The Montgomery advertiser., 1905-07-29
Our Daily $bort Story

about the husbands; besides she's not
 my neighbor. We live one at one end of the world (our town world I mean) and they at the other. How we'll
 versed he Is in almost everything He's an aristocrat. though and
 Southern families How it peeps out
 in him. I do love those born to the
 purple. He's bookish a bit. quite a
 big bit I find out, but that horrible
 grind of business that crushes out so
 many beautiful things that one might
 otherwise enjoy keeps him from the full enjoyment of this, he tells me.
 with an earnest look from his fine eyes.
 An. he is just the type that has always appealed to me. tall, athhletic and half blonde. He does make one feel so well
 satisfied with ones self. She must
 be a happy woman. I did so want to
 be a happy woman myself. but some- how the, precious draught was always snatched from me just when I had be- gun to sip It's sweet nectar.
 find myself asking him if he likes artistic effects in costumes. He says
 he does, indeed. Then I say innocent
 ly (yes. God knows. I did say 1t inno- cently) that next week I'm coming to
 town in lovely get up of white and
 brown. He looks out of the window
 for a moment, then says half absent
 mindedly: What day?" start.
 sort of thrill pervades my very being
 hesitate, and then say, "Wednesday, perhaps"
 What time.'' he asks again in that
 almost distant tone. "Oh. about 10
 o'clock" answer very unconcernedly
 How the trees fly past us
 How blue and peaceful the sky. One
 would always be good, If one lived in
 the country, I think. How I used to love to lie among the lace-like ferns
 and listen to the strange. sweet tales
 the blue birds sang me: and the little
 green moss fairies used to tell me of such radiant joys that would be mine when I spread out my wings and flew out into the great world beyond. An. little green moss fairies. who would have thought you could lie so Ten o'clock is too late for lunch. says the man at my side, haIf-past twelve is a nice hour. Do you ever stop at
 Girard'sg music hall about that hour" I'm just bit music mad at times. I might have the spell come over me on Wednesday," I answer. Then there Is pause. Somehow his strong. sup pie hand closes over my gloved one.
 It is all wrong. I suppose. But there Is not much sin Cor fun either) in
 holding a woman's gloved hand, I don't believe. Then there is a shrill whistle. rush and push ana thud, ana the tram stops. We are at our journeys end. It is Wednesday. quarter to 12 a.
 m. look into the long French mirror
 Ca relict of our splendor) for the last time. Yet. I look well. More than
 well. Charming" am sure he will say The gown of brown and white Is decided hit. I'll wear this one blood
 red rose. the color of my hearts blood and after the lunch and the laughter and the talk is over, I'll pin it on his coat.
 I feel that he will like this wee lit- tie flame of color and the brown and white. Now. am I a wicked creature
 or just a starved out human heart? I am so peculiar. so few people appeal to me. He does appeal to me. Every fiber of my being is respondent to his touch. If he were free to ask me, I would marry him tomorrow and love him madly and then we would be such dear good chums. Well. that like so many of my strong desires must be crushed. Yet. I will see him today. | just this once. What will he ask in payment for my yielding to his invita- l tion to meet him today wonder. Men. | I've found out in this world we live | in, never do anything unless they get paid for 1t. They want to choose their | own pay and their own specie of coin, but they owe and all won't come out loser If he should ask of me one l kiss. tAh. why deny 1t? would