Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

es 108 “Miss De Montreuil j Lf y “ eos ee phe ot Mee, i * Sue - et | ye ‘ ee Ta A @ AL . fy hag mt ¢ " * , 7 <u ue 7 Je 4 a * - +, 7 wy ‘S,% ry r : ths ? j ec 1 | any. Ra fons ae pet al, Ly orn i Se “ee helee and, without a mothent’e delay, began the promised x e Leonie De Montreuil. eck ihe) cece Decision, resolution, were the young man’s characte ‘istics. —— He told her the truth at once, } Pehale | “T have lost all,” he wrote, with tragical ‘een 5 og my yearly allowance. For the first time in my life nothing — ‘ remains to me but my art. [am penniless—a worker for my daily bread. Well, be it so—that way honor lies. My oso is my own to make, and- it shall be one my Leonie will arate - proud of. Only wait, my darling. Be true and faithful for. a little while; all will come right in the end. I remain here until the old man is better or dead; then back to New. of ‘York, to love, to you, and my glorious idol—Art. Next win- 3 ter L:shall send a picture to the exhibition that must suc-— _ ceed. Write to me, my own, my dearest, and let me see the — | precious words that tell my Leonie will, wait. for her adoring lover.” ey ¥ Leonie De Montreuil sat alone in her room—a_ room bean eS -tiful and luxurious as its beautiful and luxurious occupant. She sat by. the window, ‘still wearing her morning neglige, although the October gloaming was settling aren “over. esmel avenue. She lay back in her cughaered chair, two. open: stiaes in her lap, and an expression of unmitigated. sulkiness on her — dark face. . One little, slippered foot beat an angry tattoo — on the carpet, and the slender black- ‘brows. ‘were ak ba in : an impatient frown. re “And after all my waiting, after” ait: my “hanhiee”™ she ‘ thought, bitterly, “this is the end, Bt re but hapeaseaah | ment on either hand.” te There was a soft tap at the doors. °c “Come in, Clara,” she said i in French; “the house is s thine | own.” - The chamber dnp opened show's and her friend. and hosts ess, Mrs. Manners, a pretty young matron, swept in, in Tus- if . tling dinner dress, ribbons fluttering, jewels sparkling. . eth ‘Not dressed yet?” she said; “not even nonin cad: fond: past six, my dear Leonie! | Ab, letters! No bad news, ¥ trust ?”’ | “As bad as bad ean be,” ago said, ‘bitterly. , am the most unfortunate girl alive, T think. Turn which way I will, | there seems nothing but vexation and disappointment. for me.’ Mrs. Manners threw herself into a faulpeeie and drew yout her watch. “An hour yet until the dinner- bell rings. | dressed early. Tell me all about it, m ‘amour. | ) ate odious correspondents a | + a