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Newspaper Page Text
HUNTING THE SHOE
By H. M. Egbert.
(Copyright by W G. Chapman.)
All the way over "Nicholson had
tried to make the acquaintance of
the girl in brown. But, try as hard
as .he could, he failed to elicit any
thing more, than a parting greeting
from her. She was named Mary Mar
tui, and he overheard her telling the
steward that she was a schoolteacher
TII Tell You in a Minute.
and spending her vacation on a tour
of the British cities.
Nicholson was making a pleasure
tour. He was one of those fortunate
young: men who have sufficient in
come to make work unnecessary.
Not that he was an idler. He meant
to take up sociology seriously was,
in fact, on his way to England at the
invitation of a friend to attend some
crowded political meetings in the
Black Country, the industrial part of
The girl in brown would not say
anything mpre than "good-morning"
and "good-evening." She even seem
ed to resent Nicholson's attempts to
force himself upon her, the young
man thought So, by the time the
voyage was half ended he had left
her severely alone.
It was one of the greatest disap
pointments that he had ever had. He
was not an unduly impressionable
young man, but the girl in orown had
made a profound impression upon his
heart. There is some inner sense that
tells us whether these affairs have in
them the possibility of permanence.
Nicholson felt that he could love the
girl in brown given propinquity for
the development of his passion un
til he died.
However, love must have respon
siveness, and by the time he reached
Oxford he had only a pleasant, mel
lowed memory of her. He put up at
the Queen's Hotel. His room was on
a long corridor. And as he entered it
he heard light footsteps coming
along the passage, and looked round
to see the girl in brown.
She did not pay the slightest heed
to him, but, without any sign of rec
ognition, entered her room adjacent
Nicholson sighed, changed his mind
aout going to bed, and went out and
promenaded the High for nearly an
Boots, dazzled by the bestowal of a
truly American tip, informed Nichol
son of the British custom of putting
one's shoes outside the Bedroom door
to be polished. "I cleans 'em, sir,"
he said. "I'll give you an extra shine.
Thank you kindly, sir."
Nicholson went to bed and slept
like a just man without remorse or
care. In fact, he was a little asham
ed to discover, when he opened his
eyes, that the sun was shinging
brightly. He opened his door. Out
side lay one of his shoes. And, next
to it, was a small and very shapely
lady's shoe, evidently the property