POR A WOMAN'S SAKE
By Augustus Goodrich Sherwin.
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
''Miss Ainslee," spoke the stenog
xapherof the editor, coming into the
ante-room where two' persons sat
One of them, the lady, arose. The
other, a young man who had been si
lently, speculatively observing her,
saw her lip quiver as, the messenger
.from the sanctum beyond handed her
a Toll which Honald Dawson well
knew to be manuscript rejected
- -7 '.
- "We "Will Make It $50 Apiece."
manuscript for he could read the
blighted hopethe sinking soul in the
sensitive, delicate face of Its recipi
ent Everythtag about her, despite the
well-mended glove tips, the made
over last season's hat, the shabby,
but neat-fitting- shoes, told that she
was a lady. She was top serious just
now to shpw out the kindliness that
lurked back of her anxious eyes, but
intelligence and soulfulness had at
tracted him, 'and he could not keep
his glance from her, nor repress his
earnest pity as she left the room.
Then his mind reverted to his own,
affairs, as in a few moments his turn
came. The messenger approached
Dawson. Jt was to sayv
"No specials this week, Mr. Daw
son." The young man, writer and ama
teur, artist shrugged, his shoulders
resignedly and started to leave the
room. A somewhat bitter expression
crossed his face, as he reflected over
the .hard and disappointing ways he
had elected to follow because there
was poetry in his soul, and he could
not resist its urgings. Then his foot
struck some small object and pus"hqd
it along the floor in. front of hini.
Dawson picked it up, to find it to be a
small netted purse.
"Why, this must belong to the
young lady who was just here," he
decided. "It came from just where
she sat Miss Ainslee? I wonder what
her address is?"
He opened the purse. It contained
a few pieces of silver, a scrap of pa
per and a folded card. An expression
of real pain darkened his brow as he
unfolded the paper. It was a pawn
ticket The card -vas enlightening.
It told him that Miss Ainslee was
"Margaret" and gave her address.
The girl's face was gloomy, almost
tragic, when she appeared at the
door of her room in a poor boarding
house in response to Sir. Dawson's
knock, an hour later. A slight start
and a flush told Dawson that Miss
Ainslee remembered him, brief and
casual as had been their companion
ship at the editor's office. She stood
aside in a somewhat confused way,
and he entered the room.
"After you had left the editor's of
fice' he said, extending the httle
purse, ''I found this."
"Oh, thank you," responded Miss
Ainslee, 'although it is of little value
to give you all tills trouble. Will you
Dawson glanced about the mean-
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