The Green Forest tribune., 1911-03-03
LAS for the man and I

sS5 to the one, the lalu- %uwE,. lrtry scape shall rise up
 %alusJkeDrs% and confound the oth- or. Take the case of Lorison.
 From his point of perspective he saw himself an outcast from society, forever to be shady skulker along the ragged edge of responsibility. He was self-condemned to this oplnsou, as he was self-exiled, through it, to this quaint southern city thousand miles from his former home. Then he fell in love with a girl whom he met in a cheap restaurant, and his story begins.
 The Carabine dor is an ignomini ous ghost of the Rue Chartres. The cafe where Bienville and Conti dined, where a prince has broken bread, is become family ristaurant"
 It was at this restaurant that Lori son first saw the girl. A fiashy fellow with predatory eye had followed her In, and had advanced to take the oth- er chair at the little table where she stopped, but Lorison slipped into the seat before him. Their acquaintance began. and grew, and now for two months they had sat at the same table each evening, not meeting by appoint ment, but as if by a series of fortui- tous and happy accidents. After din ing. they would take walk together in one of the little city parks, or among the panoramic markets where exhibits continuous vaudeville of sights and sounds. Always at eight o'clock their steps led them to a cer- tain street corner where she prettily bade him good night and left him. T do not live far from. here,' she ire Quently said, "and you must let me go the rest of the way alone"
 But now Lorison had discovered that he wanted to go the rest of the way with her, or happiness would de part, leaving him on a very lonesome corner of life. And at the same time that he made the discovery, the secret of his banishment from the society of the good laid it's finger in his face and told him it must not be.
 On this night, after the usual meal at the Carabine dor, he strolled, with his companion, down the dim old street toward the river.
 The Rue Chartres perishes in the old Place d'Armes
 Often the two sat in this square, but tonight Lorison guided her past the stone-stepped gate, and still river ward. As they walked he smiled to himself to think that all he knew of her-except that he loved her-was her name-Norah Greenway, and that she lived with her brother They had talked about everything except them selves. Perhaps her reticence had been caused by his.
 They came, at length, upon the Ievee, and sat upon great, pros strate beam.
 He began by telling her that he was in love with some one to whom he durst not speak of it. And why not?" she asked, accepting swiftly his fla tuous presentation of third person of straw. My place in the world" he answered, lis none to ask a wom- an to share. 1 am an outcast from honest people; I am wrongly accused of one crime, and am, I believe, guilty of another"
 Thence he plunged into the story of his abdication from society. The story, pruned of his moral philosophy, deserves no more than the slightest touch. It is no new tale, that Of the gamblers declension. During one nights sitting he lost. and then had imperiled a certain amount of his em- ployer's money, which, by accident, he carried with him. He continued to lose, to the last wager, and then be- gan to gain, leaving the game winner to formidable sum. The same night his employers safe was robbed. A search was had; the winnings of Lorison were found in his room their total forming an accusative nearness to the sum purloined. He was taken, trl9d, and, through incomplete evi- dNnce, released, smutched with the sinister devoirs of disagreeing jury.
 Tt is not in the unjust accusation" he said to the girl, that my burden lies, but In the knowledge that from the moment I staked the first dollar of the firms money I was a criminal no matter whether I lost or won. fou see why it is impossible for me to speak of love to her"
 Tt is a sad thing" said Norah, after little pause, ito think what very good people there are in the world"
 "Good?' said Lorison.
 was thinking of this superior per son whom you say you love. She must be very poor sort of creature"
 T do not understand"
 Nearly" she continued, "as poor sort of creature as yourself"
 You do not understand said LOT tson, removing his hat and sweeping back his fine, light hair. Suppose she loved me in return, and were willing to marry me, Think, if you can, what would follow. Never day would pass but she would be reminded of her sac rifice. l would read a condescension in her smile, a pity even in her affec- ton that would madden me- No The thing would stand between us forever Only equals should mate I could never ask her to come down upon my lower plane"
 An arc light faintly shone upon Lori sons face. An illumination from with