Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-05-14
BY ANNA EICHBERG KING.

that you are not quite what ne expected.
He thought you would be sadder-more
poetic
Ibid he, indeed?
HE thinks you are a little unfeeling,
but he did say that you don't show it in
your work. and that your illustrations to
his poems two years ago We're much
mors beautiful than the poems. He is
SO generous, you know Miss Penrose's
blue eyes grew soft. But he was a little
disappointed
WAS he?' and Miss Penrose recovered
herself well, SO was ]. child, and you
can tell him so. That is. you needn't"
she added hastily.
The next day Aurora paced the railway
platform beside her poet. 1t was a dingy.
dirty place with an overwhelming aroma
Of decayed fruit and coal dust, the last
place for the parting of lovers Aurora
wished that everybody could know how
distinguished he was. for she was con-
scious that he was rather short.
Roger Lythgoe drew Aurora behind
protecting baggage truck. Write me
every day, my darling! I am 4 moody
man, and for my work and happiness I
shall need the hope and the faith in my
self that only love brings I am ashamed
of my folly, but I can't tell you what
those letters We're to me these last two
years And absolute stranger, child,
What shall l not expect from you, my
life, my love, my hope of heaven" He
crushed her fingers in passionate clasp.
God bless you, my darling, goodbye
and he pressed her hand to his lips AMI
tore himself away
She stood there watching the train and
rubbing her hands.
He thrust his head out of the window.
and the sunlight was reflected from his
specfacles and made his white hair
slisten.
Some one spoke to her. She tried to
look melancholy-she felt she ought to.
1t ws.s one of the handsome young men
i'll tennis fannels.
You are Miss Penrose,' he said, smil-
ing. II am Robert Merton. My sisters
called on you, but you weren't in
II have been much engaged lately" Au-
rora said with elderly affability.
Yes, with that old gentleman
That gel. -leman," and she ignored the
offensive adjective. sis Mr. Roger Lyth-
goe-Roger Lythsoe. the poet
learning. his pieces by heart when I was
quite little shaver, and getting spanked
when couldn't remember 'em. So that's
Roger Lythgoe? But I say, Miss Pen
rose, will you play tennis this after
noon?'
Eyes, I will play" she said. very Sob
erly. to balance the confession, and she
felt a little guilty because he strolled
home beside her.
Her aunt was on the balcony; there
was a dreary look in her blue eyes and
she sighed. The slam Of the front door
and two young voices reused her; then
Aurora burst into the room breathless
and eager. The young man was patiently
waiting downstairs.
And so your dear poet has gone, my
child and she drew her toward her.
And what will you do now? You must
not cry your pretty eyes out"
II am going to play tennis with the
Mentions. That's what I came to tell
you,"-Aurora was breathless-"Mr. Meri-
ton is waiting below and she was gone
like a fash.
Miss Penrose looked down again at the
river. It was so peaceful, SO beautiful.
but a pretty little naphtha launch broke
the silence and scooted about nervously.
"To come on the wings of love and to
return in a naphtha boat" and she
laughed. but without mirth. She took d
package OF letters from under the red
cushion. shall I send them back? No,
he will be conceited enough to rejoice be-
cause kept them. Shall destroy them?
No, why should /? They are from q