Page:Frank Owen - The Actress.djvu/114

98 such moments he would forget his dirty, filthy rags, for in the eyes of this lovely vision he was a prince. Such was the dream of the old Syrian, whom some pitied, others laughed at, and a few dismissed with the simple statement that he was mad. But as for myself, when I heard of the old Syrian, I envied his wonderful dreams. But the people in the city I pitied, the people who lacked romance, and could not understand." He leaned down and took her hand in his. "But now," he continued, looking into her eyes, "I no longer envy the old Syrian, for I, too, have found my dream-girl."

She looked into his face, and as she did so she involuntarily shrank back. She also had been thinking of a honeymoon spent in the desert, but she had been thinking not of Roger Patterson, but of herself and Barney Creighton. When she realized this she was angry with herself, angry that such an idea had even entered her mind. She was engaged to Roger Patterson. Barney Creighton was a thing of the past. To change the trend of her thoughts, she leaned toward Roger.

"Tell the chauffeur to drive fast," she urged lightly. "I feel as though I would like to fly."

Obedient to her wish, Roger directed the chauffeur to increase the speed. And he did. The car shot forward as though it were trying to overtake Barney Oldfield. On over the country it tore like a thing possessed. Up hill and down dale, on and on it sped. Once it almost tipped into a lake, and Roger Patterson's heart jumped into his throat.