The Mena weekly star., 1919-12-11

cidentalIy, is the secret of getting satisfactory work out of an African.
 "Is it?" said Andrea absently. i've always heard they were shiftless Toy and that u white man could do the work of ten niggers"
 "So he can, ordinarily" answered the man, almost as ahsently. but there are times when ten boys, picked boys" He stopped as if he were lost in some far reminiseence.
 A silence fell to the end of the meal, which coinciied with the sudd end of the tropic day.
 The man spoke to the servants for the first time. They cleared tho table, set it again with glasses and liqueurs, cigars, cigarettes and coffee, and moved it slightly to one side. Then, from the nearby hut, they brought out two cushioned wicker chairs, homemade but comfortable. Andrea sank into hers with a peculiar feeling of vell-being mixed with sus- pense. The man sat down opposite her, the table within easy reach of hc h but not between them. Something swayed with jerk above their heads. Andrea, startled, looked up just in time to see an enormous white disk unroll from its edges, letting fall in a circle around them a snowy mesh of bob binet.
 They, and all they needed for com fort, became enclosed in an insect proof cage that swayed softly to the evening Astir of air The servants weighted down its edges with flat stones and then lit two acetylene lamps that stood outside on stands placed at right angles to the couple within the net so that the eyes of both were spared the glare.
 The man poured coffee and liqueurs. lit Andreas cigarette, chose cigar for himself and sat down. During the coffee they eyed each other in silence, taking each others measure. Tt is too bad" he said finally, that we can't take this hour for itself alone and drink together a cup of peace and stiffness and comfort"
 His words were half a question and it was so that Andrea understood them. She drew a deep sigh, shrugged her bare shoulders and turned squarely to her companion. Tt is too bad" she said. repeating his words with bitter emphasis, that I can't forget that on this night l lose everything that mat ters-too bad cant brush catastropha and ruin aside for the sake of foo moon and a cigarette"
 As she spoke, the man braced him self. Everything that matters" he repeated. Ruin What have you lost that matters? Wherein have you been ruined?
 The girl stared at him, open-eyed You know who 1 am, what I stand for in my world, and how that world will make a chasm that I can never recross after this night and you can sit there and say it doesn't matter and ask where's the ruin?"
 The man looked away from her tense face. ''The things that matter" he said quietly, "are health-first of body and then of soul-honor that can stand alone, and the flame of ar inner lamp. There is nothing else that really counts and you've lost none of these. As for ruin" He turned his eyes back to her and in them was a gleam of quiz zical challenge Shall define ruin for youf"
 Please do," said Andrea, unsmiling.
 Ruin" said the man. Ifs burial. Whether it's Pompeii or an entire civ ilization lying under strata of a ten thousand years stride of time-or an individual rotting under the sod of conventions. it's all one and the sam, thing. Routine is a tomb, and wher you go so deep in it's foul air that yor can't keep burning the flame of that inner lamp I mentioned. why you're dead to every intent and every pur- pose. That, Andrea Pellor, is ruin"
 Gro be continued.)