The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-03-10

Dear! I don't know whether you love red or blue, that's fact; Ibsen ! or Rostand; heat or cold. Does that matter? I know you!" An upward glance had caught him i smiling. Her speech was routed. I'm -the-only girl herev Do you think that's why I love you?"
 "Ah, but you loved Gertyw That slipped from her. She had not meant to say that!
 t'Does that hurt?" Abashed by her own daring, yet she was glad she had dared. She wanted him to deny it. For he would deny it2 She wondered if he were angry, but she could not look at him.
 I The minutes, dragging like weighted hours, told her that he was not going ; to answer her. It came to her then that she would never know whether Gerty's story were wholly false, or partly true. She knew, then, that no wheeling, wife's or sweetheart's, would tease that story from him. It did not belong to him. His silence frightened her into ar- ticulateness. He must not think that she was foolish! It was not that, in itself, she meant. The words jostled one another in their soft swift rush. He-he had made a mistake once be- fore. He had liked the sort of woman he had thought Gerty was. She her self was not like the real Gerty any more than she was like the other, the woman that did not exist. He would | find that they did not think alike, be- lieve alike, that there were differ ences-
 Aren't you making something out of nothing, Innes?"
 That voice could always chide her into silence! Her speech lay cluttered in ruins, her words like useless broken | bricks falling from the wall she was l building.
 He took her hand and led her to pile of rock the river had not eaten. He pulled her down beside him. 'IsR't it true, with us?' 'It is, with me-" breathed Innes 1 Their voices were low as though they were in church.
 i And you think is isn't, with me!' Riclard stood before her. s'Is it be- cause l trust you, I wonder? That I, loving you, love to have the others love you, too? Don't you suppose l i know how it is with the rest, Mac Lean; how it was with Estrada ? | Should I be jealous? Why, I'm not.
 I'm proud! Isn't that because I know you, know the fine steady heart of you? You hated me at first-and I am proud of that. I don't love you
 enough?" He knelt at her feet, not listening to her pleading. He bent
 down and kissed one foot; then the other. q love them!" The face he raised to her Innes had never seen be- fore. He pressed a kiss against her knee. That, too! It's mine. I've not se d my prayers since I was boy. I shall say them again, here, you teach ing me-" His kisses ran up her arm, from the tips of her limp fingers. His mouth, close to hers, stopped there. He whispered:
 'You-kiss me, my girl l" Slowly, unSeeingly, as though drawn by an external will, her face raised to his; slowly, their lips met. His arms were around her the world was blot ted out.
 Innes, minutes later, put her mouth against his ear. It was the Innes he did not know, that he had seen with others, mischievous, whimsical, romp- ing as young boy.
 T lowered" she whispered. And heat and sunshine. But I love blue, on you: and cold, if it were with you and the rest of the differences"
 He caught her to him. There are not going to be any differences I'' (THE END.)