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A Lesson Worth the While---Speak Litile and Well if You Care To Be Esteemed as a Real Man of Merit
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The GLEORGIANS MAGAZINE PAGRE—
Romance! Thrill! Action in
The Heart of
... Wetona -
Tony Wells Asks if the Young Wife Is Certain of Har-
L din’s Non-Appearance,
. Novelized from the Prokisan-Be-
Lu“sco production of George Scarbor
gh's play, now running at the Ly
teum rheater, New York. Copyright,
1916, Internationsl News Service,
: By ANNE LISLE.
;“NAU'MU! Nauma! Nauma!'
4 Look! See! He come! He
! come!” she eried suddenly,
for even an Indian maid feels the need
pt someone in whom to confide her joy.
And a second later Nauma was receiv
ing the little kitten (an wnnecessary
third in Wetona's love duet) and was
ptriding away Jomkly decked owt in
@ gtring of vivid beads Tony had
brought as a present to her.
Mr. Wells never undgrvalued the
. importance of having a friend a court,
And Nauma, though ugly and old and
stoop-shouldered, was to be propl
tuted after the manner of all women
wgither by being told she was beau
tiful or by beifg presented with the
wherewithal to make herself beautiful
in her own eyes! “Now! Oh, I am
%0 glad to see you, Tony! Mr. John
BAY You come soon!” i
: A Complacent Smile. ¢
" They were alone—they were to have
_ ten minutes together. Wetona had
~ mever looked sweeter or more allurinq
. than she did now, in her simple house
gown of blue—but & sudden upprehen-l
i slon seized Tony. “He said I wonm]
He doesn't know that I'm the one—-'"
~ In that moment it almost occurred
10 Mr. Wells to suspect Mr, Mnmflnl
~ and suspect him of diabolical clever.
" ness. But Wetona set him right about
~ that directly by explaining that when
~ #he had told the man who had married
her of her confidence that her own
- man would come soon he had said she
. was right.
. Tony smiled complacently. There
. was no doubt of it. He had Hardin's
~ measure, “Didn't think he was string
i“h me a while ago—-"
. “You talked to him? You tell him
It you? cried the girl, eagerly.
. "ToM him nothing—but we had a
~ niee little talk—"
. “He say make yourself at home."
! smiled shyly,
. Some little instinct of finesse made
J‘i%? feel a pecullar embarruss-
M “l 1 doan’ think he mean that
éw rved him well, und he caught Weto.
nhnmmwnm
e lips |
| “Mebbe 1 ought not to kiss you at all
;’? ‘when 1 see you there just now |
. Xiss you before 1 think—l doan’ be
- sieve 1 kiss you 'nother time. Mebbe
~ Jt.mot right tor Wetona to kiss you
% The girl made an effort to explain,
_4Be habit of doing that: she was too
394 Torced her to think—to question,
B 5 she had never before questioned.
~ And she was trying desperately to ex
mural from Wetona—what he
| Sant 1o have it. So now he brushed
L FON, well, if you feel that way M!
P out in the yard in the moon-
CUght. U 0 be dike old times.”
. Wetonn evaded him. She was far
oo loving to criticise his lack of sym
hy or of understanding with her
Mititnde. Sbe loved wit he
would not accept her nt the
Cept Smndi;g. S{)«Bad Could Not
W. hched and Burned,
to Go Anywhere,
HEALED BY CUTICURA
SOAPAND OINTMENT
: “Ringworm ;tr:t l:c:oo my face and
Ireed 10 my meck and it got almost all
. Wvermy sere. It first cume out in one Mithe
bump sad kept spreading,
‘,,"\'»_ and it got so bad 1 could oy
v S Yeep b sight. The miag
§ WORRS PN lage e o
. @ thick o they could be and
| the skin was rod and In
s fumed. They ited and
. f A Burned and the itoling wes
!’ B S e o
y Sshamed 0 g 0 sarehors
[e, B e e o o
i ' Evensvitie. Tean., July 16, 1912
: Each Free by Mall
b "“‘Mum—-'z ‘::.
was very likely to accept hig. The
girl was a strange mixture of sim
plicity and native coquetry and deep
emotion, Tony Wells had waked the
“sleeping princess,” and so inevitably
she turned to him: “No. 1 no come
in yard. 1 blow you kise?™ There!
Wetonu look at you, That joy enough
for her!”
Not Enough for Him,
It was decidedly not joy enough for
the “man, however. The sound of
music was wafted through the open
window. Over at Fort Sill there was
daneing and gayety and the strain of
& waltz was beating on the air. But
“Tony heard it only subconsclously.
‘ He was afraid that John Hardin
might not be such an utter idiot as he
seemed. Destiny may have no mes
gengers—but premonitions come to all
of us at times, and Tony was vaguely
uneasy, though he hardly knew why.
- “You're certain Hardin doesn’t sus
pect me?’ he asked at last.
“We doan’ talk about it,” replied
Wetona earnestly. “Ou, Tony, I 8o
anxious—Tl so afrald something hap
pen to you-—that people know-why‘
You not write me a letter or come be- |
fore?”
~ "Couldn’'t take any chances with a
man like Hardin,” replied Tony,
gravely. “That dance at the Post
gave me an excuse for coming to.
town today—why, they're dancing
now. We ought to be there"” |
He came closer., The music, and
the air, and the delicate perfume of
the girl's prosence were beginning to
have their way with him. “It's a
wonderful night for music and danc
ing and love,” said he,
Wetona, too, heard the waite. They
had played it the night she first met
Tony Wells. She wondered If he re
membered. Wetona did not know thag
the very danger a man like Tofiy‘
Wells has for women, iz that he does
remember. Men who have a big in
terest in life forget—but the profes
slonal love-maker, the man who lives
by the light he kindles in loving eyes
~—~he remcmbers; that is his bulu-.l
“My, but you're a little beauty!"’
wald Tony suddenly, leaning toward
her,
~ But Wetona's very nuivets made her
safe for the proment. “Yes, Wetona
Very pretty when she happy.”
In real simplicity a strong man
finds always g certain wistful quality
which makes him want to protect a
woman even from himself.
© He Thinks He Means It
“You're perfection” cried Tony
Wells. “Listen! You remember that
waltz? They played it (he night we
met at the Post.” !
~ He did remember! He loved her
a 5 much as she loved him. Suddenly
everything was right with Wetona's
‘world. No longer any question for
;m—m Tony and love. S%e rose,
and swaying to the music darted to
‘ward him. He caught her in his arms
and went on with the woolng whieh
set every note ‘n Wetona's fature vi
brating.
“AR, dear, the very instant 1 saw
You, even bafore | knew whether you
were an Indian princess or & Spanish
senorita. 1 turmed every other girl's
picture 10 the wall. Yes, and when
my army went around you a little
later in that first waltz 1 knew t(hat
[RM Great Spirit had written our
names together in the Rig Book be
yond the stars. | love you-—there's
nobody ¢lse 1n the world-—®
And with Wetena thers close in his
arme, warm and sweet and trembling
8t his embrace, Tony thought he
meant it |
“If you love some other woman 1
Yhink T sealp yoo, * ¢ o Ah! 1
only play.” For Tony was holding
her vary elose and memory stirred
within h-r;-mmm to hold her to
’M-omu his arma were pressing
th asainst his heart now. Bhe could
hear its rapid puising beat. She was
Tappy and Ner veice thrilled softly in
Tesponse to the demand he was mak -
g ber: “Ah—it's swest to Naten to
my man's love words agaln.” |
l (To Be Continued Tomeorrew.) 1
Do You Know—
m‘
In Asia fvory tusks kre only possessed
WS- G, i
The youngest geneval In the Brivsh
army is t.m ®
The human body s subject 6 some
£.009 aivorders.
. s o A ATI s
Seelang Perfection.
A famous lady violinist Is & fires be-
Tever in constant prectios. no matisr
whare she happens to be looated. She
Whs Ghoe staying In the summer st &
country place. Every morning she weat
IRFUREh her custemary sweteises. Bvery
morning a boy employed about the place
pasend her open windew and heard her
BGt o o, 2
- o
Can't yo play it yir |
Shells as Things of Beauty
m(:_l &(‘ l_l\ to Mlh#_ Have Been Put.
Part of a Shell Basket Made by the Indians of Lower California.
V. R e _
7 AN O O B TR p h ; e
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. . 5 " = T e TN Y AN X75l 3
By GARRETT P. SERVISS.
EAUTIFUL shells were among
B the first objects of adornment
for his persown and his dwelling
that were used by man, and their
forms and co'ors furnished some of
his earliest lessons in esthetic educa
ticn,
Shells were also one of the first
kinds of money. ¥For the American
Indians wampum heads made from
shells took the place of gold. The
omamental ‘uses of shells, as Mr. L.
P. Gratacap shows in the American
Museum Journal, are as curious as
they are numerous. The most strik
ing in appearance are the imitations
of flowers, although this appeals to a
very primitive taste. It is the in
genulty of the combinations and the
surprise felt that two such essentially
different natsural objects can be made
to resemble each other, that afford the
pleasure given by the sight of a bas
ket, or garland, of shell-flowers,
Petals, _®tamens, pistils, leaves,
stems, are all imitated in shell forms,
while in color 9-&- and blendings it
is questionable "whether some shelis
Are not superior to flowers. In the
\ property of iridescence the finer shells
certainly possers an advaniage over
'my vegetable substance. Pearls are
a kind of shell, formed within shel s,
}u\d they have alwags been regarded
as the most queenly of gems.
~ The Central American Indians havye
long been famous for their sxill i
making she'l flowers, and some ex
quisite specymiens of their work are to
be seen In the museum in Central
Park West. Baskets and flowers are
Facts About the Famous
LFRED CAPPER in his “Remi-
A niscences” tells the follow'ng
about Mr. Knight-Bruce, Rish
op of Mashonaland. He had becn
preaching on the famous text which
bids us (o turn the other cheek o
him who has smitten us. |
“During the following week he met
A bullying Boer farmer, who grossly
insulted him, and then smacked nim
on the face. ‘Now,' cried he to (he
Bishop, ‘turn the other cheek and I'N
smack that, too.' The Bishop meexly
ekt Ra'in 12 eot
mhu-n.bq. Then he turned
1o RO aWay, |
“'Walt & minute,” quietly m“f
the Jictle Bishop. taking off hia cont
_Fictionless Fable
T—.mmnmvm
. bonst was, “T want what | want
when | want 0"
He was alwayrs very sure of what
he wanted-and equally sure that in
the changing course of human nature
he might not want it Jong and »o had
best go after it while it meant some
thing t& him
When he arrived at the age of 22
Nis Nfe was marked by A serles ot
milestones that meant little desires
accomplished and little points gained,
But there had been so many little sat-
Isfactions in his 11fe that he had had
no time for hig ones. .
He bhad never gone hungry at the
Tunch hour and then sat down to din.
ner with added sest of starved hours
to whet his appetite.
Suddenly when he was 32 Nife
brought before him two things he
wanted, One was the love of & beau
tiful young girl and the other one a
position of great importance. To
Bave both these things &t once was
almost impossible. At last the man
waa faced by the need of making &
eholee
| The girl he'loved had an endless
array of suitors, and 1o win her meant
l;mmdw.«.m them. The
LMMhmn‘ had & long st of
applicants and to win it meant ab
imummA
The man sat down for 24 hours and
“' . o M :
~ ) w
< £ 4
v o e T,
3 . R
NEares . F
; s P NG 'tr/ ’
._. e L t.,‘ B =
. ol : \"" 3
o T B Rl &
A R g . 4
: x A { 4
%b;&‘i
; 2
BB A W
Shell basket made by the
Indians of Central Amerdea.
formed of small white oval
shells; flowers are made of
thin and shallow, white and
rose-tinted shells, and both
basket and flowers are con
structed with fine wire. In
the American Museum.
alikes composed of white and delicate-
Iy tinted shells, Nam shape by fine
wires. Flower baskbts made of shells
by the Indians of Lower California,
aithough very striking in appearance,
are ranked belcw the Central Ameri
can products, because glue instead of
invisible wiring is employed to hold
the work together.
A truly magnificent object ig a pair
of bonbon dishes, belonging to Mrs,
F. A. Constable, and loaned to the
museurn, which are formed of abalone
As he spoke and hanging it up on the
bongh of a neighboring tree. “There.
now, that's the Bishop, he's doné his
duly; here's Knight-Brace in his shirt
sleeves: come on.’
Half 4n hour later they took the
Boer home on u"l.«l.hncow.
J. Pierpont Morgan, the millionalire,
tells & good story about his father, .he
founder of the family's gigantic for
tune. The late Mnancier was one day
!nhowm: a friend his maguificent dog
kennels, when suddenly the vis'tor
Slopped 1o admire a NH‘W’ fine
pointer.
- “That's & Beantitu! dog'” he exe
iem..l. “What do you call him?>
considered the matter so sarnestly
that he entirely negiocted to eat or
sleen. uu.o was thé girk he loved so
weil that he felit sure he would go on
loving her through long years of hap-
Py marciage If only he dared take
time to win Rer,
Here, un the other hand, was the
pesition that would crown his career
with sucoess. He looked back over
his life and saw how he had flled it
full of triflen. He had had a sow suc
cesnes In business and so was not
either & fallure or an unimportant
beginner.
mmm.nvmmugu
tation Jove affairs, and #o his life was
not empty of brightness and color.
He had always had what he wanted
and he had neves anything
- vaul
At last he decided that love was the
thing to crown his e, %o he went
10 seek his sweetheart and found that
ahe had eloped with Lis partner the
day before,
Then he decided 1o console himael?
‘wmnnmnmmul
crmvYed. But when he went to make
applieation he found that his pariner
Bad gotten it and was 1o AR e
charge on his return from & week's
Bone s oo
‘mmm peopie set what
want
‘-mtllv Taaly want
shells supported by seahorses, the late
ter and the outside of the shells being
coated with «ilver, The nacreous
splendor of the inner side of the ab
alone shells, forming the interior of
the dishes, is remarkably attractive.
But it is when shells are employed
not to imitate something eise in na
ture, but for the sake of their own
beauty, that the meost admirable or.
namental effects are obtained with
them. This princinle does not forbid
thelr wuse in the form of head
dresses, belts, pendants, etc.
Thus at the museutn there may be
#een a life-size figure of a Tahitian
“fire-walker,” with his head encircled
with a garland of shells which have
not been disguised in the form of im
ftation owers, Primitive man in this
respect has really shown better taste
than civilized man, for among savage
tribes shells were not used imitative
ly, although they were often employed
as symbols,
The Fijian chiefs wore the Orange
Cowry as a badge of office, and shells,
used simply as shells because they
were in themselves beautiful, have
been found among the personal
adornments of early man in all parts
of the world.
Another use of shells more truly
esthetic than their employment to
taake imitation flowers is the adop
tion of their forms and their combi
nations of color as suggestions in the
aris. Mr. Roskin mowt that he
could trace such sugfestions, derived
from the cockle shell, in some of the
ornamental features of Kurepean ar
chitecture. A fine abalone shel] might
afford to any artist fresh ideas in the
comidnation of color tints.
WW
I “Lord Rothschild,” answered Nr,
| Morgan,
~ “Why on earth do vyou call him
;thut’."' asked his friend, in surprise.
~ "That's easily explained,” repiied
the millionaire. “It's because he never
I’lo.o. a(s) cem.:". b g
} Queen Mary, in writiug to her per
sonal friends, uses a small sheet of
note paper with Buckingham Palace
stamped In dark dlue letters. Qusen
Alexandra uses a mutj larger sheet,
Addressed from Mariborough House,
But neither of their majestiss has a
crown stamped on thelr private note
Paper. as have almost all other Euro.
pean royalties, |
Y N these days of uncertain weather
I the old signs relied upon by our
fathers are worth remembering.
Experience has shown them to be
fairiy reliable, and some of them can
be expiained on a sclentific basis:
Moonlight nights have the lLieaviest
fromts.
The higher the clouds the finer the
weather
The farther the sight the nearer the
ram,
Dew (s an Indication of fine woath
or.
When stars fileker in & dark back.
ground rain or snow follows soon.
nm( alm wind with stormy
::.' the ground. .
nEs near |
mllm are a few in verse: l
lear moen,
Frost soon.
Prek i
it will grow,
Raig before seven,
‘hn; before m‘..
{ the sun sets wray
The next will be & miny day,
When t’; wind's in the south
The rait’s In its mowth.
The wind in the west
Sults everyone best.
If you see grase l‘l. J::lry.
lLock your n I granary,
!:vmmg R‘"filfl morning wray,
Heip the travelsr on his waY:
Evenine gray and merning red
Bring down rain upon his head
When the clouds Abponr like rocks
™ andfll’;jvm »
W earth's refreshed frequent
showers.
- Their Married Life
(Copyright, 1916, International News
Service.)
“‘\ HAT do you think about
W Anne's marriage to Jack?”
Helen agked Frances as
the two sat in the tiny apartment
having tea together.
"I'min‘ it is just as well,” said
Frances, easily. From her manner no
one would have supposed that she
cared anything for Anne, but Helen
knew better,
“You like Anne pretty well,” she
said, shrewdly.
“Now, whatever ade you think
that?” said Frances, snipping a thread
and smiling one of ler brilliant
smiles,
“Well, to tzll you the truth, because
you and she have managed to live so
amicably together.”
Frances looked ,up in surprise.
“Why, Helen, did you really think it
would be too much of an experi
ment?” -
~ “I reaily di¢,” said Helen, laughing.
“You see, 1 know you 8o well, dear,
and I knew that Anne was quite op
posite from you in temperament, even
though she won't believe me,”
“I should say she isß,” said Frances
quickly. “She’s a million times nicer.”
“Oh, no, she isn't,” denied Helen,
“but she isn't quite so selfish.”
Frances only laughed.” “Of eourse,
she isn't as selfish as | am. She's a
'rea‘. dear, and, of course, I shall miss
i her terribly. But I think it's better
{for her to marvy Jack. They are so
“well suited, and she loves him much
i more than she really believes,”
| “Then if you are going to miss her
£0 much, why did you say that about
it being just ‘as well?” said Helen
curiously.
| “Well, Tdo think it will ba better
ifor her. Besides, I amm beginning to
chafe under the domestic routine of
this establishment. I know that it's
| sweet and homy, and quite as artistic
|{as it is necessary to have it, but }
| just long for the old days sometimes
'{when I am in a particularly wild
mood. I long for the roominess of
| the studio and my solitary lonsliness,
‘{and everything connected with the old:
| life.” 5
“Then why did you ever plan to live
| with Anne?”
| An Unselfish Idea,
“Because,” said Franees dryly, “1
{am genuinely fond of her. 1 didn’t
| like the fdea of having her live just
janywhere while she was in New York
| with no one to look after her, and I
conceived the brilliant idea of making
a home for her”
| “Do you mean to say, Frances
Knowles,” sald Helen in amazement,
“that you have taken this apartment
for no other reason than to make a
home for Anne?
! “It is hard to convince you, isn't
It?" sald Frances quietly.
| Melen sat still In perfect sitence.
After the talk that she had had with
Anne and her motherly advice about
not living with Frances Knowles. No
wonder the child adored her.
| “No wonder Anne loves you as she
does,” Helen said aloud.
| “Does she love me?” queried Fran
ces, the soft material in her lap show
irg for a moment the tenseness of her
-&lim fingers,
| “Does she® Why, she simply idol
{ izes you. She has you on a pedestai
!n mile high.”
“The dear” said Frances softly, |
And then, with a return to her own
ight manner, “Well, it's nice to
have some one care.” ]
“Frances Knowles” said Helen se
'\‘fl'fly. “you carry a pose about wnh‘
You continually. Why don't vou lot
| peopie love you ™ » |
| “Because | don't want peopie o .u\‘e'
| e, Most people bore me to tears
1 want the love and friendship of a
few people, but as for wholesals as.
section from the uninteresting prole
tariat, 1 don't want it, never have and
never shall.”
“You would make an interesting
person in adebats with a socialist,
wouldn't you®™ said Helen, laughing.
“Can't help it: that's the way 1
M.n
“But, serfously, Frances” said
T———
The Coming Bahy!
The
| ! !
| ray. y
i
' ) € oine " * ¢ alv endear
. " AT T an i
0 expectad arvival of o
\)‘:‘ baby, But In the » an.
| Ume the comfort of
the mother is of wast
‘ importance. Thers s s
‘ splendid external ree.
g edy known as “Moth
er's Friend™ which ey
erts & wonderful lass.
[ hee upen the expand. |
Ing muscles. They be.
come more pliant,
Mretch without undus
paln, make the periond
one of {‘ru‘ut aatic.
Ipation lastead of ap. |
preliension I 8 & series plondid letiory |
frém ail over the country mothers to Tof the |
great help Mother's Friend war 15 them !
Even grandmothers tel] the w derful stary {
" their awn daophters shont o ante he |
sate of motherbond. (et 8 bott f Mot
or' s Veiond day of your nearest i
> o i '
. ~«V. : e 1 gs Iha e |
eh I e Tamiliar with . 5 ¢ &l
Fuide and an inspirstion. Write (o . vh
A Narrative of Everyday Affairs
Helen after a moment’s lull in the
conversation, “hasn't this apartment
interfered seriously with your work?
I remember now that you never could
work with people about.”
“Sometimes it has, and then I have
gsone for a walk until I could properly
control my temvper to the extent of
playing amicably, as you say, with
Anne and her friends. But Anne has
been dear and considerate always,
only 80 many people love her and that
means company at any time of the
day or night. Anne has the faculty
of making friends wherever she goes.”
“I know it. It's because of her ready
sympathy.”
Frances Is Well Pleased.
“Exactly. But as things are now
it's just as well for us to separate,
My mission is finished. Anne doesn't
need me any longer, and I have the
knowledge that for once in my life
I have put another person’s Inter
ests before my own.” |
“What are you going to do after
Anpe is married?” |
“Well, Anne is going home to Kan
£as this summer. She has invited me
out, and I think I shall go for a little
while. We are going to give the apart
ment up as soon as ghe is ready tc
leave, and 1 am going to scout around
for a place of my own, as near like
the old one as possible, and more con
venient. I can afford to pay more
now. Then I am going to buckle down
to real work.”
~ Frances was beginning to be very
The Struggles of
8 a Wife o.
By Virginia Terhune Van De
Water,
CHAPTER XXIV.
(Copyright, 1916, Star Company.)
S Horce Webb saw his wife's
A face in the restaurant window
above him, he started viclently
and hesitated. Then, at a word from
the girl who was with him, he stood to
one side to let her pass out and fol
lowed her, the door slamming behind
him,
“When will you have it ready?”
The question was Perry Martin's
and Myra was aware that he was
watching her with a perplexed ex
pression. Evidently he had spoken
before and she had not heeded him.
“I—l—beg your pardon!” he ex
claimed in confusicn, her cheeks
burning as she appreciated that he
had caught her off her guard. I was
~I was—locking at some people down
there"—with a nod toward the street
“It is actually all that some of them
can @0 10 walk against the wind. But
I must have seemed very inattentive
to what you were saying. Pray ex
cuse me! What did you ask me?”
Her confused manner did not es
cape her companion. What could have
caused it? he wondered.
’ “My question,” he said gravely, “was
as 16 when you think you can let us
have that story?”
“Within a 4 week or ten 'y-." sh
repiied, :
“You will not offer it 10 anyone olse
first, will you?" he demanded bluntly,
“Of course, I woa't!” she exclaimed.
Did he fancy that she could be ca
padle of such double dealing? He
had behaved as if Lie understodd that
she beionged to his class—and yet he
could ask her a question that seemed
Aimost a reflection upon her sense of |
honor. '
And all at once she remembered
that aithough this man and she had
been chatting here together at a
oo’ oo
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Helen Finds a New Light in the
e e S et eeet e e e
Character of Her Friend Franees,
well known through her work in The
’S(:mll. She had written two ser#Ms
and hér short stories were in de- |
’mand. There was a quality about her
work that was distinctly different
;fmm the general run of fiction. Helen
‘had envied her ability more than once
‘and the money that she made so
easi' TFrances still retained het po
sition with the newspaper, but was
‘thinking seriously of giving it up.
“You see, Helen,” she said in re
ply to a question, “I am busier than
ever this year. I am going to write
a book.”
~ “Are you really, Frances?”
~ “Yes, why not? Avery Atwood told
me long ago that it would be dut a
matter of time before I would be at
tempting something of the kind. And
now I am anxious to begin. Every '
day I wait seems ‘a lost opportunity.”
“And you can’t begin till you have
the proper surroundings?”
Frances nodded. “Yes, 'm waliting. 4
Foolish, isn't it?”
Again Helen marveled. She was
being shown an entirely different side
of the girl's character. Frances was
not always selfish. ' Even the crepe
de chine in her lap was something for
Anne’s trousseau. Again Helen won
dered \if. Frances was entirely_happy,
if her feeling for Avery Atwood would
always be a closed chapter.
(Watch for the next incident in this
unique series; it will appear here
soon,)
luncheon at which she was his guest,
they had met for but one purpose—-
that of business.
Myra Webb the woman was noth
ing to him; Myra Webb the writer
was worth his auehu‘?n until he had
made sure that she would serve his
purpose.
She glanced at her watch and rose.
“It is getting late,” she remarked. “I
must be going.”
“I thought,” Perry Martin was say
ing, still in a practieal, businesslike
way, “that you might be hesitating to
promise us the story until you were
Quite sure about the price we would
pay. We wiil, of course, gilve what
we gave for ‘Bitter Watera'—if that is
entirely satisfactory,”
“We can settle that later, can't
we?” she ventured. “I do not know
yet how long the story may be: you
do not know whether it will suit you
‘or not.” #
. He heiped her put on her coat and
‘escorted her as far as the foot of the
luptown elevated rallroad steps,
~ Here he raised his hat and bade her
&ood afternson.
Seated in the uptown train, Myra
tried to fix her thoughts on what had
happened. She strove to bring back
the thrill that she had felt when Mar
tin ad praised the plot of her story.
“If you write it as you have told it"
—she whispered the words to herse!?,
but the emotion they had aroused did
not réturn. She did not even recall
how the speaker had looked when he
uttered them.
For uppermost in her mind was the
recollection of the expression of sur
prise in her husband's eves as they
met hers and the presence of the
siender figure at his side.
(To Be Continued.)
Up to the Lender.
“Lend me 357" -
;,l;:r'c c&::lu!‘r::y you™
“That's for you to figure out.”