Evening star., 1923-03-09

y"
sand don't you believe everything
you hear about the younger tribes of
Manhattan or about me-"
Goodbye again" she said. AMI
don't you believe everything you hear
about the younger tribes of Manhat-
tan or about me. Promise?
II prom Sc
Good bye"
She put her foot on something and
with a whirl, followed by a series OF
snorts and explosions. she went down
the drive in gale OF dust and
disappeared among the trees along
the highway. Sangree turned back
at last toward his quiet chair and
manuscript. with much the same at
tempt at mental readjustment with
which one enters q doorway after
air. It surprised him how she had
carried everything before her. fxire
his status and her own with a def
nttenesS which was hewildtring and
Incredible. She had lifted him. at a
bound. out OF his slough OF medita
For the moment ne was TO longer
many-lettered philosopher grown
staid some years before his time
but a hopeful and amused spectator
nf the human comedy. Fer new
degree had been conferred upon him
II" was nov a "whiz'
He srinnAd as he took up his pipe
ana with difficulty fille-l it~ Wha.
was there about tbs wild young
creature which - compelled HIM?
Was il her beauty. her vigor. her
JOY OF life that rerroached him In
tho name Of the youth which had
never been his" Or was 1t some
spiritual quality thabhe saw in her.
flashes OF gentleness and se!s-re-
prosoh-a generosity and warm.
heartedness which made outward
and visible tokens of an inner grace
hahitually suppressed to meet the
Whatever it was he was sure that
the opinions that he had formed
OF his visitor had already beer con
stderably modified and that he was
now quite ready TO forgive her for
the share she had had In his undoine.
Indeed he realized that he was COM
rnitted TO kindly view of her be-
havior no matter what she did, and.
curiously enough, he found himself
quite unwilling to believe that she
was not nearly so black as she had
been painted. His blood tingled a
little at the memory or her eyes,
which had been bent upon him with
such kindly blue.
Hsighho. He sighed just once for
his vanished youth Che was thirty.
ard then. lighting his pipe, took up
hia proof sheets and began to reaf.
But the sun Rlarsd upon tho page and
a little stray breeze. reminiscent OF
late summer. played nerrily around
his temples, reminding him that the
migration OF the Turkish tribes into
Armenia of which he read. had taken
place n1anO hundreds ot years ago
49, =, g. o. Ia
implements OF household usage. the
cerern ontals Of these races had wait
ed for hundreds of years to be given
to the world, a few hours more or
less could make no difference now.
SO he laid his proof sheets aside and
gaZed down the hill to where the
bluo waters OF the sound were ruff1ed
with silver. while a line Of forgotten
verse that he had read years ago
waited back TO him:
Once IN the Future did live.
The Present seemed TOO old for me
The future. Why had IL never
beck oned to him, except as an aggre-
CATION OF days. weeks, months and
years which no could improve by
writing about the past? 1t was that
past in which he had lived while
the good years Of his youth had
gone fitting by-six Of them in the
travail o. a world that was sick
unto death. But was he still not
young? Was there not future for
him somewhere here among his own
people outside the reading OF dry
scientific monographs or In the pages
o&his own reports and achievements?
What did his work mean? What was
IT'D value to the world today which
was trembling on the brink Of dis
aster? The words that he had just
been trying to read on the pages
out OF the deep abyss Of time, and a
realization came to him suddenly that
the one who had written the labored
technical phrases was himself. And
by the light OF this sudden revela-
tion he saw himself as the larger
world must see hin-an ancient: con-
centric piece OF scientific machinery.
rdly out Of place except in its
proper relation to other pieces of ma
chinery OF it's own kind.
He realized with something Of a
shock that the faculty. for analysis
and criticism, carefully developed
able only to the problems of his
own profession, and that 1t was not
a At scale with which to measure
the larger activities Of the world
about him. For all his experience
come to him in other lands. he now
felt himself singularly helpless when
brought again face to face with the
newer aspects Of the present day
among his own people in his own
country. George Lycett had named
him well-"the visitor from Mars
and the awkwardness that ne had
felt In his social contacts had been
unpleasantly developed in his help
lessness in the hands OF this gay
young creature who had, it seemed,
up to tho present moment done PREF
cisely as she pleased with him. IT
astonished him how completely she
had sub3ugated him by her smile
her friendship on her own terms. And
yet not for 2 moment did he doubt
his own Willingness to accept her
offer. For she had flattered him.
Other women had thanked him, dined
him, praised him even. but no woman
had ever fiattered him as Cherry
Mohun had done. She had touched
q chord that had been silent for years
and the melody remained. Cherry
alone. Of all the people that he had
known, had discovered that youth
still sang in his heart.
When Georre Lycett returned with