The Cairo bulletin., 1909-08-25
. IN HIS OWN WAY.

Yet she was with him, just on the
! other side Of the table She was pout-
ing just a little because OF the willful
FUR that persisted In slipping from
her right shoulder She caught his
gaze, the pout turned to smile. and
hen the waiter came hurrying up,
George Adams, at odds with the
world, wrote the order very carefully
and correctly. the slip was torn from
he many others on the pad, and then
hey were alone again, the man still
very disconsolate, while the piquant.
delightful specimen Of approaching
womanhood opposite to him became
interested for the moment in several
new arrivals. They had the choice
nook of the cafe. Shielded by the
big palms. they could see but yet not
be seen.
! In the same moment that she gazed
| the man became aware of what he
held in his hand. 1t was a fountain
ipen seemingly the symbol OF his
work, for he was just one of the vast
army Of the business worlds everyday
oookkeepers He had taken II out to
write the order for their little supper.
Almost angrily he damned ii back in
to his pocket and then his mind re-
turned to the theater and to the play
that they had just seen together, and
to the hero therein, and the beauty,
romance and splendor of 1t all, and
that was the cause OF his present
mood She had liked it so much.
grown almost oyerenthusiastic, he
thought. 1t would give her false ideas
of what to expect. That was it. She
would expect the romance of the play
to be her own romance. That was
impossible.
Carried away by the irritation of his
mind he noticed the tab that was still
lying on the table, held it carelessly
for a moment, then Instnctiyely
reached for his fountain pen. Back at
business college they had awarded
him several prizes for penmanship,
and he could write If he couldn't talk
And.this was the evening during which
he had decided TO ask her the big
question that was troubling the very
soul of him!
The fountain pen was now moving
hesitatingly across the blank paper.
ultimately framing beautiful doves
and birds and drawing lines possess
ing true curves. Then the hand began
moving faster and faster He looked
up for an instant and she was silently
watching him, But his hand never
wavered Two, three or four years
ago, was IT, since he had last done this,
II mattered not, it seemed but yes
terday. And then It was ali done. all
except that central. vacant space,
There was a place there to write
something.
Joy or sorrow | am by thy side"
he remembered the words distinctly
from the play. They had made a great
impression upon him and he wrote
them without falter.
The slip was torn hastily from the
others, slipped gently across to her,
and then he was writing again. faster.
more enthusiastically, more beautifully
than ever The passion for his entire
being was behind It all.
1T is never cold beneath thy smile"
He had remembered that also, and he
made 1t his own message and it reach
ed her the same as the first, but he
dared not look up to see what effect
it was having.
For the third time he was filing a
piece of paper with the objects of his
imaginations, inspired with the SUBJ
stance of all his dreams This was
to be the last, he decided, and the
words there 10 be his truly own. The
soft, cadent, ravishng music of the
orchestra neryed him on.
Il love you" he wrote, forgetting
that the words were not new, but in
deed more ancient than all of the
others.
The pen dropped 10 the table. and
with both arms outstretched he lifted
the diminutive piece Of paper towards
her Her two hands met both Of his
for she knew instiuctively what it all
meant. and she was kindly above all
other traits.
Same here, George" she assured
him very bluntly but none the less
tenderly and earnestly.
He suddenly wondered how he |
could ever have doubted her in the I,
leaSt i louis Engdahl