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A Realism

A Realism image
Parent Issue
Public Domain
OCR Text

"At last we are aionel" It was the man who spoke. The woman trembled and lifttd 1 er eyea to his face. They were beautiful eyes, but they were tremulous eyes- eyes which look out from a heart which is irresolute, fearful. He stamped with his heavy foot upon the floor of the room. The echoes brought back in tlieir invisible'armsthe sound, and let it ripple out again uutil it struck the walls once more and feil into the vast void of silence. A bat, disturbed by the unusual aetivity darted from a corner and blindly dasheiĆ­ in eccentric convolutions about the dusty building. Great ropes of cobwebs hung down from the ceiling, and across the corner of the room dead flies swung lightly in the hammocks the spiders had fastened there. The dust rose in listless clouds from tha shock of the heavy footfall, andsaukaguin, overeĆ³me by its.own inertia. Even the air was resting. The spirit of the desolation scemed to pervade the place. The woman looked furtively around upon her dim surroundings and shivered. The man laughed harshly. "Alone, I said," he growled. "Yes," she murmured. A faint Iight struggled in through tba great windows in front, thick with dust. "Where ai-e we?" she whispered, and shivered as the bat dashed into her hair. "Listen," he replied hoarsely, "we are ia a store which does not advertise."


Ann Arbor Argus
Old News