The Minneapolis journal., 1903-03-21

= They are quaint little studios, this row
in the rue Boissonade. They sit back
from the narrow street behind plots OF
grass and shrubbery, the whole shut TN by
high iron palings at the street side. They
rise but two stories, gabled and pictur-
esque, and the tiny logue of the concierge
sits protectingly out to the fore by the
common gate in the paling like an officer
before his file of men. The studio that
Mallory occupied he had taken, furnished,
for term Of months from some man who
was away in Algiers on a sketching tour.
It was the ground floor, a little place hung
about with eastern draperies and altar
cloths and such, and with the most a,maz-
ing assortment of weapons-these Of NAL
lory's contribution-that ranged from a
Moorish rifle some eight feet long, to sew
eral pairs Of very serviceable Tolls ana
epees de combat, some sharpened, some
with buttons. There was d1van under
the great north light, a big steamer chair
of osier, and rumberless decorative ar
tistic and highly uncomfortable benches,
chairs and stools of carved wood.
Mallory made some lights and then
dropped down upon the big divan with
sigh Of weariness. ~
I'm good company, eh, Creighton, old
chap?" he said. ...
you're dashed poor company!" said !,
frankly. Whats got into you, man?
Can't you tell chap? I've never seen
you like this. Out with it! open confes-
sion,s good for the soul or something like
that It says so in the books
Confession 2" sneered Mallory, be-
tween the hands that held his head. Con
fession, say you? Egad should I start in
confessing you'd die of horror--moreover
t would take weeks time. No, no. lad,
I'll not make you a father confessor.
And then, though I didn't know how
he'd take it, and was ready for burst of
rage, went over and laid hand on his
bowed shoulder.
"Denis old chap" said I, II think
know how the land lies, and God knows
I,m-wen, I'm sorry. It couldn't be fore
seen. It's nobodys fault, but It's none
the less cruel for all that Loves a queer
thing, Denis It won't be hidden, nor 1t
| won't be coaxed. You may look for 1t a
year and never find it. or, by the Lord, 1t
may run fair into you when you turn the
loarner. Kill it. old chap, kill 1t! You
| must, or by heaven where shall we all be
| In 8. fortnight's time? Kill it! You've
fought before, aye and won, too. You've
got TO win this time for all our sakes."
But he sprang to his feet past me and
| moved up and down the room,, his lips
| tight and his hands strained to fists.
'And what If don't" he cried
i what II chuck the rest o.
4 YOU oyer7 Haven't been fighting fol
i some other man all my life? What II
. fight for myself this time
sHo paused an instant with one band O
the writing table that stood near, and hi
q face changed, softened and smiled bi
under its frown. His eyes were wide an
very far away.
"Fight for myself, and-winf Aye, lac
s |I believe I'd win-win. Think OF it, thin
Il Of it! Great God Almighty. what q LII
! to come." His voice strained and brok
1 and he took up his march again throug
Il the room back and forth, his hand
pressed over his face. #
II tell you, you cant "a. know what WA Wer
a through to-day In that garden yonde
I playing the lowest. scurviest trick ths
I ever was planned, upon the loveliest we
J. man on Gods wide earth! She's the on
woman in all the world could have love
& IIfor lifetime. shaved for, starved 70
worshipped as I've never worshipped m