The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930, 1913-12-11

| ways who had made it seem so. No
matter how tired she might be with
her day in the schoolroom, she was
always ready to rejoice or sympath1ze.
"I'll send her some roses-the finest
I can find," he declared with a sudden
rush of rem0rseful tenderness. He en-
tered flower shop and bought huge
bunch of velvety American Beauties.
Send them to this address," he told
the dealer and gave him card.
Next door was the establishment OF
an expensive furrier, and a Lander
! passed the window, he saw Marguerite
Fenton looking at set of brown lynx
The rich tones went we'll with her
brown eyes and tawny hair. AS she
stood there with the soft furs about
her, she reminded him Of some bar
barrie princess. Ever since he had first
met her at a dinner given at the home
of the senior member Of the firm,
Lander had been greatly fascinated,
and felt that her beauty and position
fitted in with his ambitious dreams.
Yet, strangely enough, today her beau
ty did not make it's usual appeal to
him that mingled with her sinuous
grace, was also something of, feline
cruelty.
"Those furs probably cost more than
my months salary" he muttered. "Her
Unsuitable craving for luxury would
fasten itself, vampire like, on the life
blood Of the man who marries her!"
He strobe down the street, feeling
that the crowded cars would stifle him,
and longing for the sense Of physical
motion and the singing air against
his face. When he reached his rooms
he found on the table an invitation
from Mrs. Dane, a prominent society
hostess, inviting him to attend a din
ner she was giving that night.
THAT doesn't fit in with the load of
work l must get through with before
office hours tomorrow" YEARLY he
laid a package of business papers on
the table and rested his read in his
hands. What does it all amount TO-
what does life amount to-" he Ques-
toned despondently. these people
who invite me do not really care for
me. 1t is merely because fill in and
make an agreeable dinner guest, and
for that have practically given up
my old friends"
He realized that his present mood
was the reaction from exhilaration of
conquest which the past year of al
most spectacular success had given
him.
I'D like to chuck the whole thing
and go back If only could have
talk with Alice in the old way, I'd feel
myself again." He sat up with new
energy. II wonder If she'd let me
Gomez"
There was need to look In the tele-
phone book for the familiar number.
With breathless suspense he waited
while the landlady called Miss Glea-
son to the phone, and at the sound of
her voice his heart began to pound
boyishly. She was serenely gracious,
yet he detected a note of surprise as
he asked permission to call. Then she
spoke of the roses, and added:
II can't begin to describe my delight
over that quaint old English book. 1t
filed a long.felt want for the posses
sion of a real first edition" Mechan-
nally he responded, questioning him
self the while: What book? Did
make a mistake and send Miss Fen
tons Christmas gift to Alice? In
my logged WEAKNESS l must have CIV
en- the dealer the wrong address," He
thought of Marguerite's demand of the
best as her due, and sense of impish
Joy swept over him at the mistake
which had defeated the usual order.
He sent a messenger boy with
note to Mrs. Dane containing regrets
for the dinner, then dressed and hur-
ried to the lodging house on Fleet
street.
"Shurre, and you're stranger
these days, Mr.. Landers," remarked
the maid who opened the door. As
she went upstairs to call Miss Glea-
son her round Irish face reminded him
of a CHEEKY full moon. He glanced at
the worn old haircloth sofa and cen
ter table strewn with magazines, the
familiar sha bbiness Of the little par
lor made the past year seem as unreal
as a feverish dream.
When Alice entered she seemed to
bring with her an atmosphere of Sc
renity and peace. Eagerly he rose,
then sank back on the sofa, his face
went white and everything blurred be-
fore him.
What is it, Edwin, are you ill.," she
cried, In her alarm the old name
slipped out unconsciously.
He passed his hand over his eyes in
a dazed fashion. Not is nothing"
he muttered. Then, earnestly. Il am
tired-weary with life as 1t is. It Is
you only I want, Alice, you, alone in
the wide world that love. Is there
any hope?"
His voice sank almost to whisper,
and for one tense moment there was
silence in the little room. Then, by way
of answer, she drew the poor, tired
face against her breast with q ges-
ture of ineffable tenderness.
0~NS L.