The Elk Mountain pilot., 1916-08-12

her. Nothing else mattered quite 8,
much as that. And yet he did thinl
beautifully of her in spite Of every
thing, though he could not but think IL
the terms of her own statement last
But it was "all in the game" A
man must laugh at those things, what
ever the laugh did to him. He was
facing another year today, that was
all, and her marriage to the othei
man took place that night.
A black cat came out of the corner
washing its face in the center OF the
room. A homeless kitten, 1t had ap
peared the first day she had come,
stealing in the door at the time OF
omen Of good luck and more. That
was something like nine months ago,
If such time could ever be reckoned by
calendar. She had told him then that
she was a model, but had refused to
pose for him without drapes. Who
she really was he had found out weeks
later. 1t was too late then, for he
had fallen in love with her.
There was a knock at the door, and
he went to open it. Stanton. the ed
itor of a powerful weekly, entered. He
stalked around the room as one with
something to unload, and. at length,
ainging himself on the couch, proceed
ed hrusquely:
Hastings, you're an awful ass, and
because 4; was New Years l dropped
in to tell you about it. Ten weeks
ago your picture won highest honors
at the London exhibit. Two weeks
later you repeated in the Metropolitan
with another picture. But you have
not been acting like successful man,
but to the regret of your friends, like
sloth and a fool. A couple of the
boys have seen you beastly drunk.
You have shut yourself away from
everyone and everything. YoG are be-
ing reviewed by every important jour
nal in the country, and yet you nope
around as though you were your own
lackey. There are one or two Of us
have begun to think it is a woman.
We do not know of any woman but
that cussed portrait is always sitting
there. And / do believe the thing
lives.'
Hastings laughed little. 1T is
purely fanciful." he said, mot really a
portrait. And, of course, it is absurd
to think of a woman in the matter.
l suppose that l have not been quite
well. Let us have a drink, because
it's New Year"
I'll be hanged II l will, Hastings.
I believe you have been drinking too
much. 1 have got to go now. l just
turned in for a minute. But do not
forget what / have said"
Il will not forget, Stanton; and
thanks for your interest. We cannot
sometimes explain ourselves to our
selves"
After Stanton had gone he took out
his watch. 1t was five o'clock, and
she was to be married at nine. He
would sit in the rocker and go to
sleep. He would waken probably
about about twelve and know that 1t
was all over. He would have sand
wich first and put the decanter of
claret beside him. Claret always had
a tendency to make him sleep, particu-
larly if he put little sugar in it. He
did these things, but it took him hours
to browse off, and only after he had
turned the portrait on the easel.
1t seemed but minute had passed
when he awoke. OF course he knew
that he was not awake, that he was
dreaming. Someone was weeping soft
ly on his shoulder, caressing his hair.
Only one woman on earth had that
aroma of person. If anywhere in the
world he found one of her hairs and
touched his cheek with 1t he would
have known to whom it belonged.
Then her eyes, penitent and wet with
tears. came around. slowly meeting his.
With a start he realized that he was
awake. He held her, looking at her
as something to marvel at. She ex-
planned it all in whispered breath. Il
could not do it, Paul" she said. Il
ran away from them, from them all.
Will you-will you marry me now.
dear-tonight? ?"
He looked and saw that she wore a
wedding gown.
There never was a minute when l
would not" he replied.-San Francisco
Argonaut.