The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1900-03-23
An Unsuccessful Interview.

There was JOY in the office OF the
Post Herald" for the paper had the
| prospect OF a SCOOP"
I've sent Barrett said the editor
He has nerve enough for anything and
| yet he is such a gentiemanly fellow tha,
ne gets along with everybody and the
women always like him."
I How did you hear that this woman
was IN town. and who is she, anyhow %
! queried the city editor, gruffiy. for his
/ work was done for the day and he was
! only laZily interested.
Who is she? The author OF half a
| dozen successful books. Do you mean to
say that you have never heard of Cries
CrossE Cloris Urquhart is her name.
She happens to be a school friend Of
my sister. and as chat little girl has
newspaper sense she wrote me i'm time
that the celebrity was coming, so that
We could see her before any one else"
Arthur Barrett, meantime, was eating
a succulent chop I'm small eating
house. There was something about him
which made even the men who disap-
proved OF his incapacity-and he had
all a journalists inability to attend 10
business details-eall him a ''first-rate
fellow"
AS for the women, they forgaye him
his peccadilloes with clock-like regular
ity. That was in part because they were
women. for when does a woman not for
give a man?
Upon the evening in question he ate
his chop smoked a good Havana and
sauntered slowly toward the Hotel
Mazarin Once there he sent up letter
OF introduction with which his chief
haG furnished him, wondering idly what
she would be like. She was an old maid.
OF course. 1t had been his lot TO inter-
view some terrible females, intent upon
lecture platforms and an equal right to
be slapped on the back by Tom, Dick
and Harry at the polls
How he hated the type His ideal was
a soft. pink, and white cuddy little
woman with no particular brains and
an unlimited admiration for the Genus
Homo, with capitals. He'd given up
the idea OF companionship with women.
something always happened--not on his
side, OF course. He never did, anything,
Once he had known what il meant,
gentle. womanly presence which under
stood him and brought out all OF the
best OF ftm--pshaw What a fool he was
to think about thatlIt was all over long
ago.
He pulled himself together and in
moment was the alert reporter, unsen-
timental. ready for his beat"
Miss Urquhart would see the gen.
tleman from the Morning Post Her
aid, said the hall boy. and he was
ushered into private sitting room on
the next floor.
II was a pretty room. softly lighted
with a crimson glow from a huge lamp.
Several magazines. books and papers
lay on the table. an opera cloak was
thrown carelessly across a divan. there
were one or two Indications OF fem |
mime presence. but as he paused on tho |
threshold and took all this I'm with n |
glance. his eyes rested upon a figure
which stood beside the mantel the |
flames OF an open fire lighting up her |
face.
A slight girl OF middle height. robed /
all In soft black draperies which show
ed her rounded arms and whbte neck. A
fair skin was hers. a mass OF cendre /
hair. two wide own wIstful, gray eyes
heavily frlnged In black, a mouth. large
and red Tipped. and full as Cupld's bow,
With look OF repression about Il.
As he came toward her. carefully |
,loslng the door behind him. her cheek
paled a little and her eyes hardened,
hen she said. with cold politeness:
You wished 20 see me; pray be
seated"
Flora" ne exclaimed. do yoc not
know me7 How came you here7''
Pardon me" and the lines OF her |
mouth curled into scorn. II am Miss
'lorls Urduhart the writer-T do not
lignify myself with the title author
ind you are a reporter from the Morn
nx 'Post-Herald.' are you not7" lie
,owed in silence though a dark color
iushed his face and ne sat down al the
able and took out his notebook and
,encil.
Pray allow me 90 save you the trou.
lie OF questioning me-" she said, iisht-
y. starving up straight and slim be.
ore him Interviewing is an old story
q me, and Know the routine. I am en- |
quite 10 San Francisco. From there 7
N 90 Molokai 20 study leprcsy. No. I
IN not at all afraid, the disease ~ not
That idea a iong Gnce sxs