The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1917-07-13

/ his Eyes Dlon'I OnCe Seeh r1Si = aSe'
voice lacking a little of the ridiculous
stiffness of his words. not much. us
there some place where we can talk
little more-privately than here? l
shan't keep you long"
There's q room here somewhere"
she said.
The room she led him to was an apz
propriately prepoSterous setting for
the altogether preposterous talk that
ensued between them. 1t had mosaic
floor with red plush carpet on it, two
stained-glass windows in yellow and
green, f1anking an oak mantel which
| framed an enormous expanSe of mot
tied purple tile, with a diminutive gas
log in the middle. A glassy-looking
oak table occupied most of the room,
| and the chairs that were crowded in
around it were upholstered in highly
polished coffee colored horse-hide, with
very ornate nails.
Its dreadfully hot in here" Rose
said. You'd better take off your coat"
She squeezed in between the table and
one of the chairs and seated herself.
Rodney threw down his wet hat, his
newspaper, and then his raincoat, on
the table, and slid into a chair oppo-
site her.
II want to tell you first" Rodney
| said, and his manner was that of q
schoolboy reciting to his teacher an
apology which has been rehearsed at
home under the sanction Of paternal
authority-"I want to tell you how
deeply sorry am for
He had his newspaper in his hands
again and was twisting it up. His eyes
might have done so in perfect safety,
because her own were fixed on his
hands and the newspaper they crum-
pied.
He didn't presume to ask her for
giveness, he told her. He couldn't ex-
pect that; at least not at present. He
went on lamely, in broken sentences,
repeating what he'd said already in
still more inadequate words. He was
unable to stop talking until she should
say something, 1t hardly mattered
what. And she was unable to say any
thing.
The formality of his phrases got
sitter and finally CONCEALED into a
blank silence.
Finally she said, with q gasp: II
have something to ask you to-forgive
me for. That's for leaving you to find
out-where l was, the way you did.
You see, I thought at first that no one
would know me, made up and all. And
when 1 found out I would be recog-
nizable, it was too late to stop-or at
least it seemed so. Besides, l thought
you knew. l saw Jimmy Wallace out
there the opening night, and saw he
recognized me, and-I thought he'd
tell you. And then kept seeing other
people out in front after that, people
we knew, who'd come to see for them
selves, and 1 thought, of course, you
knew. And-I suppose 1 was a cow
ard waited for you to come.
wasn't, as you thought, trying to hurt
you. But | can see how it must have
looked like that"
1C SuIu luINhlS IOu IS Iol "
blame at oil. 1 remember how you Of
fered to tell me what you intended to
do before you went away, and that 1
wouldn't let you"
Silence froze down upon them
again.
Il can't forgive myself" he said at
last. Il want to take back the things
l said that night-about being dis
graced and all. l was angry over not
having known when the other people
did 1t wasn't your being on the stage.
We're not as bigoted as that.
i've come to ask q favor of you,
though and that Is that you'll let me
let us all-help you. l can't-bear
having you live like this, knocking
about like this, where all sorts of
things can happen to you. And going
under an assumed name. I've no
right to ask a favor, know, but do.
l ask you to take your own name again