Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1917-03-01

mnst!"
He stood and regarded her, wor-
shipping the valor in her eyes.
$50 far he said, "they have
proved only that [ amounted to
nothing. Nowhere have they found
even the shadow of my vanished
personality" Despair clouded his
face for a moment. sit seems in
credible that any human being
could have amounted to so little ~
Anxiety, something like indeci-
sion, assailed her for the first time.
And the effect of all this on
your work = here = now?" she
asked, her lips uncertain again.
"1ou We're right in what you
told me the last time | saw you,"
he admitted. II know now they
will attack me-the lobbyiss-on
the assumption that / have some
thing in my life to conceal" He
laughed lightly, without mirth.
"That, you know, is rather anus
ing"
She did not smile.
And it will hurt the work ~
she persisted.
Il hope not" he said. "'There
is this to our advantages: it has
gone so far, this movement, that it
will keep on, no matter what hap
pens.
She stood, leaning all her weight
on one foot, her position making it
seem that her shoulders stopped a
little. Her eys We're still a ques-
ton.
81 see now,' he upbraided him
self, chow foolish, how tragically
foolish, | was in the beginning in
trying to run away from my trou-
ble-my disgrace. Nobody asked
questions when | first began this
work. Who was |, that anybody
should bothcrg I was q monde
script, a nonentity, circusing on
the street corners. Then, Lister,
when a few began to look up to
me, | told myself it did not mat
ter what | had BEEN"
cit didn't, really" she com
forted him. "People are forever
asking what a man has done. That
is now what matters. 1t is what
he is, what he wants to be. If they
would only understand that about
everybody!'
"The truth is, [ suppose" he
went on, eager to make her under
stand, Il was ashamed of not be-
ing like other people. And | tried
to hide my difference from them.
That was my great mistake. We
can't hide anything we've ever
done, can we? We are today very
much what we did and thought
yesterday, and we will be tomor-
row, in great part, what we do to-
day"
eyes," she assented, leach year
is beautitied or made hideous by
the frightening shadows Of those
other years we have left behind"
go" he forced again the rail
lery into his voice, "therc is moth
ing more = nothing at all, is
there?"
SIS it too late now to stop hid
ingG" she put a final question.
He could see that she was fight
ing against her bewilderment, try
ing to beat down the doubts that
assailed her.
"Under the circumstances,
yes he declared, putting with
emphasis the result of all the
thought he had given the prob
lem. "Nobody would believe-no-
BODY in all the world but YOU
She smiled sunnily.
"You will ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
l do believer"
"That knowledge" he said
earnestly, lis to me like an order
Of knighthood."
She held out her hand and shook
his, manlike.
"Now," she concluded, "let me
drive you back. Gracious! How
long we've been!"
Her cheerfulness, however, was
assumed. 1t disappeared utterly
when she felt the trembling Of the
hand which he put to her elbow as
she stepped into the machine. AS
they rode, they were silent, or.
when they did speak, it was Of in
consequential things. He felt that
there was nothing more to say
There was nothing, he knew. That
was his tragedy. There was moth
ing more she could say. That was
her grief.
In spite of his protestations, she
drove him to his office.
Always" she said, as he told
H.. ul L.. &C., IN - -