Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1909-06-10
P III.

warrantable that Mr.. Calendar
f%guratively washed his hands
a Of Mr.. Kirkwood. Unquestion-
ably Mr.. Kirkwood considered him
self we'll rid of MIR. Calendar. When
the latter had gone his way, Kirk
wood, mindful of the fact that his boat
train would leave st. Pancras at 1870,
set about his packing and dismissed
from his thoughts the incident created
by the fat adventurer and at 6 o'clock
or t~hereabouts let himself out of his
room, dressed for the evening. a light
r%aincoat over IL arm. in the other
hand a cane, the drizzle having
ceased.
A stolid British lift carried him down
to the ground floor of the establish
ment in something short of five min
utes. Pausing in the office long enough
to settle his bill and leave instructions
to have his luggage conveyed to the
boat train, he received With entire
equanimity the affable benediction Of
the clerk, in whose eyes he still fig
ured as that radiant creature, an
American millionaire, and passed ON to
the lobby, where he surrendered hat,
coat and stick to the cloakroom at
tendant ere entering the dining room.
The hour was q trifle early for a
London dinner, the handsome DON
but moderately filed with patrons.
Kirkwood absorbed the fact uncon-
sciously and without displeasure. The
earlier the better, he was determined
to consume his last civilized meal (as
he chose to consider i) at his serene
leisure, to live fully his ebbing mo-
ments in the world to which he was
born, to drink to it's cloying dregs one
ultimate draft Of luxury.
With a deferential flourish the wait
CT brought him the menu card. He
had served in his time many an Amer
lean millionaire; he had also served
this Mr.. Kirkwood, and respected him
kind in that he comprehended the art
Of dining.
Fifteen minutes later the waiter de-
parted rejoicing, his order complete.
To distract a conscience whispering
Of extravaganza Kirkwood lighted a
cigarette.
The room was gradually filling with
later arrivals. 1t was the most IA
vored restaurant in London. and de-
spite the radiant costumes of the wom-
en- it's atmosphere remained sedate and
restful.
A cab clattered down the side street
on which the window opened.
At a nearby table a woman laughed,
quietly happy. Incuriously Kirkwood
glanced her way. She vas bending
forward, smiling, fattering her escort
with the alteration Of her eyes. They
were lovers alone in the wilderness of
the crowded restaurant. They seemed
very happy.
Kirkwood was conscious of a strange
pang Of emotion. 1t took him some
time to comprehend that it was envy.
He was alone and lonely. For the
first time he realized that no woman
had ever looked upon him as the wo-
man at the adjoining table looked upon
her lover. He had found time to wor-
ship but one mistress-his art.
And he was renouncing her.
He was painfully conscious of what
he had missed, had lost or had not yet
found-the love of woman.
The sensation was curious, new,
unique in his experience.
His cigarette burned down to his
fingers as he sat bordering. Abstract
eddy he ground Its fire out in an ash
tray.
The waiter set before him a silver
tureen, covered.
He sat up and began to consume his
SOUP, scarce doing it justice. His
dream troubled him-his dream Of the
love of woman.
From a little distance his waiter re-
garded him with an air of d%isappoint-
ment. In the course Of an hour and a
half he awoke to discover the attend
ant in the act Of pouring very hot and
black coffee from a bright silver pot
into a demitasse of fragile porcelain.
Kirkwood slipped a single lump. OF
sugar into the cup, gave over his cigar
case to be filled, then leaned back, de-
nberately lighting q n anu sieAuei
panetela as a preliminary to a last lin
gering appreciation Of the scene OF
which he was a part.
He reviewed it through narrowed
eyelids lazily, yet with some slight
surprise, seeming to see 1t with new
vision, with eyes from which scales OF
ignorance had dropped.
This long and brilliant dining hall,
with its quiet perfection of proportion
and appointment, had always gratihed
his love Of the beautiful. Tonight 1T
pleased him to an unusual degree. Yet
1t was the same as ever. Its walls,
tinted a deep rose, with their hangings
of dull cloth Of gold; its lights discr1m-
inatingly clustered and discreetly
shaded, redoubled in half a hundred
mirrors; it's subdued simmer Of plate
and glass, its soberly festive assem-
blage Of circumspect men and women
s%plendidly gowned, its decorously
muted murmur of voices penetrated
and interviewer by the strains of a
hidden string orchestra, caressed his
senses as ALWAYS. vet with q differ