Arizona republican., 1911-10-25
The Son of
 His Father By HORACE HAZELTINE. Copyright. 1910, by the Pearson Pub
 fishing company.

Good Lord, what fool I've been
 Of all the show girls and chorus wom
 en ever met-and heaven knows. I've
 met lot in my time-there was only
 just one that was really worth while
 only one that was different and indi
 yidua; and though I knew perfectly
 we'll why she consistently and per
 sistently drowned on my profiered at
 tentions. l wasn't man enough to be
 decent" .
 The look which Alice Davenant flung
 back at him was one of serious uues.
 ton.
 "I hope I haven't made a mistake.
 after all" she said dubiously.
 "A mistake?" he repeated, question ingly
 "I don't care for fiattery. Mir Fulte- ner It doesn't go very far with me. you know"
 I'm sorry." he replied simply. T was never more honestly intentioned In my life"
 For a long moment silence lay be- tween them: strained, uncomfort. able silence, for which each felt, in a measure at least, responsible. It was the girl who, little contritely, broke 1t at length with low-voiced apology
 "I know that wasn't fair of me-" she said. still denying him her eyes. But I've grown over-suspicious and cautious. guess, from having always to be on the defensive. You know what men are, Mir. Fultener. That is, most of the men that we girls of the stage are thrown with. And it's not the easiest thing to go so far and no farther with them. When a girl lets one of them compliment her, he seems to think the bars are down for love making; and If she lets him make love. she must let him kiss her; and SO 1t goes on. The only way therefore, have found, for girl to keep her self-respect, in our profession at least, is to wear a sort of perpetual armor. and stand always with drawn sword"
 The young man pushed his salad plate to one side and leant closer tc her across the table.
 Look at me-" he commanded tense ly. And when, gravely, she obeyed and the pure, unsullied appeal of her dark eyes was lifted to his frank gaze once more. he went on: Every word that you've said, Miss Davenant, is as true as the multiplication table. and just about as romantic. But because you, in your profession, have been thrown so largely with men of the type of the stage manager that dis missed you, you have no right to i'm. agine that there are not men of an. other sort in the world-men that know how to appreciate and honor good women such as you are, no mat ter where they are found or what their calling. If I was ever of the degrad ed. blackguardly crew to which that stage manager belongs-and, please God, don't believe I ever was, ever at my worst-I certainly am in an other boat now; and I want you tc believe that a few words of honest truth from me, regarding my admira tion for you and the esteem in which 1 have always held you, aren't going to do you the least bit of harm, anc won't entail anything either to my discredit or yours"
 Then the girl, while her lids fut tered and her eyes grew threateningly moist, reached slender. shapely, ring less hand across the table, to be met before 1t had we'll started by the mans larger and stronger and browner one which seemed to have been waiting all the while for just this opportunity No exchange of words accompanied the hand clasp; but palm spoke eloquent ly to palm. and shining blue eyes and fearful brown met and held each other as if they meant never to be torn apart.
 The nature of the condolences that followed was even more familiarly sympathetic. F'ultener learned much of Alice Davenant's antecedents. Her father, now dead, gentleman born, of scrupulous principle but feeble in itiative, had been paralytic for years. Her mother, the daughter of a once wealthy Southern family. thorough bred. cultured, lacked nevertheless, every essential of temporal provision. And so it had devolved upon herself and a younger brother to go out into the world and give battle for bread. A fairly good voice had first given her a place in a Brooklyn church choir; but the theater chorus had offered more constant employment at added 
 He. in turn, had told her many things. And of these not the least to her, as well as to him. self was the story of his loss and his search, and of how he had even now set in motion the wheels of an expedi- ent by which, in three or four days. he would be amply rehabilitated. But the details of his plan. foolishly proud as he was of 1t at the time, he with held. Before parting from her, how ever. he won her consent, seeing how easily he could recruit his excheQuer, to accept from him, as loan of course, all that was necessary to clear her of London and convey her, on the same steamer with him, back to New York. And then, final accom- plishment of all. he adroitly drew from her the name of the stage manager | for her plight. and the | fact that he was still directing the | at the Frivolity Thea tor