The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1914-01-03

of stupor from cold and discour-
agement.
It~as almost midnight when
policeman reused her and made
her move on. She was acutely
wretched. Her foot was increas-
ingly painful. Long before she
| had unfastened the buttons, but
the torture of the swollen toe
| persisted. She was not starving,
but she was weak with hunger
and numb with cold. Still, her
determination did not give way.
All that was gone was her per-
spective; she could see only two
ways out of her wretchedness,
and one was unthinkable. The
other?
She turned toward the Prater
lake and made her way there
slowly along a snow-covered path.
She was shaking with fright, but
her determination held. There
were only two ways out. This
was one, the other being unthink-
able. She said over and over,
mechanically, "I'll die first" She
even heard herself saying it.
And so, limping and shivering,
she reached the bank of the Pra-
ter lake.
She would not look at the wa
ter. She put her muff on the
ground, and tried with her stiff
fingers to take out her hatpins.
She was past thinking: certainly
there was no reason for saving
the hat. And then, suddenly, her
eyes fell on the Lake, and she
broke into choking, hysterical
laughter.
This way was closed. The lake
was frozen, solid.
Having seen his sister and her
husband off for the opera, Sulli-
van had his evening free. He
went to theater, and found his
meager knowledge of German,
complicated by the atrocious VIE
ner dialect, inadequate. Had he
been quite frank with himself, he
would have acknowledged that he
was only passing the time until
the Bal Tabarin opened after the
opera.
Sullivan had thought, at fire.
quent intervals during the day, of
Tilly Reilly-not, of course, that
he called her lilly Reilly. He
had thought mostly of her eyes,
eyes that did not belong to the
Bal Tabarin, eyes that had smiled
frankly into his, eyes that had
dropped demurely as she danced.
Sullivan went to the Bal Taba-
rim very early. Instead of loge,
he took a table near the center
of the room, and sat back, smok-
ing a cigarette and watching the
place fill up.
He watched with more eager
ness than he would have cared to
admit for lilly. With the inform
atty of the cabaret, the perform
ers, lounged around the doorways
or mixed with the crowd.
The Apache dancers did their
turn, with much pulling and
twisting, much flying skirts
and revealing Of hideous lingerie
and thick cotton stockings. A
colored boy, fresh from Georgia,
sang rag-time to the mad enthu-
siasm Of the crowd, but lilly did
not appear. Sullivan ordered to-
bacco, another pint OF white
wine. The atmosphere was reek-
ing: the incessant uproar of the
orchestra got on his nerves.
When It became clear that the
program had reached it's end, and
was about to repeat, Sullivan got
UP and sauntered to the bar. He
had seen lilly talking to the bar
maid, the night before.
But the barmaid was q different
one, hlack-haired French girl
iSfI1 sai i with q shfuS OF hei
shoS lders, that the Fraulein was
| kahk, and was not there tonight.
She knew nothing Of Tilly. and
made poor work of understanding
him. In q sort Of rage of disap-
pointment he got his hat and
overooat. and left the building.
He refused cab. A fine white
snow was falling In the narrow
streets. At the corner. q woman
was standing, head bent to the
storm, looking, in the wind, like
some gray night bird, waiting and
ominous. With a shudder Of dis
gust, Sullivan buttoned up his coat
and turned to start.
! He had taken perhaps q dozen
steDs when slim figure stepped