The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-08-03

mOveleSS in his aStOniShment, and in another breath the face was gone.
 "The deuce, but she was prettyw Rowland said to himself. And those eyes,
 Suddenly he checked himself. There had been more than the eyes, more than the pretty face. Why had the girl paused in front of the window? Why had she looked at him so intent ly as though on the point of speech? The smile and the flush left his face as these questions came to him, and he wondered if he had failed to compre bend something which she had meant him to understand After all, might it not have been a case of mistaken iden- tfty? For moment she had believed that she recognized him: then. seeing her mistake. had passed swiftly down the street.
 He walked casually to the door. At the end of the street, a quarter of a mile distant. red light burned feebly over the front of a Chinese restaurant, and in mechanical fashion his foot steps led him in that direction.
 \ he assured himself.
 He stopped and turned his eyes again into the north. He wondered as he still stood gazing into the infinity of that other world beyond the Saskatchewan if romance was really quite dead in . him. Always be had laughed at TO. nance. Work-the grim reality of ac- oR Grh sn of all ness pitted against other mems clever ness-had almost brought him to the point of regarding romance in life as peculiar illusion of fools-and women. But he was fair in his concessions. and tonight be acknowledged that he had enjoyed the romance of what he had seen and beard. And. most of all. his full face that had looked at him from out of the night.
 He passed through the low door of the restaurant and entered a large room filled with tables and chairs and pregnant with strange odors.
 "A pot of tea" ordered Rowland.
 He slipped his tea Ieisureiy. listening with all the eagerness of the new sense of freedom which had taken pos session of him. The Chinaman had scarcely disappeared when he heard footsteps on the stair In another in- stant a low word of surprise almost leaped from his lips. Hesitating for a moment in rtle doorway. her face staring straight into his own. was the girl whom he had seen through the hotel window.
 For perhaps no more than five sec onds their eyes met. Yet in that time there was painted on his memory a picture that Rowland knew he would never forget. His was nature be- cause of the ambition imposed on it that had never taken more than a casual interest in the form and fea- lure of women. He had looked on beautiful faces and had admired them in cool. dispassionate way. judging might have judged the more material workmanship of his own hands. But this face that was framed for a few brief moments in the door reached out to him and stirred an interest within him which was as new as it was pleasura ble. 1t was a beautiful face. He knew that in a fraction of the first second.
 The girl turned from his gaze and seated herself at a table so that he caught only her profile. The change delighted him. From the flush in her cheeks h.s eyes travelled critically to the rich glow of the light in her shin ing brown hair. which swept half over her ears in thick. soft waves. caught in a heavy coil low on her neck. Then for the first time he noticed her dress. It puzzled him. Her turban and huff were of deep gray lynx fur. Around her shoulders was collarette of the same material. Her bands were immediately gloved. In every fea ture of her lovely face. in every point of her dress. she bore the indisputab!p mark of refinement. The quizzica' smile left his lips The thoughts which at first had filled his mind aa quickly disappeared. Who was she? Why was she here?
 With catlike quietness the young Chinaman entered between the screens and stood beside her On a small tab let which Rowland had not before ob- served she wrote her. order. It was for tea.
 He poured his last half cup of tea and when he lifted his eyes he was surprised to find that the girl was looking at him. For a brief interval her gaze was steady and clear, then the flush deepened in her cheeks, her long lashes dropped as the cold gray of Howland's eyes met hers in un- finching challenge. and she turned to her tea. Rowland noted that the hand which lifted the little Japanese pot was trembling slightly. He leaned for ward and. as if impelled by the move ment, the girl turned her face to him again. the tea urn poised above her cup. In her dark eyes was an expres- sion which half brought him to his feet. a wistful glow. a pathetic and yet half frightened appeal to him. He rose and she nodded to the opposite side of her table
 ''l beg your pardon" he said. seating himself. May 1 give you my card?"
 The girl read his name. smiled across the table at him and. with ga pretty