The Sauk Centre herald. (Sauk Centre, Stearns County, Minn.) 1886-current, 1912-07-11

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 +xway with the
other girl. II that was the case,
George did not think highly Of that
tentative gentlemap'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
pulse to invent a romance that might
apply.
Immediately after dessert the two
rose; and George, finding that nothing
more important than 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 a 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 80 kind as to point out
Mr.. George p. A. Jones, IL he were
anywhere in sight. He thoughtfully,
not to say regretfully, laid down
small bribe.
"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-
lion. "Mr. Jones is over there, on the
aivan by the door,"
Thanks"
But Ryanne did not then seek the
Houng man. He studied the quarry
from Diplomatic distance. No: there
was 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,
I.
all depend upon whether he is a real
collector or merely a 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. 81 beg your pardon" he be-
gan, "but are you not Mr.. Jones?"
Mildly astonished, George signified
that he was.
George p. A. Jones?"
George nodded again, but with some
heat In his cheeks. Eyes. What is
it," The girl had just finished her
coffee and was going away. Hang this
fellow! What did he want at this mo-
ment?
If Ryanne saw that he was too
much, as the French say, he also per-
ceived the cause. The desire to shake
George till his teeth ratified was in
stantly overcome. She hadn't seen
him, and for this he was grateful.
"You are interested in rugs? I mean
old ones, rare ones, rugs that are
bought once and seldom if ever sold
again."
3'Why, yes. That's my business"
George had no silly ideas about trade
He had never posed as a gentleman's
in hA ho%
ness.
Ryanne presented his card.
"How do you pronounce it," asked
George naively.
CAS- they do in Cork"
81 never saw it spelled that way be-
FORE"
Nothing surprising in that" replied
Ryanne. mo one else has, either"
George laughed and waited for the
explanation.
"You see, Ryan is as good a name
as they make them; but it classes
with prize-fghters, politicians and bar
chemists. The two extra letters put
the finishing touch to the name. A
jewel is all right, but what tells is
the way you hang it round your neck.
To me, those additional letters repre-
sent the jewel Ryan in the hands of q
Lalique."
"You talk like an American"
81 am; three generations. What's
the matter?" with sudden concern.
George was frowning. Haven't I
met you somewhere before?"
mot to my recollection" A specu-
lative frown now marred Ryanne's
forehead. 1t did not illustrate a search
in his memory for such casualty as
the meeting Of George. He never for
got face and certainly did not re-
member Georges. Rather, the frown
had it's source in the mild dread that
Percival Algernon had seen him some
where during one of those indisposi-
lions of the morning after. "No; I
think you have made a mistake"
Likely enough. 1t just struck me
that you looked something like a chap
named Wadsworth, who was half-back
IN the varsity, when I entered my
freshman year."
"A university man? Lord, no! I