The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1921-03-03
fnued 'eYou read happy stories

room girls, and dress-models, and per-
haps you think they mirror the LIE.
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
a 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.
"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-lipped. 'Tm through, and I'm
going" He turned toward the door.
"Not without kissing me good-by,
Bobby" cried Madge.
He looked over his shoulder with
polite but impersonal smile.
"I'm not much on kissing strange
women" he said lightly. ut 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 muff1er flying
loose, his overcoat 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. 1t 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
aff1uence 1t had taken place on this
very avenue and less than forty short
blocks away. He had reason to re-
member the encounter. fer it had
brought into sudden conjunction
lovely Persian cat, lovely wire-haired
terrier, a lovely child, and himself.
The cat had dashed from proud
front door to cross Fortysomething
street under the nose of a 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 smoothed down her absurdly
short skirts than he, she and especial
ly it, 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 Mr.. Randolph, bringing
them both down kerplunk and facing
each other. "My, what bump!" she
had cried, in startled tones, and then
thrown back her curly head and
laughed.
1t was so that he remembered her
a child of ten or eleven summers and
no winters, merry as a sunny day,
dark-haired, dark-eyed, pink-cheeked,
pampered but unspoiled. She had
risen and taken his hand, told MIN
her name, thanked him, ordered a
f1urried 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 long trousers.
On that day she had been Miss ImO-
gene Pamela Thornton, petted darling
of the gods and Mr.. Brewster Thorn
ton, banker and widower; two months
later had come Thornton's financial
smash and, Immediately afterward, his
spiritual, moral and bodily collapse.
Everything that had made for life in
him having been swept away, he died
as a matter of course, and was buried.
For sole inheritance, little Genie
Thornton found herself possessor and
possessed Of one Maggie O'Rourke,
nurse Of long standing, of earnest and
faithful face, and a monster heart i'm
prisoned in a pitifully thin chest.
It had taken Genie's great-uncle,
Asa Thornton, six more months to for
get a quarrel Of sixteen years stand
ing with his nephew, and by that time
child and nurse had been seeped into
that lower world which can't afford
morning and afternoon editions and is
too busy praying for daily bread to