Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1912-11-20

I AFOIJ COuSS, SCdIIGC 1IpH, d small, reg
ular nose, and a chin the soft round
ness of which hid the resolute lift to
1t. To these attributes of loneliness
was added a perfect form, the long,
flowing curves Of youth, not the abrupt
contours of maturity. George couldn't
recollect when he had been SO i'm
pressed by face. From the moment
she had stepped down from the car
rage, his interest had been drawn,
and had grown to such dimensions
that when he entered the dining-room
his glance Immediately searched for
her table. What luck in finding her
across the way! He questioned if he
had ever seen her before. There was
something familiar; the delicate pro-
file stirred some sleeping memory but
did not wake it.
How to meet her, and when he did
meet her, how to interest her? If she
would only drop her handkerchief. her
purse, something to give him an ex-
cuse, an opening. All, he was certain
that this time the hydra-headed one
should not overcome him. To gain
her attention and to hold it, he would
have faced a lion, tiger, wild-ele-
plant. To diagnose these symptoms
might not be fair to George. Love
at first sight" reads we'll and sounds
well, but we hoary-headed philoso-
piers know that the phrase is only
poetical license.
Once, and only cnce, she looked in
his direction. 1t swept over him with
the chill of winter wind that he
meant as much to her as a tree,
fence, meadow, as seen from the
window Of a speeding railway train.
But this observation, transient as it
was, left with him the indelible i'm
preston that her eyes were the sad
| dest he had ever seen. Why? Why
should young and beautiful girl have
eyes like that? 1t could not mean
/ physical WEAKNESS, else the face
would in some way have expressed it.
The elderly man appeared to do his
best to animate her; he was kindly
and courteous and by the gentle way
he laughed at intervals was trying to
bolster up the situation with Jest or
! two. The girl never so much as smiled,
or shrugged her shoulders; she was as
responsive to these overtures as mar
bic would have been.
Georges romance gathered itself for
flight. Perhaps it was love thwart-
ed and the gentleman with the mus
tache and imperial, in spite Of his ami
ability, might be the ogre. Perhaps
it was love and duty. Perhaps her
lover had gone down to sea. Perhaps
! (for lovers are known to do such
things) he had run away with the
ether girl. If that was the case,
George did not think highly of that
tentative gentleman's taste. Perhaps
and perhaps again; but George might
have gone on perhapsing till the
crack O. doom, with never a solitary
glimmer of the true state of the girls
mind. Whenever he saw an unknown
man or woman who attracted his at
tention, he never could resist the i'm
J pulse to invent a romance that might
apply.
] Immediately after dessert the two
rose; and George, finding that nothing
more important than a pineapple ice
! detained him, got up and followed. Mr..
Ryanne almost trod on his heels as
they went through the doorway into
the cosy lOunging-room. George
dropped into vacant divan and wait
ed for his cafe a la Turque Mr..
Ryanne walked over to the head-por-
ter's bureau and asked if that gentle
man would be so kind as to point out
nE7s n . C
anywhere in sight. He thoughtfully,
not to say regretfully, laid down a
small BRIDE
"Mr. Jones?" The porter knew Mr.
Jones very well. He was generous,
and treated the servants as though
they were really human beings. Mr..
Ryanne, either by his inquiry or as
the result of his bride, went up sew
eral degrees in the porter's estima-
ton. "Mr. Jones is over there, on the
divan by the door,"
Thanks"
But Ryanne did not then seek the
young man. He studied the quarry
from diplomatic distance. No: there
Yves nothing to indicate that George
Percival AlgernOn Jones was in any
way handicapped by his Arthuresque
middle names.
mo fool, as Gioconda in her infinite
wisdom hath said; but romantic, ter
ribly romantic, yet, like the timid
bather who puts foot into the water,
finds it cold, and withdraws it. 1t will
all depend upon whether he is a real
collector or merely buyer of rugs.
Forward, then, Horace; a sovereign
has already dashed headlong down the
far horizon" The curse Of speaking
his thoughts aloud did not lie heavily
upon him tonight, for these cogitations
were made in silence, unmarked by
any facial expression. He proceeded
across the room and sat down beside
George. II beg your pardon" he be-
gan, "but are you not Mr.. Jones?"
Mildly astonished, George signified
that he was.
George p. A. Jones?''