Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-09-28

she frequently reproved him for his rusticity.
in secret she adored it. She had been used
al her life to the polish Of Europe, satiated
with its compliments, glutted with its hypoc-
risy, courted by men with manner and no
manners whom she had met with their own
weapons She had never known real friend
ship in man or woman; had not even
sought friendship, because life had taught
her that for her such things did not exist. In
Markham she had found the myth without
searching, and once found she had grappled
it to her soul with hoops of steel. His friend
ship it was that she had loved, not Mark
ham, He was her own discovery, her very
own, and she followed her first sober i'm
pulse calmly, giving him the best of her,
scorning the arts that she had been accus-
toned to employ on other men.
There had been moments Of uncertainty,
moments of ennui: but never of danger
until tonight, when she had fallen from grace
and Welded to an impulse, once lgnoble, but
now ignoble no longer to bring Markham
at all hazards to her feet. 1t was no longer
their friendship that she loved, but Mark
ham. She loved ferventlv, as coquettes
will at last. 1t was the coquette in her that
had Knocked and tantalized him, the co
quette even whom he had kissed; but it was
fered the pains of her imprudence.
OLGA dismissed the unfortunate Geor
- gette when she came to brush her hair,
and threw herself on the bed, staring at va
cancy He had guessed the truth-the
agony of it, She had wept real tears, the
tears of subsection She had begun a CO
quette, trusting to her skill in assimilation;
but her heart had betrayed her. She had
wept, and Markham had seen her tears.
The future! Had she one? Happiness?
1t must come soon. Thirty-a yea, older
than Markham! Roses grown in lighthouses
are quick to fade. Would she fade too
quickly?
She went to the dressing table and ex
amined her face in a hand mirror with as
siduous care. Yes, crows feet, three of
them at each eye, and two tiny wrinkles
leading into her dimples. She was positively
haggard tonight 1t did not do for the
woman of thirty to cry Her hair-another
gray one-she plucked it out viciously-she
would not grow old!
She put the mirror down and lay back in
her chair, her gaze fixed upon the wall beside
her, which bore photograph of her young
hostess astride her favorite hunter. Her
mia's youth and her own knowledge of the
world-what would she not give for that in
domitable combination! She was glad in
way that Markham had decided to postpone
the painting of Hermia's portrait. She
wasn't quite certain about Hernia. 1t was
never wise to be certain about any girl, es-
pecially if that girl was seven years younger
than you were and quite as pretty. And
what on earth did Hernia mean by scrub
bling John Markham's floor? In her present
mood it seemed symbol-was it prophetic?
Markham was candid in his likes and dis
likes, and he made no bones now of his
pleasure in Hermia's society. Hernia was
surprising person. Her love of mischief
was increasing with her years; her capacity
for making it limited only by the end of OPP
portunity.
CHE was not surprised when she came
- downstairs rather late the next morning
to learn that Markham had returned to the
island. This meant that he was still angry
which was healthful She needed little
time for reconstruction too, and Markham's
anger was more pleasant thought for con-
temptation than his repentance, apology, or
sentiment, all of which he would have Of
fercd as sops to her pride, and none of which
could have been genuine. His departure
without seeing her meant that he had be-
ieved her spoken word rather than that
which had been written in silence, the testi-
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