Arizona republican., 1909-05-21
You are going home, my boy

You are going home, my boy"
"All right. II you say So" good
humoredly. Say, what do you think
of that man WORTH"
very good voice; but he's too
handsome. Being a plain duffer my
self. I don't take kindly to handsome
men
"Oh, go on. You're as fine look
ing chap as there's in. New York
But this man Worth has the looks
of a lady-killer. He's been cycling
Kitty, but it doesn't go. Hang it, l
can't see why she won't marry me
now She's got TO some time or
other"
You must have patience"
"or more money. Cant O'Mally
tell a good story. thought"
Good company, too: but should
hate to turn him loose in my wine
cellars. i imagine that he's not a
connoisseur, and will praise anything
that's good to drink, unless it's water"
. Merrihew roared.
We'll, here's your station. Dan. You
go home like a good boy. Shall |
see you tomorrow"
Eight thirty in the park. Gallop
off headache. Nothing like a horse
for headache. Good night"
fferrihew climbed the elevated stairs
and vanished. Hillard arrived home
tired and sleepy; but as he saw a
letter on the stand in the hall, his
drowsiness passed quickly. There was
no other blue envelope like it. She
now had his house address; she was
Interested enough to look il up. She
did not follow his lead and write in
Italian: she wrote in English-crisp
English, too. Again there was neither
beginning nor ending. But this was
a letter: there was something here of
the woman, something to read and
read again.
/ had told the maid to burn your
letter But, she left it on the floor
where 1 had thrown it, and l came
across il this morning. 1t looked
rather pathetic. So / am writing you
against my better judgment. Yes.
know your name; l find that l am
we'll acquainted with people you know.
/ am a woman who often surrenders
to the impulse of the moment; l may
or may not answer any future letter
from you. You write very good
Italian: but it will surprise you to
learn that l detest all things that are
Italian. Once l loved them we'll
Why should you wish to know me?
Our ways are as divergent as the two
poles. Happy because l sing? There
are some things over which we can
sing or laugh, but of which We can
not speak without crying. Happy or
unhappy, what can this matter to
you? To you I shall always remain
the Lady in the Fog. Are you rich
young, talented? | care not in the
least. Perhaps it amuses me to add
to your confusion. Find me? l think
not. Seek me? Do so; l permit you
to- And would you knew me if you
found me? Misguided energy!
Hillard put the letter away. ex-
tinguished the lights, and passed up
to his room. She defied him to find
her? This was a direct challenge. He
would accept it. This time he would
use no personal to tell her that
letter awaited her. She should make
the inquiries herself. And from the
mail clerk he would obtain a de-
scription of the elusive Madame An
got. Next morning he rode in the
park with Merrihew. Again he saw
the yelled lady on the Sanford black.
Out of normal curiosity he telephoned
the stables and made inquiries. The
reply was short. No one at the stables
knew the lady, but she rode he horse
on proper authority.
That night he wrote:
/ shall keep on writing till you
cease to reply. Let me be frank with
you. | am bored; so are you. The