The Washington times., 1913-06-24

4 nervous energy, which, without de-
! tracing from its literary value, was g
sure indication Of his own mental
| state.
But II was after the days work was
! over that his sufferings commenced In
earnest A vigorous distaste for the
Night after night, his solitary dinner
hastily snatched at an obscure restaur-
| ant. he spent alone in his gaunt sitting
room, his work neglected, his face
turned westward, his luminous eyes
ever fascinated by the prospect which
meath to the murky horizon
Night after night his imagination peo-
Piled with shadows and specters the
great city, whose. lights cast z deep
, whose ceaseless roar Of life seemed
ever in his ears. Before him lay the
unwritten pages OF his novel, through
the open window came the sobbtns and
ever-ringing chorus Of life which. IL only
he could interpret ii, must make him
famous forever.
Night after night he listened and drank
It In greedily, thrilled through al
| his senses by this near contact VII VIII
the great throbbing heart Of the world
Yet his pen was idle. More than ever
he realized that he had a long appren-
dceship to serve. There came time
when he threw down his manuscript
such means alone could he gain knowi-
edge and power of knowledge
Emily de Reuss was still denied 10
him. Cicely seemed to have passed OF
her own will entirely out Of his life.
In those days either might easily have
obtained an empire over him. for he
was in a keenly impressionable stage OF
living, passing through one Of those
crises which In men of more expert
ence come earlier In life.
f,,h
for expression-it seemed to him, at
last, that in solitude he would never
find an outlet for them. If he had
known where to look he would have
sought for Cicely at all risks. He even
looked for her nightly at the spot Of
their first meeting-but always in vain
It was as though she had vanished in
to thin air. By chance he heard OF
her at last
She had sent some work to Drexley
which he had decided to accept. He
spoke warmly Of II. but when Douglas
asked for her address he shook his
head II had come to him with the
proviso of anonymous publication and
his own secrecy as to her whereabouts.
He was able to tell Douglas nothing.
refused even when he was pressed.
Douglas left him with an angry excla-
nation upon his lips.
His solitude became intolerable. One
night he looked out his dress clothes
and dined at a large cosmopolitan res
taurant, where men and women of all
sorts were gathered together. Then
for the first time he realized something
of the tawdriness OF this life Of pleas
ure, which seemed ever calling him
through the open windows Of his lonely
room He had a small table to him
self, ordered his dinner with care and
drank champagne to bring his spirits
so far as possible into touch with the
general atmosphere.
There was music playing all the while
and the ripple Of gay feminine voices
fell constantly upon his ears. Women
were all around him. gaiiy dressed and
bejeweled: a soft, voluptuous wave of
enjoyment seemed floating about the
place. enfoldfng them all-save him.
For as he watched and listened his
face grew darker and his heart heavier
He felt himself out OF place. outside
the orbit OF these people. very little in
sympathy with them. He looked at
the woman sitting at the next table.
elegantly dressed. laden with jewels,
whose laughter was incessant and
speeches pointless-her companion found
her interesting enough. but Douglas
wfs conscious of nothing save her rest
less desire TO please. her little bursts
Of frivolous mirth and an ugly twitch
OF her lips which every now and then
revolted him.
1t was a chance. perhaps, or a mood
which made him look out upon a
scene. ordinary enough and inoffensive.
through dun-colored spectacles. He paid
his bill and walked thoughtfully home
ward, thankful for the cool night air
which famed his forehead He even
entered his bare sitting room and threw
I'D the window with a positive feeling
of relief.
He brought out his work. lighted a
cigarette and sat there smoking
thoughtfully. The match which kindled
his lamp showed him a large square en-
velope on his mantel-piece. He tore Il
open and drew out a letter II was
from Emily.
He read 1t eagerly. Whatever its
message. II seemed a relief to him just
then to know that his suspense was to
be ended.
My Friend: / am suffering from a
slight accident-you alone know the
nature Of it-and from a shock. the
nature of which lou cannot understand
am better, but my doctor is an old
woman. He insists upon sending M