A Damsel in Distress

anged. As the last remnants of sleep left him, he was awareof a vague excitem

of someone in the street below whistlingone of his old compositions, of which he had heartily sickenedtwelve months before, was pleasant to his ears, and this in spiteof the fact that the unseen whistler only touche

e at last. T

eventeen--he had been in love withpractically every female he met and with dozens whom he had onlyseen in the distance; but ripening years had mellowed his taste androbbed him of that fine romantic catholicity. During the last fiveyears women had found him more or less cold. I

kicked. Some had kicked about their musicalnumbers, some about their love-scenes; some had grumbled abouttheir exit lines, others about the lines of their second-actfrocks. They had kicked in a myriad differing ways--wrathfully,sweetly, noisily, softly, smilingly, tearfully, pathetically andpatronizingly; but they had all kicked;

rous instincts and a feeling for romance, and cut him off forfive years from the exercise of those qualities, and you get anaccumulated store

mefor George. Her bright eyes, looking into his, had touched off t

ce andself-restraint of a lifetime. And here he was, as

d with more bunkers than any golf coursehe had ever played on in his life. In the first place, he did notknow the girl's name. In the second place, it seemed practicallyimpossible that he would ever see her again

lie. He had gained much; it now remainedfor him to push his success to the happy conclusion. The driver ofLuck must be replaced by the spoon--or, possibly, the niblick--ofIngenuity. To fail now, to allow this girl to pass

ncentrated thought supplied noanswer to the question; and it was at this point that the cheeryoptimism with which he had begun the day left George and gave placeto a grey gloom. A dreadful phrase, haunting in its pathos, creptin

and left the room to

ng feeling which wasunmanning him. And he could

oor. On a mat out

It was also in pencil, and stran

. Bevan" (

of the heart he loo

on't think me very rude, running offwithout waiting to say good-bye. I had

didly about the money, for I remembered that I waswearing a

much again for all yo

breakfast room,and three times more during the meal; then, having committed its

ts. The resource of her, to think of pawning thatbrooch! The sweetness of her to bother to send him a note! Morethan ever before was he convinced that h

narrowedthe thing down absurdly. There were only about three counties inwhich she could possibly live; and a man must be a po

away. Butit happens sometimes that, if we put our hand in hers with thehumble trust of a little child, she will have pity on

tary repast at the Piccadilly grill-room, he had brought withhim an early edition of the Evening News. And one of the firstitems which met his eye was the following, embodied in a columnon one of the

, the sky was blue, and everything was peaceful too,when suddenly a well-dressed gent engaged in heatedargument and roundly to abuse began another well-dressedgentleman. His suede-gloved fist h

ject here for flippantjest. The mere remembrance of the tale has made our inkturn deadly pale. Let us be brief. Some demon sent starkmadness on the well

ith even hand she holds the scale; athumping fine, in lieu of gaol, induced Lord B. to feelremorse and learn he mustn't punch the For

With this clue, all was over except getting to the nearestFree Library

on, and thatthe present earl had one son, Percy Wilbraham Marsh, educ. Eton andChrist Church, Oxford, and what the book w

ed slowly out of Waterloo Station, George watched Londonvanish behind him.