Life — July 26, 1929 — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Life Short Stories of Life Chapter Twenty-Four by D. M. Taylor bones moaned; the whole weird melody of the jazz tune rose in a passionate crescendo and suddenly ceased. Evelyn laughed softly and pushed her partner away. Waves of jasmine scent rose from her hair, her shoulders, her lips. Her virginal white gown floated softly about her, stirred by the breeze from the open windows. Damp curls clung to her adorable fore- head; her perfect lips, emphatically red, were parted over her even white teeth; her dark blue eyes were heavy-lidded, lan- guorous. She was dan- gerous to men, she knew it, even now she gloated as she watched the suf- fering grow poignant in Jack’s brood- ing eyes. “Let’s get out of this, Evelyn.” He tried to lead her to the door-way, but she stepped back, smiling, as Dickie Burke bore down upon them, jovially waving a shin- ing flask. “Have a little drink, old girl?” he shouted, “Old Bradford won again—got to celebrate vic’try right.” Evelyn turned away from Jack to greet him. “Isn't the music perfectly marvellous, Dickie? I've only just begun to cele- brate and Jack wants to leave! Can you even imagine it? Why I cheered myself hoarse at the game, yet here I am, full of pep, and Jack— has had enough! Do you want me to dance with you, Dickie?” The music had begun again, a wild throbbing jungle rhythm. Evelyn turned to Jack. “Run along, big boy, GS bors esnt screamed, trom- T'll finish celebrating without your cheery presence. What I told you to- night is—final. Dickie’ll take me home.” Outside the gymnasium the air was crisp and bracing. The music pul- sated fainted, hauntingly. The Octo- ber moon was flooding the stadium with its glow. Couples in cars, cou- ples in the shadowy parts of the sta- dium, couples staggering slightly, bound for a near-by hill-top. Faintly hysterical laughter in one car, low pleading murmurs from another, angry voices in a third. Jack wan- dered away toward a group of college buildings. The windows of the li- brary were alight. “Run along, big boy. I'll finish celebrating without your cheery presence.” The grinds were in there, grinds, and others who were not, trying to forget the music, the streamers, the hilarity, of the dance they were missing. Jack’s thoughts raged on. Evelyn didn’t love him, she'd rather dance with a drunken pig. All of their ar- dent love-making—only “petting!” She had laughed at him—had said it didn't. mean a_ thing. She was through. Well, so was he. There were other girls—there must be. Yet were there any like Evelyn? So allur- ing, so flaming, so ardent, and now— so cold? Striding along, head down, hands clenched inside his pockets, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, he stumbled against a girl, books under her arm, just leaving the library. The unex- pected impact flung her to the ground. Astounded, apologetic, he lifted her to her feet. There were tears in her eyes, tears glistening on her cheeks. He knew her. Jane Warren. In his biology lab. “Miss Warren! I'm so sorry! Did it really hurt so badly? Please let me take you home!” She thanked him, quietly, in a voice that struck him as being unusu- ally pretty, while she fum- bled for a handker- chief to dry her eyes. Si- lently they walked tho short distance across the cam- pus, and silent- ly they stopped before a rather gloomy dormi- tory building. As she looked up to say good- night the moonlight fell full upon her face. Her brown cyes were velvety soft, still bril- liant from unshed tears. Tears, which, unknown to him had been present long before he had knocked her down. Present because she had wanted so to go to the dance. Her hair was very dark, softly wavy, her skin reminded him of creamy mag- (Continued on Page 26) comicbooks.com