Each successive one seemed more splendid,
becoming, costly. And ever the lady seemed more sweet as their intimacy
grew. Once when Frank had stammered an enthusiastic appreciation of her
latest gown--a wondrous thing of silk and lace that seemed to match the
changing fires in her eyes--she said suddenly: "What a fright I must
have looked that evening--in the Midway! And what you must have thought
of me--in such a place!"
"Do you wish to know just what I thought?" Frank asked her, reddening.
"Yes." Her eyes, a little shamed, but brave, met his.
"Well," he said, "you stood there with your hair all streaming and
your--and that splendid fire in your eyes. The beauty of you struck me
like a whip. You seemed an angel--after all the sordid sights I'd
seen. And--"
"Go on--please;" her eyes were shining.
"Then--it's sort of odd--but I wanted to fight for you!"
She came a little closer.
"Some day, perhaps," she spoke with sudden gravity, "I may ask you to do
that."
"What? Fight for you?"
Bertha nodded.
* * * * *
It was after the Olympia had been made over into a larger Tivoli Opera
House that Frank met Aleta Boice.
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