The Press., 1905-04-26

standing Frank Claxton took Virginia
Carter to dinner at Giovanfs. This I'M
Outstanding, the result of many misun-
derstandings, put an end to their en-
gagement, and they chose to hold the
wake over their dead love at the tiny
restaurant where 1t had been born
Neither talked much during the meal
and when either spoke, for some rea-
son not easily explained, 1t was i'll
very low tone. The man said, Il sup.
pose had better return your lettersT
There must be a great many Of
them" responded the girl, the corners
of her mouth trembling into q faint
smile.
Eyes. In-in three years.
81 shall send yours tomorrow-that
is, shall send all but one. should like
to keep one-in memoriam. May II
eff 1 may"
Certainly. a fair exchange you
know"
Claxton left her at the door of her
apartment something less than an hour
later. On the way to his own home he
maryeled that he should regret what
had happened so little. The petty quar-
rels of the past few months had worn
out his endurance, he thought, and rem
dered him indifferent to their culmina-
ton. He wondered how she felt about
1t. At all events, the separation would
leave him with more time-more time
to work, more time to devote to the
friends he had neglected since he had
begun caring for her.
In the matter of the quarrels he did
not consider himself blameless. He
realized this, and admired himself bit
for the inherent generosity which pre-
vented his holding her solely to ac-
count.
Claxton reached his place in rather
a relieved frame of mind. He opened
the door with key fastened to silver
ring that she had given him on his
birthday and walked straight across
the library to his typewriter. Beside
the machine was tiny cushion she
had made for him to rest his elbow
upon when he was reading copy" He
recalled that it had come wrapped in
numberless pieces of paper, each one
inclosed inside the other, like the eggs
in a Chinese puzzle. That was about
the time that the interest aroused by
his tale of Central American life had
opened the hearts of editors toward
him.
Somehow the detective story he had
intended to begin did not fly from his
finger tips as speedily as he had ex-
pected. The first paragraph, after
writing which, he told himself, things
would go better, stood alone on the
page, a succession of stilted and unin-
Vfting sentences.
'Not in the mood" he confessed at
last and strolled down Broadway to his
club. The boy at the door didn't know
him, and when, after satisfying the stu
pid fellow Of his membership, he saun-
tered into the lounging room he was
in an exceedingly unpleasant humor.
Parsons been here this EVENING"" he
inquired brusquely Of an attendant.
"No, sir" replied the man. HE does
not come very often now, sir. Married,
I believe"
Claxton cursed Parsons from the bot
tom of his soul.
"Graham?" he asked.
"Mr. Graham was in about a week
ago. We don't see him more than once
a fortnight"
Funny" unused Claxton. "By George,
I wonder If there's any one in the
placer
There was, in the writing room
Frederick Ford Ferguson, youth just
coaxing q timorous mustache into ex-
iStence and tolerated only for the sake
of his father, Major Ferguson, former
" of the Ninth infantry. Claxton
would gladly have passed the young
ster by, but he was hailed before he
could regain the hall.
''Stop bit, old chap. 1 want to read
you a line I'm sending to friend of
mine at Days. Rather clever letter,
you know"
CIaxton tore himself away and went
back home. What was Miss Carter do
ing? He would have wagered hun
dred that Phelps had called and taken
her out. Confound Phelps!
The story went more smoothly, slim
ulated by the resentful energy of its
author. From 10 o'clock until nearly
daylight the typewriter clicked inces-
sanity. When it stopped clicking, seven
pages of manuscript, much marred by
pencil marks, lay on the table near at
hand. 1t was a good story, he felt sure,
although there were two or three de-
tails concerning which he would have
liked a conservative opinion. I'll take
Virginia out for luncheon and read 1t
to her." he thought. Then he remem-
bered that they had agreed never to
see each other extraordinarily, that
is.
The day, which began with his rising
at noon, dragged along monotonously.
1t was hard to realize that he might
not speak to her over the telephone that
stood on his desk and harder still to be
convinced that she would not call him
up. Toward midafternoon Claxton un.
locked a drawer and took out the nine
packages of her letters that represent
ed correspondence of three years. He
must choose the one letter and return
the rest to her.
To do this he must read every epis-
tie in the nine bundles. Claxton, in
common with most men who write or
act, was a sentimentalist, and he want
ed that the one letter should be the
dearest of all. The first that met his
eye he laid aside In the belief that 1t
would prove the dearest. Miss Carter
had penned it when he lay i'll of fever
at San Jose de Guatemala. "Your ca
BILE was repeated to me at Chicago"
was the message. otherwise 1 should
have been with you now. know that
If your illness continued you would
need a nurse, and felt that 1 could
not delegate to strangers the privilege
Of attending you" 1t was a womanly
letter-the letter of a woman mature in
heart and brain-and Claxton pondered
q long while before putting it aside.
Next came a telegram, sent to his
apartments before the telephone had
been installed: please come tonight.