Los Angeles herald., 1905-06-11
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his element I can't see. Seems to have
money. He saw her first when he
painted that picture called Where Pop
pies Bloom Some one sent her to
him, and she realized all he fancied. of
course. He's a master, I'll swear, but
he could never have painted that pic
ture without her. Did you see 1t? She
stood in a field Of peoples, her black
bair blowing about htr with the red
flowers in it and i'm her arms. We all
were more in love with her than ever
after that, and he. well, he seemed 20
think that she belonged to him. I'll
tell you how 1t is now, old chap. She
has but to beckon and we follow;
Searles has but to beckon and she fol-
lows. can't be certain she's in love
with him, though. If 1 knew she was,
I'd go off and fight it out alone.
The cause of all this emotion and
vehemence was an extremely beautiful
woman, known by the name of Kate
Crossways, who had been familiar in
the studios for perhaps year. They
said that every artist she posed for
became her slave, and the statement
did not seem an exaggeration. She
lived a reckless life, and 1 think posed
because it appealed to her vanity. I'll
was unfortunate that she had neither
talent nor inclination for the stage.
where her beauty would have been uni
versally appreciated. Toms devotion
to her l could not understand. 1 sup
pose his affections were searching for
an object and ran against her. For
weeks had been patiently administer
ing ridicule in subtle. homeopathic |
doses hoping to make him see the fol-
ly of devoting himself to woman like
Crossways, and for some time 1 knew
his common sense had been battling
with his faithful heart.
put away brushes presently and set
a charcoal block on the easel, thinking
would sketch Tom while he was
PROSTATE. He had fallen in an inter-
esting pose and 1 let him talk on unin-
terruptedly. He lay there unconscious
of self and poured forth his sentiment
tai sophistries between sighs and long
puffs of smoke.
kate wasn't in my mind when
came in, Jack. Haven't been near her
for two days. I've been thinking about
a girl I used to love, you know. Can't
imagine what reminded me of her.
Don't suppose she's around here some
where and I'm going to meet her, do
you? Had dream about her last
night. We were leading a german, just
as we did years ago, my last night |
with her l sailed for Genoa next day, |
and stayed abroad so long that she
forgot me. Last night that german |
came back as vividly as if we'd danced |
it the night before. 1 couldn't see any
one but her, you know. That was the |
way with me then. It's the oldest |
thing, old chap, but see her face |
every where 1 look. This smoke curls
up and she laughs at me through the
rings Queer thing. isn't it? l believe
a fellow ought to marry his first love-
1 think the relation between man and
woman ought to be ideal, and it would
be, too, if they could be the first in
each others heart and always stay
true. That would make life worth liv-
ing. It's too late, too late, for me to
dream Of that sort of thing. Fancy the
Kate Crossways must have.
A fellow wouldn't like to marry them,
you know. My own heart furnishes an
extensive portrait show. I wonder if
the sweet 1884 girl would take me now
after inspecting the main gallery
Marie Carrees-did you know her? She
was skied long ago up in dark corner,
but I'm afraid the sweet girl could see
her, and now here's Kate hanging on
the second line. What would the little
girl say to Kate? 1t wouldn't do, Jack;