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Show - - A MEETING QUEER By DOROTHY R. SCOVILLE (liJ, laa, by Met.'lui New.jni,t;r Kyiullculn. ) OHIi lliln't have n Job ami there wasn't one In night. Konm rent duo lu two days, and her typewiitei needed u new ribbon. The blue eyes were a bit discouraged and tin; moiilli hud lost Its smile. ICvei'y thing seemed so hopeless. The gray day Just matched Kay Lane's mood. She was silling on a bench near the river's edge. A high hedge screened her from passersby .and the tniflic on the bridge. She sat staring at the swirling dead leirves and the muddy water of the river. Suddenly a shadow fell across the leaves. A slender, youngish man with confused brown eyes stood by the bench, swaying uncertainly, and with a hand tightly clasped over the bench hack. "Do you mind If I sit here?" he questioned weakly. Before she could reply he sat down on the bench beside her with limp heaviness, "Excuse me for Intruding," he murmured. mur-mured. "I didn't think there would he anyone here." "You should be home lu bed. You are 111." She said this impatiently, frowning at him. "Yes, I agree with you." He gave a little grin. "But I don't own a home or a bed at present." "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry I can't help you," she retimed, after a pause. "Please I'm not a beggar yet," he said quickly. "Then what are you?" She faced him squarely. "A wanderer," he said simply. "Recently arrived on the freighter San Pedro from Soutli America. Acquired Ac-quired malaria while there, and some one acquired all but a few pesetas of my money when I arrived here. Jobs don't seem to be very numerous, either." "Are you a Job hunter, too?" she asked, with a little laugh. "We seem to have that much In common, anyway." any-way." "I may get a ship to the West Indies tomorrow, though," he said. "And I may get my story accepted tomorrow," she said. "And If we don't?" he questioned cynically. "Don't think of It T she begged. The street lights twinkled on. The darkness was creeping In. "I must be going now," she said, "and I wish you luck, wanderer." She held out her hand to her shabby bench companion. "But won't you tell me your name, and may I not write to you if I do go away?" he pleaded. "A friend helps a lot," he added wistfully. She looked at him with a steady keenness. Then she nodded assent. Hastily she produced a fountain pen and from a notebook tore a scribbled name and address. The next daj a certain story was accepted for the munificent sum of SG5. The youngish man in blue dungarees dun-garees on the deck of a squat tramp steamer plowing out of the harbor looked wistfully Mick at the fading city. "Nice gU"I," he sighed. And at every port he mailed a letter. A month later Kay Lane stories were appearing in nearly all the magazines. Success comes quickly when It does come. She moved to a better neighborhood and acquired a little three-room apartment apart-ment a quiet little place on the third floor. Across from her apartment was an empty one, whose tenants were a writer who was away gathering material mate-rial for his stories, and an actor, who was also away much of the time on tour. Then one day the apartment across the hall was opened. One of its occupants occu-pants had evidently returned, for there was a banging of doors and heavy walking. That evening as she was trying to catch an elusive word needed In a story she was working on she was startled by a harsh voice in the neighboring apartment crying out In agony : "Help'! Oh, help us! For the love of heaven, help us!" She sat frozen for a moment. Then there came a shrill scream of terror. A man's voice said brutally, "Shut up!" She flung open the door and looked across at the door of the other apartment. apart-ment. She was about to turn into hej room, when again came that unnatural unnat-ural cry. "I'll choke you if you screech like that again!" threatened the man's voice. "Why !" she exclaimed. There was a moment of surprised silence. "Wanderer "Wan-derer !" "You sold " Again that terrifying scream. "Confound that parrot !" he exclaimed angrily. "You sold your story, didn't you?" "But you I thought you were really a wanderer. Instead, I find you a writer with a perfectly nice apartment," apart-ment," she accused him "Just like you," he laughed. "But I honestly was ofit of a Job that day I met you. And this apartment is only half mine. A friend shares it, but he's away now. The day I met you he had Just left on a short trip and expected to be back before me, so I was locked out of my own apartment. The landlady land-lady didn't recognize me and wouldn't let me in with her pass key." "Tve been having luck lately, so that accounts for my change of address," she smiled. "But it's all so queer and uncdhventlonal," she added. "A meeting queer is often dear," n quoted with a gay smile. |