Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1916-01-23

ports, that Friday at dusk, and stared out
between the heavy curtains down the
sweep Of white lawn to the white city
street. And then, silently and notion
less, with documents slipping from her re-
taxing fingers, she failed to see that it had
stopped showing and that the storm had
passed.; she failed to hear the scrape of
the first snow-shovels; she failed to smell
the wisp of birch smoke that had strayed
from the open fireplace and invaded the
luxurious library as fearlessly as it would
invade the kitchen of farmhouse For
give her! For this was the first time in
her life she had ever wondered how her
biography" would look in print.
She smiled as she thought of it:
Miss Amy Andrew. born Cleveland. Ohio
1888. Parents, Amy (Mattou), deceased
1910 and Henry Arden n Andrew LIVED LIVED
Haute. 1SS8-l9O5. Education, public schools
Stenographer, Il 9O5-l9lO. supporting self and
mother. Attended State University at own
expense 19ll-l913. Secretary Jaffrey Dun
can, Esq, Midland Ore & Iron Company.
1913. Unmarried.
This biography, however, said nothing
of the real struggle, of the wonderful, ever
blooming health that had allowed her to
keep fighting. 1t did not tell of her con-
tribution to the last years of deserted
mother whose spirit had been crushed,
and whose body dropped in a gloomy
harmony with the spirit, until both
reached the end. 1t did not tell of the
fight for education, and then of the pain
full and ever-growing belief in childless
life. 1t did not tell of a fear that any man
who would want her she would not want,
and that any man she would want she
could not have. Then,-was it forty
eight or forty-nine days ago?-in spite of
all her assuredness that no such Joy was
in the world, Jaffrey had said it to her
had said, Al love YOU; had interpreted
his own affectionate tenderness which she
had not dared to interpret to herself.
Amy was happy now. Even the Duncans
had grown happy with her. They could
not shed from themselves the happiness
she and Jaffrey spread about from the
tops of their full measures. There had
been days and days of It'll
The inside man of the Duncans inter-
rupted her dusk dream by slipping into the
room with the characteristic stealth of
old and formal English servants; he
poked the embers, put on another log,
and was gone.
7 ESS than three minutes later, there
came to her ears the soft tapping of
knuckle upon the private side entrance
to the Duncan library.
Any one who is familiar with the Dun
can house-which, though in the region
upon which the downtown district is now
encroaching is still one of the most dig
nifed in the city-will remember how far
back from the street is the columned
portico, and will recall that two long
stone-paved walks lead up to the house.
The middle walk takes one to the wide
social entrance; the narrower way has its
terminus at a ground-glass door of the
elder Duncan's library. Upon this glass
one inside may see the shadow of any
visitor without.
By day the shadow may be thrown by
the sun; by night an arc light on the
street casts the image. And therefore,
after Amy had glanced out of the window
at the single tracks along the narrow,
obliterated walk, and on the otherwise
inviolated carpet of snow, she turned