Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-11-22
THE PHILANDERER- II Sroyy of STARK

the last few weeks he had forgotten there
existed for him another world with its re-
sponsibilitieS. Forgotten it in a renewal Of
his acquaintance with Elizabeth Yeaton in the
North Woods away from the material side OF
life. He had always experienced her charm,
but in the great outdoors she developed
personality that enthralled him. They were
much together. She was always friendly, but
it was friendly Indifference beyond which
he could not pass. This amused him. He
knew she considered him a philanderer, knew
that she believed he had played too many
years with love and friendship to be certain
of his own sincerity his constancy.
Perhaps because of this knowledge he had
been more reckless than he otherwise would
have been. And his vanity was aroused. He
had wanted to break down the intangible wall
of reserve the self contained woman had raised
between them.
He had no thought he might stir unknown
depths in himself or in her. He enjoyed her
as the most congenial of his group OF friends
in camp, and with utter disregard Of conSe-
quences sought her out day after day until
they were laughingly called 1.-THE Insepara-
bles" Week after week of this close associa-
ton brought further to light Elizabeth's fine
ness Of character that in itself was sufficient
to arouse, and eventually did arouse, the best
that was in him.
Now, with a word, he had been brought up
against a stark, naked fact that appalled, him.
Inc name CnaL naQ reacneQ MIN a moment
before had startled him into realization OF
what Elizabeth meant to him. To his amazed
CONSERVATION he knew he loved her; that the
mere mention of another'S name had told him
plainly into what depths he had drifted and
that the issue must be met squarely. There
could be no half measures. Then, without
volition, without thought, controlled by pas
sion he had never felt before, he heard him.
self say, Elizabeth, love you. love you.
can add nothing to that. It means all, every
thing in me-"
With the memory of the telltale culver that
had passed between them before he dropped
her hand, q memory too deep to be quickly
forgotten, she laughed. It was an unsteady
laugh, but it achieved its purpose 1t hid the
emotion crying aloud for expression and 1t
brought him sharply to his senses. In his con-
centration and dismay he had allowed the
canoe to drift. Now he seized the paddle and
drove it furiously to shore.
In complete silence they walked toward the
camp. their feet rustling the pine needles and
dry leaves as they went. At the door she
paused. Stin he did not speak, could not
shaken as he was by the feeling that held IN
allegiance every word but those he should not
utter, and she turned away with murnured
good night.
He put out his hand and caught her dress
He must keep her long enough to hear what
he had to say, even though it meant the end
between them Don't 60. I have something
to tell you. Something you should have known
long ago, but did not realize the necessity
until now"
She interrupted, q note Of anger In her voice.
The inference was obvious. Necessity? For
yourself, or for me?"
He looked his surprise. 'T am selfish enough
10 consider myself alone. You did pot enter my
thoughts except that want your good opinion.
am afraid I will lose it."
Elizabeth made q restless movement. With
the nearing voices they had moved to the side
of the building out Of sight, where the moon
cast grotesque shadows through the interlaced
branches above them Then he said, in a voice
harsh, and shaken by feeling, Elizabeth, I
love yen and am to marry Pauline Fairbanks
In October"
COR the third time She heard the name. She
understood. Knew beyond all doubt For
an instant all power Of movement deserted her.
Then she said, striving with all that was in
her to keep her voice steady gainSt the surge
of feeling that engulfed her:
Pauline Fairbanks? And you are one Of the
men one sometimes reads about, whom have
believed the creatures of irnaO9Nafion I n1-