TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10420, 11 September 1911, Page 2

TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

CHAPTER Xl.—Continued

Where was she P A sudden unusual eagerne.s to see her seized him. Possibly he cb&fred to reestablish his opinion of her by the sight of her - grace and prettiness. Threading his way about the fast-filling rooms,, .detained to "reet this one and that one, he was , at tasfc driven to the conclusion that j she was not there. Harry ;Seton ho , saw presently, leaning against a cur- « tained doorway, looking downcast and sulky. The boy had been experiencing snubs, it seemed; in Ms present mood the conclusion gratified Severeance. He was hesitating as to whether he should and inquire as to Clare's where abouts when a voice spoke his name behind him, and he turned to see Lor- ■ "You are looking for 'v_/lare? she I But for Mrs Moorfieid's • assurance I should have begun to j doubt whether she and you were j here." , I "She will be liere Did she j promise you the next dance? "No, later. I was not sure of what time I could get here. Is ifc too k.te toask if you will spare me one ?" "I dance Very seldom. I should not j have come to-night but to please Clare. ] She says it .spoils her enjoyment if 1 i am not with her. I fancy your pro- | phecy is coming true, Mr. Severance, and that lam getting tired of London." "Did I prophecy that ? "Hie same thing—tliab I should prefer Rklbourne.' "I remember.. Are you sure that you. will not dance with me.'" "I would rather not, if you .will excuse me," she answered quietly, j She had given him her hand m greeting. As she drew it away he naturally remember that she had never I danced with him. She did not care for it —merely did it at all to avoid . looking peculiar; they were too weilaquainted to trouble about the ,; strict. . etiquette of a„refusal, she had once told him.; It was true enough, but he was not without a sense of mortification when he reflected, that she should always seleot him for refusal. H# off- j ered her his arm. i "If you will not dance let me take you to a seat. You will be tired." "No, thank you! lam waiting for Clare.". ' . . There was dismissal in her indifferent -bone. He refused to take it. He kept by her side, 'but she looked away and showed no disposition speak /again. l S!he wore black to-nignt, but of a material so vaporous and thin that her arms gleamed white through its long sleeves. - -A great -spray of wJiite flowers lay across her breast. His glance passed ' over the glowing richness of her hair to her face. She even paler than usual, or the black gown made her seem so. lie spoke involuntarily. "I fear you would hare done better to remain at home, Miss I/atouche. you are looking ill." . . "Do you think so? I'am quite well. iKre as CSaTe I"

To-see the two stand side by side] Was Mke turning frorii stormy nigjht_to Sunny morning. Clare, in her white ditess, • flushed, • bragjbfeyed, smiling, was radiant-, a very embodiment of youth, sweetness, beauty, thought Severance-, taking the little offered ihaaxd, pdeased to think that at the: Bigjht of hipa the rose® on Iher cheek grew a little deeper, and the lids of the ibazol eyes drooped down. ! "So you hare come I" she said gayly. "It is more than I expected. ! But for the excellent character which MJrs Moorfield persists iii giving you | I should have waited only another five minutes before bestowing ithe dance i I promised you oat somebody else. Wias it to ipleaise iher, I wtonder, or to keep I your word with me that you have made yourself a social martyr once again?" , "A martyr? Aire the signs of aaiquidh very noticeable ?'' Severance asked, laughing. < i "Not very!" Her bright gaze in-I spected him merrily. "But perhaps j my penetration is unusually acute. be- | cause F know you really 'hate this i ' kind; <if His®: _ r'Lor--rairiel It was only at tie last mioment {fhat ishe conseVited to change heir mind &nd : c6me witli /as to-night." • She turhed to Iherfoster sister. "How pale you are, darling! Have you, danced yet? No? Now, isn't it tiresome, Mr Severance ? She has been simply besieged, and yet look at iher card—empty ! No, there is one signature, and for the next dance, tooll 'J.R!!' Who is that? Mr Rosenthal, Ltorraine?" "Yes, he worried me. It was easier to say 'Yes' than 'No,' " I<orraine answered, her tone utterly indifferent. "Here comes your,partner, Olare!" ! Clare 'took the arm that claimed her, and with a nod to Severance moved away. Another moment, and a gentleman whose dark, handsome face showed plainly enough, his. Hebraic strain was bending to Lorraine. ''Our dance, Miss Latouche!" Tlhe;dance was a waltz;--"' As she was away,by her partner Severance remembered suddenly that he had with {Rosenthal. A second thought reseen iher-dance three or foixr times minded him that Rosenthal was rich —enormously rich—and also that he wias a bachelor. The. inevitable conclusion was checked half-formed; his gaze was withdrawn from following her< - figure acrotis theroom. A hand was held out to him; a pleasantly drawling voice addressed him by name.

(OUR NEW SERIAL.)

By CARL SWERDNA, , . Author of "A Mere Ceremony."

CHAPTER XII

"Hello, Severance! How are you Gkd to you again." It was' Sir Derek Willoughby.

As handsome as ever, as pleasant in voice and expression, as consummately easy and graceful in manner and movement —that was the .impression made upon Bernard Severance by iliis kinsman as the two clasped hands and he uttered the (necessary words of greeting and .response. A second glance told him -that the gypsylike skin was a shade darker, the lines about the mouth and eyes were a trifle deeper than had been the case nine months before. His eyes •and wits being alike keen, Severance recalled those ''stories" of which he liad vaguely , spoken to Tom Moorfield, and concluded that Sir Derek's pace had probably, 'been unprecedentedly rapid isince his accession to Redbourne and its rent roll. And the stories, of not' too pleasant a savor, had not represented Jiis normal pace as slow.. "You didn't expect to see me to-> night, I suppose?',' Sir Derek said presently. A few questions and answers a® to (his return voyage had ftfled up the interval, and with tacit consent the two' had withdrawn from the dancing room. 'A few feet of passag© way gave entrance to a greenhouse and fernery. Sir Derek put the question as they stood among the plants, with the sound of the dreamy walse music floating in to them. ) "On the contrary I knew I should meet you," Severance answered. •'All! Did you? Yes, w.hat am I thinking of? You.would naturally bear of it from Olare." "No." The "Clare" was distinctly more distasteful than it had been nine months ago. "I heard from Miss Throckmorton that you were expected shortly. That you' would be iiere tonight I was told by Moorfield." "Oh, host! He seems a very decent fellow. Pretty wife — smart woman, too! Friends of yours, I think, Severance. I fancy Clare | said so." | "Moorfield is my particular friend." ! "Never had but one particular friend in my life, and he , let me in over a horse!"-Sir Derek said with a lazy laugh. "Bather the way wit'h your modern Damon and Pythias, is it not? My idea is—never trust a man further th&n you can see him, and i even then you would need your eyesight. Beg pardon, not the case with our friend,-or with you, .either—that is understood. Ah, lam reminded I Did I understand him to say somethink about you wanting'to) see me?" For tan instant' Severance. paused, reflecting. "Yes," he said, "t/here is a word that I want to say to you, Willoughby." ' ■, "Oih!" In .Sir Derek'is quick frown, dn Ms scrutinizing look, there was ai isudden suspicion. But it was past in a moment. "All right!" he said negligently. "Quite at your'service. It won't take long, I suppose. Shall we sit down?" He seated ihimself, and Severance . followed' his example. "No, it nwm'ifc- take'fitog," Bernard assented. ' "It resolves itself into a question—nothing more. But before I ask it I'll.say (this: Upon my hon- ! our, I don't envy you!" ! "Eh? What do you mean?" said [ Sir Derek; sharply. | "Precisely and exaotly wiiat I I say. You don't understand? I'll put it more plainly. If I had a strong suspicion as to who igtole Sir Bernard's will, and saw .a fair prospect of gaining all that the theft of it cost me, I don't know that I should trouble to make the necessary stir. I honestly believe that I. should.prefer to let things remain as they are." "Oh, ihat't it!" Sir Derak, with a short laugh, leaned back in 'his chair. "All I ,<?an say is that you are uncommonly philosophic!" he said coolly., "Call it so if you like. Whatever you call it the fact remains. The affair cost me so much annoyance, mortification, and disappointment that, the whole thing is distasteful to me. . I would © thousand times not sp;eak: of it, not be reminded of it again. Wihen I decided to maie no stir l pub it, ias I vowed I would do, belrind me—out of my life. I say

again that I don't envy you either Redbourne or the old man's money.' - "My dear fellow, I'm glad to hear it! Awfully good thing that you can take it in that way!" Sir Derek said, with the same nonchalant air. "But T'm afraid I don't quite see the question." "I »m coming to it." Severance's keen eyes looked full at Sir Derek, and he leaned forward a little. "The day I left Redbourne I had a private word with you." (To b© oonfcinued.)