The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1914-06-29
CHAPTER 1.
Hotel Saint Ange

"Coeher? PHotel Saint Ange.
Rue Saint Angel"
The voice of John Dampier,
Nancy's thres-week bridegroom
rang out toyously, on this the last
evening of their honeymoon. And
before the open carriage had time
TO move, Dampisr added some
thing quickly, at which both he
and the driver laughed.
Nancy erept nearer to her hus-
band. IL was tifesome that she
knew so little French.
I'm telling the man he can
take us round by the boulevards.
/ won't shave you seeing Paris
from an ugly angle the first time
-darlingi
but Jack2 It's nearly mid
night! Surely therell be moth
ing to see on the bouevards now?"
Wont there? You wait and
see-Paris never goes to sleep!"
And then the carriage rolled
through the iron gates that open
ed from the big railway station
yard.
As Nancy made no answer,
Dampier added anxiously, Oar
ling, are you tired? Would you
rather go straight to the hotel?"
But pressing closer to him,
Nancy shook her head. mo, no,
Jack! I'm not a bit tired. 1t
was you who we're tired today,
not II"
Il didn't feel we'll in the train,
tits true. But now that I'm in
Paris l could stay out all night!
l suppose you've never read
George Moore's description of
this very drive we're taking, little
girl?"
Nancy smiled in the darkness.
In the world in which Nancy Ire
main, the delightfully."- pretty, fair
ly well-dowered orphan, had
drifted about since she had been
"grown-up," no one had ever
heard of George Moore.
Strange, their marriage-hers
and Jack Dampier's-had been!
He, the artist, unconventional
Bohemian, knowing little of his
native country, England, for he
had lived all his youth and work
ing life in France-and she the
exact opposite.
A commission from an English
country gentleman had brought
the artist across the channel, and
an accident had led to their first
and decisive meeting.
Nancy Tremain had been
brought over to tea. one cold.
snowy afternoon, at the house
where Dampier was painting. She
had been dressed all in grey.
One glance - so Dampier had
often since assured her-had been
enough. Very soon he had Gap
tured her in the good old way, as
women-or SO men like to think
prefer to be wooed, by right of
conquest.
There had been no one to com
ment unkindly over their sudden
betrothal. On the contrary,
Nancy's considerable circle of ae-
quaintances had smilingly APP
proved.
So one of her acquafntances
arranged that lovely, happy Nancy
should be married from a pleas
ant country house. The wedding
took place in the last week of
May, and bride and bridegroom
had gone to Italy for three happy
weeks.
Now they were about to settle
down in Dampier's Paris studio.
II was an Exhibition Year, one
of those years that pour steady
streams of gold into the peck cts
of fortunate hotel and shop
keepers, and which bring a great
many foreigners to Paris.
They were now speeding under
and across the vast embracing
shadow of the Opera House. And
Dampier slipped his arm round his
young wife.
II wish wish and then
Nancy stopped.
What is it that you wish, dear
hearth" he asked.
Il wish, Jack, that we were
going straight home to the stu
do now-instead of to an hotel"
Wen get in very soon," he
answered quickly. Believe me,
darling, you woul, 1T like going
in before everything is ready for
you. Mere Bideau has her good
points, but she could never make
the place look as l want il to
look when you first see 1t. I'll
get up early tomorrow morning
and go and see to IL all. L
wouldn't for the world you saw