Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1911-10-02

of laughter that staider people glanced
aside at us. I made the change into a
bathing suit with abandoned haste,
yet l found her waiting. The sea was
evidently a passion with her as it was
with me. Her eyes were shining with
excitement, her head thrown a little
back. and all her slim body, tender in
every graceful line, was vibrant with
the thrill of the salt air. She gave me
her hand asa child might have done,
and we turned up the beach, running
lightly until the voices of the bathers
died b ind us.
Suddenly she stopped. DO you feel
that way about it, too she asked.
What way? AS if the first plunge
of the year were a sort of sacred rite? %
Yes" she answered. There is
something about it-you feel as if it
were such a splendid thing that after
all your waiting for it-now, when the
water is there before you, you must
wait a little sacrifcial moment. 1
didn't feel like eNing in just at the
the first among all those people. Do
you understand what / mean? 1 sup
pose It's because on the first day I
have always gone in alone early in
the morning."
/ nodded, for that had been my
custom also. Without a word we
turned together and went slowly down
into the water. When it reached her
waist she threw her hands above her
head and dived, swimming under
water with long easy strokes. 1
looked after her a moment, then fol-
lowed. We came to the surface to-
gether, drawing our breath deep and
shaking the salt water from our eyes.
We swan slowly back to the more
crowded beach, mutually glorying in
our pagan rite of baptism.
We stretched out lazily in the hot
sand, leaning back against a battered
n upturned dory. Lady had shaken
down her hair, which her bathing cap
had failed to keep altogether dry, and
spread it lustrously dark upon the
clean, sun-bleached planking.
Il think I understand you now a lit
tie better, Mr.. Crosby she said.
"Why?" 1 asked.
II suppose because of the solemn rite
of the first plunge. 1t somehow makes
you clearer. If hat is what you mean
by romance why l car agree with
you"
I had to be honest. mo, that's not
all l mean-only part. l want things
to happen to me, not merely sensations.
I'm always foolishly expecting some
tilt with fortune at the next turn Of
the road. / suppose you were right
that nothing much has happened to
me, or I shouldn't hunt so for the ply
steal uplift of the unexpected. l don't
want to be merely SELFISH want to
help in the world, not to harm. I know
that sounds crudely sentimental, but
it's hard to say. I mean, for insance.
that l don't want distress to prove my
self against, but l do want the shock of
battle where distress exists
"Then people must seem to you
merely means to an end"
IT suppose it must look that way to
you" l said uncomfortably. I'm get
ting tangled, but I want you to under
stand 1 hesitated. when asked
questions in the hurry of the other
night it wasn't any desire to force my
way into things that didn't concern
me, to make an adventure of what
distressed you-you mustn't think that,
but it seemed to me that o were in
trouble, and I wanted"
I stopped, for her face had clouded
as l spoke until now I dared
speak no more, blaming myself
that the perpleXities that pos
sessed me had again ~blundered across
her pain. Her eyes were upon the
ground where her fingers burrowed alb
sently in the sand. When she raised
them to mine there were tears in them;
but they were tears unshed and eyes
that looked at me kindly.
"Please DON'T she said. 81 do I'M
derstand. I would like to let you help,
but-there is nothing you can help
about, nothing that I can ask or tell"
Forgive me-" I said, and looked
away from her.
I think that from that morning we
were better friends. Neither of us
again made any allusion TO the night
of alarm; but 1t was as if both now felt
a share in it, a kind of blindfold SYM
pathy not altogether comfortless. Once
when we We're making a long tour of
woods and beaches, she said suddenly:
you don't talk much about yourself,
Mr.. Crosby
Don't II" l answered. "Wel I don't
suppose hat what I am or have done
in the world would be particularly in
teresting. You were right the other
day, after all; nothing much has hap
pened to me, or / shouldn't be so hun
CRY for adventures"
ooh. but you must have had some
adventure; everybody has"
I launched into a tale of a green par
rot confiscated from an itinerant ven
dor and sold at auction in a candy
store. I stopped suddenly. Was this
her way of verifying her fathers opin-
ion of me? She read my half-formed
suspicion like a flash.
Listen" she said with quick seri-
BUSINESS. IF l had, or could have, the
faintest belief in anything really bad
about you, don't you see that 7
shouldn't be here? l want you to re-
member that"
Il ought to have known" ! replied.
I'm very sorry
With that she swung back into
gaiety. demanding the conclusion of the
tale; but l was for the moment too
deeply touched to follow. We were on
our way home; and before us where tina
path took a little turn about a tree
larger than it's n%eighbors, a man
stepped into our sight. He was walk
ing fast, covering the ground in long
strides. He carried a bit of
stick with which he switched smartly
at the bushes along the path. For a
moment we were both silent, hen Lady