Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 163, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 July 1910 — THEIR, FINAL QUARREL. [ARTICLE]

THEIR, FINAL QUARREL.

She Said If Woa Irrevocable, but He Knew Better. It was all off. They had quarreled, finally and irrevocably. It doesn’t matter now what it was about The chances are that in their anger neither remembered anything except that he had disappointed her in some awful, unforgivable way and she had seized the diamond engagement ring from a dainty, slender figure and thrust it upon him with a gesture of infinite •corn. For an instant he held the circlet in his hand ruefully. For another instant he paced the porch, hands in his pockets, head low, his voice quivering with emotion as he pleaded. Suddenly he stopped in front of her. “That’s final, is It?” he inquired. “Final?” she replied, icily. “Noman with a spark of— ’’ “All right!” he snapped. "This thing’s no use to me, then." His right arm shot out like the arm of a ball pitcher, and a second later the tinkle-tinkle of metal on the concrete walk half a block away told her he had thrown the ring away. “Oh!” she cried, and there was suddens anguish in her heart, “I didn't mean It! We must find it—at once.” “I don’t care for it,” he said, stubbornly. “Life has mighty little now to make—” t “Silly!” she cried. “Help me—immediately.” He couldn’t let her go alone, with night coming on, so, after proper reluctance, he followed. In the eagerness of searching all her anger melted. It took a long time, but finally he stooped quickly, and, exclaiming, Here it is!" held up the diamond ring. What happened in the next hour is nobody’s business except their own. The human, masculine part of the story was disclosed to his bosom friend late that night in the quiet of their room. "Had it in my pocket all the time,” he said. “Threw a quarter down the street. And, dad bling it, I didn’t find it, either!” But it did the work.—Kansas City Times.