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f m $ MOI SIX SOUTH CAROLINA V i r~ * 1.' m r f: 1 I- . ■ ?.> i ■ I • ea ■/ *r- \ •*. -A, an Ex- It "K iv'HM-S'V'i i * VJ V:t pl-lwT iirorvta a| ft , -»-V ■ *f.fc • ft- '■•A f. **. y.t ■ IWJ ' v^u X'/t Milfl a knq 1 ®frah£ewi ■ at a fim K »t4 THE PRINCE OF SEYRE A/ID CALAVERA, THE DANCER, : Conspire to entice.John strangewey from his HONORABLE LOVE 6F DAINTY LOUISE MAUREL *' '-t ±s ./ f Synopsis.—Louise Muurefi famous actress, making a motor tour <>t x^-aj Eugfimd, was obliged, when her car broke down-, to spend the M i ff m ut the ancestral Jionu* of Stephen and .TfihnStrangewey, bachelor .wurnuu-hater*, iu Um Gumi>erfund district. Before she left the next day she hart captivated John. Three uionthK lat«*r he went to London and fiiwikei her MP* She introduced bin) to berfrUjod* among them Grid l Jot, ^ n playwright, and Sophy Gerard, .u. light-hearted little actres*. John. ' puritanical in his viow,s' entered the guy Bohemian life of the city with enthusiasm. It was. soon soeti that John and the prince of Seyrd were ■ ^ptyals- f,or tin; heart pad hapd of Louise. Sophy also loved John i#cccetly.. . J XII. 5c CHAPTER —7— ■ . Rfype House was oqe of the few znan- sio^s in London which boasted a ban queting hatt as well as a picturegal lery,. .Although the long table was.laid for forty guests it .still seemed, with its shaded lights and Its yrofusiou of flowers, J,lke un oasis of color iu the. middle of thu huge, somberly lighted a|>urtU)ent. n Souju of Jbe fac»*s of tlu* gursffs were well-known to John through their published* photogruphs; to Others, he had Wn presented by the prince upon their arrival; He w as seated between a young American star of muslcul cotuedi' and a lady who had only recently dropped from the se rial iirn«ua«Ait -thvuuoli the. medium of She was the divorce court. Uvrcturn to the the ater of her earlier fame. Both showed every dekire to converse with him be* tween the intervals of eating and driuking, -Wit were constantly brought to a pause by John's lack of knowledge of jcurxunt topics. After her third glass of champagne, the lady who had recently been u cobntess announced her intbntion of taking him under her wing. .. .1 , , ;• “Someone must tell you till about things." she insisted. “What you need Is a guide and A chaperon. Won't 1 do?" “Perfectly," he agreed. X_ “Fair ploy!" protested the young lady on his left, whose name was Rosie Sharon. “I spoke to 1dm first!" “Joliy bad luck!" . Lord Amerton drawled from the other side of the table. “Neither of you have an earth ly. lie’s booked. Saw him out with her the other evening." “I sha’n’t eat any more supper." Rosie Sharon pouted, pushing nway her plate. ■“You ought to have told .us about her at once.” the lady who had been a countess declared severely. John preserved his «H|uaniinif.v. “It is to be presumed.” he murmured. “thut you ladies are both free from any present attachment?" “Got you there!" Amerton chuckled. “What nhput Billy?" Rosie Sharon sighed. “We don’t cbnje to the prince's sup per parties.to remember our ties,” she declared. "Let’s all gtvon talking non sense, please. Even if qny heart is broken, I could never resist me prince’s patal" Apparently everyone was of the same mind. The hum of laughter stemX lly grew. I’nder shelter of the' tire of conversation, the pripce leaned tc>- i the door at the further end of the cooni cniuo a dimly scan tljpire in white. The place seemed wrapped in a mys tical twilight, with long black rays of deeper shadow lying,across the'floor. There was a little murmur of tensy voices, and then again silence. For n fpw moments the figure in •white was motionless. Then, without any visible commencement, she seemed suddenly to blend into the waves of ® . seemed suddenly to have he low, passionate music. The dnnee it* * 7T TT fetch mo some, and.-bring it' to me yourself?” She sank hack upon a divan as spoke. John turned to leave the room, btrt.she called him back. “Gome hert\” she invit<'d i “close to my side I I can wait, for the chuin- pagut;. Tell inc, why you are so silent? And my darieing—-that pleased you?" He felt the words stick 1 Jn his throat. “Your dancing was indeed wonderful," he stamnmred. “It wf a for you 1" she whispered, b (i r voice growing softer and lower. ^ “it was for you I danCed. T)Id you not feel it,?” Her arms stole townni him. The un natural calm with which she had fin ished her dance seemed suddenly tq pass. Her bosom was rising and fall ing more, quickly. There was a fair.t spot of color in her cheek. . “It was wonderful," he told her. “I will get you the champagne.” . Her lips were parted. Shy smiled up at 1dm. “Go quickly," she whjspered. - “and comeback quickly! I wait for you." He left thb room .and passed ont jrgiiln into the picture gallery before he hud llte least idea where he wys. The baud was playing u waltz, and one or two couples wore dancing. , The Louise looked riou* T \ s«*lf was without form or definite move ment. She si'cmerf at first tike some white, limbless spirit, floating here and there across the dark bars of. shadow at the calling of the melody. Thor* was no apparent effort of file body. M i t r- ward his companitm <»nd reopened their previous discussion. “Do you know,” lie be^an. "1 am in- cliqed to lie somewhat disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm in a eVrfain (hryetion!” , “I have disii|)pointed many mfen in my tinn*” slie lt-plietl. “IJa^tiu doubt my jwtwer. now' that l -have promis«sl to exercise it?" "X v • ' , “Who could ?>Tie rtplied courteously. “Yet this young man poses. 1 believe, as something of q StT Anthony, lie nifty give vt.m trouble." - “He is tlien. w hat you call.a prig?" “A most complete and perfect-speci men. even iu this nation of prigs!,’’ “All that you tell me.” she sighed, “makes the enterprise'seem easier. It Is, after all. rather like the lioness and the mouse, isn't it?" v The prince made, no reply, hut upon his lips there lingered a faintly incred ulous smile.. The wnjmiri IYK bide j leaned back, in her place.' She bad i the^air. of accepting the Challenge, “Asupper." she said, “we will see!” /, A singit (JtHnt-of music in .a minor'! key floated- r.Li-dss the Boom, -soft at first, swelling JaterHtito a volume Jif sound, then dying avv-ay-and ceasing «Jtog etlier. Every light msjthe place jwas suddenly extinguished. There re shape. It was like thd flitting of a white moth through the blackness of r u moonless summer night. But her ’motions grew more unl- niuted. more human. With feet which seemed never to meet the earth, she glided toward the corner where John was standing. He caught the' smolder ing Ore in her eyes as sin* danced with in a -few-feet of him. He felt catch in his breath. Some subtle and only half- expressed emotion shook.his whole be ing. seemed to tear at the locked cham ber of his soul. ~ She had flung her arms forward, so near that they almost tduehed him. He could have sworn that her lips had called his name. Fie felt himself be witched. tilled with an insane. longing to throw out his arms In'response to her passionate, unspoken invitation. In obedience to tlie elumoring of his seeth ing senses. He hud forgotten, even, that anyone else wuh in the room. Tin'll. isudd« hlv, the music stopped'; The lights flared out from the celling and from every corner of the apart ment. Slender and erect, her arms hanging limply nt her sides, without a touch of color In her cheeks or n coil of her block hair disarranged, without a sign of heat or disturbance or pas sion in her face, John found Aida C’alavera standing within a few feet of him, her eyes seekipg for his. She laid hep fingers upon-his arm. The room was ringing with shouts ,of ap plause, in whlph John unconsciously joined. Everyone was trying to press forward toward her. With her left hand she waved them back. "If I have pleased, you,” she said, “I ;im so glad! 1 go now to rest for a little time.” \ • . ' £llP tightened her clasp upon her companion's arm. and they passed out of thKjm ture gallery and down a long come like puppets in some strange, unreal dream. He felt an almost fever ish longing for the-,open air, for a long draft of the fresh sweetness of the night,,'far away from this over heated atmosphere charged with un- nanmhle things. • As in* passed through the. Tartlier doorway he cume face to face with ' Hu* prince. “Where are £OU going?” the latter ! asked. —-— “Mademoiselle Cal.avera has asked me to get her some champagne," he an swered. » The prince smiled. "I will see that it is sent to her .at once." he promised. “You are in my sanctum, are you not? You eftn pursue your tete-n-tete tlfefe without inter ruption. "You are very much envied.” “Mademoiselle Caluvera is there," John replied. As for me, I am afraid I shall have to go now." The smile faded from the prince’s lips. His eyebrows cume slowly to gether. “You are leaving?” he repeated. “I must!” John Insisted. “I can’t help if. Forgive my behaving like a boor, but I must go. Good night F’ The prince stretched out his hand, but he was too late, j’ John fo'umt'-'hiinself. after a few minutes’ hurried walking, in Picca dilly. He turned abruptly down Duke street and made his way to St. James’ park. From here he walked slowly eastward. When he reached the j Strand, however, the storm in Ids soul ■ was still .-unabated. He turned away from the Milan. The turmoil of his passions drove him to the thoughts of flight. Half an hour later he en tered St. Pancras station. “What time is the next train north tovKendul of Carlisle?” he inquired. The porter stared at him. John’s evening clothes were spattered with mtld, the raindrops„,were glistening on his coat and face, and his silk hat w ; as ruined. It was. not only Ids cTofhVs, however, which attracted the man’s at tention. There was the strained look i»f a fugitive in John's face, a fugitive flying from some threatened fate. "The'newspaper train a* five thirty X the earliest, sir." ho said. “I don't ft l 1 i 1 , ■ , i | ( ' ! . , , j ;; , ich had brought a frown to her T. ir’v i l |j • t, 1 p .-..flf- >.)y , “There* hr flo doubt BbOut it," she tie* elded, “Louise is eiffa^gyht.!" m The door qponejl, afulLoni.fe herself, in a gray t morning gown of* some soft .material, with a hunch dr fieep-red rosfs at her waist, ’lbb^ed’ Into ill* roohi. ,"i r jj ■ p i i *\ ‘^Vhy, little i girl,V ^sbe exclaimed, “how long have you been licrc?" i “All the morning,” Sophy replied, "I took the dogs out, tufd than I started on your housekeeping book and the bllhq'- Your checks? All I liaie t<> be l.'ifgcf than ever this month, Louise, and I don’t fih* limvtybu ettnf posHibt> draw tliein -unloss .^yp go) qtaj ^ee your baqkefs first.” . , , k Iatlttls^ threw -bcrgelf into 'an easy chair. “Dear me!*’ she sighed. ! “I thOugb : t I'hod been, so careful!" .> ., , v *"3 / •' "How caD ;ybti tatk.bhout being care* ful?" , Sophy, prot^bjd* IflPfilns tliq pile of bills with lu r jfprefinger; “You seem to be overdraw n already..” " . { “I will see to tW/ tJbiiso promts^. “The bttnk manager is such a chatm- fhg person. Besidek, what arc* banks, for bnt to oblige' their clients? H9W pale you look, little fflrl! • Were you out late last night?" i ’ fiM .’.1 Sophy swung around in' her place. -‘‘I am all right. I spent tlie evening ill my rooms and wept to bed at eJeScn o’clock. ^ Who’s lwRchlng with you? I see the table Is laid for two.” Louise glanced at the clock upon the mantelpiece. "Mr. Strangewey." she replied.; “I suppose he wifi be here in a minute or 1 two.” V ' ' Sophy dropped tlie housekeeping book and Jumped up. “I’d better go, then.” 1 “Of confsi* not," Louise answered. “You must stay to lunch. Bing the hell and tell them to lay a place for you. Afterward, if you like, you may come in here and finish brooding o\er these wretched bills while Mr, Strango- we.v talks to me," Sophy came suddenly\across Hit' room and sank on the floor at Louise s feet. “What are you going to do nlioyt Mr. ! Strangewey, Louisi*?’’ she asked w ist fully. - - - V she greeted him, His fnek showed few signs of the struggle fhftmgb wblctrltr had passed; but the ffrhu fedlti lips reminded her; a fitttr /brother, lie had lost, too, something oi Um- Uoyishiicaa. the. aimpic. Jifibfe, heartedness of the-day before. In- begbn. "^beasked film no filing about tlie ‘sniper. and Sophy, quick to follow her lead, also avoided the ject*; ' : Euncheotf whs not' a lengthy meuLi aiaf lnmiedlately its service ;wBs tppt WuduU, Sojijiy re>seTocher, (eft .with, a , , ; \. lared not analyze. Perhaps, after all rthere-xvere still sc-, ■et rtmmhert?, She thought almost b fear of what they might contain. Her sense of /superiority was, vanish ing. Shc’Vas, after all, like other-/:. /--/ - ir^prmnisetlr “I will -help. at thaL Some ( day w . you shall talk tjr>again, if JPU like. are hoth ' fret'. You httve nof known many wourt enTjiind you. may cluvojc yonr ouindy, . whcii you have been Irtngerln Lpndon. 1 ' .Perhipfel it C!>fe better, for you if you 1 do!” “Tlwt iAquity- impossible,” John sa-id 1 he went on.dook-. / I know: ruusi; gq-.iand finish my wTtrk-” sfie declared.' “Let ttie hate the den to m'y- s&t ?T6r at'least ^in h<mf! pleasivLOu- It will take hie longer than tirntti to muddle through your bi«>Vb’’ • * it Iftoulse ,le^ the way u^stgir^ into thp ( coo|, white i^rawhng room, with its ilowc^-perftih^d atmosphiT* delic&Te, !shoiloWy,fllr'’of Vepose. 'She Lbe pofflble that vvitfi her brains, her; * '- v 1 — * -*' 1 ' r ^xjierienqc, t thi,s mail \Vho had dwelt alii his lifts In tli* single ways luid yet thq.. powbr trt show heritho path toward thq> greater-things!>.'She felt like a .ehlbij-' hgaSn. She.’ trymbled a_ little us she sat ik»>vp by lijs^sldy. It was not in firnfly.. “Ypju Spe. jatjtgr with shining eyes, 10$)# what I half bolievedTrtpnThe fti*st i . mothc'nt that V Tsaw you../1 love you!.'/ ^bringing restlessly to her feet, sliej v^hlfecd. Across Jhe, .room and back again. of, some sort seemed lih- pgrqtivft. A .qqmus .Iiyimotlc feeHugi .seemed to *bf ‘durtlflg all her powers of reslAhttpA Fh* Vioked Into her lifei . > ■ * a‘ht l J''die was terrified. Everything ha<h 'kfbwn Inslgntficgnh, It couldn't really* 1 curled hersolf 1 upi ini,a cornier :«f: ?ll* (H van, and gave J^fin his cotre*'^- Then she burned back and lobltcd at him. “So ivou luivp reully -001111' lo London, Mr. Countryman !” ' 1 . “1 have fflflowhd yonu,*’ li* irfiswerted. “I think you kue\V that I would,u trlcjd not to»!* Ju^wtent on, after a meiit’g pansy, y.“i flight, ugifiuiit it. hard 43 I cyuld; bqt in tin* cud L had to’give*In. 1 came ioc, you would, ilithis fusldon that Vile hiVd inti'll (led to IrtHif \Vhat he had to say. “I don’t^kiMw what Is the matter With Wday/’ she murmurefi dX lrtt.qtedly«, “t think I must send‘yon: adtedly,, “Jr thin: ;.^'Loiiise's iAipiU-ity'^Kr fcncfri^ 5?ecrned r| l ltlW v- f distu'fb my thought*. I suddenly enfeebled. A fr«*nt«1 attack f see life clearly. Dent hope Such directness was Irresistible* “For , no!’J she reftif^ed. weakly*! . ‘‘Of course,’’, he pepliqd, “No^e of ymir arguments wopld have brought me here.’ If J have desired to nrtder- stuod this world tu all, it & bt»Cause It “What am I going to do about liim?’^ “He Is in love with you,” Sophy con tinued. “I am suf«'—I am almost sure of it.” Louise’s laugh was unconvincing, “You foolish child!” she exclaimed. “I believe that you have been worry ing. AVhy do you think so, much aliout other people?" “Please tell me.” Sophy begged. “I want to understand how things really ire of Hi* are between you and John Strangewey, ^ u1, rh sSlou;it «*,. Slu* vpeii* d her lips, “hutL said nothing. ShV felt herself “Go Quickly, and Come Back Quickly. I Wait for You.” corridor. John felt walking in a dream. as if Iq* w.ere Volition siHihied mained only the shaded lamps over- to have left him. lie only knew that hand upon his .arm jse burning into' ids hanging the pictures. Not a- whisper was heard..in room, John, looking around him in astonishment, was conscious only of the half-suppressed breathing of the men and women who lined the walls,’, or were still standing in little groups at the end of the lo^g hall. Again there chine the music, this' time merged in t*sanctum,” she murmured. “Beft • low but insistent clamor of other In- * dunce, I drink nothing hut water, strumeufts. Then, suddenly, through ! want some • champagne. Will you know v. hethiT you .can get to Kendal by it, but it styps-at (’arlisle.” -• 1 .TohnJookod nt the dock. There was 4 nn hour to wail, lie' wandered jibopt the station, gloomy, chill, deserted. The place sickhned him. and hf* strolled out into Yhe strebfs again. By cHancc*' la* left tlie>Lqtion by lip* same exit as on the day <iOd,s arrival, in London, lie slopped short. -"X\ - . now could h*' hiiv*' forgotten, even for a moment? This was not tlfe^worhl which h*■ had' come, to discover. This, 'ya-s ju-i some plagiit---sp<it upon wbrt-h be had : uinl'-lcil. Thi oiigTi the inii/ky «t;AVn tniil a-ro,.; dn-iugiv 'streets lie 01 died into Louise's •Irawing-foom. Sin'' would, be there -v.ditlng for lijjn *m the yiorrow! • ' Louise! The thdught of her was a# like a -sweef. purifying /stimulant. ILy f*'lf the, : tbiobbi.g of his nt'rves soothed. He felv-himq'lf.growing calm. The. tern»r <»f tb<- last few hours u-hs like n nigl)tmarie which lunTpadsed. He sutomi tn (1 a taxicab iynd was driVen to the Ariluti^ ’ Hi's wand, r/ngs for the night were over/ ■ CHAPTER XIII. ’ - . Sophy Gerard sat in the little hack room of Louise's house, which the l;it- called iter den. but which she sel- Are you in love with him?’ Louise’s eyes.were soft and dreamy. “I wish I knew,” she answered. “If I am, then there are things in life more wonderful than I have ever dreamed of. He doesn't live in our world—and our^ world, as you know, has its grip.- lie knows nothing about ray art, and you-can guess whut life would be to me without that. What r . future could there be for him and for f f lose U P t0 ] ‘’’ r si<i,v me together? I cannot remake niy-J knovv that 1 lo\cd yuu. Louise. self.” ■*“ Unresisting, She Felt th \ Kisses. is your wqrld.- It is you I,want—dmVt you uatlcrsfand that? 1 thought yiuf would knoYvNt from the first moment you Saw me !” Her was suddervly on his, feet, lean ing over her. a changed man. master- Xjqo jnjiuch’' fjWrTnkf,’* she beggetL- “but don|t L gh away,* she added, with n sud den Irresistible impulse of anxiety. ’“Oli, I wish—I wish you understood ■had' everything about me, without my having to say,a word!” ,*T feel whut you are,” he answered, “und that is sufficient.” ,, , ■* (>nce mdrq sbt' lose $q lu»r feet Walked across to the wlrnbVw. An au- j ’tornobiie had stopped In the street, be- _ l low. She looked down upon iF with i n sudden frozen feeling v of apprehen sion. . i .. - ^ John moved to her. side, and for him, too, the joy of those few moments was clouded. A little shiver of presenti-- tnent took Its place. lie recognized the footman wliofn he saw standing upon the pavement. \ “It is the prince of Seyrc,” Louise faltered. ’ -- - “Send him away,” Jolin -Tioggeil. “We haven’t finished yeT. 1 won’t say anything tiiore to upA^byou. What I want now is some-practical guidance.” C‘I cannot send him away !” ‘ John ghfnced toward her and hated himself for his fierce Jealousy. Slw .was looking very white and very pa thetic. The light had gone from her eves. lie felt suddenly dominant, and. ■f—Sf-- - -1 ^ -- with tlu.it-feeling. tluTe TttmO all tno generosity of the.conqueror. “Good-by!” lie said. “Porhups 1 cun v see you sometime tomorrow. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, one t>y one. -Then he left the room. She listened to his footsteps descending the stairs, firm, n'solute. deliberate. They paused. was„the sound of voices;—the t>rln(*e x nnd' he were exchanging greet ings ; tn>i\ she heard other footsteps ascending, ngb tcr < smoother, yet just as deliberate. Her face grew paler as she listened. There was something which sounded to her almost like the heating of fate in the slow, inevitable approach of this unseen visitor. * <r 'f4* v. u There was Jt'ornel hing in Sophy’s face that was almost likV wonder. — “So this is‘tlie meaning' of tin* change in yon,'Louise! 1 knew that something had happened. You have seemed so different for the last few' months.” Louise nodded. “London has never been the same place to me since I tirst met him in Cumberland,” she admitted. “Sonic- times I think.,I am—to use your own vcbrds-—in love, with John. Sometimes ,.,.,l,.,l,'.ee,l,,i,t.4s just a queer, indistinct, but - (-wissionate appreciation of the abstract | beauty of tlie life he. seems to stand- for.” » 3. “Is he really so good, I wonder? Sophy asked 1 pensively. - / n “I 'tlo not know,” Louise sighed; “I only 1.now that .when I first talked to him, .he seemed different from any man 1 have ever spoken with In my life, I suppi^se there are few temp tations up'mofe, and they keep nearer' l.o the Jdg things. Sonietimes^Jf won- der, dSopiry.^’if it'was not very wrong, of me to draw.him away from it all !” .“TiuhltfshT” Sophy, declared. “If .he is good, lie can prove it and know it- liere. lie will come to know the truth about himself. Besides, it isn't every thing to possess tlie standard'Virtues. Louise, he will be here iu a minute. You want to be left alone with him. What are you going to say when he asks you what you know lie will ask ^lifted up, clasped for a moment in his arms. Unresisting, she felt the tirg. of hik kisses. Tlie world seemed to have stopped. *Ylicn she tried to push, him away, weakly, and against her own will. At her first movement he lalff her tendgrly back In her place. “I am sorry!” he said. “And yet I lira not,” he added* drawing ids chair I am glad! You You knew that it-was f**r you 1 had come.” ''She was beginning to collect'herself. Her brain was at work again; but she | was conscious of a new confusion -tu j her senses, a. new element in her-life, j She was no bulge r sure of herself.. / ‘‘So you call youVself n Londoner “Listen,” she bcjrgcd earnestly. “Be"! now. my-young fricndNl suppose,” he .reasonable! How ivmfd I marry you? ' remarked, taking pensive, note of Do you think that I eoHj(d Jive with j John’s fashionable clothes. “It is a you up there'in lb** hills?’’ \ x , transformation,’beyond a doubt! Is It/ “We will live.” lie pfoiuisedx/’any- ; I wonder, ufmn tlu* surface only, or u here you. choose in jthe world.” X. ; have you indeed become heart and soul “Ah, no!” she continued, patting Ink/ a-son of this corrupt city?” hand. "You know what yqur life is. /- “Whatever I nay have,-become;” vlie things y«.jj uai!t inTiI>. Vou don’t : John grumbled, “it's meant- three know* jpnlne yet. There 1 is my iVork. months the hardest work I’ve ever VoipTannot think UXiyv wonderful it is done !’\ to ine. You (fmVrknow tlu* things that , GrairTot held ofit his pipe iu front of !il! my brain from , day to day, ’ the | him and blew avvrjr a dense cloud of thoughts that dirbet liiy Jil>, 1 cannot Nsmoke, CHAPTER XIV. K • ■ \ — 'Henri Graillot had made himself thoroughly comfortable. He was en sconce^ in the largest of John’s easy chairs, his pipe in his mouth, a recent ly refilled^teacup—Graillot was English in nothing except his predilection for tea—on the small table by his side. Through a lithe cloud of tobacco smoke he 1 was stud - \ idy ing bis host. irouVseif a Lorn hiM-atwe—” | terrupted eu- you dom iaffered, . ’ih«- *‘ttU/_;jctrcss .was I rim arid 'neat ; 11 Tt■*-1mj»U* the stijl. wtrrte the jSgemed like .a ** h - HJM-B Sh* !«1 him to tho ontl of-tto ,W s ,. w . „*nii flttw! hr,'to .lor. ,hn.UBh .,m l ,h*r , .mr Itt.oa smt.U j t ar . tmm, turuhthod In-plain but tomforla-|^ neK , and , l0l| „ p ' s|u . hie fashion. v -r— had a pen in her mouth, there was a we will in\ade the prince s t own sli«*uf of bills before her. and an open ltousekeeping bwd^ lay on her knee. She liud been busy for the ffwt half hour making calculations, the result Louise looked down lit her. “Dear,” she said. “I wish I coul4 tell you. I do not know. That is the .strungc, troublesome part of if—J luiT kuo^vT^ ^ : * - > , . X / * - VL-, r . s -| “Will you -promise me sometliing?’” Sophy begged. “Promise me, that if I stay in here quietly until after hA has gone, you wilEcome and tell me!” Louise leaned a little downward as *■ , if to look into her friend’s face. Sophy suddenly dropped hbr eyes, and the color rose to the roots of her hair. > > ■» ‘ . ’' " .marry you Just ln-<'a "Because what?” he gcriy. ' “Because yon make m<* fcM^-some- tliing 1 don’t ^uiulcrstaiul. because you comehnd you turn the world, for a*fe\v minutes, topsy-turvy Huihsluicss, isn’t it? ’Life isu’t built up of t*in»pi<uis, What I want you to un-. • lerstanil, and what, you please must .understand, is that ; at "present <*ur fives ;ir** so far, so very far. apart. I do imi fed I < ouid be happy leading yoiirs, find you ab» not understand mine.” - "I haVe 'eoine* if» find oUt ahbut yours " John (^plained. "That is ^hy* A ani In rc.. Berlmps I ought to hafve waited it little time before I spoke to you as I did Just now. But I vYill serve nly apprenticeship. 1 wifFtry -to get into sympathy w^lh the things that plcjise yOu.F hot tfike me long.. As soon as you feel that we are draw ing closer together. r’Wtlt usk~rmi again w hat 1 have asked you this after noon. In the meantime, I may be your friend, may I not? You will let me see a great deal of you? You will help, ine just a little?”"^; x 1 Louise leaned hadk hi her chair. She “'ExjiJiiTn yourself." he lilslstcd. John stood on-the hearth-rug, with his hands in his pockets. Ilis morning clothes were exceedingly well cut."his tie and collar imeiceptionahje, his hair, closely erapped according to tfie fash- But tii it is alri ^ )n .°f the moment. He ;ha<T an ex- tremely’civilized air. v \-:t~ NLook here,- Graillnf,” lie said, “I’ll tell ^ypu what I’ve done, although I don’t suppose Aou w ould understand what it means to me. I’ve visited practically'every theater in Londop.” “AloHe?”- y ' . *ri u Louise comes to have a secret horror of the pri«ce/\ Graillot- gives John some very sensible advicer—The next instalment brings important development -—: (TO BE CONTINUED.) H Baby was Developing. Johnny was a small boy of about five years, and he had a baby sister who “Was just learning to walk. One day Johnny saw his little sister standalone and* take a few steps for the first "time. Johnny ran hurriedly to his mother and said. “Oh, mamma, come here qulck 1 X N had been tarried off her fee), brought face tp face with emotions which she !. Baby’s walkin’ ,on her hind legs. -i- — "' Xl't, V t