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Show INTERVENES IACK LAWTON. '. I'-'uJjyt li;llt, I HI 7, 1 HU ill Nfvl-Lp'T 1, 1. 1 "ii. ; Bess railed her magazine and peered covertly over its edges at the handsome masculine face across the aisle. Not that Boss was an impressionable impres-sionable young creature; strange faces rarely interested her, but there was about this one some peculiar magnetic charm which drew her own eyes unwillingly. un-willingly. Resolutely now she pursued lier reading as the miles flew by. A sensation sensa-tion of being observed forced 'her to look up again. The man was regarding regard-ing her wontleringly, as though trying to place her among past acquaintances. acquaint-ances. "No self-respecting young woman may pick up a traveling companion," she severely reminded herself. The mnn across the aisle had sighed wearily wear-ily ; his dark eyes seemed to be pleading plead-ing the question. Bess lurried to the car window impatiently. Back there in town some mutual friend had but to mumble in introduction two names and one is In duty bound to be pleasant pleas-ant to the one presented. "Oh, well !" Bess abruptly arose and made her way to the diner. This was really the "last call to the dining car." There was but one unoccupied table. Seating herself, she studied the menu. As she hesitated over its contents con-tents the subservient waiter pushed forth the remaining chair. "Sit heah, sub," she heard him saying, say-ing, and glanced up to find her vis-avis the man who had been sitting across the car aisle. "I beg your pardon " he began, as though apology were necessary for his intrusion. Silently Bess nodded ; then, at the man's evident diffidence, she flashed a smile. "You have a perfect right to the only vacant chair," she said. After that silence seemed a foolish formality. formal-ity. The man was a journalist, she learned, and his conversation proved to be as interesting as his appearance had promised. After the meal, it seemed but a natural sequence that he should transfer his suitcase to Bessie's Bes-sie's side of the car and continue the conversation there. The hours now flew by as quickly as the miles. LVss dimpled and smiled, glancing up into the man's attentive eyes, and wondered again at that sense of familiar companionship. "It is strange," he said, promptly answ.erlng her thought, "yet I could not have forgotten had I met you before." be-fore." She flushed at his implied mqaning. "We must meet again," he added, Impulsively. Bess did not answer. He was leaving leav-ing the car at Buffalo, so he told her, and arose as though reluctant, drawing draw-ing on his greatcoat. Her own destination, desti-nation, a few miles farther on, had not been mentioned. As the car slowed into the station she realized, half-angrily, that she was loth to let the stranger go, saddened at the thought of losing forever, in the rush of life outside, this man whom yesterday she had not seen. "I cannot go," he said tensely, "without "with-out hope of seeing you again. Your name, at least, you will tell me that, and some time " But Bess was resolute. Tomorrow, perhaps, he would laugh at the incident. inci-dent. Tomorrow she would forget all about it. "Good-by," she said, smiling. "This is the end of a short but pleasant acquaintance." ac-quaintance." The car was emptying. The man reached desperately for his valise. "It cannot be the end," he answered firmly. firm-ly. "Fate will intervene." Would it? Bess was very doubtful, as she caught a last glimpse of his broad-shouldered figure before the train whisked her on in the darkness. And if fate refused to be obliging, would she forget the last few hours is easily as she had prophesied? Long she sat before the fire in her room that night. From the flames a man's dark eyes seemed to be reproaching re-proaching her, atld the vision would not be banished. Where was he now? And would he try to find her? But the hope was not to be entertained. This was a prosaic world, where people went sensibly about their duties. Day after day she would go back and forth teaching In the schoolhouse on the hill, and nothing beautiful or unusual would ever happen. Then suddenly Bess sat up listening. Some one was calling; she was wanted "Long-distance on the phone." "How do you do?" came a deep, well-remembered voice. "This is your traveling companion of an hour or two ago. Fate has Intervened. I opened as I supposed my suitcase, a few moments mo-ments ago and found a pink silk kimono, ki-mono, I think you call it, and a letter. let-ter. The letter being addressed to Miss Bessie Roberts I have lost no time in calling up that young lady to identify what I believe to be her property. prop-erty. The two suitcases must have been identical, so mine was a pardonable pardon-able mistake. If you will open the one in your possession you will find certain written articles belonging to Richard Clayton myself at your service. ser-vice. As said articles are rather valuable valu-able I will, with your permission, come out to make an exchange of satchels tomorrow evening. You will be home at that time?" Bess laughed softly as she caught the eagerness of the question. "Tomorrow evening," she agreed, and the joy of lier voice sang over the wire. |