Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-12-22
10

elors fall heir to. For some reason l ne
separate the idea OF home and Christina:
can hang up all the red ribboned wreaths you
and you can dress your married friends t
your married friends children, and you
your married friends Christmas dinners;
isn't really Christmas, because it isn't really
Miss Maynard glanced about the room.
people would call this pretty good home;
seem to have plenty of friends" she added,
her head at the long row of photogra phs
shelf over the fireplace.
Those photographs? They're bluff. Ye
what l mean, Rita
"Of course l know what you mean, and
of it. Sometimes, Harry, I'm only afraid yo
feel that way about things. l know there a
fear sometimes you can't stand it, and thai
make you different. Are all these pilot
bluffs -
Carmichael nodded Pretty much Yo
how it is. Men affect women so differently.
are some men, generally very fine citizens
women fly FROM and there are Others they
fly with, and still others they want to have
when their husbands are down town and
their photographs to. I'm in the last class.
i suppose, they have heard of my gallery c
national beauties, and wish to be representa-
Miss Maynard picked up from the table
side large photograph of herself IN sllve
and looked at it quite impersonally. - blu
NOe&A>
No" he said, that is the only picture
insist must never be moved. It's per-
manent quantity,-always been in the
same place for years"
Always in the same place for years."
the girl repeated slowly. Who changes
and creates all this mystery in the breasts
of your young lady friends?"
my man does all that" Carmichael
answered promptly, and it's one of his
most cherished perquisites. 1t doesn't
cost me anything. and it gives him
great deal of pleasure. He's terribly
tickle, though, he features two or three
a week some weeks And what he sees
in some of them l cannot understand
and yet it seems little familiar for me
to ask him. There was hand painted
photograph of Viennese soubrette that
he was crazy about. He set her up against
my ink we'll first, and when l threw her
into the waste paper basket he fished her
out and leaned her against the lamp on
the table there. 1t lit her up like spot
light / hid her behind books and in
closets and in every out of the way cor
ner in the place; but the next day there
she would be with her tinted beauty
presiding over the dining room or the
bath room or any old place, till had to
cremate her in the CRATE.
Its little wonder then, said Miss
Maynard. that no one has ever been
able to find the real one"
Carmichael smiled and classped his
hands about his knees. Ali he re-
peated, the real one, Ell?
The girl sat up straight in her chair
and in imitation of her host clasped her
hands about her knees and then looked
him fairly in the eyes. Yes, tell me,
please, Harry; I'm sulh an old
friend. Which is the one?,'
Carmichael smiled up at the
GIRL and then slowly pulled HIM
self to his feet You don't
mind if l smoke, do YOU"
Miss Maynard shook her head, and the
young man crossed the room to find
cigar, and then returned to his place at
the fire. He took match box from his
pocket, and as he slowly lit his cigar the
red light from the hearth fell full on his
face
After all, Rita" he said, what's the
user"
The girl impulsively put out her hand
and laid it on his arm. Why, Harry"