THE MARRIAGE MEASURE

Star (Christchurch), Issue 19033, 31 March 1930, Page 16

THE MARRIAGE MEASURE

“STAR'S” NEW SERIAL

By

BARBARA WEBB

“Fine! ” Robert cried, jumping to, his feet. “ Bring them in, Anne. An- j drew, I want you to meet my family, j Hello, Elizabeth and Bobby and Betty, j too. My goodness this is a regular family party ! Going to take me out to lunch, all of you? They were in the office now arid Anne, closing the door, heard Andrew talking to Mrs Mason and including the children in the general greetings. Gene looked at her mockingly as she came back to her desk. “Touchingly domestic, isn't it? ” she observed. “Let’s go out now, Anne — I need a change of scenery.” It was early for the lunch hour but Anne’s head ached a little and she knew she would feel better for some food, so she joined Gene directly and they went together to a tea-room •nearby where, as they arrived before the rush hour, they got a table for two in a corner alone. Gene, hadn’t talked at all on the way to the restaurant and Anne, feeling sleepy and miserable, was glad of the silence. But once they were at the table, with the waitress gone for their order, Gene broke out with, “Isn’t it simply amazing, Anne, the wives men marry ?” “Is it? I hadn’t thought much about it,” Anne said idly. “Well, look for instance at Mrs Mason. Our Bobbie, for all his priggishness, is one of THE men in the advertising game, and yet she looks and dresses like the wife of any second-rate lawyer.” “Why do you say he is priggish?” “Well, isn't he? Faithful to his wife, thinks his children are wonderful, gives classes at the Y.M.CA.., doesn't keep a thing to drink in the office, and never says anything stronger than damn." “I don’t think that’s priggish. I think that’s just being straight and decent.” “That’s because you’re in love with him.” “I am not!” Anne said hotly, angry colour flooding her face, “And I think it s rotten of 3'ou to say s,uch a thing, Gene.” “Sorry, don’t protest so much, Anne. I just said that to see what you’d r.ay. But at any rate you’re a lot prettier than Mrs Mason.” “She’s older than I am and she’s had two children.” Anne responded, slightly mollified by Gene’s apology. “Yes. I had a baby once, Anne.” “You had a baby?” “Yep. Don’t look so shocked. I got married three or four years ago, 'some sappy actor in the stock company, and we had a child.” Anne was speechless. She was glad Gene went on talking. “I met him on Monday and we were married on Friday. He stayed about three weeks with the company and I haven’t seen him since. He stopped off in Reno and got his divorce—third one, I think. Left me to have the baby, though I honestly doubt if he ever knew’ about that.” “But the child?” Anne asked. “It died. Before I left the hospital,” Gene said briefly. Anne looked at her in wonder. Did this explain the sadness that lurked in Gene’s eyes? To be a wife, £ mother,

i a childless widow, all in one brief I year 1 Anne felt pity moving in her | heart. ! “That—that was terrible,” she faltered. “Good thing, probably,” Gene replied carelessly. “What could T have done with a little baby? Oh, I’d have loved it, I suppose. I felt pretty bad when it died—it was a little girl, Anne, with big brown eyes and soft hair, awfully cunning. I named it Susan—but I’m glad now, I’d have had a terrible time taking care of it alone. I tell you, Anne, the world’s hard on women—men do what they like and get away with it. I hate every one of them; there isn’t really such a thing as a straight man. They're all of them selfish beasts, if you ask me.” “You mustn’t feel that way, Gene. I’m sure there are really'- good men; perhaps some day you’ll meet someone you can really care for—someone to make you forget this unhappiness ” “Poof! I'm not unhappy,” Gene cried. “Don’t you think it. I have a grand time in my own way. I was young then and got caught and did the paying myself. I’m letting the men pay now. They don’t really mind, you know.” Anne turned over this unexpected confidence in her mind. She resolved never to be cross with Gene again. Anyone who carried such a secret around with her was entitled to moods and flirtations and a snappy tongue. “No one knows about this—l don’t quite know why I told you, Anne, except that you're a person to be trusted. Don't you ever tell anyone.” “I won’t, Gene,” Anne promised solemnly. “Not a soul.” “Especially don’t you ever say anything to Robert Mason. He’d bounce me as quick as a wink if he thought I was a divorcee, and I don’t want to give this job up yet.” “I wouldn’t think of telling anyone, Gene, but I think you’re wrong if you believe Mr Mason would let you go for any reason such as that. He’d probably only feel sorry for you.” “I don’t want his pity,” Gene said sharply. “Let’s talk about something else. Seeing those two whopping big kids of his made me think about it all, I guess. Forget I ever told you, will you, Anne?” “I’ll never speak of it unless you want me to, Gene, only sometimes if you feel especially blue or downhearted and wanted to talk to me—why I’d listen and try to understand, Gene.” “That's good of you, Anne,” Gene said sincerely. “Maybe if I’d had a sister like yoii I wouldn’t be such a rotten specimen. Tell me about Handy Andy, what’s he really like?” “He’s very nice, Gene, nicer than I thought he "would be. We just talked all evening, nothing very exciting.” “I suppose he has told you the story of his life, how he rose from a poor boy to his present distinction, overcoming great obstacles en route.” Anne’s eyes opened wide. “How did you know?” she gasped. Gene laughed unpleasantly. “Oh, that’s their stock line. They either tell you about their wonderful fam-

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ilies and how they would live on an allowance except that they' prefer work, or else they tell you how they sold papers and went hungry and arrived unaided except by their own superior virtues. But they always talk entirely about themselves anyway.”

Anne thought of Andy’s story. Gene distorted it so. But then, to be honest, Gene distorted a great many things out- of their proper values.

“I’ll let him tell you his life history' himself some day\” she said, feeling that to reveal any details of Andrew’s story would be a breach of trust.

“There he comes now,” Gene answered, looking toward the door. “He sees us. A nickel say's he won’t speak, look at him blush. Ye gods, .but he’s a country boy! ” Andrew, knowing that she must be talking about him, reddened to his ears, and, as Gene had predicted, pretended not to see them. Anne, sorry for his embarrassment, waved her hand and only then Andrew nodded.

“Here's your nickel, Anne,” Gene said, flipping a coin across the table. “Only you didn’t win it fairly. He’d have stalked clear on down the room without speaking if you hadn’t waved to him.”

Anne picked up the money*. “I’ll buy you some gum with it,” she offered, “or a chocolate bar, whichever y'ou’d rather have.” “Oh, the gum. I’ll chew noisily all afternoon and annoy Jack and Jill to the boiling point. They made poor little old Red stop chewing gum, you know, took him out in the hall and threatened to bounce him if they saw him wagging his jaws again. I felt sorry for Red, he was so scared.” They paid their check, Anne refusing to let Gene treat, and went back to the office. There was a note stuck in Anne’s typewriter. “Dear Miss Douglas,” it ran, “I’ve asked Mr West out to dinner for Tuesday of next week. Would you care to come that same night? We’d like very* much to have you. Sincerely, Elizabeth T. Mason.”

Anne was pleased, and then she wondered a bit. Was this some scheme to throw her continually with Andy? But she dismissed the notion of matchmaking and resolved to accept the invitation just as she would accept any other pleasant evening. She could not work, however, her headache grew worse, and by halfpast two she felt she. must go home to sleep. Hesitantly she went to Gene's desk. “Gene, I’ve got a perfectly splitting headache. Do you suppose you could take my afternoon dictation as well as your own, just this once? I’ve finished my morning letters and I’ll explain to Mr Mason.” “Could I do your work this afternoon? Sure, I could.” Gene’s voice was full of satisfaction and her eyes shone with pleasure. Then, veiling her eyes behind her long lashes, she added more quietly*, “You know I'd do anything in the world for you', Anne —even to spending a couple of hours with the virtuous Bobbie.” (To be continued to-morrow.)