Judge — May 10, 1919 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

aia eee Draws by Ouacy Lowes Many people thought Aimee'd lost a tooth. At frst we thought 90 oursell: didn't you? decidedly. controlled herself and tripped into Bert’s presence as if nothing had happened. “Shall I play something?” she asked winningly after Bert had mumbled something about the Open Door in China. y “Yes, please,” trilled Bert, “I’m simply wild about AS: Arabella began one of the great master’s “Pre- ludes.””, She played well, but watched Bert out of the corner of her eye. For a music lover he took a singular method of showing his appreciation. His mouth inter- mittently expanded, his hand screened the opening thus made and he lolled back in his seat as if he had a weak spine. This sort of thing had wor- ried Arabella more than she cared to acknowledge, even to herself. Her frantic efforts to entertain this intellectual and music-loving young man had been futile. Her methods, ap- 4 parently, needed revision. — That was fine,” he com- % mented, when Arabella, having finished, twirled about on her piano stool and again faced him. “Now something by Cho- pin, preferably a Nocturne,” Bert requested. He seemed about ag keen for it as a man going to his execution. “No, Bert, not Chopin,” she purred. “I am going to give you something by Lco Sardinovitch, the great Mos- cow virtuoso, He is a modern color impressionist in music, you know.” Draws by Lave Caurnnit Betty's eyes are considered by many, including Betty, dangerous- ly charming, but when she dons her spot-veil’ the KIT BAGS FOR SALE, The Pup—That bag looks large enough for an old cat Irma has never forgotten the man wh three years ago this spring at Greent told her she had a classic profile. V hope her memory will serve as well when she tries to manage her veil with her mouth. Then she—well, she hasn't “nays” have it, “Oh, yes,” assured Bert, as if he and Sardinovitch had been boon companions until Fate had inadvertently separated them. Arabella then cut loose into a Jazz medley that had more pep to a square note than a full-blooded Marine going into action. She tore time into shreds and evolved a tonal product resembling chow main. Out of that observatory, the corner of her eye, she noted the music lover acting queerly. He was snap- ping his fingers and heaving his shoulders as if St. Vitus had said to him, “Tag, you're it.” There were no yawns, not even the slightest suggestion. “Great boy, Herringovitch,” fairly roared Bert. “He’s class—er, I mean, classical.” “I’m glad you like him. Listen to this,” countered Ara- bella. “It’s by Lalapalousa, the great Italian tone futur- ist.” She pounded that piano as if it were a lost hope for the heavyweight championship. The instrument fairly bellowed the haunting, lilting, foot-pro- voking strain of the wonderful Lalapalousa. “You are a gem, Arabella,” he admitted as he kissed her good-bye. “I don’t know any one who knows more about real classical music than you do. Those new men you played to-night have a lot of nuance, haven’t they?” “Loads of it, Bert, loads of it,” she assented. Arabella smiled divinely as he held her hand much comicbooks.com