Copyright by Macras Smith Ceo. WNU Service CHAPTER VII—Continued — Ge The afternoon over, she was diz- zy with remorse and told herself she was a weak, voluptuous woman —like her mother. She wouldn't see him again. But she did. It became impera- tive for her to see him. Fright- ened, she sent for him to exact his promise to be discreet, It was very easy to allow Cun to take her in his arms while he vowed his discretion . Sometimes she had moods of self-loathing when she met some new evidence of Hugh's affection, or of his mother's confidence in her. Finally these ceased altogeth- er. There were no more struggles to attain the shore; she was swept along by a deep and dangerous cur- rent. The stolen love stimulated her whole being, and life was only a frantic waiting until the next meeting could be arranged with some degree of safety. Her feeling for Hugh progressed through several phases, apology and pity at first, then resentment that he should possess her person- ality, and finally hatred, where she magnified trifles, seized on each variance of opinion and attitude to bolster up her own position. She had come to the point where she felt it would be a kind of pleasure to have Hugh know. She had often wanted to tell him—watch his smug assurance that he could fill her life, fall away! The Sunday morning after her declaration to him, she awoke late. The chromium-framed little clock pointed to ten. She looked over sleepily. The bed beside her had not been occupied. Then she re- membered and sat up abruptly. Last night? Joan and Hugh had been in the kitchen. It hadn't seemed long at the time, but perhaps it was a half hour. She and Cun sitting on the love seat at the far end of the dim- ly lighted room, drugged by ca- resses, whispering, had been rath- er oblivious. They were confident that at the sound of returning voices or footsteps they could rise and casually survey a book, a pic- ture. Then Hugh's car had start- ed and he had driven past the windows on the drive. Cun got up and went out to the kitchen. He came back with his forehead knitted. “Hugh was sick, Joan says. He must have gone home Funny, wasn't it? 1 wonder . . .” “What?” “Could he have window? No . . down.” “Where is Joan?” “Out there, sitting in a chair.” “Do you think——?" She felt guilty and uncomfortable. Then Joan had come in. Hugh had suddenly complained of feel ing sick, had gone out the back door. Cun could drive Dorrie over it she felt she must go. On the way home, Cun, who had recovered his spirits, reassured her. Hugh was too stupid to sus- pect anything. Honestly, it made him laugh the way she led that fel- low around! . . . And probably he hadn’t gone home—just to a drug store for some medicine. Why wor- ry? Nothing to worry about. At the worst, she could fix up a story, make him swallow it. He had been with Joan a half a dozen times when she had been uneasy, ques- tioned him. A smart girl, Joan— but gullible. He'd call her on Monday at the same time. Hugh there—or other company-—say ‘‘wrong nurcber” and he'd try later. She rose and putting on slippers and a negligee, ascertained that he was not in the house, His car was gone from the garage. Her fingers trembled as she dialed Cun's number. She hoped Joan would not answer. In a few seconds she heard Cun’'s cheerful voice, “Hello.” “Cun, I must see you at once.” He hesitated, then said, “I don’t hear you very well.” “Come over. I must see you.” He hesitated again before he re- plied, “I'm not in the market for a bargain in a car. I expect to run my bus until next spring at least . I might drop around and look it over, however . . . This year’s model and only gone two thousand miles? . . . I'll see you a little later.” He came in less than half an hour. He was freshly shaved, looked carefree, florid and anticipa- tory. He smiled as he entered the door. ‘Not here?” “No, no one is.” He flung his hat on the hall seat and with his arm around her drew her into the living-room. She faced him determinedly. “Cun, Hugh knows. He saw us last night.” “The deuce he did!” “He was packing his bags when I got home. I got him to stay the night, but he was gone before 1 awakened this morning.” Cun whistled. “Did he take his things?” “No, they're still here.” He relaxed from his tense atti- tude, shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose he was furious, looking in on our little party! But he doesn’t looked in the the blinds are really know anything . . . You can handle him all right. But it means we'll have to be more careful in the future.” Dorrie felt a nervous doubt of Cun assail her. “But he does know. I told him.” He stared at her unbelieving. “My God, Dorrie, you told him?" She answered a little sullenly, “I lost my head. 1 suppose I was tired of all this pretending.” “What was the need of it? This is awkward. Do you realize what the consequences may be? . . Hugh's not a bad fellow. I might like him if he weren't married to you! And there's Joan—and the town — and my company.” He seemed positively edgy and there was a queer, critical curve to his lip. She turned love me!" away. ‘‘You don't eyes still troubled. my head about you, you know it, you dear golden-haired Circe! just the same—"" “Just the same-—what?"” insisted tautly. “You've got us mess when it wasn't necessary. kid marriage. plications, Joan hasn't a cent, making a princely salary.” “Perhaps she won't ask any,” said Dorrie hopefully. “Can’t count on that.” Dorrie looked about her. awfully fond of my home. “I'm He let couldn't take it, could he?” Her voice quavered. “Afraid he could. Although I imagine Hugh would be awfully de- cent.” She buried her head on his shoul- der. “I don't care about anything —only you,” she whispered. “I want to be with you." His arm tightened about her. Then she felt an unease in his muscles. “This is darn danger- + 3 BE If Ikke i if fl) 0 ¥ i 4d HJ “You Won't Let Me Down, Cun?" ous—my being here,” he whispered as he kissed her and released her. “But you're a dangerous woman.” ““Going?’’ she faltered. “But we haven't settled anything. You haven't told me what to do.” door. “I'll have to think about it. me at the office again. way to call you." his hat. his arms about her. bled with appeal. me down, Cun? to love you so terribly. this hiding. you'd give anything if I could be your wife.” He answered with vehement ar- dor, “Darling, I'd lay down my life for you!" She gave a gasp of relief. She loved every motion of his quick agile body, loved his gaiety, his carelessness, his fire that kindled in her an ungovernable passion. She would give up her home, her matching rugs and draperies, her Duncan Phyfe furniture, her silver —everything—if only she could have him. ‘When shall we sce each other again?” He twirled his hat. “Dorrie, you must be a good girl—-be sane and sensible.” “Yes—yes?” “Now you've been rash about Hugh. My advice is to fix it up. He'll overlook it. He's crazy about you.” He stopped at the expres. sion on her face. ‘Love you, pre- cious? . . . Good Lord, yes. But 1 can’t move hand or foot now! « « « We'll not see each other for a while. Perhaps things will blow over.” He was shedding things with his easy optimism, escaping her. She watched him go with a hurt curve on her red lips, and a stony feeling in her chest. Her flew here and there like frantic caged birds. Hugh— there was h. “(To BE CONTINUED) NOTES NECESSARY A negro preacher called on a white minister and found the latter writing. “What you doin’?" asked the colored parson. “I'm preparing my aotes for next Sunday's sermon.” “I suttinly nevah would do that. Don’t you know the debbil is looking right ovah your shouldah an’ knows everything yo' gwine t' say? Now, I don't make no notes, and when debbil himself knows what I'm MODERN WIFIE Mr. A Different Matter Alf Alfey—How Rube Barbe—About two days, 1 guess, Alf—I thought he had been here more than a month. Rube—He has.—Exchange. On the Fairways Golfer—Listen, kid, I'l swat you apolis Journal. Another Optimist glasses, Joan?" my eyes tested by another opti- mist." Reversed Travel Farmer—Gosh! chute in a gale like that. Stranger (grumpily) — 1 didn't up with a tent. Instantaneous shut, SOME DIFFERENCE Aunt—I understand Tom gives you plenty of money. Mrs. Justwed-—No. What I said was Tom thinks he gives me plenty. Sunshine Surfeit “You must lock on the sunny side of life,” said the gentle friend. “That's just what I'm tired of do- ing,” answered Farmer Corntossel. “After this drouth what I want to do is to trade off sunshine for rain, thunder and lightning.” Chance Acquaintance Bystander — Miss the train? Traveler — Oh, thank you, I don’t think so, at least not much. I might have in time, but I never got to know it really well, you see. ¢ HE desire to belittle the char- acters of those who have been held in high esteem for years, even for generations, is only ex- celled in these times by the de- terr® nation to make heroes of those whose reputations have been unsavory, There is, of course, in all things a happy medium. No one is all good. No one is all bad. | But it is the predominance of | virtue or vice which sets its stamp on persons’ characters, and | causes them to be estimated good | or bad accordingly. | Writers of biography are seldom readers. One of the greatest diffi. culties is in really getting at the truth about persons whether they be dead or alive. Biographers, living in the same period as those of whom they write, are unable | to make delineations free from | personal ideas or estimations, es- pecially if the person about whom they are writing is known to them. Individual View Point. It is for readers to make their own discoveries. They have this privilege and they should take it. Get acquainted with the facts as much as possible through perusing | more than one other person's point | There are great men. | little ones. To learn a few derogatory things about | the former does not make them ur.worthy natures. The balance re- mains still for virtue. To find out | good qualities in poor characters | is delightful, but so long as fla- | grant misdeeds can merely be | mollified and not erased, the per- | son has to stand the brunt of his Well Tempered Judgment. In reading biographies and in studying human nature it is well | always to bear in mind that ex- | teuuating circumstances are pres- ent. Rarely are they absent total- ly. There are certain situations which exist, and complications which arise to influence action. Knowing these we become less harsh in adverse judgments, or more laudatory in favorable esti- mations according to how the character acts. We learn to detect the difference between the desire to undermine a fine character or to establish a poor one as good. © Bell Syndicate, ~~ WNU Service % That Little Difference It is just the little difference be- makes the difference between art- ists and the artisan. Much better does a prune taste than stewed and on the table. Those who get up early in the think everybody else late don’t usually move the world. If you can't agree with the much lonesomeness. Rebuilding a ruined house or a ruined career is a much more dif- ficult matter than building new. It takes more courage, more skill and more ability, But it is being Scolding may not mean much, baby ery. Environment makes the man: and it also makes him change it. Crocheted Edgings Pattern 1300 Wonderfully dainty edgings, the laciest of borders, can roll off your crochet hook if you have pat- tern 1300. You can crochet an in- | expensive bit of dress-up for col- { lar and cuff set, lingerie, hankies, | towels, sheets, cases and napkins. The top edging simulates tatting but is easier and quicker to do. Even a beginner will find this pat- tern simple to follow. Pattern 1300 j contains detailed directions for making the edgings shown; ilius- trations of them and of all stitches used ; material requirements. Send 15 cents in stamps or coins | (coins preferred) for this pattern to The Sewing Circle, Needlecraft Dept., 82 Eighth Ave., New York, N.Y. Write plainly pattern your name and address. number, Wild Men Film Fans The wild men of Borneo are be- coming modernized. Instead of head-hunting, their chief hobby is collecting pictures of film stars. Travelers report that trophies hung round the Dyak tribal huts, in addition to enemy skulls now include the portraits of glamorous Hollywood actresses torn from old | magazines. GET TO TOWN isolation. Firestone Ground Tire was developed the difficulties under the personal Grip Tires don’t need Don’t let to overcome of winter direction of Firestone chains. bad roads and bad Tire Dealer or
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers