The daily banner. (Cambridge, Md.) 1897-2008, 1914-09-14

pie left alone IN the world. Our trl-
umphs are past. Our work is done.
Our friends are dead. Why should we
sit apart and NOPE? Come now! Be
a good boyr'
II cannot r.
Then. withla change as swift as light
ming, the artist in her-all the COM
bined impulsiveness and dramatic force
Of her nature-came over her.
"How dare you sayi that?" she said.
"Who are you, pray l! to refuse an in
vitation to dinner? Have l not often
dined with you? Well. now you are
to dine with me. You understand
Come. Where is yours cuat?''
She sprang to the unbledown ward
robe, pulled out ans old ulster and
pressed it over him.. Then, with an
imperious gesture, she waved him out
of the room into fthes hall, holding his
faded silk hat nfher Inland.
He obeyed hertwithoutta word Only
in the cab he srid:
"Dear me. Josephine. the years have
not changed you. have they? | ought
not to be doing this! Why, my dear,
I have never dined Jas the guest of a
woman In my life. 1t has always been
a part of my'code not to do,so."
"Nonsensel You areN too old now to
have any code. Young sports like us
no longer. need ia code. 1t is high time
that some one took your in hand. Be
sides, am not doing itffor you. Don't
you know that I have always been
selfish? You are a good companion.
There is none better, Z am sure. And
am l not all alone jand lonesome? 1t
Is l, therefore, T., that you must blame.
I need your
The lights in theS restaurant, the
laughter. thet suddent return to long
vanished existence. acted upon Flau-
bert like a ftonic His face grew ten
years younger. They sat in a far cor
ner, remote, from, the music. No one
knew them-twof artists who once had
ruled theirfworM.
Her oldj habit came back upon her
swiftly. She ordered the dinner With
out looking at ;the card-a thin soup,
a small. duck, atsalad, a bottle Of wine
from the sunny vineyards Of the Rhone.
1t was wonderful, under the spell OF
their surroundings. to see them both
relax. Story after story came from
him. His observations Of life, like
old wine, had flavor all their own.
At last she lifted the glass. half
empty. to Their lips. .s--.
IA TIC III
ourselvesp
81 drink, mademoiselle. to your wit,
to your beauty, to your genius, for
these arctic me as fresh as ever"
"And drink to the artist Flaubert.
than whom there is none greater; also
I drink to- She looked at him stead
fly, fixedly. with that wonderful light
in her eyes which yet remained IN
dimmed atjnearly -threescore and ten.
"Iittle Jimmy" she said. II drink to
us two. Let us never part again on
earthr'
He loweredi his glass.
"You know. my dear" he said. Il
am quite poor
81 have enough for both"
He laughed.
Really. mademoiselle. I could hard
" pay the clergyman"
"Dear me, ! know one who will be
pleased to do the slight service for
nothing"
"You are in earneSt?
"Surely And you consents?
Sbo mt forth her hand
Josephine, have always loved you
But
"Your hand"
He gave it under the spell Of her
eyes. They arose from the table. They
threaded their way out of the restaf
rant. The attendant helped him on
with his shabby ulster. The door was
opened for them. They stood Tor an
instant alone in the vestibule.
He bent over her.
"Josephine," he said. promise me
one thing know am weak |
guess I'm growing old. But promise
me that you'll never holdl 1t up against
me-
Don't you see that if'I should 1t Is
You who could hold it up against me-
For am not the temptreSs? Tut. tut
nv dear. it is just as 1t should De.
It was my fault in the beginning 1t
was l who delayed imatters.
Then he stoopedtand kissed her.
AS he put her into the carriage Win
all the ease and grace of the Flaubert
of old he turned to the coachman.
"Home," he said proudly.