The Times News

Ann Hollister breaks engagement to Tony Mickle the same day that Peter Kendall tells Valeria Bennett, his fiancee, that everything is over between them.
Ann thinks she still loves Tony and Peter believes he still cares for Valeria, but when chance brings the two together and Peter asks Ann to marry him she agrees.
They go to Florida and are happy there. Then Peter is recalled home. His family snubs Ann and Valeria tries to make trouble between Ann and Peter.
She succeeds and Ann goes away, leaving no hint of her whereabouts.
Peter is disconsolate, believing Ann has discovered his love for her and gone because she can not return it. His efforts to find her are fruitless.
Valeria, scheming to win Peter back, takes him to a party. There he hears a man commenting on Ann's flight. Peter knocks the man down.
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
CHAPTER XXXIV
The wide gates ahead parted and swung open and two small children appeared so suddenly they seemed to have sprung up like mushrooms.
"Hello, duckies," Mrs. Tracy called.
"See who I've brought you--a nice lady to teach your manners and spank you when you're naughty."
The dark-haired, dark-eyed little girl stepped forward confidently and slipped a chubby, tanned hand into Ann's. The blond, serious-eyed little boy stood aside.
Something caught in Ann's throat. Peter's son, who would be born some day, would be like Sonny. Sturdy, serious - eyed. Like Peter. he must be won.
She was sorry for this little boy. Sonny had a mother who filled her life with pictures, and books and music that crowded these small ones out.
"I'm going to stay here a long time. Sonny," Ann said.
"Let's get acquainted now."
She smiled at him and suddenly he was by her side. "Where are your books?"
"We'll use the old ones until you and Sissy and I can go to town and get new ones," Ann said.
"May I?" his voice was breathless.
"With lots of pictures," piped Sissy.
"All pictures," promised Ann.
The artist mother's swinging stride had carried her up the slope to the bungalow spreading out among the trees. Ann, holding Sissy's hand, followed. But her eyes were on the fair-haired boy trudging along on the other side.
"The other member of the household will be in around six." Mrs. Tracy told Ann later. They were sitting in the attractive bedroom that had been assigned to Ann.
"My brother, Allan Vincent." Mrs. Tracy explained. She got up and walked over to the window, walked restlessly back and sat down again. "I'm quite proud of him and just as worried about him."
Ann waited.
"What I mean is that he's gone far in his profession. He's at the top. But it isn't what he'd like to be doing and it has made him bitter. Am I boring you?"
"interested"
Mrs. Tracy continued, "He intended to be an artist. We had a small inheritance from our father and Allan went abroad at 16. For nearly four years he gave himself to his studies. At the end of that time an honest and very blunt instructor told him he could never do anything really worth while.
Allan's sense of color is extraordinary, but he lacks something."
Ann said softly, "What a shame. Perhaps the professor was wrong."
"No." Mrs. Tracy shook her head.
"He was quite right. For six months the boy-he's only 24 now--went wild. Drank and ran about with a terrible crowd, lost himself entirely. One day he met a former classmate who is rich and insisted on lending Allan some money. He was furnishing a new home and asked Allan to help him.
"It ended by Allan doing the whole thing. The house was a sensation and contracts for others poured in. It gave my brother a new interest. He began to study again. He's been in France and England and only a few months ago opened an interior decoration studio here. He's made money. but it hasn't brought him happiness. He has a suite of rooms in town, but spends most of his time here. He tries out his color schemes in really charming paintings. Quaint idea. But it works."
It was dark when Allan Vincent arrived. He was slender, dark-haired, boyish-looking. Ann met his dark, discontented eyes.
"I'm glad you're here," was the way he acknowledged the introduction. "For two reasons. The kids need discipline."
"I'm off to get into a hot bath and then into pajamas." Mrs. Tracy said. "I'm dead!"
"You look tired,"Allan Vincent said to Ann.
Wouldn't you like to have dinner in bed, too?
Don't hesitate. if you feel you'd like to, This is the original Liberty hall. Very frequently, the children are the only ones at the table."
Ann was tempted. She felt tired, lonely, sick at heart. But, thinking of two children sitting alone at the table. she said. "No.
I'd prefer having dinner with the children. It will be a good time to get acquainted."
'I'd prefer having dinner with the children, too," the young man said.
It was a queer meal, Ann thought. The strange young man with the intelligent. restless eyes at one end of the table, a child on each side. The children were quiet enough
"My mother doesn't know any stories but Miss Lane told us some. About Rumple
"Stilts." prompted Sonny.
"Skin, finished Sissy.
Ann knew about Rumplestiltskin too.
And after dinner, she told the story with many embellishments.
She led her admiring charges off to bed. tucked them in, and then returned to the hall. Allan Vincent was there, sitting by a reading light. He laid his book on the table.
"Good night." Ann said.
"Turning in so soon?"
"Yes. I'm a little tired."
"Won't you come into the living room with me while I smoke a couple of cigarettes. Or better, will you smoke one with me?"
"I don't smoke."
"Well, come in for a moment any way."
They sat down on a comfortable divan before the fire.
"The little beggars will be bothering you to death now," he said. "You're the first person to pay any attention to them, Miss Jones.
What is your other name?"
"Ann."
"I like that better. I shall call you Ann."
She smiled a little. He was extremely cocksure, almost arrogant.
But she liked him in spite of it. Perhaps. she thought. it is because he is lonely and unhappy, too.
"I suspect." he said, "you've picked a job for life-until you get ready to marry.
That won't be any time soon?"
After a moment, Ann answered. "No."
He leaned over, knocking the ashes from his cigarette.
"That's good news. I should hate to see you leave. The children need you and it's damned lonesome here sometimes."
"Why don't you live in town?" Ann queried.
"It would be lonelier there," he answered moodily. After a moment he burst out impatiently.
"My sister probably dramatized me to you. But it's only a picture. The truth is I'm a sorry sketch. The only thing I know is woman's work, like getting a home in shape-curtains, rugs, mirrors!"
Ann said, "The way you do it. it is art."
"You really think so?"
His voice had a wistful note.
"I know it."
"It isn't what I want to do."
"No. And you make it hard for yourself because you won't accept a substitute."
"You don't know anything about it."
"Yes," she said, "I do."
"There's some other place you'd rather be--now?'
Ann got to her feet. She swayed a little. and put out a hand to the divan.
The long day. the strange surroundings, fighting the sick despair within. Was there some other place she'd rather be?
He had asked that!
"It's only that I'm tired.
I'm sorry, but I must go
Her stumbling voice broke and she slipped to the floor.
When she regained consciousness she was lying on the divan and Allan Vincent stood looking anxiously down at her. Her hair against her cheeks was wet.
A wet cloth was on her head.
"What happened?"
"You fainted. Here drink this It's strong, but you need it."
Ann drank from the glass.
After a moment she sat up.
"Thank you, I'm feeling better. It was silly of me to faint."
"Take it easy. Not too fast.
You've been hurt recently?"
"How did you know?"
"I saw the scar--a fresh one under your hair when I put the cloth on your head."
"I had a fall."
He was studying her gravely.
"It must have been a bad one.
Sure no one cracked you over the head?
Some big, jealous brute?"
"Sure." Ann said faintly. smiling a little, remembering Peter's arms closing about her. She closed her eyes for a moment as though she could shut out the memory.
"I'm feeling much stronger now.
Please don't bother to help me.
I'm really quite all right."
His hand dropped from her arm.
"Sure you can make it?"
"Yes.
You've been very kind.
Good night."
"Good night. Ann."
Ann entered her room, the small room with its cool green tones. So different from her own big room back there in the city.
She locked the door, undressed and got into bed.
Someone was tapping at her door, "Ann, I'm off to bed. But I'm worried about you.
Are you quite all right?"
"Quite all right. Please don't bother."
She heard Allan Vincent's retreating steps.
It was all so queer. A strange woman had turned her children over to Ann. A strange man had come to her door to ask if she were feeling quite well.
Her troubled thoughts would not permit sleep for a long time.
Ann tossed about on her pillow.
Her throat was tight, her eyes dry.
(To be continued)