Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1920)

40 Photoplay Magazine When Von Steuben kissed Margarets hand. Dr. Armstrong choked a swift desire to throw him out of the door. his arms to embrace her. She shpped away and ran out through the door without looking back, rejoining her husband and his friends at the table. If Dr. Armstrong' had gone off the following morning as usual, for a jaunt with Old Sepp Margaret would have avoided Erich Von Steuben. She had no desire to precipitate another situation like the one of the evening before, and yet she knew that she would not have the will power to prevent one if she were alone with the officer. But it happened that the surgeon decided to spend the day in the village, and furthermore he offered to escort Margaret and the lieutenant on a walk through the market place. There was nothing for Margaret to do but accept, and to treat Von Steuben as though nothing had occurred to change the status of their relationship. She could not refuse to go without giving an explanation, and she did not choose to give one. As the trio stopped to admire the curious, agestained antiques spread out to tempt them in front of an odd little shop, the ancient buggy of the grayhaired village doctor rattled toward them over the cobblestones, then stopped. The old physician beckoned to Dr. Armstrong. In a moment the younger man returned to where Margaret and Von Steuben were examining an exquisite box. "I've got to go with Dr. Brunner on a serious case," he said. The light and vivacity died out of Margaret's face. She turned away so that her husband could not see the tears of disappointment that sprang to her eyes. "Dr. Brunner needs me, Margaret," he added quietly. "Lieutenant Von Steuben, would you mind looking after my wife until I return?" All the fires of Margaret's rebellion against her husband, against his profession, against Fate, against the people and the things which continually conspired to take him away from her, burst into flame again as she saw him drive away. She adjusted her hat at a more daring angle before an old mirror set in a priceless carven frame, then turned to the Austrian with a coquettish smile. "I know a beautiful place where I want to take you," Von Steuben whispered in her ear. She clasped her two hands around his proffered arm and gayly they started down the quiet road that led past the roadside shrine away from the town. Many a woman who believes in a moment of vengeful unhappin'ess that she can cast aside the restraints of her traditions finds that she has overestimated the abandon of her desperation. Margaret Armstrong, as she walked arm in arm with Von Steuben, was astonished to find that she was repelled by the insinuations of his flattery and by his presumptuous familiarity. In spite of the fierceness of her determination to fling herself free and carelessly into a flirtation the flame of her resentment died down to a gray ash, leaving her more miserable than before. * When Old Sepp, scouting over the fields with his dog, came upon the two seated on a lone rock, overlooking the sweeping valley, Margaret welcomed his appearance as an excuse to get away from the ardent wooing of Von Steuben. She chatted with the old guide with great vivacity, finding relief for her distressed conscience in his homely observations, ignoring the Austrian and suggesting that they go back with Sepp to the viljage. Von Steuben rose without a word and helped Margaret down from the rock, bowing stiffly in deference to her wishes. His thin lips snapped together in a nasty determined line. The game was not being played according to his rules. Margaret, back at the inn, stayed in her room all the afternoon, tortured with unhappiness, both dreading and longing for her husband's return. A rush of tenderness and patience for his faults and shortcomings swept her. The pendulum of her emotions had swung back from the momentary disloyalty of the morning to a violence of feeling that was almost torture. Toward late afternoon she put on the prettiest of her frocks, arranged her hair becomingly, and sat down by the window to await her husband's coming. It was almost evening when he arrived. The sun was striking fire from the gold cross on the chapel and the shadows lay long over the cobblestones. He lingered to consult in the market place before the hotel with Sepp and others of the old villagers, who seemed in earnest conclave, wisely shaking their heads together. Margaret waited with an agony of forgiving. Dr. Armstrong entered the open door and walked past Margaret without a word of greeting. "I was afraid of it," he said, reaching into a closet for his hobnailed mountain boots. "Our three American wise fools are not back yet. Sepp says that means they are in trouble. Dr. Brunner is not able to go to them. I'm the only doctor here and it's my dutyto go. A party is going up." ' I promise, I promise," Margaret answ^ered eagerly. " Only go —