THE TWO MISS CARRS

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 82, 28 June 1927, Page 14

THE TWO MISS CARRS

CHAPTERS I. to XXIV.—Mrs. Fentiman ; fiattei's tierselt mat she u.-s «:o! i;»ok I her atre. although she is 10 years older j than Pick Warrendtr. He knows tie i has only to say the word and the lady i and all her possessions are his. She is ' trying to get his a post as private secre- ! tary to Sir Edwin Shackel. Mrs. Fentiman returns from a visit to her mother and 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 I this voting lady, whom Dick owns ne does not know. On their way to tennis Luke Harborough 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 dog recognises him. and Dick scrapes acquaintance with the girl He brings up the topic of Mary Carr, nrid his companion asks whether she has vet obtained a situation. Dick is astounded, and asks whether Miss Carr oft her last situation on Saturday "Y^ 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. Luke 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 and jumps to the conclusion that Mary is the heiress. If that is so. she is eligible for marriage with him. He plans accordingly and tells Luke he wants a job. then he calls on Mary. He suggests that sheh should accept a position in a newspaper advertisement and later makes sure that Sir Timothy has left his money to "Mary " Luke in response to an invitation calls at Virginia Cottage and learns that the two “Marys” are cousins. After another interview with the lady of the Sealyham who calls herself “Molly,” Luke has a new interest in life. Following his plan Dick inserts an advertisement for work for himself and tells Mary and Mrs. Fentiman that he intends to get married. During a visit to Mollv, Luke learns that Lord Rothnill was a suitor for Mary and that she went to I-lighstead to make ur» her mind. Dick calls on Mary and finds that she is just going to town. Later he tells her he loves her and she agrees to become engaged. He breaks the news to Mrs. Fentiman and Mrs. Harborough and goes to see Mary again. He finds out that there are two Miss Carrs and that he cannot think of marrying a poor woman. Believing that Mary has not a neny he rushes away from the house. Meanwhile Luke discovers that Molly is the poor girl, and the mistake he had made. Mary, bitterly disappointed, decides that she will marry Lord Rothnill and Luke calls on Molly to get her sympathy for Warrender. After deciding to emigrate, Dick calls at 4 Quinton Gardens and is met by Molly. CHAPTER XXlV.—(Continued). Rising slowly from her chair, followed by the dog, she went to the drawing-room, and though Mr. Warrender was supposed to be suffering from a seriously damaged heart, he looked as handsome, as debonair as when she had seen him before. He was wearing a black morning coat with the regulation line of spotless white above the waistcoat, and perfectly creased striped grey trousers. His dark tie was fastened by a small pearlheaded pin, and his socks were of precisely the same shade of dark blue.

“My dear Miss Carr,” he exclaimed, “I have had the pleasure of meeting you before—thanks to my old friend Bunch.”

Author of “ Joanna Sets to Worl^. Late Mr. Beverly/’ &c., &c

Though she did not offer her hand, the terrier showed no aloofness. He frisked about Dick’s legs, slobbering and manifesting canine delight. “He remembers me right enough,” Dick added. “Good old dog.” Xow Molly Carr had intended to deal faithfully with the unwelcome guest, but rather annoyingly, she felt, as most people and especially most women were apt to do, that it was difficult to be indignant in his presence. Moreover Bunch’s amiability seemed in some quite unreasonable way to tell in his favour. # “The last time.” he continued, as she remained silent, “you could not resist amusing yourself at my expense, you know. The boys and the frogs again. You no doubt remember the fable. It was play to the one and death to the other.” “Still, you didn’t die, Mr. Warrender.” “I’ve lived to fight another day,” he said. “I'm afraid you haven't chosen your battle-ground very judiciously,” she cried. “Always search out the enemy and go for iiim,” returned Dick. “Not,” he added promptly, “that I can regard Mary as an enemy. Far from that, badly though she has treated me.” “Badly as she has treated you!” retorted Molly. “Forgive me.” said Dick gravely. “I was a little carried away. " I ci«.'t criticise her even to you. I want to see her face to face.” “She certainly has no desire to see you,” Molly insisted. “Ah, now that’s human nature,” Dick answered. “I anticipated she might feel something like that. If you do a man an injury, you always want to avoid him. That’s the unfortunate part of it. And I had no notion of the extent of the deception till Luke Harborough put me wise. Miss Carr, I have come to say ‘goodbye.’ I am going to the other side of the world. Heaven only knows when I shall return —never as long as I live in all probability. You must admit my right to an explanation after the way I’ve been treated.” Molly looked up into his solemn, handsome face. “You can’t really believe you were treated worse than you deserved,” she said. “Ah, my dear Miss Carr,” he returned quite pathetically. “God forbid that any of us should receive only his desserts. But every human being has certain rights.. I am human enough, I admit. At least I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve. I want to make an appointment. I want you to undertake that Mary shall keep it. I can come at any time, though there aren’t many days to spare.” “If you come,” said Molly, “Mary won’t see you.” “I am going to ask you,” he persisted. “to tell her it’s the last chance. There’ll never be another as long as she lives. There will be the ocean and thousands of miles between us. At least you will deliver my message. You will promise ” “I shall do nothing of the kind,” Molly retorted, with such an air of determination that he began to realise the futility of further argument. When he had at last gone, after an affectionate farewell to Bunch, she speculated about telling Mary even that he had been. She felt impatient for her cousin’s return, wondering whether Lord Rothnill would be able to find his opportunity at the Savoy.

If nothing were said about Mr. Y ar 7 render's visit, however. Mary could not be told that he intended to leave England in the course, presumably, of the next few days—the best thing that could conceivably happen. On the whole. Molly determined to wait and see how the cat jumped. She had not long returned to morning room with Bunch, when she heaid the street door open and footsteps in the hall, hoping that it was not another guest. She felt particularly disinclined to entertain anybody at the moment. As there was no sign of Freake. she thought that perhaps Mary had come back and gone straight to her own room—a significant act. “Freake,” she asked, going to the hall, “did I hear Miss Carr?”

“Miss Carr is in the drawing room with Lord Rothnill,” was the stately answer.

He had asked permission to accompany her home, and seated by his side in the car it proved impossible not to contrast his pomposity, never more in evidence than this afternoon, with Dick Warrender’s flamboyance. How in the world should she be able to call him Henry—Henry Wilberford. Arthur. Dimsdale West. Those were his names. For she had made up her mind. She intended to marry him. while wishing to hasten slowly. How impetuously Dick had clasped her in his arms! Fortunately she had nothing of that kind to fear from Lord Rothnill. with his stilted, decorous formality. You will permit me to enter for a few minutes,” he suggested, when the car stopped. “Why, of—of course,” she answered, and when the butler opened the door, she led the way to the drawing room “Mary.” said Lord Rothnill. ominously, "I sincerely hope you are not going to keep me longer in suspense.” She forced a smile as she raised her "Has it been very painful?” she asked. He astonished her by gripping hexhands. She noticed a tremor in his voice. “My dear, I want you.” he cried eagerly, “I want you as soon as you can come to me.” “But, Lord Rothnill- ” "No, no—Henry,” he urged. “But —but, Henry ” Before she realised what was going to happen, she found herself? in his arms. His caresses were every whit as passionate as Dick’s, but the experience was vastly different. It seemed as if he would never let her go. “Please —please!” she entreated, and stood panting after he released her, flushing under his gaze. He stayed another quarter of an hour and made an appointment foi- noon the following day. and as the door closed behind him she turned to look in a mirror, raising her hand to smoothe her hair, waiting still a little longer before venturing to face Molly. Lord Rotlxnill’s ardour had surprised and shocked her, but she was determined to carry on. As soon as she was capable of breathing tranquilly she made her way to the morning room. “Behold the future Countess of Rothnill!” she cried, making a profound curtsey just within the door. “Nobody can pretend that you have lost much time,” was the answer. “My dear. I shall he wooed and married and a’ before I know where I am,” said Mary, so excitedly that Molly once more longed to use the clinical thermometer. “Is he coming this evening?” asked Molly. “He has to be at Westminster—something to do with China.” Mary explained. “And he will be bound to go away next week. He was talking about it at luncheon. To the Duke of Stockton’s.” “Oh dear! How elevated it sounds,” murmured Molly. “Still, you needn’t tui-n up your nose,” cried Mary. “Nature has done enough in that way already, my dear. When father used to give one of his elaborate parties I always knew the people were saying to themselves: Carr’s Capsules, nouveaux riches, parvenues—that sort of thing. No more of that, thank goodness.” (To be Continued.)