The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1910-12-15
CHAPTER II.
A Torn Telegram,

] OTn lelC9TdHl'
[ lunched alone at the Gilmore
house. and went back to the city at
once. The sun had lifted the mists,
and fresh summer wind had cleared
away the smoke pail. The boulevard
was full Of cars flying countryward
for the Saturday half-holiday, toward
golf and tennis, green fields and bah
bling girls l gritted my teeth and
thought of Mcknight at Richmond.
And then, for the first time, I associ-
ated John Gilmore's granddaughter
with the West" that Mcknight had
irritably flung at me.
| still carried my travelling bag, for
Meningitis vision at the window Of
the empty house had not been without
effect did not transfer the notes to
my pocket, and, If l had, 1t would
not have altered the situation later
Only the other day Mcknight put
this very thing up to me.
q warned you" he reminded me.
81 told you there were queer things
coming, and to be on your guard. You
ought to have taken your revolver"
1T would have been of exactly as
much use as a bucket Of snow in
Africa" I retorted IF l had never
closed my eyes, or II had kept my
finger on the trigger Of sixshooter
(Which is novelesque for revolver),
the result would have been the same.
And the next time you want little
excitement with every variety Of thrill
thrown in, l can put you by way OF 1t.
You begin by getting the wrong berth
in Pullman car, and end
"Oh, know how it ends" he fin
ished shortly. Don't you suppose the
whole things written on my spinal
marrow"
But l am wandering again. That Is
the difficulty with the unprofessional
story-teller: He yaws back and forth
and can't keep in the wind; he drops
his characters overheard when he
hasn't any further use for them and
browns them; he forgets the coffee
pot and the frying pan and all the
other small essentials, and, If he car
ries a love affair, he mutters a fer
vent Allah be praised" when he
lands them. drenched with adventures,
at the matrimonial dock at the end of
the final chapter
put in a thoroughly unsatisfactory
afternoon Time dragged eternally.
dropped into a summer vaudeville, and
bought some ties at a haberdasher's
! was bored but uneXpectant; ! had
no premOnition of what was to come
Nothing unusual had ever happened
to ne; friends Of mine had some
times sailed the high seas of adven-
ture or skirted the coasts Of chance,
but all of the shipwrecks had occurred
after woman passenger had been
taken on. Ergo" had always said
no women" | repeated it to my
self that evening almost savagely
when | found my thoughts straying
back to the picture Of John Gilmore's
granddaughter. even argued as |
ate my solitary dinner at a downtown
restaurant
Haven't you troubles enough"
reflected without looking for more?
Hasn't Bad News gone lame. with
matinee race booked for next week?
Otherwise aren't you comfortable?
Isn't your house in order? Do you
want to sell a pony in order to have
the library done over in mission or
the drawing room in gold? Do you
want somebody to count the empty
cigarette boxes lying around every
morning."
Lay it to the long idle afternoon, to
the new environment, to anything you
like, but | began to think that per
haps l did l was confoundedly lone
ly For the first time in my life its
even course began to waver. The
needle registered warming marks on
the matrimonial seismograph lines
vague enough, but lines.
My alligator bag lay at my feet,
still locked While I waited for my
coffee | leaned back and surveyed the
people incuriously. There were the
usual couples intent on each other;
my new state OF mind made me re-
gard them with tolerance. But at the
next table, where a man and woman
dined together, a different atmosphere
prevailed My attention was first
caught by the woman's face She had
been speaking earnestly across the
table, her profile turned to me. had
noticed casually her earnest manner,
her somber clothes, and the great
mass of odd, bronze-colored hair on
her neck. But suddenly she glanced
toward me and the utter hopelessness
almost tragedy-of her expression
struck me with a shock. She half
closed her eyes and drew a long
breath, then she turned again to the
man across the table
Neither one was eating. He sat low
r. his chair, his chin on his chest.
ugly folds of thick flesh protruding
over his collar. He was probably so,
bald grotesque, sullen, and yet not
without suggestion ef power. But bel