New-York tribune., 1911-01-08

why, don't know. hope not. why;
"One can never tell what may happen.
Some beings have such an crratic frenzy for
usefulness.
YES, haven't thcy?" said Algy, a trifc
hazv as TO what her observations might inn
plv. but think I've got such a grip on the
muse that she isn't likely to get away
Thurley's sympathy with the muse was
heightened as he closed his iron levers yet
more rigidlv about her. He continued with
his declarations Of her usefulness to his IN
spiration and otherwise revealed his honest,
if somewhat pOndcrous, sense OF alteration.
And then that dance was happily ended and
Count Fiaschi succeeded to his place.
THE Count had been accumulatlng the
lavas and heats of his lturc, in his ac-
customed Vcsuvian style, for several days.
He had frcttcd in apprchcnsivc impatiencc
every hour since last he had been permitted
a word with Thurcy alone He was IN
tensclv excited now by the prospect OF TAX
ing her all to himself into the added intoXl-
cation of the waltz
"TdIgdme DioS!" he brcathcd to her
rapturously. Il am more favored than the
tropics! My heart is more making tumult
than the Seasl 1t is the glory of you, 50 long
bv me sought 1t is my reward for devotion,
burning forever like the altar lamp not to be
cXtinguishcd Ali to qucnch little OF that
burning thirst which my heart have blister.
II is the sea Of ecstasy shall enfold me.
Thurlev knew not whether to be amused
or alarmed at his attitude and utterancc
His eyes were certainly blazing with some
thing that was not altogether comfortable,
and beneath the handsome olive smoothncSS
of his complexion surgcd a color that played
like moving flame. Much Of his ardor she
felt inclined to aScribc to the habit of his
mind. Nevertheless, she had much rather
have it diffuscd in a company, she thought,
than cope with it thus alone.
She could adopt only her ordinary tactics,
a smile and a quip to meet his phrases Are
YOU not afraid to mix your metaphors so
recklessly?" she asked. Might not the sea
YOU mentioned engulf the lamp
All Even sol have yet another lamp
more Scas-morc everything. 1t is my
nature With my love | will withcr that
sea. The rosebud shall bloSsom-now, now!
at the touch of this sunshine, this glory OF
my lovcl This muSic-ah! nothing
pulsation of my heart This dance with you
my soul"
lie WIS uCNJlllCu llCNtl 10 NollNlN'I' lIlN
rhapsody. Algy Dearborn, cranking by, and
repeating his mouscbittcn limerick, loltcd
the ribs, heart, wind, and seat OF vocanlcS in
the Counts anatomy with contact 50 vio-
lent that immediate recovery was imprac-
tical. The Count ceased cmptying and dane
ing. They walked.
Thurlcy's friendship went out to the grip
per OF the muse forthwith.
"Oh, mustn't football be splendid when
the right people play?" She said with less
rrclcvancc than Fiaschi might have I'M
agncd. " Interference is such an uncX-
pcctcd art
"Not hcrc." ne answered cmphatically.
He took her again in the circle of his arm
and resumed a somewhat less Soul-lcvltating
locomotion. For a minute or more he was
content to accumulate breath and scattered
senses. But he was guiding Thurlcy with
new intent along the edge of the room, to-
ward the more scqucstcrcd fcrncry, where at
times a couple, detached from the assem-
blagc OF dancers, took a turn for moment
alone.
Perhaps football would bc inappropriate
here, Thurlcy agreed innoccntly; but !
should be delighted to sec you in a game.
Football -ah!" ne answered, slightly
Struggling his shoulders. "A game for mere
animals! 1t lacks fncsScl"
But not finish, said Thurlcy. Some
urDplC like II for that