The Breckenridge news. (Cloverport, Ky.) 1876-1955, 1908-03-11


sylvia turned 10 Siward. glanced up
at him, hesltated and began TO laugh
consciously:
what do you think OF my latest SEN
timental acquisition
He'd be an ornament to a stock
farm" replied Slward, out of humor.
How brutal you can ber' she unused,
smiling
Nonsense! He's a plain bounder,
isn't hep
II don't KNOWS he? He struck me
a trihe appeallngly, even pathetically.
They usually do that sort. AS though
the trouble they took could ever be
worth the time they loser
She sat. smiling maliciously down at
the water. smoothing out the soaked
skirt of her swimming suit and swing
ing her legs re6ectively.
Are you reconciled2" she asked
presently.
ITO what"
ITO leaving Shotover. Today is our
last day, you know. You may be here
again, but II shall not be If ever
come to Shotover again"
Her stockinged heels beat the devils
tattoo against the marble sides of the
pool. She reached up above her head
drawing down a Towering branch OF
japanese orange, and caressed her deli
cate nose with the white blossoms
dreamily, then mlschievously, "T'm ac-
customing myself to this most sig
nifcant perfume" she said, LOOKING at
him askance. And she deliberately
hummed the wedding march, watching
the color rise In his sullen face.
"If you had the courage OF a spar
row you'd make life worth something
for us BOTH" he said.
She crossed her knees, one slender
ankle imprisoned in her hand. leaning
forward thcIghtfully above the water
"Our last day." she unused. "for we
shall never be just you and l again
never again, my friend, after we leave
this rocky coast Of Eden. am to be-
married a year from Nov. l."
He looked up at her in dark surprise
for he had heard that their wedding
date had been set for the coming win
ter.
"A years engagement" he repeated
unconvinced
ut was my wish. think that IL
sufficient for everybody concerned"
Then, averting her face. which had
suddenly lost a little of It's color, "A
year is little enough" she said impa-
tiently. T-what has happened to us
gr.Ns fv.ksa rra1
for It's burial. Stephen Siward, what
do you think Of me nOw?"
81 am learning" he replied simply.
"What, if you please?'
Learning a little about what l am
losing"
"You mean meT
Eyes"
She bent forward lmpulsively, bal
ancing her body on the pools rim
with both arms, dropping her knee I'M
til her ankles swung interlOcked above
the water Listen" she said In low,
distinct voice. What you lose is no
other mans gain. If | warm and eX-
pand in your presence, if l say clever
things sometimes, If l am intelligent,
of you. You inspire it in me. Normal
~ / am the sort of girl you first met
at the station. l tell you that l don't
know myself now; that | have not
known myself since | knew you. Quail
tiles Of understanding, ability to APP
preclate, to express myself without
employing the cOmmonplaces, subtle
ties of intcrcourse-all. maybe, were
latent I'm me. but sterile until you came
into my life And when you go, then,
lacking impulse and incentive, the new
facility the new sensitive alertness,
the uncons .ious self confidence all
will smolder and die out in me. Shall
we take a farewell plunge and dress
You know we say goodby tomorrow"
where do you go from here"
"To Lenox. The Claymores have
asked us for a week. After that Hot
Springs for another two weeks or so.
After that 20 Oyster Bay. Mr.. Quar-
rer opens his house on Sedge point"
she added demurely, but l don't think
he expects to invite you to The Sedges.'
"IIow long do you stay there?' ask
ed Siward irritably.
Until we go to town I'm December"
"What VIII you find to do all that
time in oyster BayY" he asked, more
irritably.
"What premature question! The
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