array with frank pleasure in the generosity of her friends. Since the family supper on the screened back porch she had been too busy to view the gifts arid she did not know that one had arrived which she had not yet seen. It was encased in a leather oblong with gold satin lining. Mrs. Ward had put it down on the edge of the table, with the case open. The light struck softly on a dull ' -bronze blade and caught Bertie Lou’s eyes. “Eureka! Another one!” she ejaculated, and went in to examine it and the card of the sender. “A funny wedding present,” she thought, picking it up. “Sharp as the devil!” Then she looked at the card. “Miss Lila Marsh.” Bertie Lou dropped the paper cutter quickly into the case. Her face, already flushed with heat and excitement, grew a trifle warmer in and her eyes darkened. Al- ' ways the name of Lila Marsh affected her in some way. If others were present she man- £ aged somehow to keep a poker face but if, as now, she was unobserved she showed her true feelings toward the girl who had refused to many Rod. The rich blood in her cheeks betokened consciousness of Lila’s importance and the darkened eyes expressed her will to stand firmly or her own ground. She was Rod’s girl now. Lila belonged to his past. Moderns didn’t trouble about a person’t past. Thai is, they didn’t acknowledge that they did. But Bertie Lou knew Lila—hac known her Jpr years. Lila was s menace. She’d always played thf game by her own rules. She nevei gave another girl a sporting chance

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Bertie Lou wasn’t going to be jealous of Rod’s past. But his future belonged to her, at least insofar as Lila was concerned. Lila had had her chance. She’d turned Rod down because he wasn’t making enough money. And she couldn’t see any chance for a bookkeeper in Wayville to leap into a fortune. Os course, it was all right for Lila to send a present. Bertie Lou conceded that. But why a dagger? Prom anyone else it would have meant nothing. But coming from Lila it might mean anything. That was the rub. Bertie Lou didn’t know. Lila hadn’t gone steadily with any boy since Rod. But she wasn’t lonely by any means. She was popular. What if she wanted Rod? Bertie Lou had openly subscribed to that overworked declaration about keeping no strings on anyone. “If he wants to go, he may. If any other girl can take him, she’s welcome.” That was before she fell in love with Rod. Now she knew that a possessive, fighting strain ran side by side with her pride. She would keep Rod if she could. And she couldn’t see how any girl could stop loving him. She didn’t believe Lila had. Lila had instilled the idea by a pose of sadness and frequent wistful references to a great mistake. Bertie Lou slammed the door of the dining room with a bang. Lila had spoiled her night. When she offered the lemonade to her mother, Mrs. Ward said: “Your hand is hot, honey; you don’t feel well?” “It’s awfully close, Mums; do you think it will rain tomorrow?” Bertie Lou evaded. “Maybe it will rain before morning and cool things off. Can’t you sleep?” “I’m too excited”—that was a slip—“l mean there are so many datned things to think about when you have a wedding. I wish Rod and I had eloped. What a lot of trouble it will save when people who want to get married just walk ; up to a mountain top and shout their union to the four winds.” She had raised her voice. Her father, sleeping beside her mother, stirred restlessly. Bertie Lou became quiet. “Want me to come and talk to you?” her mother whispered anxiously. It had disappointed her vaguely that Bertie Lou had not come to her with confidences and questions. “You need your sleep, Mums. I’ll read,” Bertie Lou replied, and slipped out of the room. Back in her own flower-papered bower, stripped of rugs and hangings for coolness, she threw her pillows down by the window and knelt upon them, arms crossed on the window sill, curly head upon them. It was more restful than her bed. And the orchestration of myriad summer insects soothed her. She didn’t believe she would sleep that night. At six her mother woke her, scolding. “You’ll be stiff as a ramrod. Go take a hot bath, real hot. Yes, I know it’s a hot day, but you do as I say. Cool off with a shower if you like, but don’t stand there rubbing your eyes out. Mother feelings hiding behind bustling authority. Bertie Lou had a better idea. She went down and put on a phonograph record and limbered up with the Black Bottom and a stomp. Then she took the hot bath and poured the last quarter bottle of bath salts into the tub. Her mother didn’t like them. She might as well luxuriate. Couldn’t pack a nearly empty bottle. She was well seeped in rose per- ! fume by the time she was ready for I the cold shower. Then came breakfast. It was slightly cooler on the shaded porch and Bertie Lou’s mother had provided iced honey-dew with lemon. No one “jawed” her for being half-dressed this morning. Her old organdie house coat was left unfastened over her limited underthings without rebuke. Bertie Lou’s sweet little body was no mystery to her family. Keeping her covered had been her mother’s chief concern-and activity for several years. Her dad grunted at her, lingered a bit over his second cup of coffee, and then took himself off to his carpenter shop to work until time to come back and dress for the wedding. He wanted to say something to Bertie Lou. He didn’t know what it was, but a man didn’t have a young daughter getting married every day. He felt he ought to say something. And he said nothing

because these half-naked young animals of the present day confused him. Across town another father felt the same way. Mr. Bryer wanted to have a frank, heart-to-heart talk with Rod, but he couldn’t speak his son’s language and he dreaded to be laughed at. Besides, he had a suspicion that his offspring knew more than he did anyhow. Rod’s mother would have given anything to tell Bertie Lou how to make Rod happy, but she didn’t dare. Bertie Lou was little and sweet, but she was no clinging vine, and Mrs. Bryer knew she would make a man happy in her own way or not at all.

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CHAPTER XLVI VIRGINIA was sadly disappointed. Nathaniel’s letter had told her nothing of his feeling for her ... it lacked tenderness. It was entirely in the nature of the repressed conversations that had usurped thejr old, free exchange of confidences after Niel’s discovery of her association with Oliver. He hoped, and Virginia failed to see, that it was ironical, that she was having a fine time. He spoke of his work, nothing (jefinite. The bad weather she was lucky enough to escape. The artists’ ball and, near the end: . Chiri’s a peach. Been a little off my appetite but she keeps me going with stuff she says I ought to have. I think I used to misjudge her. Remember the time we talked about the sawdust and the quicksand? I’m beginning to believe we were both wrong and that the kid’s full of gold-dust. Virginia finished the letter, folded it and put it away. There was a dull, heavy oppression in the region of her heart and a band seemed tightening around her head. Breathing was difficult and painful. Wisely she had chosen to read the letter in the privacy of her stateroom, but remembering the doctor’s warning against letting herself go, she closed her eyes, clenched her hands and waited calmly for the little horses that were stamping their hoofs up and down her nerves to leave her. She had told the medical man that it felt like that and he had replied that she might visualize her nerve torture so if she Wished, if she would promise to think of the horses as intruders that she must banish quietly, and never once feel that they were beyond her control. Virginia smiled them away, willed herself not to suffer because the thing she had set out to accomplish seemed done. Neil was not unhappy. When he heard of her marriage to Frederick Dean he would thank his stars she had found out in time that she wanted a rich husband. Virginia had accepted the price ol her father’s honor. There was no way to escape now. Before the end of March she must become the wife of the man she despised. The Agena would return to New York early in January. Just a few short weeks after that day in which to make SIOO,OOO. It was hopeless. Despair became her constant companion during the remainder of the cruise. But no one on the ship, excepting the doctor, knew that she I was suffering. For her protection he circulate

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIME!

Rod, who kissed her as if he’d been hungry all his life for her lips.

The wedding was to be at 10 o’clock in the morning. That would permit Rod and his bride to take the best train to the report in the hills, where they were to spend two weeks of their honeymoon during Rod’s vacation. At eight the florist had come and decorated the house. It did not take them half an hour to do it. But it was pretty, even if it wasn’t a garden of costly blossoms. Rod and Bertie Lou had been busy the evening before with white ribbon and lace paper bells, potted plants and vines. It was an old house with large rooms and high ceilings. Bertie Lou had been born in it and her

carelessly-dropped remarks concern- 1 ing her health—the tropics did notj agree with her . . _ touch of sun ... too much work. His campaign had a beneficial result. Thoughtful passengers relaxed their demands upon Virginia’s attentions and no one quizzed her about her pallor and nervousness. Virginia no longer felt herself urging the ship to speed by mentally conceiving herself down in the furnace room furiously feeding coal to the fire as she had done on the way from Havana to Port au Prince. She’d have preferred not to return to New York until the end of her year of freedom. It would be easier to be parted from Nathaniel by distance than by a love grown cold. But the day came when the ship was berthed in the home port. There was the red tape that delayed immediate landing, and then Virginia was back again, filled with mingled yearning to rush to Nathaniel and reluctance to see him at all. She had not written to him. She could not write in the vein he had employed. Silence would help to maintain the impression that she was growing indifferent toward him. For these reasons she had stifled her longing to reach him by mail. He could ascertain easily enough when the Agena was due to arrive if he wished to know, she consoled herself when she thought of the welcomeless homecoming she was inviting. But she did not expect to see him at the pier. She was long in leaving the ship, having remained to speed her “guests,” and to receive their expressions of gratitude for a plea|f ant voyage. She walked listlessly down the gangplank without a glance at the pier which was nearly deserted now. Suddenly a pair of arms opened out before her and she walked blindly into them. They closed about her, held her with her face pressed tight against a rough overcoat while Nathaniel confessed his joy at having her back. Happiness surged over Virginia like an ether that wiped out everything but this great, this indescribable relief of being with Niel again But trouble does not vanish until it is conquered. Nathaniel knew nothing of Virginia’s momentarily overwhelming joy. He only knew that she broke from his embrace before he was ready to release her, and looked at him with eyes already wiped of truth. “How good of you’,’ she murmured. “I didn’t e.-pect you.” i Nathaniel damped his ligs close

mother wanted her to be married under the same roof. Bertie Lou hoped people wouldn’t suffocate. She wanted to have the altar built under the great elm tree at the corner of the lot, but Mrs. Ward said it was too public. Well, Bertie Lou reflected, it would be a short ceremony. Then they could all go out to the long veranda where the buffet breakfast was to be served, while she and Rod drove away to the station. “I hope no one will think of dad’s old tin can in the barn,” she said to Rod when they congratulated themselves upon completing their plans for outwitting the car decorating committee. Their suitcases were to be deposit-

and scanned her face through nar-1 rowed eyelids for a few seconds. “I know you didn’t,” he replied, with a short .rasping laugh. “But I’m such a poor fool that I came anyhow.” “Coming up to my hotel?” she aked indifferently. "No, I’m no',” he growled. “I’ve had enough. But I’ll take a taxi with you and drop off at the studio.” He was furious with himself because he could not resist lingering in her company. He had come because he could not keep away. He had meant to greet her with no more wormth than she herself displayed. He’d take his cue from her. Her silence had proved her love was gone, but he wanted additional proof. That everything was at an end between them now was incontrovertible. He wanted to turn on his heel and walk away. And he hadn’t been able to do it. He took some pride in his refusal to accompany her to her hotel, but it hardly made up for his weakening enough to go as far as his studio. Virginia was mired in a strange mixture of emotions. She was elated one moment because his love had endured despite her casting him to the spell of her rival, and depressed the next because she could not reveal her elation to him. No matter now what he said or did she would know that he loved her. That one moment when he held her in his arms with unrestrained fervor betrayed him. He was her man, her man! Her heart sang the words in a paean of enchanted ecstacy. But so accustomed had she become to living one character in her heart and another for the world to see that Nathaniel never heard the song, or even suspected its existence. To him she was just a cold, indifferent, uninterested girl whom he had kissed against her will. They rode to his studio in a silence that was broken only by an occasional remark from one or the other. Nathaniel did not invite her to enter, though Virginia both hoped and feared that he would do so. She drove away with a little nod through the door he had closed behind him—a door he had closed with a feeling of having stepped forever from a paradise to which there is no re-entering. Heartless, cold, unreal—call her what he would, he loved her. Disrespect, hate, contempt, all had failed him w T hen he sought to use them to tear her out of his heart.

ed secretly In Mr. Ward’s old car, which they would drive to the station, leaving the banner-and-can-trimmed motor car belonging to Rod’s father at the curb. As Bertie Lou surveyed the completed work of the florists she felt her throat tightening over a lump that choked her. Maybe you could break your marriage if you didn’t like it, but you’d never have the same chance for happiness again, she felt. She sensed that overmuch experience with life didn’t bring the happiness that one got from one big success. She wanted to be happy with Rod and she knew that divorce was on the increase. It was getting harder to stay mar-

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Her face was sweet, her voice and body lovely. Nathaniel despised himself because they enthralled him, but he had not succeeded in loosening the leash that bound him t her. It was impossible really to believe what he knew of her. Virginia grieved deeply for him as the taxicab carried her uptown. And she grieved for the lost hours they might have shared together. In spite of all she had done to protect him from the final hurt he would experience when he learned she was going to marry another man, he must go through the ordeal Just the same. His pain would not be softened by the weeks of her absence. The cruise had been a needless, a useless sacrifice all around. Virginia obtained her key at the desk, exchanged greetings with the hotel attaches whom she met, and went to her room with the knowledge that she had made a mistake. She might as well have lived her year of life to the fullest—the cost would be the same. She had not started to get herself settled, her things unpacked and put away, before there was a rap on her door and she opened it to see Chiri Mond standing in the hall. “I know I’m rushing you.” the girl said before Virginia could recover from her surprise sufficiently to speak. “But I wanted to talk to you before you saw Niel.” Virginia stepped back and held the door open for her to enter. Chiri came in, pulled off her hat, tossed it onto the bed, rubbed up her shaggy bob and settled herself in the only comfortable chair in the room before she said another word. Then she asked for a cigaret. “I’m sorry,” Virginia said. “I haven’t any.” “You wouldn’t,’ the other returned. “Well, I won’t be able to get it across quite so well without a smoke, but I think it’s for the good of all hands to have it out.” She crossed her knees and threw herself back in the chair while she regarded Virginia with a set grin Virginia poised herself on the edge of the bed, near the end, and leaned on the footboard. She knew intuitively that Chiri had not come here at this hour for any light purpose. It must concern Niel. They had nothing else in common. Virginia decided not to tell her that she already had seen him. “I dare say Niel hasn’t written you anything about it,” Chiri began. “Well, things have changed since you went on your delightful southern cruise, Miss Brewster.” . .... ATo Be .Continued^

ried. If you didn’t want a divorce when your husband did, you were a dog in the manger. She couldn’t imagine Rod wanting a divorce —Rod, who kissed her as if he’d been hungry all his life for her lips. She had heard, however, girls talking about the technique of the boys. Their attendance at the movies had not been in vain, it was agreed. Had Rod ever kissed Lila like that? If he had, then he could some day kiss a third girl—or would she be only a third?—the same way. The new girl scorned to ask the man she was to marry if he’d ever loved anyone else. She didn’t want him to lie to her. Rod had no idea how Bertie Lou felt about Lila. They never talked about her beyond Rod’s brief—“she’s magnetized.” Bertie Lou swallowed the lump in her throat. What was the use? You couldn’t read the future. She closed her eyes a moment and relived Rod’s goodnight to her. It still sent delicious shivers along her spine. He had kissed her eyes, her lips, her hair, her throat. She was brought to earth by her mother’s voice calling her to some small task in the kitchen. Bertie Lou worked there and all over the house until the bridesmaids appeared. Then she went upstairs with them, not come down again until the wedding march summoned her. Most of the things for her trip were packed. One of the girls checked off a list she had made to use as suggestions for Bertie Lou. It saved her overlooking her handkerchiefs. The others put on their own dresses, pale green organdie, and then helped Bertie Lou into her wedding dress. She could not fail to look beautiful. The white taffeta was like the spirit of her youth. Soft, yet firmly crisp, supple and alive. Her hair, half red, half brown, framed her eager, sparkling countenance like a rich golden crown of heavy swirls. One of the girls said that her eyes would melt butter if she looked at it—they were so soft. With that peculiar velvety softness that only brown eyes have. She did not wear a veil, only a small wreath of white rosebuds, like the bouquet she was to carry in her

arms. The girls heard her mother come up the stairs and go into her room just when they’d finished fastening the wreath. Then she called to Bertie Lou and the girl went to her. The instant she was gone an excited chatter broke out among the bridesmaids. “Isn’t she sweet! Rod’s in luck! I wonder how Lila will feel when she sees her! She’s coming, isn’t she? I guess so. Bertie Lou couldn’t refuse to ask her. Darned if I would! Then you’d have everybody saying she had your goat. I should worry my extra weight off about that!” Bertie Lou was coming back, but they did not hear her. “I won’t believe Bertie Lou needs to worry about Lila Marsh!”. . . . “Oh, you don’t? Well, I do. I’D worry if that mantrap had an interest in my man.” . . . “But she hasn’t an interest in Rod. She gave him the gate!” .. . “Yes, but we all know why. He didn’t have enough money for a husband . . . but a sweetie now.” .. . “Oh, Belle, shut up! That’s rotten.” Belle shrugged. “Is It. So’s life then. Give me a cigaret. If Lila wants Rod she'll have him eating out of her hand. Bertie Lou’s too soft.” Another voice joined in. “I wonder if Bertie Lou likes being second love?” Someone turned on this speaker. “For Pete’s sake, Marcella, do you want to have to teach a guy to make love?” “I don’t want the girl he learned on right under my nose!” Marcella retorted. “He might have a relapse, or something.” Outside the door a bride’s faltering footsteps paused, hesitated between flight and entry, paused again, and Bertie Lou walked in among them. “Mother says we must hurry,” she said, as though she hadn’t heard a word. They were slightly uncomfortable, not being sure about it. But extreme compassion and tenderness still lay ahead of them. It did not trouble them much to hurt a few feelings. Life was like that—brutal—they would tell you. Amid merry laughter the final preparations for Bertie Lou’s wedding went on. There was a little stir that reached to her room, when Rod arrived. Guests were already taking their seats in the living room—where an electric fan contended with the heat—or standing around on the lawn. Bertie Lou’s fingers were like ice when someone handed her the bridal bouquet. The minister had come, her moth er had been in to say she would go down and have Miss Eustace, the church organist, begin the wedding march. Bertie Lou was ready. But her heart had grown heavy. Words rang in her head. Second love. Second choice, perhaps. And at her wedding there would be a girl, laughing at her maybe, who could have stood in her place had she so desired. “Bertie Lou, you’ll have to put on some rouge,” one of the girls cried suddenly. “You’re pale as a ghost.” Bertie Lou submitted, her eyes, closed, while they dabbed her cheeks in their skillful way with artificial color. Then the strains of “Lohengrin” stole softly up to her and she moved with her attendants toward the door. When she reached the top of the stairs she knew a wild impulse to rush back into her room, to tear the rosebuds from her hair and cry her heart out. Mechanically she moved down the stairs. “Here comes the bride, second choice, here comes the bride, second choice,” kept time In her head to the

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But when she entered the double doors of the living room a low murmur of admiration rose, to be quickly stifled by people who reminded themselves of where they were. That murmur was like a benediction to Bertie Lou. It gave her courage. She must be very lovely indeed, as the girls had said, to bring it forth. Even the prettiest girl in town, as some people called Lila Marsh, must grant this day to another. And then she saw Rod, waiting for her. Waiting for HER. Bertie Lou’s heart swelled with joy and pride. The pain vanished. The musio grew agonizingly slow. She wanted to fly to him, to his arms, to hear him say, “I love you, Bertie Lou.” Oh, he said that, many, many times. But never had he said: “I love you more than anything e&e in the world.” Bertie wanted him to say it. But Rod wouldn’t say much about his love. That would be sappy. Bertie Lou had a fleeting instant of hating herself for the defeat of her pride. She wanted to be Rod’s wife, second choice or third, or the last girl in the world. She knew that nothing could induce her to turn and rim back from him. Let Lila watch! She would see only joy. Bertie Lou did not look round for her. Her eyes were upon the toes of her small slippers. Remembering, she had torn them away from her bridegroom to assume the demure expresssion traditionally belonging to brides. Everyone might be silently speculating, as her bridesmaids had speculated, and she might never again see her pride in full flower, but life wouldn’t be endurable without Rod. If pride was the price she must pay for all the love she could wring from life, then so be it. She might learn some day that Rod had never loved anyone as he loved her—but Bertie Lou would always have to admit that she had married him in doubt—had been willing to be second love, second choice, rather than give him up. The spin and toss of emotions through which she had passed since her mother called her out of her room was almost too much for an overtired, sensitive girl. Bertie Lou scarcely heard the minister’s words. She responded automatically to the congratulations and good wishes of the relatives and friends who closed in upon them at the end of the ceremony. She hardly realized that she was Rod’s wife. Until Lila came up and kissed her, wishing her joy. Then Bertie Lou seemed to come to life again. The daze left her. Lila was ravishing in a pink frock and lilac pictured hat. What if her hair was not naturally blond? It was beautiful. She looked like a golden girl out of a dream. Bertie Lou was surprised that Rod did not esem to notice it. Lila was saying to him: “I’ll fix up your place while you’re away. I know so well what you like, Rod.” CHAPTER II “CURE, go ahead,” Rod replied G good-naturedly to Lila’s offer to help prepare the housekeeping rooms that he and Bertie Lou would occupy upon their return. Lila threw a glance at Bertie Lou, who appeared not to have caught the significance Lila had sought to put into her remark about knowing Rod’s tastes. The young bride was engaged in receiving the good wishes of old friends and thanking them in a slightly tremulous voice. Others were pushing forward for a word with Rod. But Lila had not finished with him. Stung a trifle by Bertie Lou’s failure to show any signs of annoyance, she said suddenly, with a high, tinkling laugh: “Well, I suppose I might as well take my last kiss now while I can get it.” Rod did not realize what she was about before she had flung both arms around his neck and given him a lingering kiss full upon the lips. “For the sake of auld lang syne,” she added. People stared as she moved laughingly away. Lila’s behavior frequently shocked the townspeople but she had always stopped short of getting herself ostracized. But this, they thought, was going a bit too far. Right under Bertie Lou’s nose! And the words that had made her and Rod one still echoing in the air! Bertie Lou took it like a thoroughbred. She acted just like a bride. Perhaps it nothing had happened to mar the occasion she would not have forgotten the mask of the flapper who wasn’t really a flapper at all, but just a sweet girl who was trying to live up to what she thought was expected of modern youth. ! It had been a blessed relief to Mrs. Ward when Bertie Lou had submitted quietly to being drawn to her new mother-in-law’s ample portions and wept over without protest. She could not know, of course, that Bertie Lou had buried her face gratefully in that broad bosom while she winked away a couple of unwanted tears. But Bertie Lou wasn’t going to i ignore Lila or passively let matters : take their course. Kissing might be in order at a wedding, it was true, but Bertie Lou knew perfectly well that Lila’s act meant more than a mere kiss. Whether or not it was to be followed by other overt assaults upon her happiness, Bertie Lou could not foretell, but Lila must be put right about it at once. Bertie Lou lived through two honeymoon weeks of never-to-be-forgotten bliss with nothing to mar them but the shadow of a predatory ex-sweetheart that flapped ominously in the background of her consciousness. Rod, as a husband, was flawless. He’d always been the finest looking boy in Wayville. But the bests thing about him was his utter ioJ difference to his good looks. ila Bfi CpQtltmedi M

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