Page 127 - YB1924

A Romance It was a delightful summer evening, The man stood, musing, on a little hillock. Overhead the myriads of stars, the pale moon, the hurrying clouds. For a long time he stood motionless, then raised a cigarette to his lips. All at once his attitude changed to one of intense listening; He peered forward. Then, singing softly to herself, She came towards him from the woods. A look of anguish crossed his handsome features; With an involuntary movement he drew back. SEe approached closer, but with a muttered word and a wave of his shapely head, he repulsed her. Nothing daunted, she returned, but again he motioned her back. Finally, with a plaintive cry, she flung herself upon him. This time a look of eagerness came into his eyes; He crushed her to him. She gave a little scream and silence reigned once more. The man stopped and struck a match. "Damn the mosquitos," was all he said. Sentimentalism "Last night I held a little hand, So dainty and so neat; I thought my heart would surely burst, So wildly did it beat. No other hand, into my soul, Could greater gladness bring Than that I held last night, Which was-Four Aces and a King.': One Hundred and Nineteen