Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-06-16

mo. but he will" answered Kitty. con-
| fdently.
There were times when her self-confi-
dence carried her too far, and this particu-
lar evening had been one of them. Ray
burn dropped from her ken as IL by magic.
week slipped past, and there were no
more roses or invitations to go motoring
or to the theater, and Kitty was thoroughly
/ disturbed
She wrote him a penitent little note In
big, splashing hand, and tore 1t up a
| moment afterward. Let him stay away,
for all l carei' she said to herself. She
was just beginning to discover that she
had heart, because II ached--though even
to Agnes she would not admit 1t.
Her friends rallied her on her paleness.
You must spend your days and nights
on the lookout for SCOOP laughed James
Bryce. And Kitty, feeling more miserable
than she ever had done In her life, threw
| herself deeper and deeper into her work.
Her advice and retorts in the Marriage
column became exceedingly witty, and to
the question, Should women marryf" she
always answered with an emphatic mo"
Her writing took on an additional snap
and spice, and was more eagerly read than
ever.
"Unlucky in love, lucky in other things,
perhaps" she unused one afternoon as she
sat at the horse show. pencil in hand,
noting the most fashionable gowns and
their wearers. Society was out In force
and the boxes were full. And as usual
the crowd stared more at the celebrities
than at the horses. One box-the Martyr s.
attracted particular attention, for Mrs.
Martyr, the wife Of a western cattle king,
had only recently broken into the social
ring, and her footing was still trife
insecure, her balls and dinners were made
as lavish and ostentatious as possible. She
had just corraled French count who had
recently landed, and already in a host of
papers his name had been coupled with
that of her daughter, Amy Martyr. A
Sunday supplement had made a special
faaf n
interlaced with forget-me-nots, and adorn-
ed with the query: will there be another
foreign marriage?" Mrs. Martyr was In
ecstasies.
From where she sat Kitty recognized
them instantly, and so, apparently, did
many of the onlookers. The count was
rather distinguished man, sallow and
lean with dark half-shut eyes and curled
mustaches, but 1t was at Amy Martyr that
Kitty looked longest, for in spite of the
girls very evident beauty there was none
of the hardness of the social climber in
her face as there was in her mothers. She
she was creating.
A woman in front of Kitty nudged her
companion. Look" she said in French.
La belle American sitting by Count Felix
Bordeaux-that gutter rat of all the sew
ers of Paris! Ma fol! But they are
strange people, these Americans They
open their hearts and homes to him with
out question, and at once the newspapers
madame! 'Tis ten years since l have seen
the count, and he has not changed the mer
est trihe. A little more yellow as to skin,
q little more dyed as to mustachesl But
that is ALL And l remember seeing madame,
his wife as well. That was when she was
young, for she has been in an asylum IN
Brussels these many, many long years. Eli!
l have doubt her keepers are kinder to
her than her husband the count, who never
breaches her name and takes all these rich
Americans can offer! Imposing on their
bounty Yet news will travel 1t will
come out. His time is short You shall
see And then-what scandal
Kitty clutched her note book with shak-
ing fingers. She had her scoop at last! A
big yellow SCOOP The thrill of the dis
covery reused her like a call to battle.
Every instinct was instantly alert. She
fingered in the hope that the two French
women would say more, and as she waited
planned her course.
Her first idea had been to rush to the
office with the news; her next, to sift the
evidence-to gather all she could, to make
an attack on American society, brilliant,
bitter, scathing. Then the thought assal-
ed her that If she stopped to gather details
some other paper might get the news of
the counts craft and deceit.
Well, It was all a gamble anyway, and