The copper country evening news. [volume] (Calumet, Mich.) 18??-1907, 1897-07-12


complete-he noted every detail as if e
estimate its value. IL came back TO him
how she had cunningly questioned him
about his needs before he left for Cannes
till he grew inpatient Don't bother
me about ink bottles. Yes, the very
words and others-the secret writing OF
memory came out in this fire of sorrow.
"Why won't women understand that a
man can't answer questions about trifies
| when he has work on hand?" He could
swear TO the words, and he knew how
Maud looked, although he did not see.
| "DOn'I go away. You promised that
/ you would sit beside me when l worked
hinder me? | suppose you are bidding
for kiss. You know the sight of your
face inspires ms. That was ten years
ago-he might have borne with her
presence a little longer. She never
would come again-he would have no
interruptions of that kind.
Her gloves, sixes-what a perfect
| hand it was (smOoths out the glove).
His memory brings up dinner table.
Mrs. Chatterby gives her opinion on
Meredith's last novel and helps herself
70 salt-he sees a disgusting hand, with
stumpy fingers and for impudence
street arab of a thumb. a vulgar little
woman through and through, and yet
because she picked mp scraps from the
monthlies and had the trick of catch
words people paid her court. And he
had sometimes thought, but he knew
better today-of all things in the world
a glove Is the surest symbol. Mended,
too, very neatly-that he might have
his hansoms.
1t was the last thing he ever could
have imagined, and yet it must be
diary-Maud's diary. Turns over the
leaves and catches that woman's name
against whom he has suddenly taken o
violent dislike.
January 25.--Was at Mrs. Chatter
by's-how strange one does not say any
thing of her husband, yet he is the nicer
of the two-and l think it will be bet
ter not 10 go again TO dinner. One can
always make some excuse that will not
be quite untrue
The dinner is in honor of Mr..
cynical, who is leaving his college and
coming TO live in London TO do literary
work, as Mrs. Chatterby has been ex-
planning for weeks, and to give tone to
the weeklies
=" The younger men are quite devoted
to him, and we ought all 10 lie So thank
full that he is TO be within reach. His
touch reminds one of don't know
the French writer, but she does not al
ways give the same name. We hope to
see great deal Of him. So DELIGHTFULLY."-
cynical, you know, and hates the bour-
geoisie.
Il was terrified lest / should sit next
Mr. cynical, but Mrs. Chatterby was
merciful and gave me jamie Godfrey's
father Edward says that he is very
able man and will be lord chancellor
some day, but he is so quiet and modest
that one feels quite at home with him.
Last summer he was yachting OH the
west coast of Scotland, and he described
the sunset over the Skye hills, and I
tried to give him Devonshire sunrise.
We both forgot where we were. and
then Mrs. Chatterby asked me quite
loud, so that every one looked, what I
thought of 'Smudges.
The dinner table seemed to wait for
my answer, and | wish that the book
had never come from the library, but l
said that / had sent it back because it
seemed so bitter and cruel, and one
ought 10 read books which showed the
noble side of life.
You are one of the old fashioned
women, she replied. You believe in "a
novel for the young person., with
smile that hurt me, and / told her that
/ had been brought up on Sir Walter
Scott. l was trying to say something
about his purity and chivalry, when l
caught Mr.. Fynical's eye and blushed
red. If | had only been silent, for I'm
afraid every one was laughing, and Ed
ward did not say one word to me all the
way home.
February 20.-Another ordeal, but
not so unfortunate as the last The
are very kind friends,
but do think they are too much con-
cerned about having clever people at
their house. One evening Mrs. Browne
Smythe said she was happy because
nothing had been talked about except
translations of Homer. A certain guest
was so miserable on that occasion that
begged Edward to leave me at home
this time, but he said it would not be
Greek again. 1t was science, however,
and when we came in Mrs. Browne
Smythe was telling a very learned look
ing person that she simply lived for
fossils. A young lady beside me was
talking about gases to a nervous man,
who grew quite red and tried to escape
behind table. l think she was wrong
in her words, and he was too polite to
correct her. To my horror. he was
obliged to take me in to dinner, and
there never could have been two people
more deserving of pity, for was terri.
fed Of his knowledge, and he was afraid
of my ignorance. We sat in perfect ST.
lence till fatherly old man, quite a
farmer, on my left began to talk to me
so pleasantly that described our coun-
try people and was really sorry when
the ladies had to leave. Edward says
that he is one Of the greatest discoveries