The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1914-06-20
I explained.

! see your prints?'
 Nothing easier" said I. My shack is just over the hill.''
 And there is a Mrs her eyes suggested that fill the blank.
 .'SedgWick?'' I finished. "No. There is no one but my aged and highly re spectable Chinanan to play propriety- But in the case of studio the conYen- tions are not so rigid but that one may look at pictures unchaperoned."
 "I'm afraid it wouldn't ,do," she an swered, smiling. ''No, I'll have to wait until"- A shadow passed over her face. s"Pm afr6id I'll have to give it up."
 Chance settled that point then and there. As she finished, she was in my arms The girth had loosened and the saddle had turned with her. had barely time to twist her foot from the stirrup when the brute of a horse bolted As it was, her ankle got bit of a wrench. She turned quite white and cried out little. In mo- nent she was herself again
 ssKing Cole has been acting badly all day." she said. "I shall have time catching him" She limped for ward a few steps.
 ssHere, that won't doP' said I. ''Let me"
 seYou couldn't get near him, though, perhaps, if you had some salt'-
 sT can get some at my place" said L gathering up my things. ''Your horse IS headed that way. You'd better come along and rest there while Ching Lung and I round up your mount"
 CComment by o. R.: Here follows more talk, showing how young people imperceptibly and unconsciously ce- ment an acquaintance, but not one word upon the vital point of how, far the horse seemed to have come, whether he was ridden out or fresh, etc.),
 At the bungalow called Ching, and we set out with a supply of salt. King Cole Comment. by e. K: Probably dead black horse) was coy for a time before he succumbed to temptation. On my return I found my visitor in the studio. She had said that she knew a little about pictures. She knew more than a littIeAa good deal, fin fact-and talked most intelligently about them. I don't say this simply because she tried before she went to buy some of mine. When I declined to sell she seemed put out
 "But surely these prints Of yours aren't the work of an emateur?" she said. ..You sell?'
 "Oh. yes. I sell-when I can. But I don't sell without a good bit of bar gaining, particularly when I suspect my purchaser of wishing to make amends by a purchase"
 t'It isn't that at au,'' she said earn estly. ssI want the pictures for them selves"
 Gall this a preliminary, then, and come back when you have more time" :"
 She shook her head, and there was a shadow over the brightness of her face ssPm afraid not,'' she said ''But I have enjoyed talking again with some one who knows and loves the best in art. After al1,~ she added of defiance, 'stheBe is no reason why , shouldn't some time.''
 E'Then I may look for you again?" asked.
 She nodded as she moved out across the porch. eff you'll promise to sell me any print may choose Goodby, and thank you so much, MT. Sedg- wicki''
 She held out her hand. It was a l hand for sculptor to model, as beauti- i ful and full of character as her face. l Comment by c. K: BoshD After l ward remembered that never again in our friendship did see it ungloved. | Comment by O. K: "Bosh" retracted. Some observation thatD
 sAu revoir, then,'' I said. 'But you l have the advantage of me, you see. I don't know what to call you at all.'' She hesitated, then, with a little soft l quiver of her eyelids, which after- ward learned to identify as an evil denee of amusement, said: ''Daw is a nice name, don't you think?' s(Com- l ment by c. K: False name, of course, but highly probable first name is Mar jorie0 .sBy the way, what time is ii? ?''
 Quarter to 5, Miss Daw.''
 She smiled at the name. King Cole will have to do his best if I am to be l back for dinner. Goodby." Comment by c. K: Good! The place where she is staying is good way off, assuming 7:3O dinner hour. Say twelve to if 1 teen miles)
 That was the first of many visits. of days that grew in radiance for me. It isn't necessary for me to tell you, Kent, how in our talks I came to divine in her a spirit as wistful and pure as her l face. You do not want a love story | from me, yet that is what it was for me almost from the first; not openly, l though. There was that about her which held me at arms length-the mystery of her, her quickly given trust in me, a certain strained look that came into her face, like the startled l attention of a wild thing poised for flight, whenever I touched upon the personal note. Not that I ever ques- | toned her.
 After her first visit she did not ride on her horse, but came across lots and through the side hedge, swinging down | the hillside wonder with her light dip ping stride that always recalled to me the swoop of a swallow, her gloved hands usually holding a slender stick.
 All those sketches that you saw were