The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1904-07-23

"Mademoiselles-- .
Then torrent of French broke loose
and surged thru the room. 1t washed
Nancy off her feet, and she sat down
Imply.
away, but it is desperate. You go. see
you no more. 1t is to die. My heart is
torn. Z must speak,
The excited Frenchman was on his
knees before her, iaving, pleading, sob
bling. She looked helplessly toward tho
bell by the door.
Mad evidently, quite mad, and there
was no one she could CALL She must HUI
NOR hirn-humor him and escape. Heav-
ems, what nonsense he talked; but he was
gentle, in spite of his mania. He did not
touch her. He only raved of her hair and
her eyes and her voice and his adora tion
Where had she seen him? Where had
she known him? How had 1t happened
that he should come to her? She was
desperately frightened, but she pulled
herself together land smiled at hin,
sWeetly. r ~
But i cannot answer all this now
she said, with Machiavellian strategy. cit
is so sudden; you must be patient You
will go away now and come again and
will talk to you them -.
The kneeling man seized her hand and
covered 1t with kisses.
Mon Dieu mon Dieu! YOU give me
that I am mana man and a French
man. Rank! What. is that? Moi! am
Of Rousseau a disciple. 1t is but to- love.
That levels all. You-you see the. man
! under the cook" =
1.-The cook!" I.
hension: The, handsome, imprisoned
face. with its dapper mustache and its
! imperial. framed itself in white linen and
| stood out against a background of dumb
waiter walls. 8
Gracious heavens! The chef! Her sins
had found her out-and she had told him
to come again and talk love to her! And
now, what could she say except the truth 2
She would tell him she had thought him
lunatic and that she hadn't meant to
encourage him, and it would be SO hard
/ on him. go
Nancy hates making O man unhappy,
whether he's chef or a millionaire. Still,
she couldn't accept the chef to save his
feelings. She must say something.
There was rap on the door. The pa
tron saint had Weakened once, more. The
Frenchman sprang, to his feet. Nancy's
| heart leaped for joy. She recognized the
knock.
Come she said family. and the man
| who came often stepped into, the room
| He felt the electricity in the air and
stopped short, looking at the flushed and
nervous Frenchman with that chilly ag-
| gressiveness which covers the Anglo
| Saxon like a garment when he does not
understand. Nancy shot one beseeching,
/ imploring glance at him. Then she rose
/ to the occasion.
| Bobby, this is Monsieur Veuilleauez.
He has been very good friend to Pris-
| ella and me. You will want to thank
| him. Monsieur Veuilleauez, this is Mr..
| Stanton, my fiance.'
Bobby gave one startled gasp, then
looked at Nancy and shut his mouth firm
ly.
The Frenchman bowed low. His face
was white and his lips trenbled under
the dapper mustache, but his manner was
intact.
Monsieur Is to be congratulated. It Is
| an honor even to be called maden1oiselle' IS
friend. I have the honor to wish you both
| good day"
/ He was retiring In good order. Nancy
| looked at him doubtfully, then suddenly
reached out her hand.
"Goodby, monsieur. I am very grateful
to YOU. Forgive me. did not dream
He bent and kissed her hand with a
manner that would have done credit to a
| marquis of the old regime.
| Tt was who dreamed mademoiselle."
| The door closed behind him. She turned
| to an irate Bobby, who bristled with a
| demand for explanation.
| Pardon my taking liberties with you,
Bobby. won't carry it any further and
| insist upon being really engaged to you,
and he will not spread the report. He's
not in our set
who Is the beggar7 # he was annoy
| ing you, I'll break
/ ooh, no, you won't break every bone in
his body. You'll never see hi magain. He's
our Chef
The man uttered an exclamation that
sounded unfit for polite society. but