Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-08-14

more days of this fools paradise. But for
her sake must go, and go would!
"Will you tell me one thing?" asked my
reflected self that night. why is it that a
man around forty, who would like the COM
panlonship of a good looking, not necessarily
beautiful. intelligent-I don't mean highly
tellectual-Woman, somewhere between
twenty-five and thirty-fve, rarely ever finds
one, unless she is married. Will you answer
my deduction. 1t is because the choice ones
are grabbed when they are young: and the
only chance a bachelor has of getting one of
the right age, with the requirements men
| toned, is to find widow or one who has
been disappointed in love in her younger
| days. In one case he gets, at best, the ashes
of burnt out love, and in the other he stacks
UP against the chance of not making good by
comparison with the former leading man.
It's long shot both ways, with ten to one
against you that you get stung. And then,
if you do happen to find one that suits you,
who is around nineteen, you are accused of
kidnapping or of robbing the cradle. What's
bachelor to do then? Go to bed, guess,
and dream of the days when you were
younger and not so foolish"
THE next day the Princess and l walked
tory which commanded view of mountains
and valleys for miles. The blue outlines of
the Catskils were plainly visible, some thirty
miles away, beyond the New York State
line; and nearer, to the southwark, about
twelve miles distant, the Delaware Water
Gap stood out with its clearly defined in
clined walls, looking as if some giant of pre-
historic days had hewn a wedge out of the
mountain to show the beautiful vista be-
yond.
90 am going back to New York to-mor-
row" began, after we had both stood silent
for sometime, wrapt in admiration of the
panorama before us.
Tomorrow" she repeated without look
ing at me.
Eyes. I have just received letter from
my manager saying that rehearsals will be-
gin week earlier than he at first intended"
II hope your next seasons leading lady
will not be SO hard to-take," she said with
a suspicion of the musical laugh.
1t will be something of comedown, af-
ter associating with royalty for two weeks,
to be surrounded by-just people"
And I shall lose my title when you go.
l am afraid l shall never be Princess
again"
you haven't said you are sorry" 1 sug-
gested, after wondering why she had not
done so.
81 am sorry-more sorry than can tell
you" she said, turning her Undesirable eyes
to mine. II shall miss you dreadfully.
have learned something from all the clever
people l have met from the cities; but
have learned things from you that l never
should have known, perhaps, if you had not
come"
There was decided culver in her voice,
and she turned toward the Water Gap again
and was silent.
She had learned from me what she never
would have known if l had not come! was
right, then. Unwittingly l had, as l had
feared, won the heart of this artless young
girl; and unwilingly too, for all my philoso-
ply pointed to the incompatibility of our
ages. That loved her had known from
the first time she smiled on me; although
had never acknowledged it, even to my tact
turn confdant. Would l not do her greater
wrong to go away and leave her with
wounded heart, than to take the love for
which l really hungered. and devote my life
to trying to make her happy? Why should
l, who had carried an empty heart for so
many years, decline this opportunity of hap
piness, which seemed dispensation of Fate,
for a mere supposititious theory? Why
| cause certain misery to two souls when there
was a great chance of two people being
happy?