The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-04-16

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 woman who knows she pleases. The
 68 0U blood came readily into her smooth M43Su pale cheek because admiring glances X&SU called 1t there; and her red flower ot z
 8 mouth shaped itself easiest to smiling IRy0u acceptance of broken hearts. It IS gracious look, and difficult of attain 01A ment to the plainer sisters =.
 ~ Back in the earlier days of her reign
 there had been man, and while the man went-as men do-the memory remained mention this merely to open the way to other facts iYvette had, then, beauty prestige-and past oi delicate hidden sort. It but natural that, thus endowed, she should come eventually to consider
 Her mother-have said that Yvette's mother was none other than Mrs. Jacques de la Fuente, nee
 "in year you will be twenty-four," she said, the ss worlds mR.r hat s amost am old maid It time. Yvette, you thought, myseif' was married
 Yvette touched her rosy nails with chamos- skin and sighed She standing at the moment before her dressing table, and the candle set m tall sconces on either side of that artistic bit of furnture afforded mellow radiance to the mirror S depths Pt, es. r.,.,ted inc mother. triae insist
 aBut from the cradle-to the gravel, said Yvette. and fastened single string of pearls about her
 What is it you say?" asked Mrs. de la Fuente, somewhat sharply. She not infrequenty to be found some distance in the rear of her oeauului
 How you must have been bored!' said Yyette
 "In my rousseau" continued the lady, Il had. as you know, quantities of real lace The veil of aEbi: said Yvette, cit does not matter" She shrugged her slender shoulders. Il am quite willing to rnarry-but the man?" f
 Then Mrs de la Fuente. flung out crafty feeler "He has been most attentive, she murmureo ana there is slightest fault to be founo "in HIS poS
 aiis money" thrust in Yvette, 'almost vulgariy. .Say it, mammal You mean Tony Whiting. Sne added. with little yawn, "I had thought of that, myself" ,eL.,, E.. 'Po aNo.s said Yvette. "No," and finished superbly arrogant "but he will speak tonight" ,., uo ong Black velvet tes eoat with collar and extinguished the candles the dressing table; ~Fausti If you knew how tired I am of that opera. with its tenor who IS just groceIs 6oy m .s euS sd sg id 9s aa t s a ices, that Tony Whiting spoke that night. He had which Yvette allowed him during the Jewel Song" The box very dark, and he sat just behind her, the little curl that touched her neck It in his sight, perhaps the sweetest thing about herathar nat decately taking it back It is just such things which derail the train of otherwise quite prudent events. :, In any case, Whiting spoke. in a slow, careful ref whisper, while Marguerite. upon the stage trilled bsy % % e afS saa % remark, with vanishing waist-ne and three chins. Tony Writings wast-line was also being threat It: to the persuasion of time but he had still but one chin; and that good one heard him, though she had always ear that way "Yvette! You're very beautiful tonight"
 Yvette just lowered her lashes They " were sS long A smile stirred the corner of her mouth She did not speak. She knew how it went, that game: ont of my agony to-night-Yes or. no? Are you listening, YvetteY'
 was listening. The real old lace about her heart lifted and fell quite evenly. She did not flush. .h. S s9e esuss said u.rdsg Whag At sa, in M
 It queer question to ask while Marguerite bedizened her matrony self with earrings and neck. h for he a and @ touched Yvetes scarf reverently with the tips of his fingers said Sethng SssR s9ns yoa aonf
 Yvette folded her hands in her lap. She looked at the stageand she looked back over her shoulder into Writings eyes If you had been reared with the end in view of some day entering upon cer. tain road. you would not, when that road unfoded Yvette She took her first step between its orderly hedges. naturally enough, without excitement
 w 's said a i4' nersdaons ns to the adoIing hbe! of this his being .u .,ou,
 And that was the great moment, come and gone, without any blare of trumpets while Marguerite OQled herSef redly in the background coquetting with Dame Martha.
 Mrs de la Fuente received the news with radiance.
 "Dear little one" she said, q had hoped for it. He is most charming-n every way e1igible-not a Creole of course but there are really many delight ful people uptown. I am confident you will be happy For the trousseau, of course, you will have Marie"
 "I had not thought of the trousseau," said Yvette.
 "Ah vouthI youthp sighed Mrs. de la Fuente, sentimentally. "Coor of rose, and another color of the loved ones eyes"
 "I had not thought of that ether,' said Yvette, quite truthful1y.
 When she stood once before the mirror of her dressing table and lit the candles, she looked at herself with vague interest. After while she drew the back of one hand lightly across her lips Whliu9 had kissed her in the discreet moment when