Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-03-01

- fight against the numerous pricks OF
life
It was 10 minutes past g. She had just
emerged from the entrails of that vast hotel.
A manicurist spruce and smart The bedside
manner was hers. Her hands wore the look
of being constantly in hot water and her nahs
adyer Used her deft delicate and universal art.
she was not hurrying from the place OF busl-
ness in which she spent SO many tactfui ana
smiling hours in perpetual electric light in
order to make the trolley which took her home.
She was dashing away from a great emotional
upheava1, the crisis of her life.
The young reporter TO whom she was engaged
was on the verge of losing his job. He had
been unable to achieve story for considerably
over a week He had just said things which
had pierced her through the hart. In reply
70 her offer of help, to dig out OF the days
strange doings the hint of drama which
his brother reporters had missed he had
given her look of antagonisn, Of lofty male
scorn. He had said, ''You-help mel YOU
a GIRL woman. Don't make me laugh
Without stopping to remind him OF Joan OF
Arc Florence Nigh ingale, Nurse Cavelle, Jane
Adams and the hundreds of thousands Of little
.heroines who pour into cities to work, she was
making for the swing doors through binding
mist Of tears.
MANY other psople had come in and passed
Ava cut during the last half hour, but they
in the way of the door. man on whose face
was loneliness, man well past middle age. "A
sandy man who, like all sandy men, had freckleS
on his skin He wore walrus mustache. All
the same there was more than an indication
Of intellect in his well cut nose, while the bumps
over his eyes proclaimed a Photographic obser-
walton, an inexhaustible imagination and q
charming tenderness.
Extraordinary ordinary would be the way In
which you would describe Hilary Panton the
famous English novelist, If you were to be
asked And that was precisely how he struck
the hurrying Sadie even at that dreadful mo-
ment of pain and wounded pride
But, having given him one quick look, she
drew Hp short and gasped. Her mouth fell
open Her eyes grew wider and wider. Her
expression was the one Of hero-worshiper
face to face at last with an almost incredible
god
IL was noticed at once by Panton with a
very excusable thrill. He was well past middle
age and very lonely man. He had already
spotted this extremely pretty young thing. He
had already said to himself, "A Spring onion
freshly plucked from the earth. How UNI
belieyably sweet. But why that tear on Ter
nose? Ought to comfort her?'
He had slipped into Boston on important
business. He had registered, dreading head
lines, under the absurd and fictitious name Of
Albert Henry Watts saying to himself pun
ningly, Whats in a name?" well knowing that
his own was worth now about 81 word He
went across to Sadie with courage in both
his hands But before he could speak kind
words, elderly kind words, she met him half way
with an ecstatic impulsive rush.
mr.. Hilary Panton, oh, Mr.. Hilary Panton,
you, in person, here! :. Watts? No, no, you
can't fool me. You look down from the wall
in my bed room from eight nice frames. I've
read every line you've written. You're my god
of words" She was filled with Joy, excitement,
relish, and, 1t must be said, with hope. Panton
IN Boston incognitoI Talk about scoop.