Las Vegas age. [volume] (Las Vegas, Nev.) 1905-1947, 1907-07-06

Ais prop0s@


his hanson with much the demeanor
with which an Indifferent sailor might
climb into seagoing ship. He had a
bad half hour before him. and he was
well aware Of the fact. Having direct
el his coachman 20 an address on 9TH
avenue. and Strengthened his immacu-
late tie at the strip of looking glass
bes de him (this last purely mechan-
ical proceedngl, he leant forward, anu
with fixed, unseeing gaze, that seemed
t. srorn the traffic of the city, again
surrendered himself TO the problem
that had been torturing his brain for
hours. What on earth should he say TO
her. How cosld he ever hope TO ex-
plain the position in which he found
Himself?
New York was looking its best that
fine June morning. In the pale warm
sunlight Central Park glOwed gently;
the merry chorus of birds blended har-
moniously with the jingle of busseS
and the soft purring of electric auto
mobiles. 1t was a day to delight the
senses of one who loved his New York
but half as intensely as did Mr.. Sher-
Ingham on ordinary occasions. But to-
day as had been hinted, he cared for
none Of these things-saw them not,
indeed. For almost the first time in
his forty years of blameless life Mr..
Sheringham, on that drive to 9TH ave
nue. neglected to observe and return
the salutes OF passing acquaintances
He was thinking. too, deeply to be con-
scious of anything but the one ques-
tion that absorbed him, and which he
did not know how TO answer.
Presently he drew from his pocket
letter, and fixing his glasses, regarded
the paper with a frOwning concentra-
tion that seemed determined to gain
some inspiration from its mere peru
sal. The action was, however, an emp
ty one, for he already knew the con
tents of the letter by heart, had read
and re-read it fifty times since It had
ourst like Il bombshell into the midst OF
his placid bachelor breakfast. But for
| the fifty-tirst time he strove to grapple
with the problem that it presented.
My Dear Mr.. Shcringham-NOu
note only reached ne this morning,
but / am obcying your wish and re
plying to it with as little delay as
Ipossble. Perhaps it is unnecessary for
NE to say how much your proposal has
/ touched me; it cannot be otherwise
] than hattering to a woman of eight
and-thirty (my age.) to be asked 10
be his wife by a man whom she both
admires and esteems. But. dea?
friend, while fully sensible of the
worth of what | renounce. you must
forgive me If say that l fear it can
not be as you wish. Some day, per-
haps. may try to explain to you my
reasons; till then, and always. please
permit me to remain, as before, your
sincere and attached friend
ANNETTE PILKINGTON."
! A sufficiently straiS iShtforward and
charming letter, you will admit, for
woman TO send in reply to the propo-
sal of any man. Why, then. did Mr..
Sheringham, whose appearance was
hardly that Of the rejected suitor feel
apprehensive? The reason Is simple.
He had not written the letter TO which
this was an answer. Mr.. Sheringham,
In short, had never proposed to Mrs.
Pilkington, and was now faced with
what he conceived to be an unpleasant
duty of telling her so.
He had small doubt as to the mis-
creant who was almost certainly the
cause of his dilemma. Not for nothing
had Mr.. Sheringham been a bachelor
uncle for the past twenty years He
remembered with grim satisfaction
how often he had reproved his sister
Mary for her absurd leniency toward
those unconscionable boys, how often
he had predicted that some day Tom,
now a cadet at West Point, with his
dangerous capacity for initiating hand
writing, would achieve some serious