Evening star., 1909-05-16


ESQH<AAASN her left hand glanced sympa-
E$EESRMM theticaly at her husband He had
E2A11d&AL3IJa shifted his position He had been
lH8a@~((N crouched in attitude of concen-
N4HE1LlNaXM trated interest over his writing ia
ble and she had him dip his
pen in the inkwel and stroke his chin with his left
hand if considering just how he would frame the
sentence; yet not word had he written And now
he had lounged down in his chair, with his back de
jectedly curved and his chest shockngly sunk and
his long legs and long feet splayed out in front of him
At last from the supine figure came a sound ex-
pressive of disgust Emily. recognized this in
timation that she might speak,
What's the matter, dear she asked turning
her head. Doesn't it go well IL
Coz snarled John Nugent You know it
doesn't go! There's not an idea in my head; nothing
but scrambled eggs! Three days now. and not
word not idea! | shall never be able to think up
another plot will never write again!'
Why don't you take the thing nearest you and
geam humorous and atfectionate, enivened his
blue eyes. The thing that's nearest to me? You,
Emily"
Goodness no! You've treated that subject
enough Take something in this room. not me, and
see it won't suggest story. Why we have SO
many old, interesting things-and pictures
slowly passing the tapestry above the fireplace,
the old Sheraton chairs, the carved Venetian chest
painted by his friend Rupert Cornwall, who
eminent in the world of art as John Nugent was in
that of literature: but of them offered him the
least inspiration.
Its no use, Emily" he said What would you
pick out as promising subject?
That engraving over your desk" She smiled and
blushed
A that he looked at her for moment without
= speaking and there something strange in
his look an odd light of interest and suspicion :" If
you choose that it of course making the story
rather personal !" he warned her.
oh don't believe should mind " she answered
She put down her mending for moment; reminis-
cent dreamy look came into her gray eyes. Wasn't
that day at Meudon perfect? I've often thought it
was about the incest of our whole honeymoon. 1t
SO good to have you take me out from Paris and
show me the place where you had liked to go your
holidays"
Yes, had good time ;. he agreed Wasn't it
odd your finding this old print of the place the next
afternoon? l wonder if | can't get story out of
that?"
With musing smile he continued to gaze at the
picture and his wife beamed happily the
cess of her suggestion There was the awakened and
yet absorbed look on his face that she knew. He
always very dear to her; but it was at these times
that she felt he mysterious and remote being.
and she adored him then
He for half hour bent his writing table,
but he wrote very little Its coming all right, he
cried jumping up. I'm going out to run round
He put his hat and at the door turned and looked
at her Il wonder if you II like the story?' he said,
and there was an odd sparkle in his eyes.
After he had gone out. Emily pondered over the
odd glance her husband had given her when he
dered if she would like the story. She thought she
knew every expression of his face: but that glance
had arrested her attention because there some
thing new in it. She puzzled it for little while
trying to identify it. Well she could not explain it
when he returned she would ask him about it.
But the intention slipped her mind. He in
and seated himself at his writing table by and by
she crept from the She had found that when
once his pen moving he liked be alone In
her she sang merrily to herself because he
was busy again and she was happy. While he at
work on the story she asked him questions about
it. She had learned to be patient and to suppress all
inquisitiveness at such times
Three days later she examining the plants in
her window boxes, when the door was flung open and