The Washington times., 1923-12-01

AN1SAA
Be only one result. I suppose all
women are towards when in love.
But knew that this could not last,
and when you asked me to sit in
Mrs. OgIethorpe's box / thought
the time had come to precipitatc
matters After q decisive step
like that /. could not retreat. But
I.wish to tell you myself, and for.
that reason I have asked you to
discuss me with no one until we
meet. It will probably be the last
time j shall see you, but am pre-
pared for that.
''I shall see Jane Oglethorpe to.
day, She has been very loyal
and I think she win forgive me.
It would not matter much IL she
did not, and possibly would save
me q good deal Of boredom, but
after last night an explanation Is
due her.
And efter Saturday night, mon
ami, matters win be entirely III
your hands. You viii realize
whether you have merely been
dazzled and fascinated or whether
there is really between us that
mysterious bond that no circunns
stances can alter. Such things
have happened TO men and
women II we may believe history,
but I have had too good reason
to believe that it is not for me.
However, at least for q BRIEF time
you have givcn me back some
thing OF the hopes and illusions
or youth. This in itself il 50
astonishing that whatever the re-
suit sha1r never be able to
forget you.
Until Saturday,
en-"
Clavering's immediate act was
to dash off a love letter more
irnpassfoned than any he had
ever dreamed himself capable Of
writing, vowing that he was daz-
zled and fascinated, God knew.
but that he loved her with the
love Of his life and would marry
her II she would have him, no
matter what her revelations. And
with what patiencs he could mus
ter and with no grace whatever
he would make no attempt to
see her until Saturday night. But
she must believe that he loved
her and she must write at once
and tell him 50. He could not
exist throughout that intermin-
able interval unless she wrote
him at once that she believed in
the existence and the indissiIu-
bility Of that bond. and that he
had given her the highest and
deepest and most passionate love
Of which man was capable, and
which no woman but she could
inspire, for no woman like her
had ever lived.
He dared not read it over. He
had never let himself 60 before,
and he had written too much for
print not to be selfconseious and
critical Of even q lcve letter in.
tended only for concordant eyes.
Nevertheless, he was aware even
in his excitement that the more
reckless it was the surer its eff
feet. No edited love letter ever
yet hit its mark. Gle renem-
bered Parnell's love letters, how
ever, and devoutIy hoped his own
would never see the light.) The
waiter entered at the moment
and he gave him the missive,
hastily addressed and sealed, and
asked him to tell the ''desl' to
send it Immediately and give the
hoy orders to wait FOR an answer.
His Delusion
He drank his coffee, but ate
nothing. Nor did he open his
newspapers. He strode up and
down his rooms or stood at the
window watching the hurrying
throngs, the numbering green
busses, the thousand automobiles
and taxis over on Fifth Avenue.
They were as unreal as a cinema.
He had the delusion, common to
lovers. that Earth was inhabited
by two people only-that brief
extension Of the soul which In
its common acceptance Of eter-
nal loneliness looks out upon the
world as upon projected vision
in which no realty exists, for
man the dreamer is but a dream
himself. Phantasmagoria!
He glanced az the clock every
time he passed it. It seemed in
credible that mere minutes were
passing. But she was merciful.
She kept him in suspense but
thirty-five minutes. The messen-
ger boy stared at the celebrated
journalist. with whose appear
ance he was reasonably familiar,
as If regarding phase of mas
culine alteration with which he
was even more familiar. He
grinned sympathe!ically, and Claw
erinr WAS mt ton fistraupft 70