"ANN STEPS OUT"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 7 December 1938, Page 12

"ANN STEPS OUT"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

MARGARET GORMAN NICHOLS.

CHAPTER V. —Continued. The cab stopped at a red brick colonial house in Guilford. The cedar bushes on the lawn were covered with snow, and the white walk to the house was as yet untrodden. Ann reached the steps and rang. A Chinese servant opened the door and led her up the white stairs. In the few moments.of going up the steps she caught a fleeting glimpse of the house. Spacious rooms, colonial furniture, shining floors, and an atmosphere of culture and quiet all combined to make John Hamill's house the sort of house Ann had always loved and which, she felt, was the sort of house John Hamill loved, too. When the servant opened the door and admited her, she saw him sitting in a chair by the window. He did not look gruff and impersonal now as he looked at the office. She did not know quite what to say.

CHAPTER VI. “I'm glad you came,” John Hamill said. “Mr Harriman thought it rather out of order, but Harriman doesn’t know anything about this account. Take off your things. Wang,” he addressed the servant, “get Miss' Dryden some hot chocolate.” Ann took off her coat and hat. and smoothed down her hair. She sat opposite John Hamill. “Mr Harriman thought you were too ill to work,” she said. “Called me obstinate, didn’t he?” “Yes, and if I may say so, I agree with him.”

“Yes, I know. But I can’t' let up the pace. I haven’t had a vacation in ten years. Week-ends now and then but not a real vacation. Just a glutton for work.” Ann’s eyes travelled about the room. A man's room certainly. Everything was solid and plain and secure. That was John, too, she thought—solid, plain and secure. The house, although lovely, did not look as though a woman had ever lived in it. There were many things here and there that, by the aid of a woman’s hands, would give added comfort and beauty to an already beautiful home.

She worked steadily all morning. Lunch was brought in. Then Hamill sugested that she be shown through the house and Wang, in uncertain English, talked and pointed out the rooms for her.

The room adjoining John’s was empty. Ann asked Wang why it had never been furnished. “Missus’ room,” he said .shaking his head.

“There is no mistress,” said Ann

“She don’t come yet,” said Wang and grinned. Ann went back to John. “I love your house,” she told him, taking her pencil again in hand. “It looked so lovely when I drove up—snow on the cedar bushes, you know. If I may ask, why is it that you and Nick don't live together?”

He smiled. “It’s rather a rule in the family to live alone. Nick lives in an apartment, my mother and sister live in Roland Park, and I live here. Matter of different tastes, I guess. Nick always kept, such terrible hours and he used to bring such queer people to the house when we were boys.”

“Queer people?” asked Ann, smiling at the remembrance of Nick. “Yes. Tramps and wandering artists and a new dog every day. Our place became a private dog pound.” Ann looked out of the window. She was thinking of the night she had met Nick and of his kindness. Was she, as she had reminded him once, just another of the innumerable stray dogs he had picked up? Was it pity that had prompted his friendship? “I don’t mind admitting things,” she said presently, meeting John’s eyes fully. “He found me like that—at a dance in Roland Park where I wasn't wanted.”

She got up and walked to the window and looked out, conscious that John’s eyes had followed her there and were lingering upon her. “Why 'did you tell me that?” he asked.

"I don’t know really. 1 couldn’t help but think of it." She turned about and smiled faintly. “I'm sorry I mentioned it.”

"You,” he said, “should make most girls feel horribly ashamed. Girls, that is, -who’ve had everything handed to them on silver platters. You support your family, don't you?” “Not exactly. My father is a bookkeeper. My sister is still in school. At least, we are trying to keep her in school. She has stage ambitions.” “And you. contribute to the support of the family?” “Of course.”

“I have no right to ask' these things, but I have wondered about you.” He glanced at the clock. It was three. "You’ll have time to go down town and see a movie before dinner.” She looked at him. He did not look old now. He could not possibly be more than thirty-five, and she had thought, when first she came to work for him, that he was rather an old man. His absorption in business, his practical coldness, and his keen business mind were not synonymous with youth. He turned his head and looked into the fire. “So many people think that money can buy anything. It can’t. Do you know that it can’t, Ann?” Il was the first time that he had called her name. "I’ve been trying to letl my sister that."

"I've always had money, but I've missed a great deal.” He hesitated, embarrassed at the boldness of his thoughts. He had never understood women, but he thought he understood Ann. There were no deep mysteries to fathom in her. There was none of the false glamour about her with which girls surrounded themselves these days. Still he was afraid that she would think him mad if he spoke. He would give her time to know him better. He wished he knew all the flattering little tricks of winning a woman that Nick knew, he envied this wiser, younger brother. When Nick came back he would ask him what to do about Ann!.

“I hope.” she said, “that you are back at the office soon.”

1 could go to the office," she said

“I shall be back before long. Meanwhile, you’re to come here every day,” he said. "We’ll work together. You don’t mind?” Mind! Mind working in this lovely house with John Hamill? Mind feeling his lingering glances upon her? Mind this contact with all the things she secretly wanted?

“No. I shall love coming here." She put on her hat and coat, hating the worn shabbiness of her coat. She gave him her hand and he held it for a moment.

“Tomorrow," he said. “Tomorrow,” said Ann. Wang bowed her out and John's chauffeur drove her home. As she passed a corner near her home, she caught a glimpse of Jean talking to a tall boy. Ann knew at once that it was Dick Nelson—the boy Jean didn't want to love because it would interfere with her ambitions! Ann remembered with sudden bitterness winters ago when she and Doug had stood on this same corner and talked after school with the snow and wind in their faces. Everything was different now, and changed! And here was Jean doing the same thing, falling in love with a boy’s dark eyes. In the house Ann carelessly picked up a paper while her mother talked. Mrs Dryden, greatly excited over Ann's visit, wanted to know in detail the furnishings of John Hamill’s house. Mrs Dryden suddenly stopped talking at the change that took place in her daughter’s face. In the society column was the announcement of Gail Tracy’s engagement to Doug.

Ann went to her room and closed the door and leaned against it. A numb feeling possessed her. Through her mind went the words in the paper. Just a small paragraph, she thought, that would change the whole course of her life—a small paragraph that meant the end of hope for his return. All during these trying weeks —her new friendship with Nick and John Hamill, her work—she had never ceased to think that Doug would come back, arrogantly at first, then humbly. To her high sense of devotion and loyalty it seemed impossible that a love of so many years could be easily cast aside! Marriage with Gail! It would be on every one’s tongue. Women would be secretly glad that Gail was to be married, and the girl’s erstwhile lovers would shake Doug’s hand and envy him. But would they envy him? Ann remembered some one’s saying: ‘lGail can’t be satisfied with one man. She has to have one to fit into every mood she has.”

There would be a beautiful wedding and honeymoon; the papers would be sure to give the event much publicity. Gail and Doug—off on a'great adventure! Ann went to the window and looked out. Presently Jean came in. “Dinner is ready.” “I don’t think I want anything.” Jean turned to go, paused, then said, "I'm sorry but . . “You don’t have to say anything,” said Ann. "There isn’t anything to say.' I let him go, and she got him. But she is wiser than I am. I could have married him when he went to college that first year, but I didn’t want to keep it a secret.” She frowned and fingered the curtain. “I wonder if I have been wrong.” “It’s too late now to find excuses,” said Jean. “You weren’t wrong. You did exactly right.” Ann didn’t go down stairs that evening. The pitying-faces of her parents would have been intolerable. She sat in her room and thought of Nick Hamill, and wished that he were home. It was a curious thing that of all the people she knew —her parents and relatives—a chance pick-up acquaintance knew more of what went on inside of her than anyone else. Nick Hamill understood. Whatever was said about him, he had a great capacity for understanding. She went to her desk and got Doug’s letters and tore them into fine bits. She didn’t read them, but she knew them so well the dates on the envelopes brought the contents to mind. Doug at a summer camp and lonesome for her. DoUg at college that first year —homesick. The handwriting changed with the years—from a boyish scrawl to a more legible, sohisticated handwriting. Changed, she thought bitterly, as he had. Changed from the boy she had loved into a stranger she didn’t know. It would have been relief to cry. But she couldn’t. She just sat there and let the scraps from his letters sift through her fingers.

When Jean came in the room that night before going to bed, she found Ann still sitting at her desk, her yellow head in her arms —asleep.

When Ann called at John Hamill’s the following morning, he knew that something was wrong. He knew from her quietness and the look in her eyes that something had hurt her very deeply. He didn’t question. He proceeded with the correspondence, and no unnecessary word passed between them. Ann sat with her head lowered over her pad and her busy fingers flying across the pages. When she had opened her eyes that morning, it had seemed impossible to see the day through. How could she, she asked herself, see John Hamill, work with him, and show none of her feelings? Nick . . Nick. If only he were home! Nick would understand.

"I’m going to the hospital for an examination tomorrow,” John said late that afternoon. “You know what they are. I suppose I’ll spend the day there, passing from one doctor to another.” He looked at her quickly. “I’ve worked you rather hard. You needn’t come in tomorrow.”

John smiled. "You’re the first secretary 1 ever had who didn't beam at the thought of a dav off."

Was he trying to question her? She had been so quiet today, and yesterday had been almost gay, almost as if she were his friend and not his secretary. How could he possibly know that the thought of being at home for a day with her mother and Jean and their poor little efforts to take her mind from Doug was unbearable? Shut up in her room all day and everywhere she turned was a snapshot of him!

“I’m sure Mr Harriman can use me.” she said. "You're a strange girl,” said John Hamill. His chauffeur took her home. (To be Continued.)