The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1903-09-13
FACE IN THE CROWD.

By Keith Gordon.

was g fatalist. II II were written from
the beginning It would occur No man
could dabble In the affairs of fatel
1t was nearing the end OF the third year.
He took the same train now with a reg
ularity which made her suspicious. The
results Of chance were never so unerring.
Intention was apparent.
But through il all, save at unexpected
moments when the curtain would lift for
a second and an unintentional glance be-
tray a deeper knowledge, they regarded
each other with the battling, impressive
eyes we keep for the unknown. No TWEEN
ueth century romance ever moved
slowly.
Then Billy Stoughton-who In this par
ticular case was the instrument of fate
awakened one morning with an unac-
countable but imperative yearning for
Broadway Five years earlier an equally
compelling desire had landed him on The
Ranch, where he had bided contentedly
enough up TO that particular morning. The
evening of the next day found him in
Denver, from which place he proceeded,
with as much haste as the railroad facil-
tiles would permit, TO New York.
On the day of his arrival he planned
to dine with Renwick, the closest of his
college friends. He had just time to
catch him by telephone before he left his
Office. which he did, arranging to meet
him at the elevated station and go up
town with him.
The first enervescence of their meeting
over. Stoughton's beaming eyes rOved
over the other passengers. a slight fig
ure at the far end of the car held his
glance. He looked again to be sure.
Pardon me a minute, Jack" he said,
rising and making his way toward the
girl with whom a moment later he was
shaking hands cordially and talking with
the ease of long friendship. Presently he
returned TO Renwick, and as he did so
a revealing look passed between the two.
A bridge at last!
Its Natica Alston-a cousin of mine,
you know" he explained to Renwick.
Tough luck they've had, tell you. But
she's a plucky girl. She has earned her
own living now for four years"
"Will YOU present me?" demanded Rem
wick eagerly.
Certainly. I'll take you up there with
me. Natica will be glad to receive any
friend of mine"
Thank you. old fellow, thank you.'
Renwick paused awkwardly. He seemed
to have some thing else TO say, but scarce
~ knew how to say it.
when | said-asked you to introduce
mel didn't mean the usual thing. I'm
going to ask you TO do something queer,
and TO DO it without asking too many
questions"
What kind of a mystery is this?'' IN.
quired Stoughton. If 1 didn't know that
there isn't a grain of romance in you
should certainly think"
Now, don't think-theres a good fell
low" soothed Renwick Just follow in
structions. Tell Miss Aston all about me
and mind that you tell her everything
good that you can or I'll wiring your neck
and make an appointment for me to
call. Don't make any mistake. I want to
see her, and see her alone. / don't want
you there!"
When poor, rnystifed Bill Stoughton
preached the subject to Natica her be-
havior was doubly mysterious. No. she
didn't want to know anything about himl
Then a moment later:
did you say he is a bachelor" Qnno-
cently). II thought he was widowerI'
Stoughton, Indignantly: II thought you
knew nothing about him?"
81 don't; but he wore mourning"
THAT was for his mother"
In the dim little parlor of the small
apartment where she and her mother
lived they met for the first time alone
save for the dead and gone Alstons that
looked down upon them from the walls.
Surely never was such first meeting be-
fore.
When the maid ushered him in Natica,
looking rather more like lily than usual
in her long. soft black gown. rose with
every intention of greeting him in the
most formal manner. Then a most I'M
looked for thing occurred
For q moment they looked into each
others eyes. Then he stretched out his
hands toward her and she placed hers in
them. A moment later she was swept up
into his arms as If she had been a child,
as he murmured softly, MY dear, dear
love"
What shall we tell mammal" walled
Natica in despair half-hour later. How
can we ever explain ourselves?"
I'VE can't" replied Renwick, comfort
ably. I'VE might just as well resign our
selves to being thought mad It all comes
from the ridiculous superstition that in
order to know people you must talk to
themw
And then-well. they then forgot the
world and its opinions to talk Of far love-