The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-10-12
Copyright. 1910. by Doubleday. Page 6 Company. Copyright, 1908, by
 the Mcclure Company

ty.''
 s'Wel1, if you're bound to get it out of me, I've got to stay and see you don't remove any articles of value.''
 'tBy love! So that's tiny own or yours?''
 Whats yours is ours at present, and what's ours is our own, as the bride said to the bridegroom"
 Val could almost have laughed, though not at the joke. He, the Mar quis of Loveland, an officer in the Grenadier guards, was to be watched lest he Should steal the hotel soap or sneak off with his own toothbrush!
 He went white and red and white again. If by a word he could have tumbled the whole hotel down in an earthquake he would have been willing to be caught under the ruins. He had wild, boyish conviction that by sub- jecting himself now to the extremest inconvenience he could by and by cause the hotel management poignant remorse. Yes, he could take them at their word. He would walk out of the house just as he was, leaving everything he had behind him. He would not even take his overeoat, and if he were struck down with pneu- monia so much the worse for these insolent people.
 His cap, his only head covering, as he had forgotten a bowler on board ship, lay on table, and he held it out for the enemy's inspection. You say all that is mine is yours," he sneered. tAThis may have cost or z shillings when it was new. Now it would fetch 2 at most. I will pay you for it. Half crown is the least have. Pray keep the change"
 He laid a coin, his last large coin, down on the table where the cap had been and without another word walk ed nonchalantly out of the room. Be low in the great hall through which he had to pass on his way out of the ho- tel lights glared and dazzled, and the talk and laughter of many persons sounded in his ears. Loveland pushed on blindly, conscious of himself as the one real entity in a crowd of will-o'- , the-wisps and wicked lure lights. His sole concern with the people in the hateful, glaring picture was that they should suspect nothing of his feelings. He walked with his head up and some thing that he meant for smile on his lips, nor was it an affectation that he appeared to recognize no one, though Cadwallader Hunter, who had been waiting to see this exit, believed it to I be.
 The night was warm for November i in New York. Still, there was decided l crispness in the air which Loveland felt as he went out.
 The streets were brilliant with light, and half New York appeared to be abroad, although the theaters had been in full swing for nearly an hour. But all the women wore cloaks and the men overcoats. Loveland, in his din | ner jacket and wide expanse of shirt
 front, his pumps and silk stockings, 1 his cloth travelling cap pulled over his | eyes, would have been noticeable even | if his height and good looks had not
 made him a marked figure. Every body who passed stared, and more
 than few glanced back at him. Here
 and there some pretty woman laughed at joking comment whispered yzf1er escort, and when his first hot rage be gan to cool it was uncomfortab1y 1 borne in upon Love1and that he was 1 the observed of many observers. Here he was. on a winters night,