The Washington times., 1924-02-04

ing him, the scenes of the day to
his mind.
He saw her face, dashed with
faint color, smiling above him as
his head rested on her arm-saw
the gold hair that he wanted so to
touch-felt it now falling on his
cheeks. The hot, impetuous youth
in him kindled. Ah--so beautiful
-he fancied her in the room,
walking about delicately, going
over his books, saying: "Now,
what is this-and what is that?
The dear Red is brilliantw
He wished for her, fancied her
coming through that arch Of Lady
Banksias to meet him. She would
reach her hand to his neck-he
would have swept his arms about
Chickie then. They ached with
longing. He loved her.
Now he went over the swift.
glad months since that night last
September when they had met
went back further to the weeks
and weeks when he had stared at
that bright window OF hers wait
ing for her startled, pleased en-.
counter with his eyes. How
merry she vast
The image Of her sitting at the
window-a figure Of poetry with
seven stars in her hair, 80 he
fancied-stirred his Imagination.
The reality Of her, sweeter than
the image, now sent its piercing
appeal fiercely to his young, i'm
patient heart.
She loved him, too. Ah-all in
all-he smiled happily. Make her
say that again.
His thoughts drifted vaguely,
losing themselves again and again
in these recurring waves Of feel
ing that swept gently like soft
liquid flame about him.
In the midst of this he felt her
hair as he wound it in his fists.
drawing her head down, His
breath labored-a shaking, hot un-
easiness caught him.
Years and years-He took a bit
Of paper and figured idly, saying
to himself give years from
now" He wiped the moistness
from his forehead.
For the hundredth time that
night he tried to face coldly the
problem before him. It seemed to
him then that he loved Chickie
more than anything in life. He
wanted her. He wouldn't wait
five years. That much was set
tied.
He said to himself, railing hotly
against some invisible foe. "Wen
not wait! Five years! Must be in
sane"
For a long time he sat motion
less plunged in gloom. He felt
himself in pit, its walls of muf-
fled darkness. When he struck
at them they gave way silently
and Immediately, closed again.
Now it was his earnings-now
his future success-now the face
Of his mother-now Chickie. Each
with its separate plea that came
filing into his mind.
Not wait? Well-just what
should he do7 Throw everything
overheard? Give up the law after
all these years OF study? Get
out into something more profit
able?
In days Of penury, when his
earnings were almost nothing, he
often considered it. He wished he
had studied engineering, COM
merce, medicine. Other fellows
not much older than he could get
by. Then Tufts or Lemon would
throw him a case; he would
handle it cleverly, throwing his
entire energy into its problems.
Uplifted with success, he dreamed
or himself as a young Demos
themes holding a court spellbound
with his eloquence; imagined the
judge complimenting him for his
sagacious brilliance. This resili-
ent optimism carried him through
many month of grinding, profit
less toll.
Barry Dunno was entirely con.
fident in his own mind Of his ulti-
mate success. He would wait and
work for 1t. 1t was a passion with
him.
Now, as he angrily considered
tossing it aside, the warm attrac-
ton Of his senses gave way to q
restless agitation. He began to
walk again. Give up the law? He
was crazy. No use ranting like a
fool. Wouldn't help them any.
Must be some other way.
He knew there was not. He had
no regular salary. He had months
of rich luck; he had others equally
impoverished. And, whether the
days were lean or fat, whether he
begged or borrowed, there was al
ways the $50 he must send to his
mother. She was old now and deli
cate-no one but him.
Twice he had failed her-suffer-
ing agony because Of her impera-
tive need. Thinking of her now,
he was thrown back again, futile
against his bonds. He felt as
though thongs frightened his arms
to his sides, drawing hard until his
breath strangled.
He fancied Chickie moving from
him, her white hands outstretched
and beckoning-tears in her eyes,
When he didn't come, her bright
head lowered.
The vision touched anew the hot
sparks along his nerves. Reach
her? Indeed he would! Pull her
to him-tangle his hands in her
hair; dip his lips in her tears
so beautiful she was. Let her go?
Why
He had all Of youths scornful
fury for the hands that stay his
will; for the prim, sorry don't"
that the wise and the old hiss into
the ears of the new, Feeling thasa
restraints bitterly now he could
have flung them off with arrogant
contempt.
Waits" Well, let the cold and
the spent accept the mandatel
His imagination-always more
that Of the poet than the law.
yer-created a different world
where beauty was the first law;
a glowing world of young fire
and passion; no laurels given
those who walk severely because
OF their emotional poverty-a