Evening bulletin. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu, Hawaii]) 1895-1912, 1905-01-10
SHORT STORY FOR
EVENING HOURS
on THE LAST OWL CAR

as any one will tell you who cultivates
polite society in this town. Also that
he Is a bachelor, money maker, an
active microbe," too, in the realms
OF business, society and sport. He had
about given up the notion Of matrimo-
ny when he met Miss Taylor-Claire
Taylor-and then--he changed his
mind. She was born in the Isle of
Wight and had the blond, forid beauty
OF the British type. But then she had
been educated in French convent, and
had Drowned by the Cairo sun and had
made her entree at Paris, where she
quickly succeeded in toning down the
languorous II ingenious, characters
tics Of the typical English girl. Amer.
lea is famous composite of all these
experiences" of Miss Claire Taylor.
She had her season of conquest in
New York, Washington, Atlantic City
and Newport, and SO many offers of
marriage that she quit scoring" them.
She was rarely sensiblc--so Dexter Ho.
bart thought-and when she smiled
upon him, coaxed him to talk. preferred
his society and let him "in" on the
scope, Catholicity and liberality of her
views, to say nothing of her expert
ences, he avowed to himself that he he.
lleved he had at last found woman
good, beautiful and young woman
who understood him. When q woman
Is good, clevcr-of course she Is clever,
II she understands you--and beautiful,
then, II you have the means. you are
apt to fall in love: sure enough love,
with matrimony In prospect and bother
the expense.
That's what happened to Hobart or
that's what was happening when the
PiXleys opened the season with that
reception for Miss Taylor. Dexter had
met her before Of course. He had been
down to Newport and had seen the
first weeks doings in Gotham. And 50
he felt entitled to the first glories OF
her condescension. Condescension?
Yes, that seemed good word for the
radiance OF her greetings. For Hobart
wasn't quite sure of himself. He was
aware of the gravity of some of his
shortcomings. To be sure, he was well
read, which in his case meant that he
knew modern French literature, was
versed in historical and Grammatical
lore, was regarded as a connoisseur by
artists who had pictures to sell and
hid the gift" of eloquence. In all
of these polite qualifications Claire en-
Celled him. He didn't know and didn't
care anything about her financial pros.
poets He knew that Major Taylor had
hoen at Omdurman with Kitchener and
that the family was old patrician,
proud. But what he didn't know was
the depth and intensity of Claire's
moral philosophy. That's what he
called it..'moral philosophy" As for
himself he was what he was pleased
to describe as pretty broad.minded'
as regards men.
That night at Pixley's he came very
near committing himself. and being.
"a have intimated, cautious man %
''poise," he wasn't quite sure whether
he was glad or sorry when the time
came for him to go and he had said
nothing Serious"
"Til say good night, Miss Claire" he
looked over the cluster of palms where
her next partner was waiting. He bent
his head above her large white hand
| and held 1t to his lips for a second.
Il must CO."
Homer" she drawled, letting her
arm fall dejectedly beside her. Home,
Dexter?"
Eyes. Right home, Claire. I'm a
man Of business, you know, and can't
make every evening like this"
Then au revoir," she smiled, pick
Ing up her skirts. I'm going, too,
, after this waltz. I'm so tired. I'll 60
right off as soon as Mr.. Floyd will let
me-good might've can sit up later
tomorrow night. have things-oh, so
many-to say to you! I'm sleepy now,
see?"
But she smiled fondly over her fan
as Dexter led her to her waiting cava.
ller, and so they parted.
IL he hadn't been excited Mr.. Hobart
would have gone home then. But he
didn't. He got into his carriage and
went-downtown.
There are clubs downtown and other
places not all of which close at mid.
night. Dexter Hobart dismissed his
carriage at the door of one of his
clubs. That may be taken as an in
dication of his amiable consideration
for others. Also 1t may mean that he
knew what he was about and that he
meant to make night of H. don't
know what he did not do that night,
but when he was waiting for the last
owl in the gray light of damp and
chilly dawn his hair hurt him. His
eyes itched, he thought his clothes 1T
ted him badly, the wind blew so that
he was obliged to hold his hat. And
so, eager only for the calm, unctuous,
sleep-compelling bed that waited for
him at home, he got into the car at
last and went to sleep.
Somewhere far along the line the
sun woke him. He started stifhy and