The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1923-01-14

linen MarchurSt turned eagerly
to Louise Lammarsh and such hap
piness as he might find in her COM
pany.
The days flew swiftly for them
strange, dream-like days for
Dick Marchurst, days of double
dawn, in which shutdown was
vaguely incomplete for him until
Louise Lammarsh, too, had APP
peared.
They were together very much,
for whole days, even reckIessly
careless of the opinion of the in
creasing numbers of visitors to the
hotel.
But had an acquaintance
Hoodless, for instance, running up,
the river from Cairo on a brief
visit asked Dick If he were at last
happy again, he would have been
puzzled to answer. There were
moods in which he would have said
Eyes" without hesitation, but there
were other moods and moments in
which he would have said mo-"
and even more when he could only
have answered that he did not
know.
But it was not happiness that lit
their way---it was a species of
feverish expectancy, far from the
tranquil friendship Of which Mar
churst had dreamed.
And it was evident to him, prone
to satisfy himself with superficial
appearances though he was, that
Louise Lammarsh was not happy.
There was an iliexplicable and elu-
sive air Of waiting ever investing
her.
Yet they were not gloomy and
there were times when they could
laugh like two children on a
truants' holiday. In the glorious
climate Of that place it was not
easy to remain depressed.
There we're rides that were
joy from beginning to end, absurd,
delightfully."- intimate picincs out
and away from the little town, long
expeditions and wanderings among
the ruins Of Thebes. Karnak they
saw together marvelling, but their
amazement was not so complete,
nor their wonder so overwhelm-
ing, that those mighty ruins were
able to render either for one
moment forgetful of the other.
Certainly that was so with Dick
Marchurst. Without her, these
terrific relics Of the ages that had
striven so desperately to leave an
indelible and eternal impression on
time itself, would have wearied,
oppressed and bored him after the
first involuntary thrill. But he
could endure them-with her.
And she wished to see all. She
was like one who must see every
thing-who must never lose in
terest in that before her eyes, lest
she should turn her head and look
at the past. So they became
familiar with many old things
courts and columns of ancient
kings, queens and priests, their
tombs, temples, sanctuaries, pa
vilions, obelisks, terraces; statues,
shrines, and inscriptions, all falling
slowly, slowly to ruin, so many
and so much that it was useless to
attempt to remember a fraction of
what they saw. On both sides of
the river they made theii exLcdi-
tons, saw their sights-and in the
end she seemed to weary suddenly
of it all.
"That is The end of dead things
for me-" she said. II am coming
back to to-day and to those who
live. / wanted to do that--to see
all those things-but / think that
all they have taught is that every
thing passes. 1t comes into be-
ing, exists, for a little, and then
ceases to exist -. 1t passes. -.
Let US forget that as well as we
can, now, and come back to the
world we know, and in which we
have to live"
This was on an evening when,
tired after a long day, they had
dined together at the hotel and
now were sitting in a quiet, partly
screened corner of the long hall.
They had taken their coffee there.
II am glad you have had enough
of the ruins and tombs and ceme-
teries," said Dick, frankly. IF
YOU had not been with me they
would have got on my nerves long
ago. AS it is, l was nOver so in
terested in that sort of thing in
my life BEFORE" he added with
naive haste.
"Of course, | don't pretend to