Washington telegraph., 1921-04-01

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and get away with il. She won't look
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 ~ he
continued. you read happy stories
TO the public taste of mldlnettes, show
room girls, and dress-mOdels, and per
haps you think they mirror the life.
Why, Madge, the tauuts that those
girls fling indlfferently 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 blindfolded."
They don't walk" said Madge'
flushing, and her eyes cleaning
strangely. That's Just the point: they
rush, whirl, and"
"And crash" finished Bobby.
That's the very word" said Madge.
III you1l only keep on the way you've
started, I'd love to talk TO you all
night"
mo chance OF that" said Bobby.
stralght-lipped. I'm through, and I'm
going" He turned toward the door.
mot without kissing me good-by.
Bobby" cried Madge.
He looked over his shoulder with a
polite but impersonal smile.
I'm not much on kissing strange
women" he said lightly. "It 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 overcoat half unbuttoned,
he swung up the deserted lower
reaches Of the Avenue punctuating
his thoughts with the. solid AAof his
stick on the pavemeiit~ II 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.
Mr. 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-
ceeded 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
afiiuence. 1t had taken place on this
very avenue and less than forty short
blocks away. He had reason to re-
member the encounter for It had
brought into sudden conjunction
lovely Persian cat, a lovely wire haired
terrier. a lovely child. and himself.
The cat had dashed from a proud
front door to cross Forty-somethlng
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. Mr.. Randolph,
had seized one of her flying feet.
hauled her and the terrier back to
safety and no sooner placed her up-
right and smOothcd down her absurdly
short skirts than he, she and especial
ly II, the dog, became the center and
circumference OF an animated pin
wheel [HoL
Her unshaken determination TO hold
to the leash, whatever happened,
brought disaster. The said leash
wound three times round her ankles
and those of Mr.. 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.
II was SO that he remembered her
Il child of ten or eleven summers and
no winters, merry as sunny day
dark-haired, dark-eyed, pink.cheeked
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" (" aIl
while he was sim rubbing the seat of
his first long trousers.