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Have Unburdened his Soul To This Shade Over The Piano Lamp.

Upon The Appearance Of Marjory He Sprang Up And Came

Forward Rapidly. " Dearest," He Murmured,  Stretching out Both

Hands. She Gave Him One Set Of Fingers With Chilling

Convention. She Said Something which He Understood To Be "

Good-Afternoon." He Started as If The Woman Before Him Had

Suddenly Drawn A Knife. " Marjory," He Cried,  "What Is The

Matter?." They Walked together Toward A Window. The Girl

Looked at Him In polite Enquiry. " Why? " She Said. " Do I Seem

Strange ? " There Was A Moment'S Silence While He Gazed into

Her Eyes,  Eyes Full Of Innocence And Tranquillity. At Last She

Tapped her Foot Upon The Floor In expression Of Mild Impatience.

" People Do Not Like To Be Asked what Is The Matter

When There Is Nothing the Matter. What Do You Mean ? "

Coleman'S Face Had Gradually Hardened. " Well,  What Is

Wrong? " He Demanded,  Abruptly. "What Has Happened? What

Is It,  Marjory ? "

She Raised her Glance In a Perfect Reality Of Wonder. "What Is

Wrong? What Has Happened? How Absurd! Why Nothing,  Of

Course." She Gazed out Of The Window. " Look," She Added,

Brightly,  The Students Are Rolling somebody In a Drift. Oh,

The Poor Man ! "

Coleman,  Now Wearing a Bewildered air,  Made Some Pretense

Of Being occupied with The Scene. " Yes," He Said,  Ironically.

"Very Interesting,  Indeed."

" Oh," Said Marjory,  Suddenly,  " I Forgot To Tell You. Father

Is Going to Take Mother And Me To Greece This Winter With Him

And The Class."

Coleman Replied at Once. " Ah,  Indeed ? That Will Be Jolly."

"Yes. Won'T It Be Charming?"

" I Don'T Doubt It," He Replied. His Composure May Have

Displeased her,  For She Glanced at Him Furtively And In a Way

That Denoted surprise,  Perhaps.

"Oh,  Of Course," She Said,  In a Glad Voice. " It Will Be More

Fun. We Expect To Nave A Fine Time. There Is Such A N Ice Lot Of

Boys Going sometimes Father    

Chooses These Dreadfully Studious Ones. But This Time He

Acts As If He Knew Precisely How To Make Up A Party."

He Reached for Her Hand And Grasped it Vise-Like. "Marjory," He

Breathed,  Passionately,  " Don'T Treat Me So. Don'T Treat Me-"

She Wrenched her Hand From Him In regal Indignation. " One

Or Two Rings Make It Uncomfortable For The Hand That Is Grasped

By An Angry Gentleman." She Held Her Fingers And Gazed as If

She Expected to Find Them Mere Debris. " I Am Sorry That You Are

Not Interested in the Students Rolling that Man In the Snow. It Is

The Greatest Scene Our Quiet Life Can Afford."

He Was Regarding her As A Judge Faces A Lying culprit. " I

Know," He Said,  After A Pause. " Somebody Has Been Telling you

Some Stories. You Have Been Hearing something about Me."

" Some Stories ? " She Enquired. " Some Stories About You?

What Do You Mean? Do You Mean That I Remember Stories I May

Happen To Hear About People? "

There Was Another Pause And Then Coleman'S Face Flared red.

He Beat His Hand Violently Upon A Table. " Good God,  Marjory!

Don'T Make A Fool Of Me. Don'T Make This Kind Of A Fool Of Me,  At

Any Rate. Tell Me What You Mean. Explain-"

She Laughed at Him. " Explain? Really,  Your Vocabulary Is

Getting extensive,  But It Is Dreadfully Awkward To Ask People To

Explain When There Is Nothing to Explain."

He Glanced at Her,  " I Know As Well As You Do That Your

Father Is Taking you To Greece In order To Get Rid Of Me."

" And Do People Have To Go To Greece In order To Get Rid Of

You? " She Asked,  Civilly. " I Think You Are Getting excited."

" Marjory," He Began,  Stormily.

She Raised her Hand. " Hush," She Said,  "There Is Somebody

Coming." A Bell Had Rung. A Maid Entered the Room. " Mr.

Coke," She Said. Marjory Nodded. In the Interval Of Waiting,

Coleman Gave The Girl A Glance That Mingled despair With Rage

And Pride. Then Coke Burst With Half-Tamed rapture Into The

Room. " Oh,  Miss Wainwright," He Almost Shouted,  " I Can'T Tell

You How Glad I Am. I Just Heard To-Day You Were Going. Imagine

It. It Will Be More--Oh,  How Are You Coleman,  How Are You " "

Marjory Welcomed the New-Comer With A Cordiality That Might

Not Have Thrilled coleman With Pleasure. They Took Chairs That

Formed a Triangle And One Side Of It Vibrated with Talk. Coke And

Marjory Engaged in a Tumultuous Conversation Concerning the

Prospective Trip To Greece. The Sunday Editor,  As Remote As If

The Apex Of His Angle Was The Top Of A Hill,  Could Only Study The

Girl'S Clear Profile. The Youthful Voices Of The Two Others Rang

Like Bells. He Did Not Scowl At Coke; He Merely Looked at Him As

If Be Gently Disdained his Mental Calibre. In fact All The Talk

Seemed to Tire Him; It Was Childish; As For Him,  He Apparently Found

This Babble Almost Insupportable.

" And,  Just Think Of The Camel Rides We'Ll Have," Cried coke.

" Camel Rides," Repeated coleman,  Dejectedly. " My Dear

Coke."

Finally He Arose Like An Old Man Climbing from A Sick Bed.

"Well,  I Am Afraid I Must Go,  Miss Wainwright." Then He Said

Affectionately To Coke: " Good-Bye,  Old Boy. I Hope You Will

Have A Good Time."

Marjory Walked with Him To The Door. He Shook Her Hand In a

Friendly Fashion. " Good-Bye,  Marjory,' He Said. " Perhaps It

May Happen That I Shan'T See You Again Before You Start For

Greece And So I Had Best Bid You God-Speed---Or Whatever The

Term Is Now. You Will Have A Charming time; Greece Must Be A

Delightful Place. Really,  I Envy You,  Marjory. And Now My Dear

Child "-His Voice Grew Brotherly,  Filled with The Patronage Of

Generous Fraternal Love,  " Although I May Never See You Again

Let Me Wish You Fifty As Happy Years As This Last One Has Been

For Me." He Smiled frankly Into Her Eyes; Then Dropping her

Hand,  He Went Away.

Coke Renewed his Tempest Of Talk As Marjory Turned toward

Him. But After A Series Of Splendid Eruptions,  Whose Red fire

Illumined all Of Ancient And Modem Greece,  He Too Went Away.

The Professor Was In his. Library Apparently Absorbed in a

Book When A Tottering pale-Faced woman Appeared to Him And,

In Her Course Toward A Couch In a Corner Of The Room,  Described

Almost A Semi-Circle. She Flung Herself Face Downward. A Thick

Strand Of Hair Swept Over Her Shoulder. " Oh,  My Heart Is

Broken! My Heart Is Broken! "

The Professor Arose,  Grizzled and Thrice-Old With Pain. He

Went To The Couch,  But He Found Himself A Handless,  Fetless

Man. " My Poor Child," He Said. " My Poor Child." He Remained

Listening stupidly To Her Convulsive Sobbing. A Ghastly Kind Of

Solemnity Came Upon The Room.

Suddenly The Girl Lifted herself And Swept The Strand Of Hair

Away From Her Face. She Looked at The Professor With The Wide-

Open Dilated eyes Of One Who Still Sleeps. " Father," She Said In

A Hollow Voice,  " He Don'T Love Me. He Don'T Love Me. He Don'T

Love Me. At All. You Were Right,  Father." She Began To Laugh.

"Marjory," Said The Professor,  Trembling. "Be Quiet,  Child. Be

Quiet."

" But," She Said,  " I Thought He Loved me--I Was Sure Of It. But

It Don'T-Don'T Matter. I--I Can'T Get Over It. Women-Women,  The-

But It Don'T Matter."

" Marjory," Said The Professor. " Marjory,  My Poor

Daughter."

She Did Not Heed his Appeal,  But Continued in a Dull Whisper.

" He Was Playing with Me. He Was--Was-Was Flirting with Me.

He Didn'T Care When I Told Him--I Told Him--

I Was Going-Going away." She Turned her Face Wildly To The

Cushions Again. Her Young Shoulders Shook As If They Might

Break. " Wo-Men-Women-They Always----"

By A Strange Mishap Of Management The Train Which Bore

Coleman Back Toward New York Was Fetched into An Obscure

Side-Track Of Some Lonely Region And There Compelled to Bide A

Change Of Fate. The Engine Wheezed and Sneezed like A Paused

Fat Man. The Lamps In the Cars Pervaded a Stuffy Odor Of Smoke

And Oil. Coleman Examined his Case And Found Only One Cigar.

Important Brakemen Proceeded rapidly Along The Aisles,  And

When They Swung Open The Doors,  A Polar Wind Circled the Legs

Of The Passengers. " Well,  Now,  What Is All This For? " Demanded

Coleman,  Furiously. " I Want To Get Back To New York."

The Conductor Replied with Sarcasm,  " Maybe You Think I'M

Stuck On It " I Ain'T Running the Road. I'M Running this Train,  And I

Run It According to Orders." Amid The Dismal Comforts Of The

Waiting cars,  Coleman Felt All The Profound Misery Of The

Rebuffed true Lover. He Had Been Sentenced,  He Thought,  To A

Penal Servitude Of The Heart,  As He Watched the Dusky,  Vague

Ribbons Of Smoke Come From The Lamps And Felt To His Knees The

Cold Winds From The Brakemen'S Busy Flights. When The Train

Started with A Whistle And A Jolt,  He Was Elate As If In his

Abjection His Beloved'S Hand Had Reached to Him From The Clouds.

When He Had Arrived in new York,  A Cab Rattled him To An

Uptown Hotel With Speed. In the Restaurant He First Ordered a

Large Bottle Of Champagne. The Last Of The Wine He Finished in

Sombre Mood Like An Unbroken And Defiant Man Who Chews The

Straw That Litters His Prison House. During his Dinner He Was

Continually Sending out Messenger Boys. He Was Arranging a

Poker Party. Through A Window He Watched the Beautiful

Moving life Of Upper Broadway At Night,  With Its Crowds And

Clanging cable Cars And Its Electric Signs,  Mammoth And

Glittering,  Like The Jewels Of A Giantess.

Word Was Brought To Him That The Poker Players Were

Arriving. He Arose Joyfully,  Leaving his Cheese. In the Broad Hall,

Occupied mainly By Miscellaneous People And Actors,  All Deep

In Leather Chairs,  He Found Some Of His Friends Waiting. They

Trooped up Stairs To Coleman'S Rooms,  Where As A Preliminary,

Coleman Began To Hurl Books And Papers From The Table To The

Floor. A Boy Came With Drinks. Most Of The Men,  In order To

Prepare For The Game,  Removed their Coats And Cuffs And Drew

Up The Sleeves Of Their Shirts. The Electric Globes Shed a

Blinding light Upon The Table. The Sound Of Clinking chips

Arose; The Elected banker Spun The Cards,  Careless And

Dexterous.

Later,  During a Pause Of Dealing,  Coleman Said:

" Billie,  What Kind Of A Lad Is That Young Coke Up At Washurst?"

He Addressed an Old College Friend.

" Oh,  You Mean The Sophomore Coke? " Asked the Friend.

" Seems A Decent Sort Of A Fellow. I Don'T Know. Why? "

"Well,  Who Is He? Where Does He Come From? What Do You

Know About Him? "

" He'S One Of Those Ohio Cokes-Regular Thing-- Father

Millionaire-Used to Be A Barber-Good Old Boy -Why? "

" Nothin'," Said Coleman,  Looking at His Cards. " I Know The

Lad. I Thought He Was A Good Deal Of An Ass. I Wondered who

His People Were."

" Oh,  His People Are All Right-In One Way. Father Owns Rolling

Mills. Do You Raise It,  Henry? Well,  In order To Make Vice

Abhorrent To The Young,  I'M Obliged to Raise Back."

" I'Ll See It," Observed coleman,  Slowly Pushing forward Two

Blue Chips. Afterward He Reached behind Him And Took Another

Glass Of Wine.

To The Others Coleman Seemed to Have Something bitter

Upon His Mind. He Played poker Quietly,  Steadfastly,  And,

Without Change Of Eye,  Following the Mathematical Religion Of

The Game. Outside Of The Play He Was Savage,  Almost

Insupportable.

" What'S The Matter With You,  Rufus ? " Said His Old College

Friend. " Lost Your Job? Girl Gone Back On You? You'Re A

Hell Of -A Host. We Don'T Get Any. Thing but Insults And Drinks."

Late At Night Coleman Began To Lose Steadily. In