Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1915-09-30

Il II Know sue UhcnbAcu On' A~SW
For weeks I've been lighting on the
desire TO go back. Sometimes Il was
almost too strong for me. I've got "a
stay here, you see. / must until
Until" he prompted gently. The
girl drew back. continuing her meal.
until I make good" she answered
quietly.
"Student?" the man questioned. She
nodded her head.
There are so many OF u.s." she said
ruefully, "'would be- artists, musicians
mostly failures!''
"And your"
The girls low laughter ended in a
wry smile. "I'm an art failure" she
replied, with shrug of the shoulders.
Bronson's quick glance was sympa-
thetic
perhaps not" he encouraged. Bet
ter stick II out little longer and see."
She arose, drawing on her gloves, and
stood looking now on the gloves, now
on him.
81 intend to-" she answered brightly.
With visible regret the author also
arose.
Pardon the holiness of n Fellow
American" he entreatcd, but may
not hope to see you aghin!'
"Why mott" the, girl carelessly re-
sponded. II dine here every day
So 1t happened that the small table
beneath the window came quite natu-
rally to be place of meeting, place
for the exchange of simple condolences,
for comforting recollections Of home
beloved scenes and home happy times.
TO the man this one hour was sort or
panacea for all the trials OF troubled
day. About II his dreams conferred as
a reward for nightly hours Of writing.
And the girls open pleasure In these
meetings was constant growing JOY.
"Do you know" she asked In her In
genuous way, II cannot get over the
idea that | have known your face be-
fore? 1t was strangely familiar from
the first, and yet
Then David Bronson knew that his
hour of announcement had come. 1t
had been a gratifying thing to hide
for a time from the paths Of fame and
to feel that his unknown personality
had powers Of its own to awaken In
terest and pleasure. With sigh he
drew forth his card and placed 1t be-
fore her.
David B. Bronson" the girl read
aloud, while recollection widened In
her eyes.
Not" she said In a tone Of awe
mot David Bronson, the authorT
He nodded abruptly.
"And you are writing a book over
here" she went on slowly, "a book
with a French setting perhaps and one
of your wonderful American heroinesT
1.-THE heroine" he confessed, proves
a disappointment. She is so exactly
what she seems to be-commonplace,
no human heart interest"
The girl turned YEARLY aside. His
admission of greatness seemed all at
once to put him far from her presump-
ton of friendship.
Look about you," she said. you'll
find human heart stories among us
ALL"
Bronson got hastily into his coat
Just this once" he begged, "allow me
to walk with you"
Heretofore this request had been re-
fused. Now the girl deliberated.
"You may come" she agreed.
Down the sunlit narrow street they
went, crowds jostling her slim figure
against the shelter Of his arm-on
through poorer districts and poorer un.
til where the limit Of dingy shabbiness
seemed to have been reached the girl
paused.
'There"-she pointed at the top OF
the tenement-"is my home"
Homer the man breathed con-
then, with wondering
pity he repeated the word, Home"
"Goodby," said the girl and extended
her hand.
"GOodby until tomorrow" reminded
the man, his smile unchanged.
Smiling, too, she went up the narrow
stair, but when tomorrow came she was
absent from her place at the restaurant
table. An atmosphere Of unaccountable