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One Woman’s Story By Virginia T. Van De Water. s CHAPTER XXVIII JMMER slipper into autumn, and autumn faded into winter, and the life In the Middlebrook cot tage continued on its somewhat monoto nous waj Mary Fletcher knew few of her neighbors, for, although several of the villagers called to see her. she did not return their visits She found them to be kind, good-natured people, but those with whom she was brought into contact had tastes and manners entire ly different from hers. It was now that she appreciated for the first time that in marrying a man ©n a lower plane of education, breeding and refinement cutting <8 THE TUNNEL GREATEST STORY OF ITS KIND SINCE TULES VERNE iTmtr tht • of IfllaH K«UOTMaa - Oemin Copyrifht#d. 1*1 S by a y^rber Vfrlat. ■•din. hnfliith tmnslatlna «nd i miTlt'Mi by _ (Copyrighted. 1*18. by Int*n>«Uo»*: TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. “No; but sometimes our benefits aro so much like impositions that a near sighted and quick-tempered man is likel) to gat hi ■ wo mixed up. in the meantime all we can do Is go ahead. But don *. mistake the motives of your investors. You've slmpiy given them a new experience—-ft new song, a song in keeping with the age. You’re digging a hole and you're go ing to make them rich. It’s like the roar of the subway—they can under stand it. But that doesn’t make them j like paying for rides to pay interest from herself, she was herself off from the class which she belonged There were in i on watered subway stock.’’ kiiddlebrok families of culture, but none go In and get one little .‘uriTiSnfflr ™eVh™ nn | Allan rtMn, with, t);e train, found him coarse and common laugh. I think you n d It. Your and took it for granted that his wife | mental vision Is obscured, was like him, therefor© never suggested that their wives and daughters should cail on her and her mother. The peo ple of whom Bert Fletcher would have made friends considered his wife "stiff and haughty Mary went out little, for her household duties kept her at home much of the time and she did not like to leave her mother alone. Moreover phe herself was not well and shrank from making new acquaintances. Early Breakfast. “No,” returned Rives, ns he, too, rose, “my mental vision is again busy regarding the ruins of the Tower of Babel.” T So one day was much like another to the young wife Each morning she pre pared her husband's early breakfast, then cooked her mother's breakfast, tak ing her <>wn morning repast after Bert bad started for his train He was a heav) sleeper, and awakening him at 6 o'clock on a winter’s morning whs not an easy task. He usually lay abed so late that he had time to gulp down only a hasty breakfast before leaving the bouse 1’nder these conditions the wife could not ear with him. and he did not ^ ggost that she do so, but seemed very willing to have her wait upon him, bringing him his cereal, egg bread and coffee as he was ready for them. When the furnace fire was started at the beginning of the cold weather Bert bad attended to It morning and night Boon, however, he detailed the morning shaking down of the furnace to ids wife, and, as she did not demur, he got into the habit of letting her perform this work. Several times lately he had come home at night with his breath smelling of liquor, and on these oc casions Mary had advised him timidly to go to bed early.'' an«i she had banked the fires for the night and. when necessary, pumped the water into the tank for use in kitchen and bathroom. in the hours between her husband’s leaving and returning home, Mary toiled, not only because in a country house there is much actual toil to he per formed. but to keep herself from think ing Sometimes Bert remained in town all night, and she was conscious of a sense of relief when he did this, even while she was afraid to wonder what lie whs doing and if his breath smelt again ©f whisky Her father had never cared for liquor In any form and she had the horror of drunkenness felt by women who have known only temperate men. It seemed to her as if a dark shadow were creeping stealthily into her life, but she feared to face it. There were days when Burt would ap pear as his good natured, clear-headed eelf. and then his wife tried to love him. Bhe made herself consider his good traits, and to talk of them with her mother. When her mother-in-law came out ftt Chrlfttmftft to make ft Visit, M«ny played her part so well that the preju diced matron remarked to Bert that perhaps, after all, he had "picked a bet ter wife" than she had at first feared "But she ain't very strong. Bert," she warned him “If you don't want a sick 1> woman on your hands, make her take car e of herself " Herbert Fletcher laughed comforta bly "Oh, don't you bother about her, ma.” be said "She never complains, and she would if she was sick. Besides, she civ n’t work near as hard as she did be fore I married her. Then she was in 1‘earson’s all day. and doing housework hi home morning and night as well.” Bhe Did Not Answer. Only once did Mary venture to speak to her husband of the fear that gnawed & her heart It was the da> after New Year's Mrs Fletcher. Senior, returned To town on January 1. declaring that she had “stood the lonesomeness of the country" as long as she could. Bert bad escorted her back to New York, staling his intention of staying in town that night Mary took it for granted that he would dine with his mother, but when, the next day Sunday he came out on the morning train, she saw by his heav> eyes that he had been up lute the night before, ami noted that there were still the fumes of stale to bacco on his breath. She said nothing about the matter, however, until, the lioon meal dispatched, he threw himself on the parlor sofa to read the Sunday { mipars Than he held out hla hand to ter. "Sit here by me. why don't you, Ma mie? Perhaps the smell of my pipe makes you sick, does it?” he asked. Solicitude for her welfare was not fre quent with him these days, and his kindly inquiry touched the unhappy woman. She came to him swiftly, and, drawing a chair up to the edge of the sofa, spoke eagerly, yet embarrassedly. touching his huge hand lightly with trembling Angers "Bert," she began gently, "I don't mind the smell of tobacco But lately - I have w orrled Ben won let deal because your breath smells often of whisky, and I have been afraid —" Her husband threw back his head w ith a boisterous laugh. "Little goose!" he exclaimed "Have you let a silly thing like that worry you? Look her. Ma mie. I do take a glass of liquor with a friend sometimes, but it don’t hurt me I’ve been doing it for years, and I don’t propose to stop it now. see?" His wife did not answer, and he went on: "You don’t know life and you don't know me If you did you would under stand that business demands that I treat a chap row and then, and drink with him, too, if 1 would not seem like a cheap skate. And, child," becoming se rious as he saw her anxious face. "1 never take a drop too much, so don’t let's talk about the matter "~*tir I'm free, white and a good ways past 21, and 1 don’t need management, even by you Moreover," setting his square jaw stubbornly. “I don’t mean to stand it from any woman Don't forget that I won't be bossed'" There was no danger of her forget ting the fact, the wife mused bitterly A Crisis. ~>FTAT same afternoon Matid Allan had a somewhat casual visitor, an occurrence that might have had strange results if I>est1ny had not at once begun to move in the great tunnel drama with Inconceivable sud denness. The visitor was Fthel Lloyd. There was no reason why she should not have called on A* e. Allan at the Tun nel City, excepting that she had not done .«*> for several years Also, there was no reason why she should have two several and distinct ex-.uses. And, furthermore, there was no occasion for her to blush when she g.1vo either one of them but she did all of these things. Mrs. Allan was somewhat flustered at first herself when the caller was announced, but she received the girl with sweet cordiality. Bhe had Just been talking to her husband over the telephone, and possibly this had some thing to do with it. He told her Rives was on his way down to Tunnel City and that he. Allan, had Just been called to Montreal. -it has been a long time sine*- l have seen you." she said, ns she pressed the girl’s face and looked into the lovely face "Yes,” said Miss Lloyd, "I have never been so busy. Papa gives me more and more to do all the time, and It seems to me I have hardly breathed for a year." “Mr. Allan tells me he sees you occasionally." Their glances flickered and crossed for an instant, and Maud felt a long- formed sub-conscious suspicion leap Into a conscious certainty. “Yes,” the girl was saying, calmly, "papa has given me most of the de tail of the tunnel work to handle. But " she smiled like a child, “I didn’t come to talk about my work— I want to see yours.” “Mine?” Mrs. Allen smiled a little vaguely. “Yes I've heard so much about your model hospital and kindergarten and all the rest of it for the working people here. You know. I’m greatly interested in that sort of work, loo, In my leisure time." A Peculiar Tone. Mrs. Allan felt that the tone some what belittled the great humanitarian work she had carried on in the Tun nel City, and resented It; but she smiled as little Edith trotted out onto the veranda where they were sitting. “I can give it only my leisure time, too,” she said. “This is my real work ' Miss Lloyd cooed over the child In the most approved fashion, and then suggested that she would love to see the hospital and recreation building If Mrs Allan could sjjare the time to guide her. This was safe ground, and the two women passed un interesting hour on nn Inspection tour, in the course of which Miss Lloyd insisted that she be allowed to complete the somewhat Inadequate library. "Mr. Allan is not here?” she in quired. with just faint suggestion of an effort to be natural. They had re turned to the house and she was pre paring to make her adieu. { TT unfortunatel; Allan, with r< Maud Allan and Jack Rives, twx> human beings to whom what was, perhaps, the inevitable, had happened. Why Don’t You Get Rid of That Corn To=night? ■Where Is the reason in paring, peel Ing. picking and gouging at that corn, when you have been at it for months and it hurts more than ever? You can’t remove the whole corn that way. but you can and do endanger yourself to blood poisoning Yes. many deaths have resulted from a careless slip of the blade and an irritated, bleeding corn Jacobs' Magic Corn Liquid is a scien tific formula from our own laboratory which we have thoroughly tested and guarantee tc be successful. There i- positively no pain and no danger in vNis method, and it will bring out any hard or soft, completely, root and Hfc.' sold I'se it to-night and I of mat painful, torturing corn mail 22c.—(Advt.) ly,” replied Mrs. regret. "He tel ephoned Just a« you came that he had been suddenly called to Montreal. I was expecting him this evening.” “That's too bad!” exclaimed Ml Lloyd, sympathetically. "How is he?” "Very well, 1 think, but badly over worked. Sometimes he is unable to come home for even a few hours for weeks together My only fear Is that he will break down under It. He has kept this up for years, but he thinks that the work will be lighter from now on." Miss Lloyd shook her head as one who longs to be optimistic, but can not conscientiously Her wonderful eyes were tilled with concern and Mrs. Allan resented this, too. “And now he has this new* worry,” said the girl. Another Lie. Mrs. Allan eyed her, questioning. "I mean the financial one. You know It was understood that we would not try to raise the second 53,000,000,000 until the work was practically half completed. The ser pentine tunneling at Bermuda ate up such an awful lot more than was ex pected that it won’t be possible to finish more than a quarter of the en tire work on the first subscription, and Mr Allan is trying to figure out how he can make the showing s good as possible. But, of course, yon know about it." she broke off “1 knew something of it." lied Mrs. 2 To Women E Do Not Delay £ If you are convinced that £ 3 your aickneaa is because of 3 £ some derangement or din “ ease distinctly feroinin* SI you ought at once bri»g 3 £ to your aid 3 Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription £ It acta directly on the SI ZZ organs affected and tones £ 3 the tpitire system. 3 3 Asa Your Druggist £ Allan, and she was angry because she knew’ that Miss Lloyd could tell she was lying. There was no reason for her re sentment, she told herself, on this particular count when her visitor was gone. It was natural that Mac shot! li talk over many business things with Lloyd’s daughter, matters that he had no time for in the few softer mo ments of his visits home. But w^hile the intimacy between her husband and Miss Lloyd might have been, and might still be, all business on his side, Maud Allan knew that there was something beside business in Miss Lloyd's attitude toward her husband. Was this also true of him? She asked the question with a calm ness that startled her. Was this the reason that he did not find or mnko time for more frequent trips to Tun nel City? Something gripped her tight—something at her heart—when the thought came; hut she was shocked to find that it did not bring the desolation she would have been I sure would have followed. She had j leaped to arms instinctively when she j divined Miss Lloyd’s attachment for her husband—but how much of her readiness to do battle was prompted by pride and the right of possession? Was It true that he had groAn awnv from her and toward this wonderful and masterful young woman in these years? And, more amazing, was it possible that she had ceased to re gard him as the mainspring of her life? Possibly it was. In all that long afternoon in which she struggled with new and strange thoughts she did not once consciously recall to herself the fact that Mae was tile father of Edith. and when Rives came up the steps in the twilight she greeted him in a sudden warmth of feeling she had never known be fore. It had not been a very pleasant afternoon for Rives. He had hur ried to his office where he had sat for an hour gazing at the piles of work before him, and his thoughts were far awtyy from it His thoughts were not altogether unpleasant, but he, too, was undergoing a cross ex amination at the hands of himself He came out of it well, he t< Id himself, but Conscience still kept step with him. He had a sternly re pressed feeling of Joy. a feeling that a man forbids himself to recognize. It arises from the knowledge l hat what we have secretly desired to hap pen is happening, though we have striven our hardest in our duty to prevent it. Bad News. "I have had news for you. Maud,” he said, as he came up the steps. She smiled at him—easy-moving, sun-blackened and handsome, and dressed in white from collar to shoes. "Have you?” Her tone was light and here eyes soft 'Do you know what you look like?” He was a trifle talcen aback, but he laughed Joyously to find her in a light-hearted mood. "No—tell me. I guess I can stand It.” "You look like a photograph nega- I tlve when you hold It up to the light." she bubbled. He threw his hat on a tabl^ and | slumped into a seat with an affecU.- tion of affront, "That’s nice," he reproached her. J "Hore I've been playing tennis to V-r-p .i:v pristine grace and gone hat j less to get a fine, athletic color—and even now I am fresh from a hath and a shave. I expected at ieast that you were going to say I looked like oung god alighting before a mo~- damsel. Instead of which I am told I look like a dolled-up nigger." "The reward of foppishness. ' she told him. But what is the bad news?” "Mac can’t get down ♦o-nigbl.” ' She nodded. “I knew it,' the in- WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE The story opens with Rives, who is In charge of the teehnlcaJ work ings of the great tunnel from America to Germany, on one of the tunnel trains with baermann, an engineer, in charge of Main Station No 4 They are traveling at the rate of 11* miles an hour. Rives is in love with Maude Allan, wife of Maokendrlck Allan, whose mind first conceived the great tunnel scheme After going about 250 miles under the Atlantic Ocean Rives gets out of th<* train. Suddenly the tunnel seems to burst. ’J here is a frightful explosion. Men are flung to death and Rives is badly wounded. He staggers through the blinding smoke, realizing that about 3.000 men have probablv perished. He and oher survivors get to Station No. 4. Rives finds Baermann holding at bay a wild mob of frantic men who want to climb .qi u work train, homebody shoots Baermann, and the train slides out. The scene is then changed to the roof of the Hotel Atlantic. The greatest financiers ol the country are gathered there at a summons from C. H. Uoy<], "The Money King " John Rives addresses them, and introduces Al lan Mrs Allan and Maude Lloyd, daughter of the financier, are also pres ent Allan tells the company of his project for a tunnel 3.100 miles long. The financiers agree to hack him Allan and Rives want him to take charge of the actual work. Rives accepts. Rives goes to the Park Club to meet v\ it- tersteiner. a financier At Columbus Circle news of the great project Is being flashed on a screen. Thousands are watching It. Mrs, Allan becomes a lonely and neglected woman and Is much thrown In the company of Rives. Sydney Wolf, the money power of two continents, plots against Allan and Rives. Now Go On With the Story. formed him gravely. "He telephoned this afternoon. He has been called to Montreal.” "To Montreal?” “That’s what he said.” "Hm! Oh, yes, —that Canadian steel. Well, that won’t take him long." "I hope not. In the meantime, we needn’t wait dinner until he gets back.” Rives smiled hack at her as they went into the dining room, but his smile was a little puzzled. He had never seen her in quite this mood be fore. It was not her custom to take disappointment in the matter of Mac’s visit in this seeming off-handed way. But his heart leaped as he told him self he had never seen her so lovely, so alluring. A Bad Meal. It was a mad sort of meal. Maud, In some filmy white dress, sat across the table from him and laughed and talked in light-hearted abandon. There was softness in her eyes as she looked at him, a softness in her sil ver voice as she laughed at him and softness in her fine-spun hair in the mellow light—and all of it went to his head like wine. And through all of it there was a barely sensed tense- ness as of expectancy. At last she rose and held out her hand to him with a bewildering smile. "Come out on the piazza." she said. "We can have our coffee and your cigarette out there.” Looking back and laughing like ed his face and—their lips met. "Maud! Maud! Maud!” he whisper ed brokenly and her head rested lightly on his shoulder. Then suddenly he almost pushed her from him and sprang up. "My God!” he exclaimed. The Reaction. Maud sat with her head bowed and he could not see her face. His head was whirling and there was singing in his ears. He could not seem to grasp that that which had happened had happened, and when realization cam e it brought with it a stab of an guish. “Now—I’ve done it!” he exclaimed in a low voice. “Maud—Maud—can you ever forgive me?” The pain in his voice rather than the question made her look up at him. Her own voice was low and steady. "There is nothing to forgive on your side.” you could always find time for me— because you loved me!” He was silent for a moment, con fused and groping. Then the sense of his position came over him with a rush. "But, Maud! Maud! Mac is my best friend in life And—look! I’ve broktn every line of decency, of honor. of ” He filled the hiatus with a groan. A Woman’s Story. "I understand, dear,” said the wom- | an. Why is it that at a time like this a woman Is so much the older I and surer of the two? She took his limp hand and pressed it to her chock. “But you couldn’t help It, could you ?” "No,” he groaned. *T couldn’t he'p loving you, dearest—God knows! But I could help the—your knowing it— this way.” She laughed a little low, tremulous laugh. "Haven’t I told you, my big honest hoy, that I’ve know it for ever so long?” "Yes, but I didn’t know that you kneiy—and that is where the hell of It lies. And there is no hell quite as hot aa the one that waits for *he man who violates the home of his friend.” She pressed his fingers hard. ”1 know, Jack, dear. I’ve thought about this—I know how you feel. But this is different. I wonder if that coce was invented by men so that they might neglect their wives with im punity? A man's wife ought to be the biggest thing in his life, and no one has a right to tamper with the big gest thing in anyone’s life. But I am not the biggest thing in Mac’s life. He would feel less the wrecking of his home than the wrecking of his tunnel. If I loved him In spite of it. this would be all wrong but I have not loved him for a long time.” "But, Maud,” he protested, aghast, as the future opened before him. “What can we do? I can’t go to Mac and tell hint ill this. Ah—I don’t see what else I can do and hold any semblance of honor.” “The trouble about ‘honor,’ Jack,” she said, gently, “is that it admlte of too many definitions—all of them made by men. Do you think it *s honorable—or even moral—for a woman to hold the place and position of a wife when she no longer has for a man the attachment that should accompany that position?” Rives shook his head and groaned again. “I can’t think—I can't think about it to-night, dearest, ’ he said patheti cally, and he rose to go. ”I've got to go down to the end of the workings to-night—should have gone there earlier. I’ll see you to-morrow, and by that time we'll have it thrashed out. Good-bye—and God bless you!” He took both of her hands In his and, stooping, kissed them. She watched, with that soft light in her eyes, the bowed head, with its wavy hair, and she suddenly took it in her hands and kissed it. “Good-bye—till to-morrow,” she whispered, “and take good care of yourself.” | me anc j—| | e t you stay. If I had been She stood at the head of the artepe as clever with myself as I was with and watched him until his white flg- I you I would have known why. But I j tire was lost In the white background didn’t know—really—until to-day.” < of the road. Her voice was very, very low. “Now —both of us know!” To Be Continued To-morrow. He ro3e and stood before her, look- — ing down. “And I never dreamed that _____ you guessed I—oh, Maud! I believed that you never thought of anyone but Mac—that you never loved any- CcLst Aside , _ ! Before the decisive battle aTTshtlb an "I wonder ” she said, slowly, If I j (ngren i ous method of signaling on the | ever loved him. I know’ I could have, part of the enemy was discovered by j Jack—I know that! But I was bo j the Servians. A cowherd was taking j young when w r e were married. I had ■ five cows out to pasture on a hill half- never seen any other men, and Mac , way between the two camps. He drove was so masterful and sure of himself ■ —Just the sort of a plan to take a girl by storm. When he proposed to me and I put him off I got a note the next day—like a business letter—glv- I lng me 24 hours to decide. That took j 1 he Engaged Girl Do You Know— By FRANCES L. GARSIDE, W HAT shall a girl say when she receives an engagement ring? Well, now\ what dm you think of a question like that? Who gave you the ring, little sis ter, and w’hat did you think wnen n«> gave it to you? Do you love htrr H were you so happy you could scarce ly breathe? Well, then, why didn’t you say so, and be done with it? What shall you say, how shall you act; is this proper; is that right? The heart is the best Judge when it comes to things like this. Is Your Heart Frozen? What have you done to your heart —frozen it up solid, reading a lot of stuff about what Is “the proper thing” and “w’hat isn’t done,” and who ought to speak first and w'ho must never, never say a word though the whole world be hanging in the bal ance? Etiquette—what etiquette is there \ about being engaged? What do you think you'll do when you come to die—ask some one to read an etiquette book to tell you how' to shut your eyes and bid fare well to this vain world? W r hen they put your first baby in your arms, how in the world will you know' how to act unlees some Mrs. j Grundy is there to tell you? What! Shocking! Oh, yes, of course, babies are dreadfully shock ing, aren’t they, and so is life and so Is death and so is love and so are lots and lots of things, but they are real Just the same. And so, why don’t you meet them like a real wo man and not like some little, painted, Jointed doll that has to wait till you pinch her even to say "Mamma” or “Papa” in her squeaky little artificial voice. What must you say when he gives you the ring, dear heart, what must you say when he’s sick and wants you to hold his hand and make him something good to eat and pull down the shade and make the room comfy and read him something to send hint to sleep. What Must You Say? What must you say when you and he stay up all night watching for the dawn to tell you whether she’s going to live or not?—the little girl you both love so dearly. What must you do when somebody tries to take him aw*ay from you and your heart is breaking and you don’t really know whether he cares or not? What are you, little sister, any how; a girl—a real live girl—or Just a make believe, cut-out of some fashion paper with bits of feet that couldn’t walk an honest step to save anybody’s life and tiny hands that couldn’t put a biscuit into shape if the fate of a nation depended on it? What must you say?—why, say what you think, say what you feel, say what you mean—and stop think ing about it, that’s all. •* Who Waa? Little Biffins—Jolly party that at the Highflyers last night. Is It true you w’ere the only sober man in the room after I left? His Reverence (shocked)—No, cer tainly not! Little Biffins (innocently) — By Jove, you don’t mean that? Who was then? them about, sometimes two together, then one at a time, then three, thus conveying information to the Bulgarians aa to the position and strength of the Servian battalions. H -Maud,” he began. ”1 can’t E stood for a moment in rigid silence and then suddenly sat beside her again and took her hand. "Maud —I don’t /* “Don’t try, Jack.” she Interrupted gravely. “It wasn’t your fault.” “But it was—it was!” he cried, dropping her fingers and clutching his hair with both hands. His “code”— his The Mountaineering Club of Baber- But the woman in me never truly j hauser, in the Harz Mountains, has pre loved him—it was only the girl’s ado- sented a diploma to Frau von Hansteln, ration for a strong man. He won the a 75-year-old lady, who last month girl and he never thought it neces- made her sixtieth ascent of the loftiest sary to win the woman.’’ peak of the range, a snow'-clad crest “Do you mean ” he began won- 4 qqq feet deringly. ! ’ “I mean, my dear boy, that the TRre© nuns have Just left Montreal to love of the woman was cast aside for S j je nd the remainder of their lives in the the honor of digging a bigger 1 leper colony at Sheeklung Island, near than anyone had ever dug before, 1 . ... , ..... she said, without bitterness “Please , C*nUm. All three are onl> a little more don’t think I am spiteful or small or ! than twenty years of age. For a time, ungenerous. I glory in Mac’s achieve- ! at al l events, they will be the only nuns ments and am proud of his greatness. ! < i ar ® i 01 }Sf/u T . , , .i. , . 0 . 1 nese women suffering from the awful I told you that one night when we 1 <jjgease of leprosy, and a separate hoa- rode up the Lakewood road. But a , pital has been erected for them by man doesn’t win and hold the love of i Father CoYirardy and his few asslstanta a wo mail by digging remote holes in the ground.” “You don't think Mac doesn’t love you!” he exclaimed. “You know that everything he does is for you.” “Sit down. Jack.” she gently ordered him. And when he had mechanically obeyed: “That Is a very beautiful thought. It is what young girls be lieve of the man they love; but grown women know better. A man's love doesn’t find expression in steam shov els. You know ami I know that Mac would have built this tunnel no mat ter whether he had ever seen me or not. When a man says that every thing he has done is due to his wife, it is merely % beautiful compliment. The wife, if she has any sense, knows that it isn’t true. Can you lmagim The Best Food-Brink Lunch at Fountains l,ooKln B imcK ana | been shattered from end to end. ,-lnld she led him out.to the^ j • ■ ..j f th( , re , vas any fault," she said, served .t ™ wonderluI nUt. and I and .distinctly, "it was mine, !lE. "lu 'Ei'Inni’ He could only groan miserably. that they sat long in dreamy silence, Out beyond in the white moonlight the great white horses of the Atlantic were racing shoreward and the swish of their manes and the thunder of their charge came up to them from the strand. The fresh salt air was scented with perfume of sweetpeas that grew in the thick tangle along the rail. The heat and clamor of the tunnel working far inland were only a faint murmur. Rives’ gaze was out to sea. His cigarette burned down to his fingers; until, at last, he tossed It over the railing and turned to her with a sup pressed sigh There was only a small low stand between them and their chairs faced the sea. Maud was leaning her elbows on the arm of her chair, watching him. Her lips were parted in a wonderful little smile. The piazza was in shade, but there was a light in her eyes that shone through the darkness. He v.^s conscious of no will to move, but as if drawn by the witchery of her eyes, his hand crept out slow ly and closed over the slender fingers of her own. She made no move un less it wa6 to sway, ever so slightly, toward him. Nearer and nearer she yourself building a skyscraper at Rio system of honorable living—had j Janeiro as a proof of your love for me?” “Not that, exactly,” he conceded, feebly, “but ” “Let me finish,” she interrupted. “You have been nearly as busy as Mac. You have been called away from here when It would have be^n easier for you to stay a week—but "You see. dear boy,’’ she went on softly, stroking his hand with her fin gers. ‘‘I’ve known that you loved me for ever so long.” At this he straightened with a sort of gasp and stared at her. She smiled gently upon him. “Didn’t you suppose that I knew? Why, Jack, you are so open and frank and honest that I am glad that there have not been other women around here much. They would have seen it as easily as I have.” “But why—why did you let me ” Her eyes fell. “I knew you loved Insist Upon S HORLICK’S Avoid Imitations—Take No Substitute Rich milk, malted grain, in powder form. More healthful than tea or coffee For infants, invalids and growing children. Agrees with the weakest digestion. you have come back, sometimes I Pure nutrition,upbuilding the whole body. Keep it on your sideboard at home, every niirht. at the, cost of sleeyi anJ , , ja iii j rest and comfort to have an hour Invigorates nursing mothers and the aged. A quick lunch prepared m a minute. with me. Y'our work Is just as im portant to you as Mac’s to him—but Funeral Designs and Flowers FOR ALL'OCCASIONS. Atlanta Floral Company 455 EAST FAIR STREET. 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