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Newspaper Page Text
"Mr. Woods is very much taken with your story," she bubbled over, and the glad news nearly took his breath away. "I am so glad," he voiced, and the lure of that first prize dazzled as in fancy it dangled enticingly before his eyes. "Yes." pursued Shirley animately, "I overheard" him discussing it with llr. Duryea. He said that your story was the most attractive yet present ed.. Oh, I do so hope your good for tune will come to you." "And if it does," reflected Roscoe, as he walked home on air, "you, my sweet little wild rose, shall share it with me, if you will!" Then came dark days. Roscoe lost his insecure position with the news paper. He found other work, which was of the cheapest hack-writing character and barely provided for food and his room rent. He kept away from Shirley now, for his over coat had grown shabby and he could not afford to take her to the enter tainments they formerly had shared. She met him turning a street cor ner one morning. Her color came and went rapidly. Her hand pres sure thrilled him, for it was fervent and genuine. "I do not see much of you these days, Mr. Merriam," she observed. "I am dreadfully busy," averred Roscoe, with an airiness poorly af fected. "My work is constant and confining and poorly paid. But oh! the better times when I win that first prize!" She detected the false ring in his tones. She pressed him to call at the office when he passed, and she choked down a dreary little sob as she parted with him, for in a flash in her pitying, womanly way she read the truth pride, poverty and strug gle. She had found so much to respect and admire in the man reverence, genius. He was true and good, with noble aspirations. Some of the lofty thoughts he had enunciated during I the brief companionship had influ enced and elevated her simple life of toil. She knew in her secret heart that she loved him. And he, amidst the desolation of unworthy literary endeavor, his spirits had gone down below freezing point and Shirley seemed as remote from him and un attainable as the stars. There was a break in the cheap starvation price work Roscoe was doing. His finances were at their lowest ebb. He was nearly ready to abandon the unequal struggle in de spair as he sat in his room one even ing, with chilled fingers penciling the completion of a cheap write-up. His coat was thrown over his shoulder for warmth, for there was no fire in the little sheet-iron stove. On he table before him was what was left of the loaf of bread he had purchased that morning with his last available nickel. Hope had very nearly died' out with him. Two days previous he had learned of the award of that coveted firs literary prize, so that cherished anticipation was blotted out. There came a knock at the door. He arose, opened it and drew back stupefied, for his visitor was Shirley. "I had to come," she spoke in her open, impetuous way, and then she glanced at him and his squalid envi ronment, the desolate furnishings, the poor lamp, the, meager fare on the table. She sank to a chair, she covered her face with her hands, she burst into tears, with the words wrung from her anguished soul: "Oh, you poor, por boy!" Roscoe stood grounded with amazement. .He stared silently at Shirley, his own lips quivering. "I say," he broke the silence final ly, "you'll have me crying, too, if you keep this up." "And I'm more resolved than ever to play the traitor!" sobbed Shirley, but looked up with -starlike, though tear bedimmod eyes. "Yes, I will. You need good news oh, I've brought It to you!" &Bs&mmmmiMimmMilMimam