The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1889-07-20

as often as you will let me- with banal
, smile which she found delightful.
!. "No more sugar now, please, with
look at Jean; ;'let me have some criticism
"a good strong tonic.
, He leaned back a little and looked at her
through his glasses. 81 don't want to crit
icise; should like to question"
The Countess moved her arms suddenly
and overturned glass of Marechal Mel
roses that stood near her. When the con-
fusion consequent on this accident and ON
its reparation was over Mr. Dobbs returned
to his point.
II was asking you if I might put ques-
tions"
eff you don't ask very difficult Ones
"Well, your poem called Not Wanted
How did you find out all that about the
work girls ? Or was it sheer inspiration p
She looked thoughtful.
"Oh, one gets to know things was the
vague reply.
"And you really believe, then, with the
slightest possible glance round the daintily
furnished room, that this awful poverty
must go on so long as we have all-all our
good things?'
"0h, dear don't think / mean quite
that. Ones poems are poems of mood
not of opinions, don't You know" She
had heard jolly poet thus excuse pessi-
mistic sonnet.
His face suggested agreements and she was
emboldened to go ON, assuming an argu-
mentative tone:
"0f course, you know, Mr.. Dobbs, I'm
not SO foolish as to suppose that we can do
much to alter these things; though, of
course, it's very sad, and all that"
"Don't believe her, cried Jean Emdem,
much to the astonishment of her audience.
"That poem was never written by person
who thought such things could not be
helped"
The Countess laughed
"You see what champion have, she
said II must leave her to fight my bat
ties. / believe she knows what mean as
well as do myself,
Dobbs turned to her
"0f course, like the rest of us, you ad-
mire these wonderful poems tremendously"
"Well l don't know that admire them
SO very much. / think they have faults
but am very fond of them.
AN attached dependant, was the mans
comment, "but not a tOady." And he
looked with some kindness at the little
woman in black.
"Are you going to the Derby p said the
Countess suddenly.
Everard Dobbs accepted this remark as
a fngerpost to point him away from her
book He took the path indicated, and
the talk turned on the frivolities of life.
Here she was eloquent-eyen brilliant.
When he left her presence he left mys-
terry and took with him problem. How
such woman should have written such
book This was the mystery. The prob
lem was the old one--how to make the
best Of both worlds, the sensual and the
spiritual Had she solved it he wondered.
Apparently not, judging BY her talk,
and yet her bOOk--so strong, 50 earnest, so
utterly true. He read the poem again,
"Not Wanted"
The companion had been right. "NOt
Wanted" had been written by one who be-
lieved every word she wrote. Dobbs had
written enough poetry of that kind himself
to know the real thing when he saw it,
and for him there was no mistaking the
note of passionate sincerity. Then how
explain the contradiction of her poems and
herself?
Suddenly the humiliating thought fash
ed upon him that it was not in her but in
him that the fault lay. Had she perhaps
seen through him-seen that he was more
or less of time server and dilettante dem
ocrat, and had she simply assumed that
uneommonplaee manner as the easiest way
of expressing her determination not to cast
conversational pearls before half-hearted
swine?
He got hot all over-as We all do when
we think we are found out He made one
of those sudden resolutions of honesty
whereby we seek to deceive ourselves and
those whom we suspect of not being de-
ceived by us,
He flung himself into chair and began
to formulate to himself his confession,
shaping it to be understood by the writer
Of "Not Wanted"
| will write and ask her to see me alone,
and then she win help me. | am certain
she could help me-"
And at the moment rose vision OF the
Countess, her Partisan dresses, her smile,
her voice. How could that confession be
made to woman with three chins? He
stihed the thought. After all the real
woman was in that book and not in that
French gown. But the memory of that
triple chin somehow kept pen from paper,
and the letter was not written.
The next morning brought him coro-
neted envelope containing an invitation to
garden party, with a little line across the
corner, 81 do hope you are not already en-
gagged.
He was already engaged, but he broke
his engagement and went to Hampstead at
the day and hour indicated. He hardly
hoped to be able to talk to her much, but
reality surpassed expectation as far as OPP
portunities of talk went. He almost mon
opolized her, and she seemed quite willing
to be monopOlized; but he had no chance
of making his confession, for, try as he
E would, he could not get her to talk of her
book. She carried her affectation of un-
\ 4.