"ANN STEPS OUT"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 9 December 1938, Page 12

"ANN STEPS OUT"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

MARGARET GORMAN NICHOLS.

CHAPTER Vlll..—Continued.

“I felt that she was going to do something like this. She was always so restless. But I thought when she met that nice boy, she might change. “It was meeting Dick Nelson that made her go away.” “Why?”

“She fell in love with him,” said Ann soberly. "And she knew if she stayed here, she'd love him even more. Then her little’ dreams of a career and Hollywood would vanish. Jean didn’t want her dream to vanish, Mother. She held on to it. Running away from the people she loved was the only way, she thought, to preserve it.” Her mother nodded her head. “I’ve never had very much. I never wanted anything except your father and you and Jean. I hope,” she lifted her eyes solemnly, "that you won’t have any silly thoughts, tooo.” Ann smiled. “I’ve had my silly thoughts. I lived on a dream for years. And now,” she lowered her eyes so that her mother couldn’t see the expression in them, “now —I’m rather like a log caught in a swift current. I come and go, and I don’t know exactly what for . . .”

“You’ll find yourself .... by yourself. It’s going to take some one else to make Jean find herself.”

Ann glanced at her watch. "Fve got to hurry,” she said. “I’m late.” She came to hex - mother’s side.- “Don’t sit home today thinking about Jean in New York. She’ll make out all right .. . . until we get hex’ back. You ought to go over to Grandmothei’ Dryden’s today. They always find something to laugh about over there.”

She sat huddled in' the street car, a small, slim figure of a girl in a dark coat with a chick little felt hat pulled down over her bright curls. Now and then she glanced at her watch. It wasn’t right, she thought, to take advantage of John Hamill’s friendship by being late. She tried to take her mind away from the subject of Jean. Doug .... engaged to “that amazing Gail.” It was odd that Doug had always gotten what he wanted—everything he wanted. As far as she knew, he had never experienced a tragedy in his life. “And I,” she thought with sudden biterness, “always get more than my share.” She got off the car and walked quickly to the Hamill house. Wang admitted her grinning broadly. “Master is waiting,” he said.

Ann went up the white steps to John’s study. When she opened the door, she saw him standing by the window looking out. Looking for her? She thought. “I don’t know how I feel towards this man. It isn’t the same feeling I have toward Doug or Nick. It’s different, and I don’t know what it riS.”

“I'm sorry,” she said, “for being late.

He came toward her. “I’m a pessimist. I was imagining street cars running over you ox 1 careless drivers ... .” “Robbing you of a secretary?” “The best secretary I ever- had.”

Ann took off her hat and coat, smoothed down hex- crushed hair; John went to his desk. They worked steadily all morning. At. ten Wang brought in chocolate and John, as he remarked, was “stealing in a cigarette from the doctor.” At one Wang knocked once more and announced that lunch was ready. “We’re lunching downstairs today,” “I never quite get over admiring said John.

your house,” she said, as she walked into the dining room.

“It’s a lonely, cold house. It doesn’t have all the warmth and gaiety and nonchalance that Nick’s apartment has. When you go there, you feel as though you’re stepping into a room that has had an awfully good time.” "You and Nick are so entirely different.”

He levelled his eyes and looked at her. “The veneer is different. That is all.”

It- was a perfect meal and Wang proudly brought in his tasty dishes. Suddenly, sitting there in the elegant room, wih John near her and Wang moving discreetly about, Ann wondered where Jean was. Was she hungry? Was she frightened? Was she 14 cold and lost and bewildered? John saw the change in her face. He put down his fork, pushed back his chair, and went to her. “What . . . are you ill, Ann?”

She put her hand on her forehead. “No . . .it’s nothing . . . I’m sorry . .” “But something is the matter. I saw it in your face. Won’t you tell me?” ■ She turned her head and their eyes met.

Am I at last, he wondered, going to do something for her . . . something I want to do?

Ann told him about Jean. “She’s a very restless girl, too wise for her years, and a little hard. She met a boy some time ago, a very nice boy, and they fell in love. There was no question of marriage. They’re too young. But we thought, my parents and I, that it would make her get over the idea of wanting to go on the stage.” He nodded and Ann continued, “But it didn’t. She’s very young but she’s afraid of being in love . . afraid. She thinks that just being a man’s wife isn’t enough.” He thought of that as she talked. “Just being a man’s wife isn’t enough.” Would it be enough for Ann? Being a man’s wife, keeping his home, loving him. and the children with fair, inimitable hair like her own? Was that What Ann wanted? "We don’t know where she is. She said she'd send us her address when she got settled." She paused a moment. "I know and you know that there is no place on the stage for an untrained girl. She’s very pretty, but it takes more than that.”

"Wantin gio go on the stage is not uncommon in girls of sixteen. But they get over it.” "I don’t know what to do. My parents believe in me so much—they think I can do anything.” “Does she have any money with her?”

“Fifty dollars. That won't last long. She’ll probably spend it on the first new dross she sees in a smart shop window.” She smiled. “She took it from me. It was all I had." She didn't know why she said that and she regretted it. John felt instantly ashamed. Fifty dollars! And it meant a great deal to her! Fifty dollars! And he spent that amount frequently on trivial things. He felt ashamed because he had so much and she had so little. •'I want you to let me help you.” "I can’t let you help. You’ve already done too much. It isn’t right of me to

tell you this . . . about my family affairs . . and you’re my employer." Hex - employer! How could he make her understand that he wanted to be so much more than that to her? Nick went away, he thought, so that I could tell Ann I loved hex’ before he told her. He gave hex- up so that I could have this opportunity. And now I’m wasting it because I haven’t the courage

"I don’t want you to feel that way,” he said. "In a way, I feel quite close to you. Nick's very fond of you. Will you,” he asked, “let me write a cheque for you to covei’ your expenses in New York?”

“When I told you that fifty dollars was all I had . .

“I thought at once that I could be of service. Nick would do the same if he were here.”

Ann’s head swam. She was getting in deeper and deeper with this man. She owed him too much already.

"I'll accept it as a loan. But I must pay it back. Oh, can’t you see, I’m not a little girl, a silly child. But if I should ever leave the agency, and it was known that I had received money from you . . .I’d feel awful about it.” They went upstairs to the study again. John wrote a cheque and as he passed it to her, their hands met. That brief contact encouraged him, but he thought, “if I ask her to marry me now, she will accept because she feels so grateful.” They didn’t talk that afternoon. John looked across the room at her at the typewriter, wanting desperately to-say the words that would transplant her from the position as his secretary to that of mistress of his home. He needed her curls that fit. hex' head like a sung cap, her eyes with the thick fringe of lashes, her red mouth. The dress she wore, he thought, would be discarded forever for softer, more feminine clothes . . for diamonds, furs.

At five o’clock they said good night, and John went downstairs to a lonely dinner. The chauffeur took Ann home. CHAPTER IX.'At dinner the Drydens discussed Jean again.

"But how,” inquired Mrs Dryden, “if we locate her, are we going to get the money for Ann to go to New York with?”

“It doesn't cost much,” said Ann. She couldn’t tell them about John’s cheque. “I can go on the excursion.” She smiled. “I’ll blow in my whole week’s cheque . . .”

“But .Ann,” mildly protested her father, “have you forgotten about . Yes, she had forgotten for the moment. Mrs Dryden had made an appointment for a physical examination at Johns Hopkins that week, and it would take Ann’s whole cheque to pay fox* it.

“I won’t go now," said Mrs Dryden. “I’ll wait.”

"You'll do no such thing,” sand Ann. “But how will you manage?” “I’ll borrow . . . from one of the girls in the office.”

The telephone rang while they were still at dinner. It was young Dick Nelson.

“I'm Jean’s sister,” said Ann. “1 got a letter from her,” he said in a very disturbed voice. “I . . I didn’t like to call you. Thought you had enough worries. But . . 1 kind of feel responsible . . .”

Jean had this up her sleeve before she ever met you, Dick.” “But don’t you have any idea where she is?”

“No. I’m waiting. When I hear from her, I'm going to get her.”

“If she’ll come . . .” "I think she’ll be glad enough to come home.”

“Gosh, I’ve been worried sick . . “Don’t worry. We’ll have her back soon.”

“I was wondering,” he paused, “it . . if you’d like to go to the movies with me tonight. I’m a little lonesome . . .” “I’d love to,” said Ann. “I’m a little lonesome myself.” "I’ll be around in half an hour. I've got an old wreck of a car, but it'll take us down town."

She hung up. "Who was it?” asked her mother

“It was Dick, pool' kid. We haven’t thought of him, and he's been hurt, 100. I’m going to the movies with him and cheer him up.”

He rang the bell half an hour later. Ann found Dick amusing company despite his worry over Jean. He joked about the delapidated car he drove, and told her she looked like Jean except, as he said, "for the fire. You’re not fiery like she is.” They saw a good musical comedy picture, stopped for a sundae, and talked about Jean. Ann’s optimism encouraged him. The next night Nick Hamill called from New York.

“This is your departed guardian,” he said and Ann, curled up in the chintz-covered chair in her bedroom, could visualize his lean brown face, and dark eyes. "Or shall I say your ex-guardian?” She knew that he liked her to be gay. There was little room in his life for solemn people. So she ran her hands through her hair in a brave gesture and smiled into the telephone. “ ‘Ex' is a much overused prefix.”

“How is John? I called him a while back. He said he felt much better. It It must be the daily contact with you.” “I'm not very sunny these days," said Ann with honesty. "Did he tell you about my sister?”

"Yes." He was immediately serious. All his flippancy vanished. "Crazy kid! Doesn’t she know that New York is full of starving, beautiful blondes with stage ambitions?" He lowered his voice. "I feel rather awful—not being able to do something about it and being right in New York, too. I thought I'd get in touch with some of the stage managers I know, but they’d never remember one girl . . .” “Just another blonde.”

"I’ll get in touch with some of them tomorrow through mutual friends. Maybe I can help. You really shouldn’t worry too much. As soon as she feels the first pangs of hunger, she’ll write you.”

■'She’s very proud and determined." “Like you? Only in a different way. Ann, there is something I want to talk to you about and emphasize. I can’t emphasise it enough. It’s about John "I know. You don’t have to tell me.” "Won’t you think of it seriously” “Nick, I want to talk to you before I decide anything. You always straighten things out for me . . ." “Poor child, you have a lot on your mind, don’t you?” "Yes, There’s Doug, too. I’m think-

ing of him. And John and Jean and you ...” He paused a moment. I? Don't think of me too much. Keep room for more important things.” “I was thinking,” said Ann, with a little catch in her throat, ‘‘of that night at your house at Gibson.” "The kiss I gave you for John.” "I may have been his but it was you.” She shook her head and laughed into the telephone. “Stop me, Nick, for getting serious with you. You will never let me.” ; ■ “I wish you were in New York tonight. I’m going to a party and I’d like to have your yellow head beside me.” "Who is the honoured lady going with you?” "One of this year’s debs.” He chuckled. “You should see her. She doesn't hold a candle to you. I’d like for you to be here, Ann. I’d like to stiow'you off.” “Seriously, though, I want you to think about John. And when Jean writes and you come to New York, we’ll go places . . .” "Is that an invitation?”