A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. Her lips were apart, but no breath seemed to issue from them; and, but for a slight—very slight palpitation of the bosom, the vital principle might be supposed to be extinct. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. She moaned as she touched him. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. I like such interviews.
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