The Omaha morning bee., 1923-10-21

duke saw her she was laughing
and the last time he saw her she
was laughing, too.
He and a ruddy-faced companion
had Jared forth doggedly into the
long summer twilight in quest Of
some amusement to dispel the
memory of the extravagantly
gloomy little dinner they had
shared at the club, followed by
painful hour over admirable port
and still more admirable cigars.
It was midsummer and London
was empty and as dry and dusty
as life itself. John Saint Michael
Beauclerc, ninth duke of Bolingham.
waved an imperious hand at a for
lorn hanson Gathering down the
silent street, and with his host,
Gaddy Banford, entered the deerepit
vehicle.
He sat cloaked in silence while
they drove, brooding over the sorry
trick that life had played him. He
had had everything-and he had
found nothing worth having. He
had the greatest fortune in England
and one of the greatest names.
He had Beaton House. the Georgian
miracle that was all London's pride
and Gray Courts, that dream OF
somber beauty that was all Eng
lands pride-Gray Courts that
even now held his three tall. black
browed sons who could shoot and
hunt as we'll as any in the country
yes, even 14-year Roddy. That
held the ladies Pamela, Clarissa,
Maud, and Charlotte, his good sis
ters, too acidulous to find a husband
between them. That for six long
years had held the Lady Alicia
Honoria F'ortescue, a poor, sad. dull
little creature married in a moment
osRity and illusion when they were
Doth young,
He sat huddled in the corner Of
the hanson, remembering with the
same shock of sick amazement his
despair at the discovery of her fear
of him; it still haunted every tape
stried corridor of Gray Courts
every paneled hall in Beaton
House.
{ Gaddy Banford had two seats in
( the first row Of stalls.
"Spend your valuable time hang
ing round the stage door, what?'
the duke inquired audibly. Ban
ford smiled ingratiatingly.
"Oh, rather not-no, no. She
doesn't go in for stage-door meet
ings, you know. I've had the honor
of meeting the lady twice and she's
most frightfully jolly and all that
but"
"Hai' the duke remarked with de-
risiye infection and turned a con-
temptuous eye on the stage. where
the Jolly Joralomons" seampered
light off, rolling their Jug
glers' equipment Of bright balls be-
/ fore them.
There was a roll of drums, Tilt OF
yiolins. and the orchestra swung tri-
uraphantIy into the "Biddy Waltz"
And onto a stage that was black
as night, with one great bound as
6iunungh she had leaped through In
finite space into small safe circle
of the spotlight, came Biddy
O'Rourke, straight on the tips OF
her silver toes, with laughter for
a dark world in both her out
stretched hands-and the piece OF
the world that faced her rose to its
feet and shouted a welcome. All
but one.
The black duke Of Bolingham sat
square in the center in the 1lrst
row OF seats, with the Biddy
Waltz" rising and falling about
him unheeded. his eyes fixed in
credulously on the vision in the
spotlight. Nothing that the duke
had heard had prepared him for
this.
Who could have told him that a
music hall dancer called Biddy
O'Rourke, late Of Dublin, no taller
than a child. could look like a
fairy and an angel and an imp and
= witch and a dream? Gaddy Ban
ford had confided to his duke that
she was little and blond and light
on her feet. "Little"-you who
were more fantastically minute
4 than any elf. Biddy! Blond-oh.
klAcrilege, to dismiss thus that foam
nd froth of curls cresting and
ubbling about your gay head
That skin OF pearl beneath which
danced little flames of rose fire
those eyes. bluer than anything on
, earth. Light on your feet-oh.
/ Biddy, you. who floated and drifted