The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1916-12-09

the edge of the table, with her eyes
closed. That gave her quick brain a
chance. 1t was madness, June mad.
ness. She was always seeing him, even
In her dreams. This man was older,
much older. She looked again.
She had not been mistaken. Here,
and after all these months! K. LIE
Moyne, quite unconscious of her pres
ence, looked down into the valley.
Wilson appeared on the wooden
porch above the terrace, and stood, his
eyes searching the half-light for her,
If he came down to her, the man at the
next table might turn, would see her
She rose and went swiftly back to.
ward the hotel. All the gayety was
gone out of the evening for her, but
she forced lightness she did not feel |:
1T is so dark and depressing out
there-it makes me sad.'
"Surely you do not want to dine in
the house?"
do you mind2"
"Your wish is my law-tonight," he
said softly.
After all, the evening was disap-
pointment to him. The spontaneity had
gone out Of it, for some reason. The
girl who had thrilled to his glance
those two mornings in his office, whose
somber eyes had met his, fire for fire.
across the operating room, was not
playing up. She sat back in her chair,
eating little, starting at every step. Her
eyes, which by every rule of the game
should have been gazing into his, were
fixed on the oilcloth-c covered passage
outside the door.
ened!"
Terribly"
"A little danger adds to the zest of
things. You know what Nietzsche says
about that"
II am not fond of Nietzsche." Then,
with an effort: "What does he sayT"
"Two things are wanted by the
true man-danger and play. Therefore
he seeketh woman as the most dan
gerous of toys"
"Women are dangerous only when
you think of them as toys. When a
man finds that woman can reason
do anything but feel-he regards her
as menace. But the reasoning wom-
an is really less dangerous than the
other Sort"
This was more like the real thing.
To talk careful distractions like this,
with beneath each abstraction it's con-
cealed personal application, to talk of
woman and look in her eyes, to discuss
new philosophers with their freedoms,
to discard old creeds and old morale
ties-that was his game. Wilson be.
came content, interested again. The girl
was Undetermined. She challenged
his philosophy and gave him a chance
to defend it. With the conviction, as
their meal went on, that LIE Moyne
and his companion must surely have
gone, she gained ease.
1t was only by wild driving that she
got back to the hospital by ten o'clock.
Wilson left her at the corner, we'll
content with himself. AS he drove up
the Street he glanced across at the
Page house. Sidney was there on the
doorstep, talking to tall man who
| stood below and looked up at her.
Wilson settled his tie, in the darkness.
Sidney was mighty pretty girl. The
June night was in his blood. He was
sorry he had not kissed Carlotta good
night. He rather thought, now he
looked back. she had expected it.
AS he got out of his car at the curb.
young man who had been standing in
the shadow Of the treebox moved
quickly away.
Wilson smiled after him in the dark
| ness.
"That you, Joe?" he called.
But the boy went on.
Sidney entered the hospital as a pro
bationer early in August. Christine
was to be married in September to
Palmer Howe, and, with Harriet and
X. in the house, she felt that she could
safely leave her mother.
The balcony outside the parlor was
uAACnuy uAucA way VII IAC uA6AL UC-
fore she went away Sidney took chairs
out there and sat with her mother I'M
til the dew drove Anna to the lamp
in the sewing room and her "Daily
Thoughts" reading.
Sidney sat alone and viewed her
world from this new and pleasant
angle. She could see the garden and
the whitewashed fence with its morn
ing glories, and at the same time, by
turning her head, view the Wilson
house across the Street. She looked
mostly at the Wilson house.
X. lie Moyne was upstairs in his
room. She could hear him tramping
up and down, and catch, occasionally,
the bitter-sweet odor of his old brier
pipe.
All the small loose ends Of her life
were gathered up-except Joe. She
would have liked to get that clear, too.
She wanted him to know how she felt
about it all-that she liked him as
much as ever, that she did not want
to hurt him. But she wanted to make
it clear, too, that she knew now that
she would never marry him. She
thought she would never marry; but,
If she did, it would be man doing a
mans work in the world. Her eyes
turned wistfully to the house across
the Street.
X 20 1opop 9th hum od o1,orhood hut