Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-06-28

being at least one person on board with a spark
of humanity in her soul and" he bowed to her
in gracious gallantry, my surmise was hap
PLY justified
NALDA hesitated, even in her wrath. The
man was an enigma. He baff1ed and
troubled her. He had not denied one single &C
cusation made against him, but acknowledged
with a sort OF lmp1sh Joy, his art1hCe In gaming
foot room on the Spitfire's decks. On the other
hand, his story was utterly absurd, while his
method of telling it only Cheapened its effect
He mixed his truth and fiction with a needless
spoon, then offered her the frothy scum to
swallow or not at her discretion. This
last point troubled Valda more than all the
rest, for she simply could not understand; SO
she sighed in sheer perplexity and turned to
him with a meager hope of explanation.
Can you tell me, she asked, " just why you
adopted that fippant and exaggerated way of
telling me your story,-that IS, if you wanted
to be believed?"
Il can" he answered frankly, and now there
was no suggestion of levity in his tone; instead
there came upon his fine young features look
of seriousness that caused her to wonder at him
even more. Also, he looked her squarely in the
eyes. when first l began my story, you
listened with considerations but soon l saw
that you disbeheved, even when / told you OF
my father who is dead, my friend of friends,
whose love meant more to me than million
emeraldS ~
He paused and turned away his head, gazing
in silence out to sea, and when he spoke again
his tone was tender and scarcely audi BILE to her
"A true mans memory Of his parents IS a
holy thing; and you hurt that memory, even
| though you are possibly not to blame" He
faced her once more, and squared his shoulders,
as if shaking off passing pang, and his tone
| again was marked with dash of carelessness.
After that l didn't pinch of wind
| whether you believed the rest or not. You
wanted fippancy, and you got it, with the
| measure brimming over too! AS for who or
what / am, / haven't about scrap of evil
dence to prove identity, and you probably
wouldn't accept it if had No, there is moth
| ing l can offer you beyond the unsupported
word of Bruce Morson,-vagrant, pauPer, by a
train of circumstances too absurd for intelligent
respect This, Miss Girard, is ALL
HE rose from his seat but Valda stopped him
= with look Surely this was not acting
1t was too real; and yet this very reality was
part of the mans seductive art One slip, one
| weakness, might mean her fathers downfall
while this plausible fox would add another
official feather to his cap, and laugh at another
| woman's bald Credullty. Still, if in shielding
| her fathers name she wounded a fellow
| creature to the quick, it would hurt,-and the
was holy thing. No, cost what it might, she
would give the man one final chance.
Mr. Morson," she asked, IS Morson actu-
ally your name?"
Yes, certainly" he answered, with smile
What else?"
She did not tell him what in her mind
but put another question. {" Do you give me
your word that you have told me all the truth
concealing nothing, on your honor as South
ern gentleman?
why, yes" he answered simply, If that
will make difference in your trust-on my
honor as Southern gentleman"
And here was paradox-feminine, but still
paradox. The woman believed. At the self
same time she doubted; but the woman in her
heart believed. Thank You" she said and
smiled on him kindly. We will talk it over
again tomorrow; but now you had better go.
| You will dine this evening with Captain Larris
afterward with us.
The Southerner inclined his head, in ac-