Judge — September 25, 1920 — page 5: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

FEN, Drawn by Ray Roux You are wonperrut! Your MANY PRICELESS PEARLS; YOUR EVES HAVE Girl—Dox't! You Make Me Peet Lint Morpheu By Aticr FTER Nora 1 the professor had passed the length of the hotel veranda on their way to the golf course for the fifth consecutive morning, the conversation among the four young men lounging in the wicker chairs became caustic. The professor was vaguely aware that he had supplanted all four of them in Nora’s affections, even though Eddy Temple had superseded him on this same veranda after the dance last night. , The professor had gone off sulkily to bed. Nora had suddenly become a victim to the feminine foible of fecling herself misunderstood. The idlers on the veranda were too shallow—thcir minds too circumscribed—to sense the inner nature behind her mask of frivolity. In the pro- fessor she felt that she had found a man who could and would delve to the hidden depths of her starved soul and forthwith provide it with nutriment. Her thoughts, accustomed to whirligig on a plane bounded Il points of the compass by jazz, had gone out to mect his wont to gyrate on the empyrean heights of higher criticism. After a few unsuccessful oscillations, they had come to rest at the common level of golf. It is a safe and thoroughly tested plane, where the intellects of the bishop and the bootlegger may meet on equal terms; as true a help to man as are children or the high cost of sugar to woman. But this morning the professor did not want to talk about golf; he wanted to talk of the tendril of spun-gold hair at the nape of Nora’s neck. And Nora, meanwhile, did not want to talk of the tendril of spun-gold hair; she wanted to talk of her soul “I've brought a little book of Swinburne’s poems in my AIK IS LIKE SPUN GOLD; YOUR TERTH ARE so THE SPARKLE OF RARE DIAMONDS; YOUR SKIN A Hock sior! and the Common Level CamMAack pocket,” she said. “I wish you would read one to me after the game.”” They had reached the eighth hole. There is one coil of your hair which catches the light as it would——” “Oh, I'm so tired!” Nora’s interruption was prompt What the professor thought her hair was about to do with the light will not be handed down for the benefit of posterity. “Do you mind if we rest a little?” she asked. Did he mind! Kindly fate was delivering her into his hands close to the shaded nook he had picked out for the decl on of his love. “Tt is so hot!” she sighed, sinking down on the grass when they had reached the cool spot under the trees to which he led her. The professor took off his coat with all the gallantry of a Raleigh, though not with any idea that his lady fair should walk on it. It was not for her feet, but for her fair head that he folded it tenderly. Nora lay down, her head on its comfortable cushion turned away from him. She flung a hand across her eyes. The professor thought of the four philanderers on the veranda and decided to waste no time. He gazed at her in silence for a few moments, conscious of certain impulses which were no credit to his standing in original research, What an opportunity to carry her off bodily! He was restrained by a mental picture of himself cavorting down the fairway with a woman in his arms, but no objective in view. To be a cave- man, one needed a cave. He would have to observe the pre- liminaries of an engagement and a wedding He had no idea how to go about it. He had nearly com- -omicbooks.com