New Faces | Page 8

course--for
you're not twenty and he's nearly forty--but I think he would make you
happy. I know he'd try with all the strength that's in him."
Blank incredulity was on Mary's face. She glanced at the watch and up
at him and again she shook her head.
"This man," Burgess went on, "is a friend of Miss Masters and it was
through her that he first heard of the Lady Hyacinths. He was an idler

then. A shiftless, worthless loafer, but the Lady Hyacinths made a man
of him and he's gone out and got a job."
Comprehension overwhelming, overmastering, flashed into Mary's eyes.
But her promise held her silent and in her chair. Again it was as though
she had spoken.
"Yes, I see you understand--you probably think of me as an old man
past the time of love and yet I love you."
"Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt
truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love."
"That's all I have to offer you, sweetheart. Just love and my life," and
he in turn went to the window and looked out into the gathering dusk.
Mary sat absolutely still. She knew now that she was dreaming. Just so
the dream had always run and when the five minutes were past, she
rose and went to him: a true Ophelia, her arms all full of hyacinths.
"My honored Lord," said she. He turned, and the dream held.

THERE'S DANGER IN NUMBERS
The Pennsylvania Limited was approaching Jersey City and the
afternoon was approaching three o'clock when Mr. John Blake turned
to Mrs. John Blake, née Marjorie Underwood, a bride of about three
hours, and precipitated the first discussion of their hitherto happy
married life.
"Your Uncle Richard Underwood," said he--the earlier discussions in
the wedded state are usually founded upon relations--"is as stupid as he
is kind. It was very good of him to arrange that I should meet old
Nicholson. Any young fellow in the country would give his eyes for the
chance. But to make an appointment for a fellow at four o'clock in the
afternoon of his wedding day is a thing of which no one, except your
Uncle Richard, would be capable. He might have known that I couldn't

go."
"But you must go," urged the bride, "it's the chance of a lifetime.
Besides which," she added with a pretty little air of practicality, "we
can't afford to throw away an opportunity like this. We may never get
another one, and if you don't go how are you to explain it to Uncle
Richard when we dine there to-morrow night?--you know we promised
to, when he was last at West Hills."
"But what," suggested her husband--"what if, in grasping at the shadow,
I lose the reality? I'd rather lose twenty opportunities than my only wife,
and what's to become of you while I go down to Broad Street? Do you
propose to sit in the station?"
"I propose nothing of the kind," she laughed. "I shall go straight to the
Ruissillard and wait for you. Dick and Gladys may be there already."
Although Mr. John Blake received this suggestion with elaborate
disfavor and disclaimer it was clear to the pretty eyes of Mrs. John
Blake that he hailed it with delight, and she was full of theories upon
marital co-operation and of eagerness to put them into practice. None
of her husband's objections could daunt her, and before he had adjusted
himself to the situation he had packed his wife into a hansom, given the
cabman careful instructions and a careless tip, and was standing on the
step admonishing his bride:
"Be sure to tell them that we must have out-side rooms. Have the
baggage sent up, but don't touch it. If you open a trunk or lift a tray
before I arrive I shall instantly send you home to your mother as
incorrigible."
"Very well," she agreed; "I'll be good."
"And then, if Gladys is there--it's only an off-chance that they come
before to-morrow--get her to sit with you. But don't go wandering
about the hotel by yourself. And, above all, don't go out."
"Goosie," said she, "of course I shan't go out. Where should I go?"

"And you're sure, sure, sure that you don't mind?" he asked for the
dozenth time.
"Goosie," said she again, "I am quite, quite sure of it. Now go or you
will surely miss your appointment and disappoint your uncle."
After two or three more questions of his and assurances of hers the cab
was allowed to swing out into the current. John had given the driver
careful navigation orders, and Marjorie leaned back contentedly enough
and watched the busy people, all hot and haggard, as New York's
people sometimes are