A LOVERS' QUARREL.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue XIX, 4 November 1899, Page 840

A LOVERS' QUARREL.

“Darling Ethel, if I could only make you understand how I love you and how I long for the day when you will be really my own.” "Really and truly, Edgar?” “Love, can you doubt it? I am straining every nerve, saving every sixpence, to set up a fitting home for my angel.” “How perfectly sweet of you! 1 tun doing what I can too. I have made four cushions and a tea cosey, and ever so many d’oyleys. But, Edgar—” “Yes, my precious.” “You won’t be angry if I say something?” “Angry—-with you! The idea!” “Well, then—oh, I'm certain you will be vexed!” “My sweetest, unless you are about to tell me you ceased to love me—” “Oh. no, not at all. That’s all right, dear boy. I was only thinking—mamma was saying"—that you spend a good deal of money over cigars and tobacco, and also over your camera. She says if you eared for me as much as you pretend you would not waste so much on your own pleasures and hobbies.” “Really. Ethel. I must say I think your mother takes an unwarrantable—” “There now—you arc angry, and with poor dear mamma too! I believe it must be true what she says—that you have a temper like a volcano. To flame out like that just because I proposed a trifling act of self-sacrifice to you. after all yoti have said. But I don't care. You can keep your old camera and you ean smoke your horrid cigars. I know now that it is them you care for, not me.” (Sobs.) “Now, Ethel, be reasonable—” “’I am reasonable. How dare you say lam unreasonable? It is you who are that—to expect me to take meekly a second place in your affections. Let go my hand. I want to go home to mamma.”

“A second place! Why, Ethel—” “Oh, don’t say things after me like that. I hate it! And you know it is true. You give far more time and thought to your camera -than you do to me. I wouldn’t so much mind it you could take a decent photograph, but you cannot. You always make me out a perfect fright.” “Excuse me, hut my photographs are considered extremely faithful. If, in your case they do not turn out things of beauty you can hardly lay the hlame on me.”

“Thank you, Mr De Slyde. The coarse brutality of your remarks is no doubt an indication of your real character. Thank heaven, I -have discovered it in time. Let me inform you, sir, that you may cease your strenuous saving of sixpences as far as I am concerned. Spend them—spend them freely on Havanas and developers, or whatever you call them. As for me I will give my cushions and d’oyleys to the church hazaar. All is over between us.” “Oh, nonsense, Ethel. Don’t be ridiculous! Suppose I were to ask you to give up your bicycle—” “I am not ridiculous. I mean every word I say. From this moment we are strangers, and I would not give up -my bike for you or any man.” “Then why require me—” “That is quite a different thing. You are a man and ought—oOh, mercy, Edgar, there is a bull making straight for us. Whatever shall we do?”

“He is making for you, I imagine. No doubt your scarlet sunshade has attracted him. I shall get over this gate. As a perfect stranger I do not presume to advise you.” “Edgar, stop! Save me, Edgar! You know I didn’t mean what I said. Edgar, I’ll never be horrid to you again. Oh. that dreadful brute! I never knew before what a lovely thing a five-barred gate is, though I never should have got over without your help. . You darling boy, you have saved my life, and if that tiresome man were not staring at us so I would kiss vou this minute.” “Then vou take back—”

“Now. don’t rake up that wretched quarrel all over again, Edgar, dearest. It was just too silly for anything. 1 do love you. and—there, that aggravating man has gone, so I’ll prove it.”

Notre Margot.