Baraboo weekly news. [volume] (Baraboo, Wis.) 1912-197?, 1912-11-28

to you. You're the gay Lochinvar
from the west. I'm not sure--no one
ever Is regarding woman-but !
think she'll listen to you. She wouldn't
give an ear to scalawag like me.
This caravan business has put me out
side the pale. I've lost caste"
you're only desperate and discour-
aged; you can pull up straight"
Much obliged"
"You haven't looked at life normal
ly; that's what the matter is"
"Solon, you're right. There's that
poor devil back in Bagdad. I've killed
a man, Percival. It doesn't mix well
in my dreams"
"You said that 1t was In self-de-
fense"
"And God knows it was. But If I
hadn't gone after that damned rug,
he'd have been alive today. Oh, damn
it all; let's go back to the hotel and
order that club-steak, or the best imi-
tation they have. I'm going to have
a pint of wine. I'm as dull as ditch
in a paddy-feld."
ga bottle or two will not hurt any
of us. Well ask Ackermann. For
! God knows where we'd have been to-
day but for him. And let him do all
the EARNING. 1t will please him."
"And while he CABS, We'll get the
best of the steak and wine!" For the
first time in days Ryanne's laughter
u; &c
tone.
The dinner was an event. No deli
cacy (mostly canned) was overlooked.
The manager, as he heard the gum
cas- jingle in Georges pocket, was
filled with shame; not over his oriCi'
nal doubts, but relative to his lack
of perception. The tourists who sat
at the other tables were scandaliZed
at the popping of champagne-corEs.
Sanctimonious faces glared reprooe.
A jovial spirit in the Holy Land was
an anachronism, not to be tolerated.
And wine! HORRIBLE! Doubtlees,
when they retired to their native back
porches, they retold with reverend
ing horror Of having witnessed such
a scene and having heard such laugh
ter upon the sacred soil.
Even Fortune laughed, though Ry-
anne's ear, keenest then, detected Il .
vague note Of hysteria. II the meat
was tough, the potatoes greasy, the
vegetables favcrlass, the wine fiat.
none Of them appeared to be aware
of it. If Ackermann could talk he
could also eat; and the clatter OF
forks and knives was the theme rath-
er than the variation to the symphony.
George felt himself drawn deeper
and deeper into those tragic waters
from which, as in death, there is no
return. She was so lonely, so sad
| and forlorn, that there was as much
brother as lover in his sympathy.
| How patient she had been during all
those inconceivable hardships! How
! brave and steady; and never a MUIR
muir! The single glass of wine had
| brought the color back to her cheek
and the sparkle into her eye; yet he
was sure that behind this apparent
liveliness lay the pitiful desperation
/
again about old Mortimer. He would
wait till after he had sent a long
cable. Then he would speak and
show her the answer, Of which he
had not particle of doubt. AS mat
tiers now stood, he could not tell her
that he loved her; his quixotic sense
of chivalry was too strong to permit
this step, urge as his heart might
upon it. She might misinterpret his
love as born of pity, and that would
be the end Of everything. He was con-
fident now that Ryanne meant moth
ing to her. Her lack Of enthusiasm,
whenever Ryanne spoke TO her in
| these days; the peculiar hsrizontality
| of her lips and brows, whenever Ry-
afine offered a trffiing courtesy-ali
pointed to distrust. George felt a
| guilty gladness. After all, why
shouldn't she distrust Ryanne?
George concluded that ha must An