The Two Miss Carrs

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 66, 9 June 1927, Page 16

The Two Miss Carrs

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Thomas Cobb.

Author of “ Joanna Sets to “The Late Mr. Beverly,’* 6rc.. &c

j SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS I. to IX.—Mrs. Fentiman flatters herself that she does not look her age, although she is 10 years older than Dick Warrender. He knows he has only to say the word and the lady and all her possessions are his. She is trying to get his a post as private secretary to Sir Edwin Shackel. Mrs. Fentiman returns from a visit to her mother and sees Dick Warrender with a young indy 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 vouiie lady, whom Dick owns ne does not Know. On their way to tennis Luke Harlrorough notices that Dick Warrender waves his hat to a radiant-look-ing girl standing bareheaded at a cottage gate. On Monday Dick devotes the day to Mary Carr and on that morning Mrs. Fentiman drives past in her car. She recognises the girl, and greets Dick with a distant bow. In Hyde Park. Dick comes across another lady with a Sealyham. The doe recognises him, and Pick scrapes acquaintance with the girl He brings up the topic of Mary Carr, 1 rid his companion asks whether she has yet obtained a situation. Dick is astounded, and asks whether Miss Carr eft her last situation on Saturday “Yes. last Saturday.” is the reply. Having made up his mind to forget Mary, Dick does not take her home on Sunday, but, believing she wants a situation, he gets a Mrs. Harborough to call on the girl. Mary says she does not mind being a lady help. Duke goes to an at home at Lady Canningbury’s and there meets another Mary Carr with whom he takes tea. He finds that there is some connection between the Misses Carr. Dick sees the lady with the Sealyham go to the house of Sir Timothy Carr, who left £250,000. CHAPTER X. Dick Warrender walked to the station, narrowly escaping collision with a motor-bus in his preoccupation as he crossed the road. In the train he fell back on his original theory. Th£re was scarcely a doubt that Mary had spotted his half return ticket that Wednesday morning in the park, read the word “Highstead,” and not unnaturally jumped to the conclusion that he lived in that suburb. He found not the slightest difficulty in believing that she had fallen in love with him. “Whoever loved, that loved not at first sight?” She had taken Mrs. Dale’s rooms solely in the hope of seeing him in his manner as he lived. Such a girl, young, extremely attract- : ive, and thanks to the gullibilty of the | British public, inordinately rich, could ■ scarcely fail to be the prey of adven- ! turers. In these days when so many good men were unable to find anything to do. the bait must be far too tempting to resist. Heaven only knew how many proposals she must have had. One fact stood out plainly. She did not wish anybody at Highstead to suspect that she was Timothy Carr’s daughter. Yet she had done nothing which could be called misleading till her hand had been forced. She had

given her right name, intending, no doubt, simply to lie low, and there would have been no question of posing as a “companion” out of work, if that little demon had not intervened. Then, of course, Mary had no alternative. It was impossible to refrain from the tacit admission without giving away the show. There could be no question concerning Dick Warrender’s own course. That at least seemed beautifully straightforward. She must not be allowed to imagine that he had been put wise. If only he kept his own counsel he had oply to go in and win—win the most beautiful woman in the world and a fortune that surpassed his most avaricious dreams. He could enter freely into her romantic ideal. He loved her the better for it if that were possible. Her desire was to be asked in marriage while she was believed to be under the painful necessity to earn her own living. Disillusionment would prove, surely, a sore disappointment. In heaven’s name, let her have her own way. Why not? Why fly in her face? What was to be gained by letting her imagine that he knew who was her father? a There appeared no difficulty. Nobody knew. Nobody need ever know. It was not as though anyone had told him the facts of the case, or that her pseudo-employer had the least suspicion he had followed her to Quinton Gardens. The secret was confined entirely to himself. Naturally, it would be necessary to ‘exercise the greatest caution. He was a man who always found it hard to consume his own smoke. It was dangerous for any outsider to entrust him with a secret, almost impossible, in the ordinary way, to keep one of his own. This, however, was by no means an ordinary way. Forewarned was forearmed! Being aware of his personal weakness, he could strenuously guard against it, and if the effort proved troublesome, the reward would be exceedingly great. All he had to do was to go along as he had done since he was so cruelly deceived last Friday—with one delightful exception. There would no longer be the least reason for steering clear of the woman whom he adored. Thank God for that! On leaving the station at Highstead. he at once took advantage of his new liberty, and went out of his way to pass Mrs. Dale’s gate. Slackening his pace, he came almost to a standstill as lie gazed longingly at Mary’s sitting-room window, without, however, seeing any sign of her. She had probably gone

for a walk, and, on the whole, he would not yield to the temptation to ring the bell. His obvious policy, he reiterated as he drew near to Birch Tree Row, was to act in every particular as if he still believed all that her co-conspirator had told him. He could not love her more passionately, and though he must behave as if she were actually in search of a job, there would be opportunities to show what alone made life worth living. Dick Warrender’s landlady, a former housemaid of Mrs. ITarborough’s had married a gardener, who cleaned windows when he had nothing better to do. They had three children, to whose noisy existence some men might have objected, thought Dick was far too good humoured. Mrs. Bunker was what he called a good, rough cook, capable of dealing with eggs and bacon, bloaters, sausr ages and other breakfast dishes, but no doubt lacking subtlety. But Dick generally lunched at the golf club, and he could dine out as often as he pleased. Birch Tree Row was a turning out of the road that bordered the common, though at a good distance from Virginia Cottage. Dick’s sitting-room was on the ground floor, of limited dimensions, his still smaller bed-room being at the top of the house. With the exception of Luke, he had few visitors, his practice being to entertain his friends at some restaurant in town when occasion required. During the last week he had felt disinclined for society, and it happened that he was dining at home this evening. (To be continued.)