Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1916-11-19

listened. 1t was all rather vague and she
made no promises, but she listened. In
few weeks or months or years, now, she'll
be mine for all time. She doesn't want
me to tell Beatrice, and there is no one
else to tell except you-so forgive me, old
man, if let myself loose.
Besides, in way, you're responsible
We were talking of you, because we missed
you. You have mighty good friend in
her, Covington. She knows you-the real
you that thought only | had glimpsed.
She sees the man in the game-not the
man in the grand-stand. Her Covington
is the man they used to give nine long
Harvards for never heard that in front
of my name.
We talked great deal of you, as said,
and find myself now thinking more of
you than of myself in connection with her.
| don't understand it. Perhaps it's be-
cause she seems so alone in the world. and
you are the most intimate friend she has.
Perhaps it's because you've seen so much
more of her than | in these last few
months. Anyway, / have feeling that
somehow you are an integral part of her.
If you We're not already married I'd almost
suspect her of being in love with you.
This is strange talk from man who less
than six hours ago became officially en-
gagged. | told her that | had let her go
once, and that now had found her again
| wanted her to stay. And she said I'm
try That wasn't very much. Covington.
was it? But seized the implied promise
as drowning man does straw
I'm going to get my eyes back. |
haven't the slightest doubt in the world
about that, Already feel the magic of
the new balm that has been applied. They
don't ache any more. Sitting here tonight
without my shade, can hold them open
and catch the feeble light that filters in
from the street lamps at distance.
You won't object to hearing man rave
little, Covington? If you do you can
tear up this right here. But l know !
can't say anything good about Marjory
you won't agree with. Maybe, however,
you'd call my present condition abnor-
NAL. Perhaps it is; but | wonder if it
isn't part of every normal mans life to
be abnormal to this extent at least once
Always she, my; princess, is somewhere
in the background, when she is not actu-
ally by my side. When saw her before.
Covington, marveled at her eyes-those
deep, wonderful eyes that told you so
little and made you dream so much /
saw her hair too. and her straight nose,
and her beautiful lips. Those things see
now as ! saw them then. must wait a
little while really to see them again In
their place, however, | have now her
voice and the sound of her footsteps To
hear her coming, just to hear the light
fall of her feet upon the ground, is like
music
But when she speaks, Covington, then
all other sounds cease, and she speaks
alone to me in world grown silent to :
listen. There is some quality in that
voice that gets into me-that reaches and
vibrates certain hidden strings did not
know were there So sweet is the music
that can hardly give enough attention
to make out the meaning of her words.
What she says does not so much matter
as that she should be speaking to me-to
my ears alone
And these things are merely the super
fatalities of her. There still remains the
princess herself below these wonderful ex-
ternals. There still remains the woman