Vernon Parish Democrat. (Leesville, La.) 1917-193?, 1920-01-17

my o. tho cat. while bushlnosB con.
tinues G. corrupt goV-goveFnment what
chanah has g poor mani Ehfs
Spade drew his typewriter closer.
thrust his feet into o Waste-basket. and
began 20 write.
On the three following nights Ran
dolph Spade did not come to Peters
chop house az all. and Milly arrived at
the unhappy conclusion that her Eail.
urs 70 give him the Grant story had
angered him. Then fell the Saturday
night that ends this story
Il Fained that night--a gusty. lash,
ing autumn rain that swept madly
through the downtown streets to and
them silent and deserted. like thor
Oughfares In 9 city built BY careless
people and forgotten AZ midnight
Jimmy Clark came into Peters for q
cup Of coffee The water glistened
on his shoddy coat and ran in rivulets
from his cheap derby. He Hung wide
his coat. scattering glittering drops In
every direction, and let fall to the floor
the Sunday section OF a newspaper.
This isn't on the street yet" he
said. picking Il up and laying Il on the
counter. 81 thought I'd bring you an
advance copy. Milly. There's q story
In 1t youn want to read"
''Whose9" Milly inquired.
Spades" returned Clark, taking =
seat. MADE q big hit with II. Same
old gag. Here been on the paper ten
- kv,N RrAAw
get the plums."
80 he's made gOodF" said Milly
smilingly. Il certainly am glad to hear
II. Where'd he get his StOryf What's
It about2"
Clark laughed his unpleasant laugh.
TITS about you," he said. "A little
sketch Of you. Milly."
Milly grasped the counter and
looked at him queerly.
Draw me q cup Of coffee an slide
over q couple Of sinkerS," he went on.
while | find it for you.''
She set the things before him and
he handed her the paper. his dirty IN
ger pointing to . twO-column story.
As Milly took the sheet the heading,
"Omelettes and Sympathy for All"
caught her eye. She settled down and
read, the pink flush in her cheeks.
The paper Milly held In her hand
was not given much to illustration.
but It needed no artists brush to com.
plete the picture Spade had drawn Of
q certain girl he called Tilly. Az Milly
read she realized this. Mercilessly he
had painted her as she was; cruelty
he had exhibited to the reading public
the tragedy that was her life. Nor
had her features escaped. He reveled
In her lusterless hair, her faded eyes,
her sallow cheeks. Il was the inspired
work Of q man who had newly found
himself, and the subject was-tust
MiIly.
While Clark guzzled his coffee Milly
read it through, Strange emotions
struggled in her flat breast. so this
was her pay She had kept from him,
in her selfshness, the story that could
have made him, and In revenge he had
turned upon her. BY her colorless
hair, her nondescript eyes, her unlOve-
ly cheeks, he had climbed to his sue
cess. They had been as the rungs of
his ladder. Now he would leave her,
as had the others. forever, and wnIfe
she had thought she was keeping him,
she was aiding him to gO-just by be-
ing herself. She clutched the damp
paper in her hands.
rank injustice" Clark was say
ing. They're going to make room for
him on the Sunday stan in a few
weeks. And here been with"
Milly did not hear. She clutched the
paper.
TELL Spade" she said slowly, that
I'm glad he made good"
''Why-can't you tell him yourself?"
muttered Clark.
Il won't see him." she explained.
HE won't be back here. Not even to
say good-by-after this"
She held out the paper with a pa
thetic gesture Clark wiped his scrag.
gly mustache with his handkerchief.
''Well. all right" he said. "T'n tell
him. You spilled the salt, Milly.
That's bad luck"
He handed his dime to Peter at the
desk. and paused to light the cheapest
Of cheap cigarettes. Then he drew his
head down into his coat like turtle
retiring into his shell. and lodged out
into the dripping alley.
For a time Milly sat alone behind
the counter with the brilliantly writ
ten story Of her life before her. Here
and there she read odd snatches-
good bits over which the author must
have smacked his lips as he wrote.
One in particular held her:
There are blue rings under Tilly's
eyes. and those who sit at her counter
often wonder If she may not cry at
night over some romance Of the pots
and pans-some poor little love affair
that was quickly told to the Gathering
accompaniment Of heavy crOckery-"