Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-04-16

find it hard to forgive me, I'm afraid" he
said; "but could not 60 to your people. The
only square thing was to come to YOU"
"You were very-courageous.
There was a matter for reflection in her
choice of adjective; but Buckley, who
feared the worst, accepted it at its face
value with a gratitude that manifested itself
in startling phenomena. His pink face be-
came crimson, his eyes moist, his neither lip
tremulous.
"Miss Milburn-Ann," he stammered,
"since you've said that want you to know
that couldn't have spoken as did if had
thought there was chance that 4"
Ann saw the goal toward which he was
now Enthusiastically bound and took swift
friend worth having" she whipped in, giving
him her hand IL want to keep you as
| friend as long as l can"
| Buckley stopped, stared, gulped his
| avowal, and then returned her clasp con-
vulsively. @Count on mel" he said. Count
| on me every time"
she thought he presented rather pathet-
~ ic figure as he left her at the door of her
hotel, and she did him the honor of whim-
steal wish that he might yet encounter a
paragon among women who deemed avoir-
dupois not blemish, but a charm. After
that poor Buckley's lacerated feelings did
not long detain her. He was overshadowed
| by his message. For the moment he en-
bodied the world-the world which had
| served notice that her position was untenable.
For week thereafter her first thought
at waking and her last at night was of the
post. She no longer regretted the warmth of
her letter to Oliver. She would have had it
warmer still. She calculated the day it
| would reach Verona, the hour he would re-
ceive it, the time he would need to despatch
his reply. To the writing of that reply she
assigned the briefest of intervals. She fig
ured him dashing it off in fever of impa-
| tience to let her know that she remained the
lodestar of his existence. She was sure he
loved her. What else had signifed that
| tragic face seen across the abyss? AS for
herself when his letter came she
would be better able to define her feeling.
AS the week slipped by she had to alter
her picture of the impetuous letter writer.
He had evidently paused to weigh his words.
| He found it hard to efface the wretched men,
DRY of the aerodrome. Ignorant of the
motives that underlay her appeal to him
there, he could not comprehend the violence
of her reaction. 1t must seem to him an
act of needless caprice, childish, irrational.
He would require time to recall her in gen.
| tier moods, to remember her as she really
was, woman lOvable and not incapable of
loving. He would read and reread her let
ter, sleep on it perhaps, before he sat
down to reply. That a response so delber-
ated might lack the assurance she sought,
she would not consider. 1t was first of all
an answer she must have.
FIGHT days after Pages departure letter
II marked Verona, but addressed to Justin
Blair, reached the family living room stimuli
taneously with Rodoslavs morning tribute.
Justin slit the envelop with the gratifying
knowledge that his niece's eyes neglected the
flowers, and when he had read the missive
himself he CONSIDERABLY briefed its contents
for whom they might concern.
"Oliver writes that he had a comfortable
trip" he announced Everything is ship
shape at the plant, and he leaves for Russia
tonight-no, last night. He says he is glad
to be busy again after his loafng spell here"
| AIMS heart sank If work was a relief,
Pau must indeed be weary memory! "Does
he mention hearing from me?"
| mo" said Justin, wishing he could say
yes. "The rest is pure business in reply to
note of NINE"
"Of yours! Did you too mail him letter
the night he 1eft?"
@No. Mine did not 60 till day or so after