The spectator., 1921-07-19

 over her shoulder and read the record of an endless losing run on the black"
 Miss Van T. smiled
 I'm already beginning on my re- ward she said. You've never talked so well before in your life"
 Its more than talk" said Bobby, flushing angrily. And the ways of access that you have imagined p he continued. You read happy stories to the public taste of midinettes, show room girls, and dress-models, and per- haps you think they mirror the life. Why, Madge, the taunts that those girls fling indifferently at virtue and at vice are so vile that they couldn't be repeated even among half-decent men. And the other way, the private door for the private secretary. That's road of burned bridges. Every man, decent or indecent, feels a queer sinking of the heart when he hears of woman taking it." He looked at her shrewdly. And yet you may do it." he said, half to himself If you are one of the hungry women, God help you. for they all walk blndfolded."
 'They don't walk" said Madge, flushing, and her eyes gleamng strangely. That's just the point they rush. whirl, and"
 And crash" finished Bobby.
 That's the very word," said Madge. If you'll only keep on the way you've started, I'd love to talk to you all night"
 No chance of that" said Bobby. straight-Ipped. I'm through, and I'm going. He turned toward the door.
 Not without kissing me good-by. Bobby!7 cried Madge.
 He looked over his shoulder with . polite but impersonal smile.
 I'm not much on kissing strange women he said lightly. Tt would take me years to learn to kiss you again"
 He left the room and the house.
 With his top-hat pushed back on his head the ends of his muffler flying loose, his oyercoat half unbuttoned, he swung up the deserted lower reaches of the Avenue. punctuating his thoughts with the solid rap of his stick on the pavement It might be supposed that he was thinking and mourning over the sudden demise of the Miss Van Teller he had thought he had known for many years, but such was not the case. 4
 MT. Randolph was not built on mourning lines; at the moment under review, he was thinking about himself and the strange fate that had made him foster-child of fortune. He pro- eeeded to look back ten years. Just decade ago he had had his one meet ing with the young lady whose disap- pearance had brought him an unstable affluence. It had taken place on this very avenue and less than forty short blocks away. He had reason to re- member the encounter for if had brought into sudden conjunction lovely Persian eat, lovely wire-haired terrier a lovely child, and himself. The cat had dashed from proud front door to cross Forty something street under the nose of taxi-cab; the dog had flown in yapping pursuit and in the act, yanked his young mis- tress off her pins. He. Mir. Randolph, had seized one of her flying feet, hauled her and the terrier back to safety, and no sooner placed her up- right and smoothed down her ahsurdiy short skirts than he, she, and especial ly ir, the dog, became the center and circumference of an animated pin wheel.
 Her unshaken determination to hold to the leash, whatever happened. brought disaster. The said leash wound three times round her ankles and those of MT. Randolph, bringing them both down kerplunk and facing each other. My. what a bump!" she had cried, in startled tones, and then thrown back her curly head and laughed
 IL was so that he remembered her a child of ten or eleven summers and no winters, merry as sunny day. dark-haired, dark-eyed, pink-cheeked pampered but unspoiled She had risen and taken his hand, told him her name, thanked him, ordered a Hurried nurse to thank him, shaken her finger at the terrier, and said. ''Good-by" and Come on, Maggie" all while he was still rubbing the seat of his first lonp troucarc