The Winslow mail., 1907-04-20
ONE OF LIFE,S /
LITTLE TRa GEOIES
BY w. J. LAMpTON.

Neither was too young to be silly or
too old to be sentimental. 1t began
several years ago and ended only re-
Gently. The man lived in New York
at it's beginning, as he does now, and
the woman lived and still lives, in a
nearby suburb. They met, as men and
women sometimes do, on a train. 1t
was no common Irritation, with the
usual disregard of the convention. He
was a gentleman, she a lady, and for
some courtesy he had extended with
perfect prOpriety she thanked him,
and their acquaintance began.
They were congenial spirits. Surely
if they had not been her thanks for
his courtesy would have marked the
end of their accidental meeting. They
talked for perhaps an hour before she
left the train, and mutual hope was
expressed that they might meet again.
He had given her his card; she simply
gave him a name. Personal details of
that sort had small interest for them.
They had discovered in each other in
tellectual attractions which were of
deeper interest. They were friends
of the soul and the mind
Not long after this first meeting
their paths crossed again, this time
in the city, and he asked her to lunch
con with him. She went, and for an
hour or two they talked as two friends
who had known each other always.
They asked no marks of Identification.
She had his card, he knew her name,
and that was enough. Indeed not so
much was needed to make their COM
panionship delightful but names have
their uses in the furtherance of asso-
citation. A note must be written some
times or call sent over the tele-
phone
After this meeting they saw each
other again several times, never for
more than an hour or so at luncheon,
and then they went their separate
ways.
For two or three years after this
their association was close and con-
stant and she became a companion
and friend who was far more to him
than any he had ever known. He took
her into his business condolences and
she became a wise and strong adviser
to him. He did not hesitate to tell
her repeatedly that no woman could
be more to him than she was. But
neither talked of love, and the grand
passion was ignored by mutual con-
sent, if. indeed, it had ever met with
recognition.
Thus their two lives went on, close
together, interdependent, the one rely
ing upon the other, both faithful, each
uplifting the other In all these years
what they were to each other obscured
who they were, and they knew no
more than on that first day when he
had given his card to her and she
had told him her name. What they
knew satisfied them fully
Not long ago he asked her to come
to town, as he had something of i'm
portance to tell her She came, as
she always did in response to any
call he made upon her, and they dined
together. She did not ask him what
matter of Importance was to be dis
cussed, because she knew he would
tell her in good time. They talked of
music and books and plays and people
and the dozens of subjects intellectual
congeniality makes delightful, and
when they had come to the coffee he
told her they were forgetting the i'm
portant business which had brought
them together.
1--WE have never talked much of our
own selves he said, "and you know
as little of me as l know of you. but