Crossroads of Desire by Amos Hatter — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

CROSSRCADS OF DESIRE “How was that?” The skinny old gent with the white hair bent his head to Mrs, Switzer. Connie moved on to the other guests. Her small, dainty stature was lovely to behold. Her dark, oval eyes, high cheek bones and the way her shining, black hair was combed back from her well shaped forehead had an irresistible attraction for men. Her low pitched voice was young, vibrant and electric. Presently the buzzer heralded the arrival of more guests at the cocktail party and Yvonne, the French maid, answered the summons. Connie glanced toward the door of her apartment to see who else she was going to have to put up with. She was pleasantly surprised at the appearance of one of the young male dancers who was in the Ballet de le Roi troupe. AS an extra fillip he had in tow a young man whom Connie had never seen before. “Hello, Jack. Glad you could come by,” Connie greeted. Jack Clayton smiled, “It was nice of you to ask me, Connie. Hope you don’t mind my bringing along a friend. This is Larry Brooks. Miss Constance Carter.” Connie looked up at Larry Brooks and didn’t mind Jack’s bringing him at all. Thus far, he was the only interesting looking man in the room. Tall, slender and pleasantly informal in a sport jacket, Larry Brooks was the sort most women pay attention to. “Glad to meet you, Miss Carter,’ he said as his large, blue eyes beheld her with flattering attention. “Thank you,” Connie replied, rewarding him with a dazzling smile. ‘Come on. Have a drink. What do you like?” “T’ll have a scotch and water,’ said Jack. “And how about you, Larry?’ Connie asked. “A glass of beer, please.” ; Connie, who had turned to signal to Yvonne, stopped. Her incredibly long dark lashes fluttered. Her eyes travelled back to Larry Brooks and regarded him with astonished amusement. “You like beer?” He grinned and nodded. ‘‘T guess it’s because I’m more used to it.” “T hope Yvonne can scare some up.” “Oh, that’s all right. If you haven’t any, just a plain highball will do.” CROSSROADS OF DESIRE Connie permitted her eyes to regard the young man for another instant. She liked what she saw. There was no pre- tense whatever in his slender boyish face. What intrigued Connie even more was his total lack of tribute toward her. Most young men, meeting the famous Constance Carter for the first time, knocked themselves out trying to impress her. This guy was just being himself. “Yvonne,” said Connie, “bring Mr. Clayton a scotch highball and can you scare up a glass of beer for Mr. Brooks?” “T think so, mademoiselle,’ Yvonne replied in her delightful French accent. The maid went off. Jack turned to greet Nino Hoke, direcfor of the Ballet du Roi. Connie glanced up at Larry. His eyes were following the retreating figure of Yvonne who, in dark hose, high heels, black uniform and white apron, was by no means to be taken for granted. Larry Brooks looked at Connie and grinned. “T’ll introduce you to some of these other folks,’ said Connie quickly. She felt a bit piqued. Yvonne had lots on the ball but no visitor in this apartment had ever looked at her in the same way they had looked at Connie. During the introductions Connie was called to the telephone. She left Larry in Jack’s care and went into her bedroom. She picked up the instrument and said irritably, ‘“Yes?” “Connie, darling, it’s going to be impossible for me to get by—” “That’s a helluva note. You're the one who wanted this party,’ Connie interrupted. ‘““What am I supposed to do?” “A thousand apologies but here’s how itis. Robbin Walker, a salesman, insisted that I meet a friend of his and it was just common courtesy that I do so,” said Philip Hathaway. ‘Tl send my car around to pick you up at six thirty and meet you at the Penthouse Club for dinner at seven sharp.” “What am I supposed to do with all the fat heads who are cluttering up my living room?” Connie demanded. “They know you've got to be at the theater at eight thirty,” Philip replied in a worried voice. “They'll be ambling off in plenty of time. Please, dearest, forgive me. It won’t ever happen again.” “It better not,’ said Connie grimly. 7 Comichooksnco