Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-11-12
SUNDAY MAGAZINE NOVEMBER IT, 1905
y WAY THE RING WENT ROUND
Continue romba
Continued from page S


tints of sunset on the pink chiffon and the
flashes of fire on the girls checks, till he
wondered if it was all the sunset, or
partly the Count. That man was absorbed
in rolling a cigarette and listening to the
girl, while his smile played surprises with
his mustache. As Jacks eyes followed
the thought of a rival, the cigarette was
on it's way up to the waiting lips, a
triumph of manufacture.
After that Jacks wits apparently for
sock him altogether. Lillian spoke to
him. and when he started and asked her
to repeat she turned to the Count in dis
gust 1t was so evident that the Eastern
education had demoralizcd his useful
ness, in her estimation, that Jack did the
best thing he could for himself when he
took himself away.
He remembered Lillian saying: You
must come out again sometime and spend
an evening" He remembered it be-
cause it was odd for her to say. He
remembered that the Count said some
thing about seeing him again and that
he replied 'Oh, yes, we shall GER
tainly meet" But better, he remember
ed the dewdrops glistening on his horses
name and lot of such irrelevant things.
And all the time he was thinking
about cheese sandwiches.
At ten o'clock that night Jack lay in
bed The doctor had just left him. He
was bandaged and pale. There were
lines of pain on his face, but he seemed
half tempted to smile. The Chinese
boy gEded across the rugs with 4 letter
which he had to open, for Jacks available
hand was on the wrong side. A messenger
waited in the hall for an answer. The
smile triumphed as he read:
Jack, dear Jack am so horribly, so awfully
ashamed! l have just read in the evening
paper how you jumped off the train last
night after the robbers, and all alone in the
dark with those two ruffians, captured one
of them and held him all night at the point of
his own pistol, till the morning train stopped
for you.
1t was just like you, Jack, and the pluckiest
thing | ever heard of How you must de-
spise mel But please come out tomorrow,
Jack the first thing in the morning, just to
let me tell you how l hate myself for being
SO mean to you. TIGE
Laboriously, 1eft-handed1y, wincing and
smiling, Jack scrawled with pencil:
Can't, Tige. Laid up for repairs. l must
take the will for the deed for day or two.
It's all right. JACK.
At ten the next morning Jack was
lying on a divan in the library. The room
was full of odors. The flowers of the
City of Flowers" are not used to having
their domain invaded or their comic
supremacy disputed; but there was
pungent sense of carbolic and such things
about the room. The library was dark.
The doctor had ordered sleep. With
his eyes wide open, Jack was trying to
obey. Only one little wisp of sunlight
found a crevice somewhere 1t made
no effort to light the roonl-that was
too hopelessly much. The yellow waif
simply fell across the rugs, from the
window to the door, like a finger, pointing;
and Jacks eyes had followed it as the
door silently opened. There was faint
rustic of something soft. The wisp of
light shot across white and pink. A
fragrance oblterated the carbolic. A
contrite incarnation of beauty was kneel-
ing by the divan.
"Oh Jackl however did you dare?"