Evening star., 1914-05-24
By IMOGEN CLARK

Immediately conscious that she had taken in every
detail of his shabby Clothes his frnged cuffs his general
appearance of i'll luck She did not repuse him. how
ever, but listened with air of seeming interest," and
he to speak of the notable work of art
view in the gallery.
3Ive just come from there he lied magnifcently,
@and this can't hold candle to it. Some of
making fine showing inside too. There's
good little thing called The Edge of the World For
the life of can't think who did it. But tell you
what-the man has it in nim-he'n prove it day
he" His voice deserted him shameessly.
He stood gasping for ageong instant, then turned
and fed touter He had sunk to that Not crying
up others wares but vauntng his work, pastering
it with praises He could to go fast enough
from the of his degradation. Whether his
panon had gone within to inspect the good little thing,
whether she had read his ptful secret and had his
naked soul, he never knew. From that day he had
given Van Corlears gallery wide berth; though he
could not easily dismiss what he had done from his
memory 1t constant thorn in his flesh, pricking
him with seoathng that colored many of his moods
and seriously hampered his advancement.
But with the dawning of W. H. Pemberton his
horizon Carmody another man. all that old shame
forgotten. The call of the spring that making itself
felt in the soft droop of the late February sky stirred his
blood Suddenly he sat erect his chair thrilling with
the of discovery The paper he held meant escape!
He could shake off the fever and fret of the city and get
out into the open where hope beckoned. The check,
which was for three hundred and fifty dollars, made
that possible There were few debts settle first;
with the ne cOulQ go nOl1Qay ana
live as happy king. And he'd do it! He knew the
very spot,-hs heart flew to it straight homing
pigeon,-niles and miles away the south. Already
there rosy blur in the bushes along the rushing
stream simmer of green hillside and valley, and
new life everywhere. He'd paint the springs coming!
He'd show the tired old world the stuff youth made
of-and love-and dreams
A STEP outside in the hallway stopping at his door
brought him back to everyday conditions. He
slipped the letter with its blessed nclosure into his
pocket and without leaving his place shouted to his
unseen visitor to enter. There trembling in his
voice. If it dun, he could meet it in most
pected fashion If it W. H. Pemberton, for in
stance, he would know what to say. If it was
Then the door opened slowly and Fraser came into the
ROOM He TALL thin man, still in the thrtes, with
tired face and fast CRAVING hair Discouragement was
written in large letters his person; everything about
him seemed slack and inert In response to Carmodys
hearty greeting he mumbled few words he took the
chair his host kicked Hospitality his way. The two
had been fairly intimate at time; but lattery had
drfted apart 1t had been months since they had met
@Sorry haven't any 'baccy to offer you,' Carmody
said in his big pleasant voice. @but you don't mind
waiting I'll down to the and lay in stock of
cigars. Man, man. my ships in port!'
dull red Ieaped into Fraser's face; he leaned for