The Washington times., 1913-06-23

4 We must dine alone Try u
look as though the calamity
were not too great"
The frown did not pass from Douglas
face, although he made the answer
which was expected Of him. In sense
! he felt that he had been trapped. Op-
posite to him was Emily de Reuss In
| her favorite attitude, leaning q little
| forward. her hands clasped around her
| right knee, rocking herself backward
! and forward with slow rhythrnical
! motion. She wore a gown Of vivid scar
let, soft yet brilliant in its colorfng.
Her arms and shoulders were bare, and
string of pearls around the neck was
her only ornament
Dressed exactly as she now was. he
had once told her with honest and boy
| ish frankness that she was the most
beautiful woman he had ever seen.
That she, whose wardrobe was a mira
Gle, and jewel-box the envy OF every
woman in London. should have chosen
to appear tonight In precisely the same
toilet was at the same time an em-
barrassment and warning to him. The
image of Dresley rose up. the sound OF
his despairing warning seemed still In
his ears
There was a color In her cheeks. a
light H. her eyes-subtle indications that
his visit was a thing looked forward to,
no ordinary occasion. They were In one
of the smaller rooms; outside a round
table was laid for. dinner in the PALM
lined conservatory. Presently they sat
there together; through the glass was
a dazzling view OF the blue sky. starlit
whose perfume hung heavy upon the
air. Great palms were above their
heads, the silver waters of fountain
rose and fell a few feet behind.
They We're served by single servant
in the De Reuss liyeries of gray and sill
yer: everything on the table was daint-
ily fashioned and perfect of its sort To
Douglas. who at heart was passionately
fond Of beautiful things. II seemed after
his gloomy garret retaste OF Paradise
Champagne was served them in long
glass jug of Venetian workmanship,
rendered cloudy by the ice. like frost1l
ware. Emily herself filled his glass and
pledged him toast.
To the novel; she cried. May II
be as successful in literature as your
other work has been in journalism! And.
Douglas, of course. you've dedicated II
to me-"
IT haven't imposed a dedication upon
anyone" he answered. Aren't they out
of date?'
She shrugged her shoulders. Her el-
bows were both on the table, and she
leaned across toward him.
Tell me about your story she
begged. There Is fruit coming and
coffee. Let me I'LL your glass and you
shall tell me of what things you have
written. evil or good. the things which
are, or the things which should be-"
She raised the jug and the wine fell
in a little yellow showed into his foam
ing glass. He raised ii to his lips
thoughtfully.
1T is wonderful" he said, that you
should be so interested"
I'm the man or his story
I'm either" he answered. 'As a story
writer ] am altogether unproven. My
novel may prove an utter failure"
She shook her head.
You are not of the race Of men who
fall, my dear Douglas" she said Il
think that that is why I like you"
II have been as near failure as any
man can 60" he said.
TT is over" she answered. Now
tell me of your story"
He told her its outline. She listened
with slowly nodding head. grasping
every point quickly, electrically. SYM
pathetically. His slight awkwardness
In speaking of his own work passed
away He expatiated, was coherent
and convincing. More than once she
interrupted him.
Her insight was almost miraculous.
She penetrated with perfect ease be-
meath his words, analyzed his motives
with hin, showed him . psycholeocsl