TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10429, 21 September 1911, Page 2

TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

CHAPTER XVII— Continud

Clare took the proffered paper eag- ■ turning towards the window to get the fullest light upon it, and Severance, standing at her shoulder, looked at the sketch with ilier. Crude and rough it was, but there was a curious spirit and life in the lines of the fulllength figure displayed. She scanned it intently and looked from it to him "And this is really like her?" slu. asked. "It is, at any rate, very like my memory of her. Is it at all like your idea?" ' _ "I don't know; but it reminds me of somebody." "Does it? That's odd! Are you

"Quite sure. It's absurd, but it does. I feel as if I must have seen the original somewhere. Look, Lorraine!" , Lorraine quietly rose and took the sketch. At her side Clare ben+ oyer it with her. '', ' "What do you think of it, dear? she asked. . "It is very like Mr. Severance s description, I think." "Oh yes, but doesn't it remind you of someone, too?" "No, I don't think I know anybody who looks like this."

"Well I do. Derek what do you say » "What do I say?" With a laugh he took the sketch from her. ' 'Well, judging by this, 1 should certainly tsay that the lady was no beauty, Severance." "I said so," Severance answered coolly. "Ah, so you did! And this decidedly bears out your assertion. But I agree with Miss Latouche. I see no likeness in it to anybody I know. Queer sort of expression though, isn't there?" ...

- "Nattf" illy, in the circumstances." "Yes ad she "had got it. had she?" He put the sketch down on the table. •*'l suppose you would call it a sort of terror, wouldn't you?" "I don't know any word Tmn> wouid exactly describe it; but that is her face as I saw it," Severance reDlied. "I beg your pardon! What did you ask me?"

He followed Clare to the bureau; she was stooping over the open drawer, curious as to something or other that it (had revealed to her. Sir Derek, standing where he was, lazily twisting his mustache, glanced across at Lorraine. She had taken the sketch from the table and was looking at it closely, scrutinising it eagerly. Then she turned and looked at Severance and Clare. ■' Sir Derek started, stared at her, at the sketch, at Severance, at the sketch again, and burst SwMcnly m *° violent laughter. Startled, a*:!'* indignant, the outburst having so strange a sound, Severance wheeled around upon him, demanding what was the matter.

"My dear fellow, pardon me. I entreat the ladies to excuse me a thousand" times. It is nothing whatever, I assure you—a sudden absurd thought, no more." He turned and took the sketch from the table. "Pray take care of this! If, as you modestly say, it has no artistic value, it is at least_ a most, interestirlg m&menW'

Chapter xvn.

"Dear Mr Severance: How very] formal! Certainly we shall be in if you call to-morrow, and shall be very I pleased to see you. But what is the matter .that you write to ask? Anything; important? Your note put mother quite in a flutter ._ She declares there must he something wrong. By the way, she is talking very much about getting hack to Redbourne, so I expect that by the end of the week town will "see the last of us foy.tfiis ■vear. Did you know that? J/ shall be sorry in some ways, but not altogether. Lorraine is looking so pale «u»win that T am pure this air does not isuit her. I won't, be so, ceremonious as yon are, but sign - Your affectionate cousin. <<CLare.^ A charming little letter, but was it the right kind of letter which an undeclared lover would care to receive .from his beloved? Severance,, reading , it for the second time since it's receint 'frowned over it before he smiled. Was it a little too frank, a little too friendly? And-the signature? She need not have signed herself cousin in the nresent instance. For although' the 7ittle letter was an artless one. s=he must know perfectly well what his letter had meant.

'.'Yes, my pretty Clare, it is something: remarkably important, as your ladyship knows pretty well!" he said. "Did I know that you wero likely to leave town at the end of the week? I did, or 1 might have waited a little longer, perhaps—not that there would have been any sense in doing that, or reason, either, I hope." He put away the letter.' "Well, she's the prettiest and sweetest girl I know, and I shall be lucky if she says 'Yes." If a man can't he happy with such a wife and doesn't make her happy in ! turn he must be a fool, or worse." But, saying this, he sighed. He was an honest man, and he knew—he did not pretend that he did not —that he was not passionately in love with Clare Throckmorton. He was fond of her, but as for anything more, the vague something which in different circumstances might have been— — 1 His face was sombre as he dressed to

(OUR NEW SERIAL.)

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

keep his appointment with. her. He sighed again as he took up his hat and left tho house.

"Well, well, one can't have- everything, I suppose I 3' he said. It was not a jubilant frame of mind in which to go to her, and he walked slowly, too absorbed to call the cab he had meant to call. He was still a long way from Hill Street when some one, advancing in the opposite direction, brushed against him, uttered a stifled exclamation, and hurried on. Vagely aware (that the person was a Woman, and startled by the collision and the outcry, he turned to look after her. He caught only a glimpse of her pa'ki face beneath its veil, and of her gray hair; but in that glimpse •the lithe, agile figure and the neat mourning dress was instantly familiar. "Mrs Vassell, by all that's \vonder-> full" he said. Was i*. indeed the housekeeper of Surely, ■" e Could trust liis eyes. But, if why should she 'have cried out at bhe sight of him and hurried away te avoid him? She certainly was doing that. Her pace quickened almost into a run as he looked, and then she vanished among the people who thronged the busy corner. "Strange!" lie said. "What can she be doing in London. Thought she couldn't be got 'away from Redbourne. Wonder if they knoAV in Hill Street I'll speak of it, if I recollect." But die was not in Hill Street yet, and was not, it seemed, to reach it unhindered. He had not gone a hundred yards when he was checked again. A hand was put out, a voice spoke his name. Severance, giving his hand to young Harry Seton, felt an uncomfortable pang. Very often, in thinking of Glare, the memory of the lad had obtruded itself uncomfortably, hut he had forgotten him to-day. It was not too pleasant to see the honest young faco and hear the frank greeting, remembering what his own mission was. "You were coming on to see me, do you say?" he asked. Harry had paused with a curious hesitancy; his face, now that its involuntarily smile of greeting was gone, bore an unusually clowded look. "Not for any law, I hope?" ' "Well, not exactly." He laughed. "That's not in my line, you know, and I don't mind confessing that I am uncommonly glad of it, too. The fact is, Mr Severance, I wanted to say a few words to you. If you're not in a hurry and don't mind, I'll walk with you and say them now."

A few words! Severance felt instantly that ho knew what this meant —that the first sentence would eontain Claire's name. It was as well, perhaps. He nodded, put his hand on the other's arm, and turned him about. '

"I'm going on to Hill Street," he said, "but my apoointment is for no t particular time within 'half an hour. Walk with me if you like, and understand that I am quite at youi' -service. What is it? Nothing wrong, I hope? ' -j "I don't know about that. Yes, I < do —its confoundedly wrong! Look here, Mr Severance, it is about Clare!" Sevetvance had been so entirely sure that he did not find it necessary to reply beyond".-, hiaking - a gesture. 'Harry., encouraged by having begun, Vent on fluently. "I ought to call her .-MlflS Throckmorton, I suppose," he said; "but it i can't matter to you. You are her cousin. As for me—well, you don't need to be told what she is to me, do you?"

"I tihink not," Severance answered quietly. "For that matter, nobody needs to be told," said Harry bitterly. "She herself, least of all. "Well, I'm a fool, I dare say, but I can't help it —dbn't want -to help it. I love her and- always shall love her. I can't chop and change like some fellows can —not built that way, I suppose. Can't do it any more than you could. Well, she won't have me. She says 'No,' and always will, as far aa I can tell. I don't expect anything else. That's not the point. Look here, Severance, I tell you what —when you get really |to care for & woman, when she has once fairly got hold of you, she's all jthat matters. I mean, you can stand •not getting her, you can even stand seeing her take somebody else, but you can't bear seeing her make a hash of her life. I can't stand by quietly and : see that!"

"You're a good fellow, Harry!" Severance said, involuntarily. This confidence, which he could neither refuse or evade, pained him; the sensa-•tio-j of treachery which oppressed hi>n was most unpleasant. "I? Not a bit of it!" said Harry • simplyi "It's tlhe way you'd feel yourself about Clare if you were in love with her. I know, in a way, you are fond of her, and she likes you. You may be able to do something, though I don't know what. Perhaps I ought not to speak to you, but I can't stand looking on any longer. I tell you she'll make the ghastliest mess of her life that ever made yet if it comes about." (To be continued.)