The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1925-05-29


youth stands by, Benham. But what's
the use, if that's all? Life is long
pull. No dimpled chin should be al
lowed to turn the tide. No discourse
of brilliance chartered off like disk
record In conservatory. No nose
full Of the faint odor of violets nor
| moonlight on bare shoulder nor a
rating of the old man. That's what
mean. That's why most men marry !;
but am hardened by too many inspec-
tons of dimpled chins.''
From a discreet distance?"
Exactly"
You want more than that pull Of
the moment or the month"
ITO make me give up my own quar-
tiers in New York where the sun comes
in upon my bare ankles and my cof-
fee, and my Jap brings the newspaper
and the cigarettes? l should be glad
to say So"
| "You should try Brena Selcoss."
| "Who is she" asked Peter care
lessly, as he tried his arm out of it's
bandage sling.
| you like the name?
81 confess"
"Of courSe-so many names Of
women-just the names-give a man
thrill. Most extraordinary She's
an American and"
He paused.
"Well, what?' asked DeWolfe.
"a puzzle" said Benham. But
then you are not interested in women"
ITO tell the whole truth, they are
my only interest except food" Peter
said. "The devil of 1t is that If man
saw ten thousand of 'em he didn't
want and couldn't love he'd always
expect year after year until he was
ninety that the first over the thou
sand would be the one. Well, that's
what leads us on. We all say, No,
thank you, when the dish is passed,
but we all look to see every last piece
on the dish just the same"
'Brena Selcoss is a friend of my
sister," said Benham. 81 must say
she takes the breath out of me. It's
that queer combination of beautiful
fresh youth with the flavor Of all the
guile and conspiracy of the ages.
She's Saint Cecilia or q Lucrezia
Borgia. But that's not bothering my
mother"
What bothers herr
Funny thing. We don't know who
she is. From Texas, l believe With
some money. But why does a girl
from the United States come down to
Beaconshlre Heath and buy cottage
next TO our place and live in a garden
and stay out of London and read lying
fiat on the grass and see nobody and
eyade all questions? And the look in
her eyes!'
What look?" asked DeWolfe in the
hush.
Fear" said Benham.
"FearY
YES, fear. And besides there Is
something about her that tells a per-
son that she is waiting time
-treading water-staring out over life
just like watcher on the shore
stares out across the empty sea-"
Maybe she's thinking of an ice
cream Soda"
There's nothing of that kind Of
thing in her." the British officer re-
piled with positiveness. "Your Ice
cream soda and millinery and looking
glass lady has personality of pink
color. Brena Selcoss is the color OF
freight on the walls of an old tenn
ple'
You might go on to say that she
| gives the impression of an Inca
princess. Some dried mummy from
the sands of a prehistoric citadel.
Bathed In some magic liquid, her
limbs expanded, to the lovely contour
of girlhood, her face warmed with a
renewed coursing of spirited blood"
you've seen her!" exclaimed Ben
ham.
my dear fellow, I've never seen
| her; but / confess that as you talk
about her / feel little as If 1 had
known her-long ago."
Benham said, Perhaps you could
| lift the cover"
He stopped suddenly.
"And I'd like to have you meet
Muriel, too. She's very decent sort
| of sister. I've a mind to give you
letter to my mother and send you over
the Channel to loaf around in fiannels
at our place in the country"
"Pm leaving Brest tomorrow night
on transport. Sorry"
"Ohr
well, l said nothing about it."
Afraid of farewell dinners?"
Peter smiled.
Home" said he. Bring your sis
ter over to America. She'll probably
think it a jolly little unfinished coun-
try.r
Benham clasped DeWolfe's hand
and yawned; he had seen the Ameri-
can covered from head to foot with
blood out of his own arteries when
Peter had brought him in with the aid
of an artillery horse. 1t was an init
macy not to be befouled with demon
| STATIONS.
$50 long," said DeWolfe.
He climbed down from the broken
wall Of the house where the English
man had been billeted and with nod
of farewell walked away, leaving Ben
! ham perched there-a black figure as
If cut out Of black cardboard pasted
on the sunset glories Of the skyline.
He walked hundred PAGES and
stopped. He looked at a group of
peasant children bringing in fagots,
but laughing and jostling each other
as If it were game. Childhood had
been untouched. In one Of the little
rubble and plaster sheds newborn