Evening star. [volume], May 10, 1936, Page 8, Image 84

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
011CE m a
LIFETimE
1
” ***“-_ > N
Illvitrationt by
Charlet La Salle
SHE DREW AWAY QUICKLY. SOMEONE
WAS COMING DOWN THE MOONLIT PATH
A down-to-earth
kind of person soars to
glamorous heights
— for a moment
by Matt Taylor
// ■ T’s all right — really," Frank
I Garvin said to his wife.
I "Why not invite him here?”
1 He had lowered his paper,
and was staring straight ahead
across the lake from his big chair on
the porch.
She stood behind him, frowning.
"Are you that sure of me, Frank?"
she said.
"I'm that sure of realities. You
can keep a dream alive for five years
only because it is a dream. It’s that
long since you've seen Bruce. He
was a glamorous, interesting young
artist then. You thought you were
in love — ”
»HI7„ ...-Tfiihn/ln'tkum
for that silly quarrel — ”
He nodded gravely. “We’ll say,
then, that you were in love. But not
seeing him, you’ve idealized him.
You’re only in love with the mem
ory of him now — and memory can
play shabby tricks. So I’d rather
you’d meet him. I’ll lay my bet on
reality. If I win, you’ll be happier
with me. And if I lose — well, it’s
your life. Peg.”
She smiled down at him. He was
a thick-set man of thirty, perpetu
ally calm and logical and wise. For a
woman who sought security, there
was no better husband. He was the
most dependable of men. She had
married him for security, after the
broken bits of her inspired romance
had crashed at her feet. Knowing
the truth, and content with it, he
had accepted her. He was the kind
who did not ask too much of life.
“You’re being terribly decent
about this,” she said quietly.
"No more than you. Some women
would have seen him clandestinely.
They'd scheme and plot, and that’s
the surest way to make a mess of things. You
told me the first time he phoned after he came
back from abroad.”
“I had made up my mind I would never see
him.”
But you ve wan tea to. 1 coma ten.
“Yes—I'm afraid I have,” she said
thoughtfully. "It’s insane. Because I have
you and you're — ”
He gave a growl and waved his hand. “I’m
the down-to-earth kind. And most people,
especially women, want to soar on wings.”
"Can’t they — ever?” she asked.
“Not many, I’m afraid. Our kind of life —
the steady, level-headed kind — that's what
most marriages are. I've been content with it,
Peg. I want you to be. The other thing — the
up-in-the-clouds tiring — is only for some
people. They’re the lucky — or the unlucky
— ones. I don’t know which.”
“But I'm not one of them?”
“If you’ll invite him here,” he said calmly,
“we may find out."
They rode together to meet the morning
train. Bruce was coming with his young sister,
Jean, who was sharing his Park Avenue
apartment with him. He had been very success
ful abroad. The invitation had gone through
Jean. Peg Garvin still thought of her as
Bruce's awkward and shy kid sister, although
they had met occasionally in recent years.
They were a distinctive couple, that brother
and sister, among the crowd of distinctive
people who piled from the train at the lake
resort station. He was tall, perfectly groomed,
and eager as a boy. The girl was pretty, but
more subdued. Garvin, holding back a little,
watched casually as Peg greeted the sister,
and extended her hand to Bruce. Then he
came forward, calm and unhurried. “I’m
mighty glad you could come,’’ he said evenly,
returning Bruce a smile.
They rode home together as though it were
to be the most inconsequential of week-ends.
Peg suggested a swim after lunch; but
Garvin, pleading that the water chilled him
so early in the season, sat it out. He sat
with Bruce’s sister, who said she did not
swim, and they talked, stretched out on
deck chairs. He watched Peg, a vivid, flashing
figure in her green suit, and the tall, blond
Bruce, as they dove together from the wharf
and later sat on the float. Garvin smiled un
concernedly, and chatted with the quiet,
thoughtful girl beside him. Before he realized
it, the others were back, calling to him to
dress for dinner.
They tried some bridge that evening, but
the game soon palled. Peg and Bruce strolled
forth to see the lake by moonlight, and Garvin
and the girl were alone again. She remem
bered him. she said, from the commuter's
train years ago. She had been attending art
school in the city when he was starting in
business. “But you never noticed me,” she
said. “I was such a gawky kid.”
“I was afraid of girls then, couldn’t talk
to them Never learned, for that matter.”
The others rejoined them. "You weren’t
gone long,” Garvin said.
Peg looked at him with some surprise. “It
was more than an hour,” she informed him.
They played golf the next day. Peg and
Bruce were partners, and they went another
eighteen by themselves after the others quit.
Garvin and Jean loafed on the clubhouse
porch.
Back at the house, they dressed hurriedly
and returned for the club's dinner dance. It
was late in the evening when Garvin, dancing
with Jean, noticed that the other two had
disappeared. "The garden is pretty at night,”
he explained, smiling.
“Shall we have a look?” Jean said.
They walked slowly across the lawns, and
looked through trees upon the lake. Garvin
stopped short and threw away his cigarette.
He turned to the girl. She stood beside him
quietly, as though waiting. In the moonlight
he could see her serious grey eyes quite
dearly ... What happened was a tremendous
surprise to him. He drew her toward him,
and kissed her eagerly. He experienced then,
a unique sensation. Never before had he been
free of this earth; never before had he been so
completely uncalmed, illogical, and unwise.
He stepped away, breathless. She met his
frightened eyes gravely, with a faint, tender
smile.
“You do understand, don’t you. Jean?” he
said.
QHp nnHHoH clrtu/lv “AnH nnHprktanH^"
“Jean!” He moved toward her, but she
drew away quickly. Someone was coming
down the moonlit path.
It was Peg, who gave Garvin a quick, re
assuring smile, and turned to Jean. "I’m so
sorry,” she said. “We'll have to leave. Bruce
says he’s had a wire. They 'phoned from the
house, I believe. There's a late train, and
Bruce thinks he'd better ...”
They had shaken hands all around. Mr. and
Mrs. Garvin stood at the platform and waved
to their departing guests. Jean, at the win
dow, raised her hand in a feeble salute as the
train began to move. Bruce, beside her, his
face dark and sullen, gave a thin smile and
looked away.
Peg settled back in the car beside her hus
band. “He’s gone!” she said. "Oh, I’m so
glad!” She laughed lightly. "I hurt his vanity,
Frank. He was like a spoiled child.”
Garvin raced the car and threw it into
high gear.
you were rigni, clear, sne saia, noiamg
his arm. "And I was so wrong. Dreams are
tricky things. I could never love him. I could
never give you up, dear!”
"No,” he said gruffly. "Of course not.”
The train whistle came to them. It sounded
rather plaintive in the night.
"Down-to-earth is best, Frank,” she said.
' ‘The other may come to some people, but ” —
she clung more firmly to his arm, for she knew
now how much she needed him — "but not
to us.”
The train whistle was very faint. Garvin
kicked at the accelerator and the motor’s
hum swelled, so that he could not hear the
train. "No.” he said grimly. “Not to us.”
For he was the most dependable of men.
Tim End