The Two Miss Carrs

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 60, 2 June 1927, Page 16

The Two Miss Carrs

&y

Th.gma&Gobb,

Author of “ Joanna Sets to Work,” “The Late Mr. Beverly,” &c. t &c

SYNOPSIS O FPREVIOUS CHAPTERS. | CHAPTERS I. and II. —Mrs. Fentiman flatters herself that she does not look her age, although she is 10 years older j than Dick Warrender. He knows he has only to say the word and the lady ! and all her possessions are his. At six on Friday evening he enters her drawing-room. She is trying to get him a post as private secretary to Sir Edwin Shackel, and arranges an interview, which Dick promises to keep. Mrs. Fentiman returns from a visit to her mother on the following Wednesday. She sees Dick Warrender with a young lady companion. She is handsomely : dressed, and holds a Sealyham by the ! leash. Later in the day Mrs. Fentiman entertains Dick and taxes him about this young lady, whom Dick owns he does not know. Although angry with him, she repeats her invitation to tennis on Saturday. He is to bring his friend, Luke Harborough, with him. On their way to tennis Luke Harborough notices that Dick Warrender waves his hat to a ..radiant-looking girl, standing bareheaded at a cottage gate. They I chat, and Dick introduces his friend to { Miss Mary Carr. CHAPTER 11. (Continued). “He had never seen the place till he came to staj with me after we were ! demobbed,” said Luke. “He doesn’t appear to have any very | exacting occupation.” “It isn’t,” Luke loyally returned, “the easiest thing in the world to find a job just now.” “Hadn’t he one before the war?” asked Mary. “He joined up when he was in his second year at Merton,” said Luke. “I think,” she cried, “he’s the most sympathetic person I have ever met. A tiny spot of blood on a dog’s paw almost moved him to tears. I couldn’t prevent him from tearing a strip off his silk handkerchief for a bandage He was as gentle as a woman and as skilful as a surgeon. But 1 mustn’t keep you from your golf.” CHAPTER 111. Dick Warrender cursed his own luok and envied Luke's. He did not go near the golf club as usual on Monday morning, but determined to devote the day to Mary Carr. Having glanced through the paper after breakfast, though it never seemed very interesting on Monday morning, he smoked a couple of pipes and made for a sheltered spot among the birch trees on the common, whence he could com mand a view of Virginia Cottage. Strolling there, he did not cease to speculate. Who was Alary’ Carr, and what was she doing at Highstead? That she, or at least her people, must be well-to-do, seemed to be incontestably proved by her appearance. Perhaps she had fallen out with them or with a brute of a husband’ It was true she had offered no r nstrance when he introduced her to Luke as

“Miss Mary Carr,” nor did she wear a wedding ring. She wore no jewellery of any description, save a wrist watch with a gold bracelet, or at least it looked like gold, but those signs established nothing. Presently nothing seemed to matter but the fact that she had come forth from Mrs. Dale’s garden gate, crossed the sandy road, and stepped on to the gras.;. She neither betrayed surprise as he advanced to meet her, nor raised the slightest objection when he turned to walk by her side, leading her along narrow paths among the gorse and bramble. Her air of authority had a pleasant significance, and he told himself that she was accustomed to more distinguished society than she was likely to find at Highstead. “Is your friend Mr. Harborough as idle as you?” she asked. “I met him yesterday morning.

“Not a bit.” said Dick. “He had the luck to be called before the war and soon began to pick up business in the county courts, police courts, anywhere; Luke didn’t care a hang. Then Freddy Bending gave him his chance.’ “Who is Freddy Bending?”

“A solicitor in our battalion. He got pretty chummy with Luke and sent him a brief eighteen months or so ago —the Challoner case, you know. Tlis leader was Milwood, K.C., who got bowled over by a motor-lorry on his way to court. Dick won his case and sort of woke one morning to find himself famous. His father was the principal doctor here, and everybody knows Mrs. Harborough. Upon my word, she's the dearest little woman, though I’m afraid she thinks I’m the most dreadful waster.” Alary turned to look into his face. “Are you?” she demanded. “Anyhow,” he returned, “I’ve had the devil’s own luck. My pater never spotted a winner, though he was always trying. A good deal of the little he had to leave the mater was invested in German securities, and when she dide while I was in France there was barely three hundred a year for me.” “You see how I give myself away,” he added, wishing she would emulate his candour. But she seemed bent on avoiding the subject in which he would have been the most interested. "Why,” she asked, “didn’t you go back to Oxford and take your degree?” “Oh, well,” lie answered, ”1 really was pretty well all to bits at first. I didn’t seem to have a scrap ef energy for any mortal thing.” After what he would have insisted had been the most delightful morning of his life, he parted from her at Airs. Dale’s gate, but not till she had vir-

tually promised to meet him at halfpast eleven on Tuesday. They met at the time appointed, and, as they shook hands, Airs. Fentiman drove along the road alone in her car. She was looking quite her best this morning. She had more colour than usual, and till she recognised Mary, whose presence in the neighbourhood was naturally surprising, her thin face wore a smile. Airs. Fentiman had good features, save the mouth, which was small and thin-lipped. She scarcely created the impression of a woman capable of passion, and indeed she was constantly tormented by selfreproaches on the score of Dick Warrender. She was tall, with a graceful figure and dark hair, and she held herself extremely erect, bowing as she drove past, more distantly than usual.

“There’s little to do here,” remarked Alary, “but to take an interest in one’s neighbours.”

“Mrs. Fentiman,” Dick explained, “is about the most popular of them all. She gives no end of tennis parties and small dances. I’ll show you where she lives,” he added, and on reaching North Lodge, vainly tried to persuade Alary to enter the garden. “She has always been most frightfully decent to me,” he explained. “I was ordered to live out of doors, you know, and though I had only known her a week she gave me a general invitation.” “No doubt,” said Alary, “you took full advantage of it.” “Why, yes, rather,” he admitted. “There was a lounging chair with rugs and cushions always ready. She sent out luncheon and drinks and that sort of thing day after day.” “Is there a Mr. Fentiman?” asked Alary.

“He died five or six years ago.” “She hasn’t any children?” Dick sympathetically shook his head. “She would give anything,” he answered. “A devilish lonely life, you know.” “Still, you do your best to improve it,” said Mary, and to his disappointment insisted on cutting the ramble short this morning, refusing, moreover, to make an appointment for Wednesday. “According to the forecast we’re going to have rain,” she added. He left her less hopefully than on the previous day, and that evening he had an appointment at North Lodge for billiards. Frances happened to be alone, but she played a fair game, and it was not till it was ended that she referred to Airs. Dale’s lodger.

“A bit of a coincidence that she should hit on Highstead, wasn’t it” he answered with a significant smile. “I spotted her on Saturday. Her name’s Carr. Alary Carr.” “Do you know anything about her people?” asked Frances. Dick shook his head. “She hasn’t a word to say about herself.” he exclaimed. “But you can see what she is.” “My dear Dick,” Frances retorted, “you ought to have learnt by this time that it’s rash to judge by appearances.” “Ah, yes, that’s all right in the ordinary way,” he admited, “but there are certain things you can’t possibly make a mistake about.” * “You think this young woman whom you picked up in Hyde Park is one of them!” said Airs. Fentiman. (To be continued.)