United States or Chad ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


Then he hurried to the office, found his notes and for an hour wrote steadily, absorbedly a spectacular tale of superstition, extravagance and financial chaos. As he turned in his copy the editor handed him a slip of paper on which was written: "Call Aleta Boice at once." He sought a telephone, but there was no response. He tried again, but vainly.

"Lonesome?" repeated Alberdina, not moving from her ridiculous trunk. "I no time haf had for lonesomes. Many peoples to dis house come crazy peoples men and vimmen, hein? They haf my moneys took already yesterday! Ach, Gott! They haf me tied wid ropes. They have nogged and nogged in the night times. Dos vimmens, I hear the boice already yet. I no lig dees place. I to my home go bag to-day.

It is by these sound-waves that nature speaks to us, and in all her movements there is a reason why her boice is sharp or tender, loud or gentle, awful or loving. Take for instance the brook we spoke of at the beginning of the lecture. Why does it sing so sweetly, while the wide deep river makes no noise?

"Well," she said; "don't let me drive you off. I'll not be comfortable.... Let's share it, then," she smiled; "tonight, at least." They did. Frank found her very like her mother the smiling one of Darlton and Boice, Olympia entertainers of past years. One couldn't call her pretty, when her face was in repose. But that was seldom, so it didn't matter.

"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. She was a member of the chorus.

Eagerly she sipped her steaming coffee from a heavy crockery cup, nibbling at a bit of French bread. Then she said to him so suddenly that he almost sprang out of his chair. "Do you know that Aleta Boice loves you?" He looked at her annoyed and disturbed by the question. "No, I don't," he answered slowly. "Nor do I understand just what you're driving at, Miss France."

This book was, and very justly so, one of the favourite manuals of the Middle Ages, and a treasure-house of religious wisdom to centuries of English writers. "Boice of Consolacioun" is cited in the "Romaunt of the Rose"; and the list of passages imitated by Chaucer from the martyr of Catholic orthodoxy and Roman freedom of speech is exceedingly long.

It was the heart of what was called the Tenderloin, a gay and hectic region frequented by half-world folk, but not unknown to travelers nor to members of society, Slumming parties were both fashionable and frequent. Two girls were capering and carolling behind the footlights. "They are Darlton and Boice," explained young Stanley. "The one with the perpetual smile is a great favorite. She's Boice.

Frank wondered why he had not asked Aleta Boice to be his wife. They were good comrades, had congenial tastes. They would both be better off; less lonely. A sudden, long-forgotten feeling stirred within his heart. He had missed Aleta in the past few days. Why not go to her now; lay the question before her? Perhaps love might come to them both.