The Agony Column | Page 5

to repose not five feet from where
West sat. This accomplished, he whipped out his order book, and stood
with pencil poised, like a reporter in an American play.
"The strawberries are delicious," he said in honeyed tones.
The man looked at the girl, a question in his eyes.
"Not for me, dad," she said. "I hate them! Grapefruit, please."
As the waiter hurried past, West hailed him. He spoke in loud defiant
tones.
"Another plate of the strawberries!" he commanded. "They are better
than ever to-day."
For a second, as though he were part of the scenery, those violet eyes
met his with a casual impersonal glance. Then their owner slowly
spread out her own copy of the Mail.
"What's the news?" asked the statesman, drinking deep from his glass
of water.
"Don't ask me," the girl answered, without looking up. "I've found
something more entertaining than news. Do you know--the English
papers run humorous columns! Only they aren't called that. They're
called Personal Notices. And such notices!" She leaned across the table.
"Listen to this: 'Dearest: Tender loving wishes to my dear one. Only to
be with you now and always. None "fairer in my eyes."--'"
The man locked uncomfortably about him. "Hush!" he pleaded. "It
doesn't sound very nice to me."
"Nice !" cried the girl. "Oh, but it is--quite nice. And so deliciously
open and aboveboard. 'Your name is music to me. I love you more--'"
"What do we see to-day?" put in her father hastily.

"We're going down to the City and have a look at the Temple.
Thackeray lived there once--and Oliver Goldsmith--"
"All right--the Temple it is."
"Then the Tower of London. It's full of the most romantic associations.
Especially the Bloody Tower, where those poor little princes were
murdered. Aren't you thrilled?"
"I am if you say so."
"You're a dear! I promise not to tell the people back in Texas that you
showed any interest in kings and such--if you will show just a little.
Otherwise I'll spread the awful news that you took off your hat when
King George went by."
The statesman smiled. West felt that he, who had no business to, was
smiling with him.
The waiter returned, bringing grapefruit, and the strawberries West had
ordered. Without another look toward West, the girl put down her paper
and began her breakfasting. As often as he dared, however, West
looked at her. With patriotic pride he told himself: "Six months in
Europe, and the most beautiful thing I've seen comes from back home!"
When he rose reluctantly twenty minutes later his two compatriots were
still at table, discussing their plans for the day. As is usual in such cases,
the girl arranged, the man agreed.
With one last glance in her direction, West went out on the parched
pavement of Haymarket.
Slowly he walked back to his rooms. Work was waiting there for him;
but instead of getting down to it, he sat on the balcony of his study,
gazing out on the courtyard that had been his chief reason for selecting
those apartments. Here, in the heart of the city, was a bit of the
countryside transported--the green, trim, neatly tailored countryside
that is the most satisfying thing in England. There were walls on which

the ivy climbed high, narrow paths that ran between blooming beds of
flowers, and opposite his windows a seldom-opened, most romantic
gate. As he sat looking down he seemed to see there below him the girl
of the Carlton. Now she sat on the rustic bench; now she bent above the
envious flowers; now she stood at the gate that opened out to a hot
sudden bit of the city.
And as he watched her there in the garden she would never enter, as he
reflected unhappily that probably he would see her no more--the idea
came to him.
At first he put it from him as absurd, impossible. She was, to apply a
fine word much abused, a lady; he supposedly a gentleman. Their sort
did not do such things. If he yielded to this temptation she would be
shocked, angry, and from him would slip that one chance in a thousand
he had--the chance of meeting her somewhere, some day.
And yet--and yet--She, too, had found the Agony Column entertaining
and--quite nice. There was a twinkle in her eyes that bespoke a
fondness for romance. She was human, fun-loving--and, above all, the
joy of youth was in her heart.
Nonsense! West went inside and walked the floor. The idea was
preposterous. Still--he smiled--it was filled with amusing possibilities.
Too bad he must put it forever away and settle down to this stupid
work!
Forever away? Well--
On the next morning, which was Saturday, West did not breakfast at
the Carlton. The girl, however,