Tombstone epitaph., 1917-12-09
CHAPTER XIV.
Ceuieur-de-R Rose.

It was altogether fortunate for ROst that she had attempted no prepara- tion. because the situation she found herself in when she'd opened the door for her husband, shaken hands with him. led him into her sitting room and ask ,d him to sit down. was one which the widest cast of her imagination would never have suggested as pos sible one for her and Rodney. It was his manner. she felt sure. that had created 1t: his rather formal attitude; the way he held his hat. It was the slightly anxious, very deter mined attitude of an estimable and rather shy young man making his first call on a young lady upon whom he Is desperately desirous of making a fa- vorable impression.
 And he was Rodney. and she was Rose. It was like an absurd dream Wont you smoker" she asked sud. denly. and hurried on when he hesi. tated. "I don't do 1t myself, but most of my friends do, and keep the things" From drawer In her writing desk she produced a tin box of ciga- rettes. They're your kind-unless you've changed" she commented. and went over to the mantel-shelf for an ash tray and match safe. The match safe was empty and she left the room to get fresh supply from her kitchen. On the inner face of her front door was a big mirror. and In it, as she came back through the unlighted pas sage, she saw her husband. He was sitting just as she'd left him, and as his face was partly turned away from her, il could not have been from the expression of it that she got her reveia- ton. But she stopped there in the dark and caught her breath and leaned back against the wall and squeezed the tears out of her eyes.
 He stayed that first evening little | less than an hour. and when he got up to go she made no effort to detain | him. The thing had been, as its un. | broken surface could satisfy, highly 1 successful first call. Before she let i him go, th~-igh. she asked him how | long he was going to be in New York, and on getting a very indeterminate ! answer which offered g. minimum of two or three days" and a maximum | that could not even be guessed at, she ! said:
 T hope you're not going to be too dreadfully busy for us to see lot of each other. I wish we might manage it once every day"
 | That shook him; for a moment. she thought the lightning was going to strike, and stood very still holding her breath, waiting for 1t.
 But he steadied himself. said he could certainly manage that if she could, and, as the elevator came up in response to her ring. said that he would call her up in the morning at her office. As she cuddled her cheek into the pill low that night, Rose smiled her old, wide smile. She was the happiest per son in the world.
 That manner of ROdney's lasted-re- ! cured, at least, whenever Rose and he were together-almost unaltered. for two whole days. There was a visit of his to her workshop, where he lis- tened intently to her explanations of her tools and her working methods. There was a luncheon, at which, un- wincing, he made her tell him the whole story of her success; and dinner and theater, after which he brought her home in a taxi, and, hav- ing told the chauffeur to wait. formal Iy escorted her to the elevator. But with the last of the next days light, the ice broke up and the floods came.
 She had taken him to a studio tea in the upper sixties just of West End avenue, the proprietors of the studio being a tousled, bearded, blond an- archist of a painter and his exceed ingly pretty, smart, friyolOus-loOkins wife.
 The two men had instinctively drawn controversial swords almost at sight of each other, and for the hour and a half that they were together the com bat raged nightly. to the unmi1ed satisfaction of both participants. The feelings of the bystanders were per haps more diverse, but Rose. at least, enjoyed herself thoroughly. over seeing her husbands big. formidable, finely poised mind in action again. The talk. of course. ranged everywhere: social ism. feminism. law and its crimes. art, and the social mind.
 It was half-past six or thereabouts when they left the studio. and the late May afternoon was at It's loveliest. "I want to walk." said Rose, "after that tea. if I'm ever to want any dinner" He nodded a little absently. she thought, and fell in step beside her. There was no mention at any time of their destination.
 TO BE CONTINUED.)
 Art Of Hanging Pictures. PicfureS shauld haye a strong haSe