Evening sentinel, Monday, December 17, 1923 · page 12

 

 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 

 

 
 

 

-Ideotthoroom. lswe‘es'n,

' w um
mm. Wflflfiammmn
Lloyd with onions m as WW.“

me on w eel-trees aw
Xix (mound) '

“lee write singularly pure
fl. in spite et what seems to too
‘s marked Miridoalty or style.
‘ aid-eh—yoar apparent demo: in

heel“ liar voice was quite even.

although her eyes had glowed’end
sparkled and melted at hid poetic
pheetasms or her? mt (as what

We would not”. “I had a

rather painful edortlte he-wlnt’

do you can it! hignhrewr~in some
01 your wflterm" '

"the youngsters. I went through
that phase. We all do. But we
emerge. l’mean. ot course. when
we have anything to express.
llataphysical verbosity is a Mend-
ly refuge. But no rule years and
hard knocks drive us to directness
0! expression. . .' 5 But poets
must begin young. And New York
b not exactly a hot-bed o! ro-
mance." . -

"Do you think that romance is
impossible in New York?” she ask-
ed irresistibly.

'I—oh—well. what is romance?
Of course. it is quite possible to
fall in love in New York—although
anything but the ideal setting. But
romance!”

"Surely the sense of mystery be-
tween a man and woman irresisti-
bly attracted may be as provoca-
tive in a great city as in a feudal.
castle surrounded by an ancient
forest—or on one of my Dolomite
lakes. is it not that which consti-
tutes romance -tho breathless
trembling on the verse 0! the un-

~ explored—that isolates two human
beings as authentically—-l am pick-
ing up your vocabulary—as if they
were alone on a star in space? is
it not possible to dream here in
New Yorki—and surely dreams
play their part in romance." Her
fingertips. moving delicately on the
surface at her lap. had a curious
enggestion of playing with ilre.

"Ono needs leisure for dreams."
He stood up snddendly and leaned
against tho mantelpiec‘e. The at-
mosphere had become electric. “A
good thing. too. as far as some of
us are concerned. The last thing
for a columnist to indulge in is
dreams. Fine hash he'd have (or
his readers next morning!"

“Do you mean to say that none
of you clever young men fall in
love?”

"Every day in the week. some of
them. They even marry—end toll
iatqous yarns about their babies.
No doubt some of them have even
gloomed through brief periods of
unreciprocated passion. But they
don't look very romantic to me.“

“Romance is impossible without
imagination. i should think. Aching
for what you cannot have or falling
in love reciprocally with a charm-
ing girl i“: hardly romance. That is
a gift—like the spark that goes to
the making of‘Art.”

"Are you romantic?“ he asked
harshly. “You look as it born to
inspire romance—dresms-like' a
beautiful statue or painting—hut
r'sterioun as you make yourself—
:od. I believe. are in essence—1‘
should never have associated you
with the romantic temperament.
Your eyes—as they too often ero—
Oh. no!"

"it is true that l have never had
a romance."

"You married—end very young.“

“Oh, what is young lovei The
urge of the race. a blasothnt ends
in babies or ashes. flamenco!”

“You have-other men have
loved you."

“European men—tho type my lot
was cast with—may he romantic
in their extreme youth—I have
never been attracted by men in
that. stage of development. so i
may only suppose—hut when a
man has learned to adjust pension
to technique there is not much to
manna let: in him.”

“Are you waiting for ’your- ro-
annco. then? Have you come to

more primitive civilisation to
lhd it?" .

She raised her heed and looked
him fall in the eyes. “No. i did not
hells-re in the possibility thin.” '

"lay i have a highvheli‘i" .

“Certainly.” ,

Be took his drink on the other

"Core inef’

 
 
 
 
 

 

"Kn. or and: I don't! has one
lake e devilish aevaassg'e. res
mess knowthatihndmefantu
keepesyhead. «minus:-
playing with mo-dwlthyoareureed
technienei . . . Unless . .. 3'
lie reached her in a stride and
stoodoverher "lnltpouible-glo

yon-ryon-—-"

hho pushed back her chair. and
stood behind It. lies- cheeks were
very pink. her eyes startled. but
very soft. “1 ‘do not admit that yet
-'-I have heen too astounded—l
went away to think by myself.
whero’l we, sure not to see you—-
hut—my mind-seemed to revolve
in circles. i don't knowl i don't
know!"

“You do know! You are not the
women to mistake passing Intent
eat for tho real

“Oh. does a ‘woman ever-l never
wanted to he‘ae young as that
again. i should have holiov'ed it'
impossible. it i had given the mat-
ter a thought—it is so long! [had
forgotten what love was like.
"l'here was nothing I had hurled as
deep. And there are reasons—reap
sons!"

“i only follow you vaguely. But
i think i understand—worse luckf
he hated you more than once.
You must have known that. l he-
tieve you are deliberately leading
me on to make a fool of mnelf.‘

"i am noti Oh. i am not!”

"Do you love me?“

"l—l want to he sure. i he"
dreamed . . . l—l have leisure.
you see. This old house shots on

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

war might have But my life in two;
it it had not been for that—that
long selfless interval . . . l‘d
like you to go now.”

“Will you marry me!“

”it may be. I can't tell. Not yet.
Are you content to wait?"

"i am not! But l've no intention
of taking you by force, although i
don' t feel particularly civilized at
the present moment. But l'll win
you and have you it you lo'e me.
Make no doubt oi that: You may
have ten thousand strange reasons
—-they count for nothing with me.
And i intend to see you every day.
1‘“ call you up in the morning.
Now i go, and as quickly as i can
get out.”

 

 

 
 
 
 

 
 
 

l

 

XX ‘

He plunged down the steps into

a snowstorm. Even during his;
precipitate retreat he had realised
the advisability o! telephoning for
start. but had been incapable of
the anti-climax. He pulled his hat
over his eyes. turned up the collar
of his coat. and made his war
hastily toward Park avenue. There
was not a cab in sight. Nor was‘
there a rumble in the tunnel: no
doubt the cars were snow~hound.
He hesitated only a moment: it
would hardly take him longer to
walk to his hotel than to the Grand
Central Station. but he crossed

over to Madison avenue at once.
for it was hitter walking and there
was a hare chance ot picking up a
cab returning from one of the
hotels.

 

 

 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 

high dark walls looked like a desert
ed mountain pass rapidly illling
with snow. The tall‘atreet lamps
shed a sad and ghostly beam. They
might have been the hooded torch-
es of cave dwellers sheltering from
enemies and thestorm in those
perpendicular feetnesees. Far
down. a red sphere glowed dimly.
enaiting the illusion. Bo almost
fancied he could see the outputs
of primeval forests bend over the
canyon and wondered hy‘ the
“Poet 0! Manhattan" had never im-
mortalised a scene at once so sinis-
ter and so lovely.

And no stillness ot a high moot
tein solitude had ever been more
intense. Not even a tanned rm
from trains on the distant “L's!
Clevering wonderer he really
were in New York. The whole‘eve-
hing had been unreal enough. 0er~

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

by what it was in night oftfagney
to call white magic. That seething
mess of humanity. that, often
looked as i! rushinghltho «and
thither with no definite purpose.
driven merely by the ohsoeeiowet
speed. was as supine in its brief
vaey'sai’tsdoed. in swam.

 

 

"Yes. neyeedseytheuseisns

the world-Europe—the nest. Tee _

But the narrow street between it. ‘

' Mannie oz
HE HAD AFN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

hhhhmhmummum-

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mifi'UTE MOVIES ;. , A. I

‘~-rw-

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 

- ‘3 \JOT'S ‘m s
‘35: VEOPLE OSrEML‘EN
5 NQB$DY EANTs w'
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FlND TH =EL€ERS

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THE' ROMANCE my . . EB ‘39?“
OF ROSE HER NET 0," 7 , ‘ AR‘i’ifilCiAL h: must A
in ’ 'ROMpincE m ' FLOWER A” f%
sax soutishoomef __
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SHE'S A REG'LRE
FER mm 3”,

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 

 
 
 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 
 

 

n}: RABQITBORO

 

 

 

 
 

 

 
 

By ALBERTINE RAND

 

 
 
 
 
 

‘ we WILL soon HAVE. A NAPP‘I ‘
New YEAR AND 50 r HAVE BEEN
GIVING You THIS LESSON ON
THE. DIVISIONS 0F TiME'

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

OR ONE O'~ THOSE GREAT BIG

 

 
 
 

WAIT-A MINUTES ‘ "'

 

 
 

 

 

 

Z DlCK TALKS lhBOUT .1]

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 
 
 
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

ABURCLAR
GOT iNTO " ,
OUR HOUSE - .
LAsT NIGHT . ,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 

5° WHY DON'T
fragY LooK N
THE MORCUE

 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 
 

. I 5 Miss Fisher '

“m“. atnoiuastifya" the "

-ln Levee-uh her The "n

“a the setting! "‘0" “p
____,__.

~ meow.“ B

. one Wurlitzer BU“ ’ '