The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1914-10-23
CHAPTER III.

am sure Inat tuSTo uuSl NC CoiOA
IN our SOULS" said Iris Vanderpool.
"At this moment" replied Mr.. Sam
uel Hill, my soul is the exact hue
Of tea with lemon in it, shading on
to the color Of a jam sandwich"
With a petulant little gesture, Iris
turned from the window out Of which
she had been gazing at the slowly
darkening city.
You always spoil my best ideas!"
she said. "Why can't you reply SYM
pathetically? But you shall have tea,
of course"
AS she crossed over to seat herself
beside him. he noted the shade that
clouded her eyes. She settled her
self in her corner Of the sofa and he
leaned over, taking both her hands
in his.
you mustn't be cross" he said, ten
derly.
'T think you owe it to me to be a
little more-more romantic! No!
That is a poor word to express my
meaning. A little more poetic! Why,
you don't even look like an artist any
more!"
Don't II" said he, slowly rising and
regarding himself in mirror opposite.
Iris" said he after moment of ST.
lent inspection, must fellow really
have long hair in order to be good
painter. do you think?"
Don't be absurd" she answered;
''it isn't that, of course! But it is
something deeper, something more i'm
portant, far. Why, if I did not see
the lovely things you do with your
brush, / could not believe you were
an artist. You never give out your
temperament in any other way, and I
am hungry for It."
silly talk about the color of your soul?
Lord! grille, can't you learn to live
those things instead Of talking about
them? Can't you see that they lose
in value If expressed in any but the
highest way? One has to keep usfe's
mouth shut in order that all the
strength be left for ones hand"
"And apply none of it to daily life?'
she cried.
Live it; don't apply it." he an
swered dryly.
"One grows by expression!" she de-
clared; "by expression of every sort.
My fathers friends, lots of the people
who come here, are living splendidly
inside themselves, and they give 1t
out, and consequently they are inter
esting. When I became engaged to
you / thought / was going to find the
same sort of intercourse, only intensi-
fed. But you are not what thought
you were, and my soul is unsatisfied."
Look here, dearest" said he lightly,
don't go for me the first day you
get home. It's long while-two en-
tire weeks-since we have been to-
gether, and here we go, off the handle,
first thing. Let's cut it out, and be
sweet to each other instead. Tell me
about the last couple of weeks. You're
not very satisfactory correspondent,
you know. What did you do at the
farm?"
81 walked, and rode horseback, as
usual" she replied. There was time
for once for me to learn to know my
self; to commune with my inner con-
seriousness. l read Swinburne. Do
you know, think his aura must have
been blue, like miner"
Sam Hill helped himself to a fifth
jam sandwich before replying.
THAT must have been great; espe-
cially the riding" he exclaimed. And
that reminds me, Iris, there is won
derful horse at the Winter garden.
I'll take seats for tomorrow, if you
say 30. You'll like it, I'm sure. There
are some bully acrobats, too."
With the air of a tragedy queen
Miss Vanderpool arose and swept to
the center of the room, her gray gown
coiling about her feet like clouds of
smoke. Very young she looked, and
quite like child dressed up and act
ing play. But, to her own mind, she
was a woman hurt in her sensitive
soul. Withal, she had a certain dig
nifty despite her youth, consequent,
perhaps, on the position which had
been hers since the death of the
mother she could scarcely remember.
why, what on earth is the matter ?"
cried Hill, admiring her immensely,
unspeakably.
Natter" she cried tragically; you
ask me that? l tell you that my soul
is hungry-starved! and you retort
with an invitation to a music-hall!
1t is unthinkable! How can you? You
have no sympathy, no understanding.
hate you. There!"
She turned from him abruptly.
'Iris!" he cried, springing to her
side and putting his arm about her.
You must not say such things, you
silly child. When l leave my work l
want to play-just to play like child
and a trained horse amuses me;
frankly and truly, do like it. You
hardly ever laugh for sheer merri-
ment. It's most neurotic, I'm darned
If it isn't!"
I'm not a silly child" cried Iris
hotly, disengaging herself from his
embrace. I'm not neurotic! My
soul is torn"
ooh, marry me right away, and let
your soul go hang!" exclaimed Hill.
"AI ou.need. is a taste of life! Hon.
estly I understand about this feeling
of yours, dear. Believe me. work and
living in earnest are the answers and
the cure"
you don't understand" she cried;
every word you utter makes that
palmer. You never have any great
emotional experiences-at least, that
| can see-and so, Of course, you can't
recognize them as real in others. You
may be an artist on canvas, but you
are not an artist of life, and that IS
far more important! 1 suppose you
will go on leading your ordered exist
ence forever. l shall stifle IL l have
to share it! And 1 thought you were
q romantic figure. Why, you work as
regularly as any business man. and
as hard!"
"A curious complaint" said he, the