The Delawarean., 1900-05-19

table few feet from him.
He had not seen her since they part
ed as friends a year before, and he
smiled to think that he should be able
to look at her now with so little per-
turbation. He did not believe she knew
that he was there. At any rate she
gave no sign of having seen him, and
Jack watched her at intervals as the
figures between them swayed.
Apparently she was well and happy.
Their brief love affair had passed over
the surface of her life and left no rip
pie. Jack looked at her critically, not
ing her beauty and the taste displayed
In her attire. He always had admired
her dainty way of dressing, and as for
her beauty, that was undeniable. 1t
impressed him no less vividly now than
1t had in those other days when he
adored her.
Suddenly, without any premonitory
tuning Of instruments, the orchestra
broke into a catchy air that brimmed
over with contagious jollity and sent a
ripple of merriment running through
the audience.
A queer ripple came over Jacks face
as he smiled with the others. That lit
tie melody was full of memories for
him. No matter how completely
thing of the past his love for Edith
might be, that tune always must bring
her to his mind.
There was nothing sentimental about
1t. 1t was too frankly gay for that, but
1t had nevertheless woven itself mex
tricably through all their courtship. It
began with their first quarrel, an as
sumption of authority on his part, un-
warrantable as he looked at it now,
and a Haunting Of pride on hers.
The next evening they had met in a
box at the theater and had avoided
each others eyes until the orchestra
struck up that afr, which by its infec-
tious gayety had dispelled their i'll hu-
NOR and caused them to look at one an
other and smile. After that they never
heard 1t that their eyes did not meet
with look of understanding. 1t had
ended many quarrels for them.
when you can hear that air played
without meeting my eyes, shall know
that you no longer love me-" Jack once
had said to Edith half in jest.
The melody in question, CHANGING to
strike the keynote of public favor, be-
came popular. and they heard 1t every
where. Sometimes in a pretty attempt
at defiance Edith resolutely would keep
her eyes averted and refuse to look at
her lover, but she never could carry
her willfulness to the end of the tune.
Always before the music stopped her
eyes would meet his gaze.
And this was what the orchestra was
playing now, and he and she were sit
ting only few feet apart with their
love for each other quite dead. 1t was
an odd coincidence, Jack thought, smil-
ing. How had that old tune, which be-
longed to past summer come to find
a place among the popular airs of the
present one? There seemed to be some
invisible link that connected them-her
and him and that fanciful, silly Jig,
Well, there would be no love message
flashed between them this time.
Jack told himself this with no emo
tion, and his calmness made him real
ize how completely thing of the past
his love was. He glanced over to where
she sat. The crowd had thinned out,
and he could see her plainly now.
If the music stirred memories in
Edith, the fact did not show in her
face. Her eyes We're lowered, but her
lips smiled as she listened to what her
companion was saying.
Suddenly she raised her head and
met Jacks gaze. Whether she had
seen him before he did not know, but
as she looked her smile faded, and for
a few seconds the two regarded each
other steadily, gravely.
Then just as the music stopped some
thing in the mans face brought the
girls smile back again, not to her lips
this time, but in her eyes, and Jack
knew that she had not forgotten. He
knew, too, that his pretense at not car
ing had been farce and that he loved
her still.
1t was as a man in dream that he
saw Edith rise and move toward the
exit, followed by her escort. Jack also
rose, and in the confusion, as a crowd
filled the elevator, he managed to speak
to her.
"When can 1 see you?' he asked.
Tomorrow" she answered without
looking at him.
The elevator stopped, and they were
separated again, but as Jack lighted a
fresh cigar and went on his homeward
way life had different look, and the
clatter of horses feet as cabs darted
swiftly over the smooth asphalt beat
time to glad refrain that echoed and
re-echoed in his heart, Tomorrow, to-
morrow, tomorroww-New York Press.
No Mystery About Politics.
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