The Owosso times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1897-1926, 1912-09-13

your way to her, of course"
miss Carlisle!"'
She rose, drawing around her the
heavy folds of velvet. He saw now
the faint lines about her delicate
mouth and the new hardness of her
tawny eyes. She had suffered, was
suffering also.
Congratulate her from me, Mr..
Stanton. At least she has known a
man, whatever 1t has cost her."
Yes, Floyd had played a mans part.
Whatever the anguish of losing him,
1t was a matter of congratulation to
have known him. 1t never occurred to
Stanton that Valerie Carlisle might
have meant him, himself.
1t was afternoon when Stanton ar
rived in New York, among the snow
sprinkled, hilarious crowds that
thronged the streets. And then he
first realized that this was the day be-
fore Christmas. Christmas? Holiday =?
With vague impulse to escape It all,
he hailed taxicab A girl with her
arms full of holly brushed past him as
he reached the curb, a man in uniform
stopped him with hastily recited
plea for aid to the hungry poor. At
him Stanton looked, and put yellow
bill In the outstretched hand.
"Sir!" the man cried, pursuing him
with ready book and pencil. What
name? So generous"
Floyd" Stanton answered, and
stepped into the vehicle.
The address he gave to the chauf-
feur was that of the quiet uptown
apartment house.
The little old Irishwoman clad in
black silk opened the door. He fan
cied she had aged, but on seeing him
she broke into beaming smiles and
ushered him In with eager welcome.
The girl who was like Floyd was
standing in the firelit room. AS Stan
ton paused on the threshold, she re-
treated against the window opposite,
her fingers winding themselves hard
into the draperies, her marvellous gray
eyes wide and fevered. So they gazed
at each other, dumb.
you can not bear to see me?" STAN
ton first found voice. 81 have no right
to blame you-God knows l under
stand. Yet Floyd would tell you that
1t was not my fault. l did not throw
away his life by recklessness."
She gazed at him still, yet it seemed
to him that during a brief second
consciousness had left her and return
ed, that now she looked at him differ
emily, almost wildly.
81 have been near death, Also" he
resumed. 81 have seen no newspa-
pers, I do not know what they have
told you. But the accident was pure
accident; If he could have been here.
Floyd would have borne me out in
that. have wantonly risked his life
with mine at other times, then, no."
Her sensitive face had changed, she,
too, found speech.
81 never thought of blame" she
protested unsteadily. Never. You
drove straight and best You look so
I'LL"
He drew near her, long past conven-
tionalities.
81 have been i'll, I have now little
strength to waste aside from my pur-
pose. Jessica, have come for you, as
he once gave me leave to do. You
have no one left, nor l. Will you mar
ry me?"
Her fingers wound harder into the
curtain, he saw the pulse beating in
her round throat as she flung back
her head with Floyd's own boyish
movement.
"You love me?" she questioned, Just
audibly, grave eyes on his.
II thought you knew. Yes"
She shook her head, her smile sad.
ME Ralph Stanton, or Jes Floyd's
twin?"
The acute question pierced deep.
Out Of Stanton's suffering leaped the
truth in cry Of vehement passion
and force.
81 do not know! Jessica, Jessica, I
do not know! want both. love
you, want you for my wife; left with
him. would have missed you. II I
cared for you because you were like
him, if l see him now in you, what
matter? I tell you l want you, but
shall want him all my life. I want the
one who rode beside me, the one who
stood with me through rough or
smooth, the one who knew me and
him-I want my comrade, Jes Floyd"
The naked strength of pain, the
fierce cutlery of savage bereavement
left the atmosphere swept to primi-
tive clarity, free of all small things.
The girl drew herself erect, even her
lips colorless in her. absolute pallor
but her eyes meeting him on his own
ground of desperate honesty, and
raised her hands to her head.
Stanton saw her lace sleeves fall
back, and zigzag scar start into
view on her slender left arm. Like
bands Of silk ribbon she unwound the
heavy braids of hair and flung them
aside, letting mass of short, boyish,
bronze curls tumble about her fore
head.
There was no mistake possible, ever
again. He did not know that he spoke,
yet his cry reached the street below.