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By Virginia T Van De Water. CHAPTER XXVITI S UMMER slipped into autumn, autumn faded Into winter, the life In the Middlebrook tag* continued on I nous way. One Woman s Story tl r \' [ ] | ' TUNNEL GREATEST STORY OF ITS KIND SINCE JULES VERNE go The Engaged Girl „ . _ . . ... . ■ ■ — ■ ■ i.mm... you cou id always find time for m*— the German nt B«rr\n«rd K<v.*rmani»— p- " ■ if and anr~ cot- rhat monoto- Fletcher knew few of for, alth h several of her. she did her neigh b the village] not return their visit, She found th»m | likely to t?< t t to be kind Kood-natured people, but | the meantime those with whom she was brought Into contact had tastes and manners entire ly different from fiers. It was now that she appreciated for the first time that In marrying a man on a lower plane of education, breeding and refinement from herself, she was cutting herself *>ff from the class to which she belonged. There were in Middlebrok families of culture, but none these came to see her. The men of such families, meeting Bert Fletcher on the train, found him coarse and common and took it for granted that his wife (Cup>ri4bt«d I 1913. by International TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. “No; hut sometimes our benefits are so much like impositIons that a near sighted and quick-tempered man is • two mixed up. in ill we can do Is go ahead. But don «. mistake th<* motives I of your investors. You’ve simpiy given them a new <'ff>ericn< a 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 i roar of the subway they can under stand it. Bur that doesn’t make them | like paying for rides to pay Interest Ion watered subway stock.” “Let’s go In and get one little | drink,” suggested Allan, rising with laugh. “I think you need U. Your i mental vision is obscured.” was like him, therefore never suggested “No,” returned Hives, as he. too, that their wives and daughters should , r0 se, “my mental vision Is again busy call on her and her mother. The pen- | regarding the ruins of the Tower of pie of whom Bert Fletcher would have r»JvLi »• 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 1 ke to leave her mother alone. Moreover she herself was not well and shrank from making new acquaintance*. Early Breakfast. 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 own morning repast after Bert had started for his train. He was a h«avy sleeper, and awakening him at 6 o’clock on a winter’s morning was not an easy task He usually lay abed so late that he had time to gulp down only a hasty breakfast before leaving the 'house. Under these conditions the wife could not cat w.th him. and he did not cgoBt 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 Mown of the furnace to his wif« , and, as she did not demur, he got Into tiie 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 t. go to bod early,’’ and she had bunked 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, Hut only because in a country house there is much actual toil to bo 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 siie was afraid to wonder what he was doing and if h»« breath smelt again of 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 pelf, and then his wife tried to love him. Hhe made herself consider his good traits, and to talk of them witli her m< tlier When her mother-in-law came out at Christmas to make a visit, Mary played her part so well that the preju diced matron remarked to Bert that pe'haps. 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 ly woman on your hands, make her take care of herself " Herbert Fletcher laughed comforta bly “Oh, don’t you bother about her, ma," he said. “She never complains, and she would if she was sick. Besides, she don't work near as hard as she did be fore I married her. Then she was In Pearson’s all day, and doing housework at home morning and night a^» well.” She Did Not Answer. <4nly once did Mary venture to speak to h*r husband of the fear that gnawed at her heart. It was the day after New Year’s Mrs Fletcher. Senior, returned to town on January 1, declaring that she bad "Blood the lonesomeness of the country” as long as she could. Bert had esei rted her back to New York, stating 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 heavt eyes that ne bad been up late the night before, and noted that them n* re still 11 e fumes <*t' stale to bacco on hit. breath. Bhe said nothing about the matter, however, until, the noon meal dispatched, he threw himself on the parlor sofa to read the Sunday papers. Then he held out his hand to her “Sit here by me. why don’t you, Ma mie? Perhaps the smell of my pipe nkes you sick, does it?” he T A Crisis. ">HAT same afternoon Maud Allon had a somewhat casual visitor, an occurrence that might have hgd strange results if Destiny had not at once begun to move in the great tunnel drama with inconceivable sud denness. The visitor was Ethel Lloyd. There no reason why she should not called on M s. Allan at the Tun- !ty. excepting that she had not ao for several was hav< nel < done >ars A>*o, 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 gave either une of th« rn -but she did all of these :hings. Mrs. Allan was somewhat flustered j at first herself w hen the caller was I announced, but she received the girl with sweet cordiality. Hhe had Just J 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 lie. Allan, had just been (ailed to Montreal “It has been a long time since I have seen you," site said, as 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 aub-conscious suspicion leap into a conscious certainty. "Yes." the girl was saying, cajmly, "papa has given me most of tHe de- I 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." "Mine7’’ Mrs. Allen smiled a little vaguely. "Yes. I've heard so much about your model hospital and kindergarten and all the rp-t of it for the working people here. You know. I’m greatly interested in that sort of work, too, 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 sec' j the hospital ami recreation building If Mrs Allan could spare the time to guide her. This was safe ground, and the two women passed an interesting hour on an 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. Maud Allan and Jack Rives, tw<o human beings to whom what was, perhaps, the inevitable, had happened. WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE “N , unfortunately," replied Mrs. Allan, with regret. “He te Solicitude for her welfare was not fre- 1 ephoned just at court with him these* days, and his that he had been suddenly called to kindly inquiry touched the unhappy Montr» r. 1. I w as expecting him this woman. Hi e came to him swiftly, and, evening.” hair up to the edge of the “That’s too bn< >-«« ernhurrasacd'y, | i.loycl. sympatli.nl you canto | " f n ame up he greetc hand lightly with drawing sofa. spoke eager touching i'is hug trembling fingers. “Bert. she began gently. “I don’t mind the smell of tobacco. But lately - i have worried Bert worried, dear be v. h like mio frit Tv. pre * ■ Hi on: breath smells often of | iky. and 1 h..ve been afraid ■v husband threw back his head with •isterous laugh. "Little goose!" he dined. "Have you let a silly thing' that worry you? Look her, Ma- : I do take a glass of liquor w ith & I id sometimes, but it don't hurt me. been doing it for years, and I don't icse to stop it now. see**’’ wife did not answ er, and he went don't know life, and you don't *e. If you did you would under hat business demands that I treat now and then, and drink with >, if I would rot seem like a ate And, child,” becoming se rious as he saw her anxious fare, "1 never take a drop too much, so don’t let’s talk about the matter I'm knew rtaii him, tr free, white find a got and 1 don't need mam you Moreover," sett it .»tubbornlyr “I don't t from anv woman I>< i won’t be bosseu!” There wavs past 21. pment, even by his square Jaw an to stand it forget that. I «»f her forget- th fact, the wile mused bitterly. ’ exclaimed Miss Uy. "How is he?" Very well, 1 think, but badly over worked. Sometimes he is unable tc come home for even a few hours for weeks together. My only fear is that he will break down under it. He ha* kept this up for years, but he thinks that the work will be lighter from now on." Miss Lloyd shook her head as nnt who longs to be optimistic, but can not conscientiously. Her wonderful eyes were filled w ith concern and Mrs. Allan resented this, too. "And now he has this new worry,” said the girl. Another Lie. 4> Why Don’t You Get Rid of That Corn To=night? Where is the reason in paring, peel ing, picking and gouging at that corr when you have been at it for month.- and it hurts more than ever" V l can’t remove the whole corn that way, but you can and do endanger yourseH 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 <»wn laboratory which we have thorough!> tested and guarantee to be successful. There Is positively no pain anti no danger in method, and it will bring out an> hard or soft, completely, root and all. no matter how deep the growth. It is surest and safest corn remedy that nave ever sold. Use It to night and rid of that painful, torturing corn, c, by m«Md 22c.—(Advt.) Mrs. Allan eyed her. questioning. "I mean the financial one. You know It was understood that we would not try to raise the second $3,000,000,000 until the work was practically half completed. The ser pentine tunneling at Bermuda ate up such an awful lot mor* than was ex pected that it won’t be possible it finish more than a quarter of the on I tire work on the first subscription I and Mr. Allan is trying to figure out) how he can make the showing s i good as possible. But, of course, yj i know about it.” she broke off. “I knew something of It,” lied Mrs. 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 tins particular count when her visitor was gone. It was natural that Mac shoul 1 j talk over many business things with j Lloyd’s daughter, matters that he had ! no time for In the few softer mo- | ments of h!s visits home. But w/iile the intimacy between her husbanl and Miss Lloyd might have been, and might still be, all business on his side, I Maud Allan knew that there was t something beside business in Miss j Lloyd's attitude toward her husbanl. > Was this also true of him? She asked the question with a calm- j ness that startled her. Was this the j reason that he did not find or make j time for more frequent trips to Tun- ' nel City? Something gripped her tight—something at her heart—when j the thought came; but she was shocked to find that It did not bring j the desolation she would have been | sure would have followed. She had j leaped to arms instinctively when she divined Mis< Lloyd’«s attachment for' her husband but how much of h“r readiness to do battle was prompted by pride and the right of possession? Was it true that he had grown a wav from her and toward this wonderful and masterful young woman in those years 0 And, more amazing, was it possible that she had ceased to re gard him as the mainspring of her life? Possibly it wAs Iri nil that long afternoon in which she struggled with new and strange thoughts she did not once consciously recall to herself the fact that Mac was the Edith, and when Rives the steps In the twilight 1 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 bis thoughts were far a wav from it His thoughts were not altogether unpleasant, but he, too. was undergoing a cu ss 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 that what we have secretly desired to hap pen Is happening, though we have striven our hardest in our duty to prevent It. Bad News. fused and groping. Then the sense of his position came over him with a rush. "But, Maud! Maud! Mac is my best j friend in life and—look! I’ve broken 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 and surer of the two? She took his limp hand and pressed It to her cheek. “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 boy, that I’ve know It for ever so long?” “Yes, but I didn’t know’ that you knew—and that is where the hell of It lies. And there is no hell quite as hot as the one that waits for rhe man who violates the home of his friend.” She pressed his fingers hard. ‘T know, Jack, dear. I’ve thought about this—I know how you feel. But this is different. I wonder if that cooe 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 tn 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 wronr. but I have not loved him for a long time.” “But, Maud,V 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 admits 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 fo-night, dearest,’ he said patheti cally, and he rosie 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 w’avy hair, and she suddenly took it In her hands and kissed It. “Good-bye—till to-morrow’,” she w’hispered, "and take good care of ( yourself." me and—I let you stay. If I had been She stood at the head of the steps as clever with myself as I was with and watched him until his white fig- W The story opens with Rives, who Is in charge of the technical work ings of the great tunnel from America to Germany, on one of the tunnel trains, with Bacrmann, an engineer. In charge of Main Station No. 4. They are traveling at the rate of 118 miles an hour. Rives is in love wfith Maude Allan, wife of Mackendrlck Allan, whose mind first conceived the great tunnel scheme. After going about 250 miles under the Atlantic Ocean Hives gets out of the train. Suddenly the tunnel seems to burst. There is a frightful explosion. Men are flung to death and Rives is badly wounded. He staggers thn tig!* the blinding sm/)ke, realizing that about 3,000 men have probably perished. He and oher survivors get to Station No. 4. Hives finds Baermann holding at bay a wild mob of frantic men who want to climb on a work train, .somebody shoots Baermann, and the train slides out. Tht scene is then changed to the roof of the Hotel Atlantic. The greatest financiers of the country are gathered there at a summons from C. H. LInvd, "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. 'Hie financiers ague 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 \\ it- tersteiner, a financier. At Columbus CU< le news of the great project is being flashed «>n 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. you I would have known why. But I didn’t know—really—until to-day.” Her voice was very, very low. “Now —both of us know!” He rose 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 one ” Cast Aside. "I wonder," she said, slowly, “if I | ever loved him. I know f could have. Jack—I know\ that! But I was so ure was lost in the white background of the road. To Be Continued To-morrow. THAT shall a girl say when she receives an engagement ring? Well, now, what dot you think of a question like that? Who gave you the ring, little sis ter, and what did you think when r,% gave it to you? Do you love hmv. 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 "what isn’t done,” and who ought to speak first and who 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? When they put your first baby in your arms, how In the world will you know’ how to act unless some Mrs. 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. Wfiat 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 him to sleep. What Must You Say? What must you say when you and he stay up all night watching for tha 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 away from you and vour 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. Before the decisive battle aTTshtlb an , Ingenious method of signaling on the I part of the enemy was discovered by the Servians. A cowherd was taking young when w\ were married. I had j five cows out to pasture on a hill half- qever seen any other men, and Mac way between the two camps. He drove was SO masterful and sure of himself ! them about, sometimes two together, “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 lu iv eyet? soft. "Do you know what you look like?" H was a trill * taken aback, but ho laughed joyously to find her in a u sly ed mood. -tell me. I guess I can stand a c To Women Do Not Delay If you ure convinced that your sickness is because of some derangement or dis ease distinctly feminine, you ought at once bring to your aid light “N< It." "You look like a photograph nega tive when you hold It up to the fight,” she bubbled. He threw his hat on a table and slumped into a seat with an affecU.- tion of affront. he reproached her. playing tennis to frace and gone hat athletic color—and* fresh from a bath pected at least that "That’s nice.” “Her** I’ve been keep my pristine less to g< t a fine even now I am and a shave. I e Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription say I looked ing before a mo It acts directly on the T* organs affected and tones yj the entire system. Ask Your Druggist 2 ! you were going to young god alight damsel. Insten told I look like a dolled-up nigger," "Tin reward of foppishness." .*-d * iold him. But what is the bat! "Mac can’t get down to-nicht.” She nodded. "I knew it, ’ she In formed hiui 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 shn her in quite this mood bo- •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 Ead 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 lq^iglied 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 w’as a barely sensed tense ness as of expectancy. At last she rose and held out her hand to him w’ith a bewildering smile. ‘Tome out on the piazza,” she said. “We can have our coffee and your j cigarette out there.” Looking back and laughing like a child she led him out to the piazza | where the coffee and cigarettes were j | served. It was a wonderful night, and | • the magic of it came upon them so | that they sat long in dreamy silence, i I Out ,beyond in the white moonlight j the great white horses of the Atlantic j were racing shoreward and the swish ! of their manes and the thunder of I their charge came up to them from j the strand. The fresh salt air was j scented with perfume of sweetpeas j I that grew in the thick tangle along | | the rail. The beat and clamor x>f i the tunnel working far inland were J j 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- j pressed sigh. There was only a small low stand betw en them and their chairs faced the sea. Maud was loaning 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 was conscious of no will to move, but as if drawn by the witchery 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 came 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." -just the sort of a man to take a girl then one at a time, then three, thus H E stood for a moment in rigid silence and then suddenly sat beside her again and took her hand. "Maud—Maud,” he began. "I can’t —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 system of honorable living—had been shattered from end to end. “If there was any fault," she said, slowly and distinctly, “it was mine, Jack.” conveving Information to the Bulgarians by storm. When he proposed to me as tQ the poalt1on an<1 strength of the and 1 put him off I got a note the ; Servian battalions. next day—like a business letter—glv- ing me 24 hours to decide. That took Th « Mountaineering Club of Baber- me. But theAvoman in me never truly hauser. In the Harz Mountains, has pre loved him—it was onlv the girl's ado- I sented a diploma to Frau von Hansteln, He could only groan miserably. “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 loved him—it was only the girl’s ado ration for a strong man, He won the girl and he never thought it neces sary to win the woman." “Do you mean ” he began won- aeringly. "I mean, my dear boy, that the love of the woman was cast aside for the honor of digging a bigger hole than anyone had ever dug before,” she said, without bitterness. “Please- don’t think I am spiteful or small or ungenerous. I glory in Mac’s achieve- I ments and am proud of his greatness, i I told you that one night when we rode up the Lakewood road. But a j man doesn’t win and hold the love of a woman 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- i els. Y r ou know and I know that Mac ! would have built this tunnel no mat ter whether he had ever seen me or j 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 imagine yourself building a skyscraper at Rio 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 awav : from here when it would have be n easier for you to stay a week—but you have come back. sometimes j every night, at the cost of sleep an 1 ! rest and comfort to have an hour with me. Your work Is just as im portant to you as Mac’s to him—bit a 75-year-old lady, who last month made her sixtieth ascent of the loftiest peak of the range, a snow-clad crest 4,000 feet high. TTiree nuns have Just left Montreal to spend the remainder of their lives in the leper colony at Sheeklung Island, near Canton All three are only a little more i than twenty years of age. For a time, i at all events, they will be the only nuns i to care and tend for four hundred Chi nese women suffering from the awful i disease of leprosy, and a separate hos- 1 pital has been erected for them by i Father CoYirardy and his few assistanta Who Was? L/lttle Biffins—Jolly party that at the Highflyers last night. Is It true you were 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? The Best Food-Orink Lunch at Fountains W 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. Purenutrition.upbuildingthewholebody. Keep it on your sideboard at home. Invigorates nursing mothers and the aged. A quick lunch prepared <n a minute. Funeral Designs and Flowers FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Atlanta Floral Company 455 EAST FAIR STREET. As Easy To Keep The Hair From Turning Gray As To Keep The Scaip Clean of which I am j of her eyos, his hand crept out slow ly and closo<t over thfi.-*t«nder fingers of her own. She made no move un less it was to sway, ever so slightly, toward hrm. Nearer and nearer she came, unresisting like a flower bend- KINKY KAIK STRAIGHT SOFT AN’a SILKY Don’t be_ fooled by using some fake preparation which claims to straighten your hair. Kinky hair can not be made straight You are Just fooling yourself YVVJ.you bavo te have hair before you can straighten it. Now this EXEL- ^ IMNE POMADE is a Hair Grower which feeds the scalp and roots or the hair and makes hair grow very fcst and you soon can see the results after using several times it is a wonderful hair grower. It cleans dandruff and stops falling hair at once It itaves harsh, stubborn, nappy looking hair S' ft and silky, and you can fix up your hair the way you want ft. We give money hack if it doesn’t do the way we claim. Try a box. Price 25 cents by all druggists or A 0 enta Wanted Everywhere. Write for particulars to-day. ing its head. Her feathery hair touch- ■ niall on receipt of stamps or coin. exelshto MtOicmE cokpany, ATLAMTA. m AND there Is no reason In the world ‘ * why you should hesitate to restore to vour hair its lost color and vitality, ? it is fading and turning gray, anv more than that you should foolishly refuse to use a remedy for dandruff or any other scalp trouble. Sickness, nervousness. Impoverished blood or deficient scalp nutrition may cause premature graynese; sometimes it Is inherited. whatever the cause, gray hair adds from 10 to 20 years to the age. and a young woman, even 26 or 30, with very gray hair Is passed as old. Roblnnalre Hair Dye is a pure tonic restorative to bring back to faded or *iay nair us own original evior and lost beauty It is not to bleach cr change the original color, and should not be confused with such. It Is pre pared In our own laboratory from a formula we know to be beneficial, and we guarantee it to be non-injtirious. It keeps the hair soft, lustrous a no in its beautiful, natural color, and as ft doe3 not stain The scalp oar.not be detected. Prepared for light, medium and dark brown and black hair and is for sale at druggists and toilet gords departments. 76c. By parcel post. 33c. Send us the name of your druggist ! f he cannot supply you, and we will send you FR€E samples of the famous Wbblnnalre Face Powder and Rose Cold Cream. Jacobs’ Tharmacj Co. # Atlanta Ci a.