"Pretty Penelope,"

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 26 June 1913, Page 2

"Pretty Penelope,"

OUR SKKiaL

By Effie Adelaide Rowlands, Author of "A Girl's Kingdom," J 'A Splendid Man," "The Interloper," "A Kinsman's Sin," : "Brave Barbara,' etc.

CHAPTER lll.—Continued. Denis looked at Penelope steadily, took in the full, exquisite beauty of the face, the glory of her eyes, aJid lii s heart tlirilied as he gazed. With such a semblance of truth before him certainty gave way to doubt, despair to hope. What if he had, after all, judged too hastily? what if he had been wrong ? "Penelope," he said suddenly and hurriedly, "why do you say such things, dear? -Why do you try and traduce yourself?"

Penelope coloured faintly. "Oh!" she answered, hurriedly, "I know it is supposed to bo a horrible thing for a girl to wish to bo a -nan; but, after all, I don't see where the harm k—all the world can wish for something they would like, can't they, Denis?" "I was not blaming you for wish--ing to change your sex." He did not put the honest admiration ho'felt into words. "I—l only meant Ido not like to bear you always desiring •more self—as it were. If, you said you wished to bo a man because of a man's greater strength, the possibilities of grand things that lie in a man's path, I —" Penelope twisted herself round in that'way which was so peculiarly her own. •''.'•.''

"As if I cared a fig about such ■things! How you do prose, Denis. You really ought to hfive been a parson. You are. much more like one than Mr de Burgh. I want to be a ■nan because a man has so much more fun and freedom. We women come in a very poor second. All the same," the girl said, with a short hard laugh that was born of her intense mental suffering, but which rang with a very different meaning in Denis Latimar's ears, "all the same, I mean to have a good time, woman though I am, before my.life ends!"

She saw his face change, she saw him wince. She had been quick to note the generou s eagerness with', which he had given her a chance to re-establish herself in his opinion.

Penelope never knew until this moment how hard was the role she had set herself to play, how bitter the task. Calling up all her courage and strength, she spoke more recklessly, and foolishly than she had yet done, and even .as the words left her lips she knew the bolt was shot this time for good. Oome what may, she had lost Denis Latimar and his love. There was a moment's silence before she spoke; Deni s could not speak. The absolute conviction of has worst fears was a final blow that was crushing and horrible. Penelope chatted on as well a s she could.

"And, of course, you will see Aunt Julia and; Marcia. You will say vou have seen us all, arid they will ask you no end of questions about us. Come, Denis, confess. What sort of characters will you give UvS all? Do tell me,* I am so curious." "You come to a strange person for your character, Penelope," he said. "Well, I dare say you know it as ■well as most people,';' she answered calmly. "Now then, about mrnma, what will you say?. . That she is.an angel,. of course. Yes, I see it in your eyes. Of Lucie? One of the most gentle-and charming women ycu have ever met. Of Penelope ? Well," she shrugged her shoulders, "a girl with some pretensions to good looks. I may say that, Denis, I suppose—may I not?" with a glance upward out of her deep blue eyes. "You won't refuse to say that much. It will vex—"

Denis turned on her swiftly; he lost even his courtesy in his rage and pain.

' "If I give you your true character, Penelope, I should say you are what, unfortunately, I have proved you' to be —a coquette, unworthy of a ■ moment's thought when compared with your gentle mother and sister, or, indeed, with any one who claim s to be a woman with a heart. Yo* bjo, indeed, a novel experience for me — one which occasions mo both disgust and regret!" The voice ceased suddenly. Without another word, another look at the pretty, pink-faced figure, Denis moved away and went back to the fire and to Mrs Desborough. CHAPTER IV. Denis Latimar did not.go to Cowe.s. He felt in the very least mood to meet a fashionable throng when he went.away from Waveston. With the variability so utterly uncharacteristic of anything British, and yet so customary, the weather was brilliantly fine on the day of his departure. "She lias her August thi s morning, at any rate," ho said to himself as he dressed; and then, he wondered, with a little excitement in his heart, if she would show him any resentment for hi s very rude speech on the night before.

It had come upon him in the sleepless hours he had endured tint he had not only been rude, but cruel. After all, what had the girl done? She was true to her nature. If her nature were so poor and sorry a thing, was she not to be pitied rather than blamed?

He longed to see Penelope once more; though ho had determined so resolutely on putting an effectual barrier of absence and distaste between himself and her, this longing would come

He h id no ulterior tiotive for wishing other than a desire to feast his eyes once more on her loveliness, to take away with him a final picture of the girl whom, though he told him-

self he despised and scorned, and yet who was —alas! lie knew it too well—the one creature that made life worth living to him. He was not fated to see Penelope. As he said farewell to Mrs Desborough, Lucie gavo him a "good-by" message from her sister. Pen had gone bathing—she sent her love, and hoped he would forgive her. Denis said "of course,'' in the most matter-of-fact way ; but thi s last disappointment hurt him very much. Despite the fact that Denis congratulated himself on hiving escaped the danger of losing his head and heart to this heartless, pretty Penelope, he found himself dwelling upon her, and hankering after'her brilliant "worthlessness" in o • manner which boded ill for his future. • :

: He telegraphed for his yacht to come to Southampton; and he spent the intervening hours in London. ■ He was standing on the kerbstone, debating where ho should tell his cabman to drive, just as another taxi drove up, and two women's faces smiled at him, and two women's eager voices greeted him. "Mr Latimar! how delightful! Is it possible you are in town in August ? How pleisant to see some one a person knows.... How horrible the streets look ; so'deserted ; and wha" funny; people walking about the streetg'arm in ami!" : Denis shook hands warmlywi r Mrs Rochdale and with her handsome daughter. He explained his position

"I go down to Southampton to night," he said; and then, of course, there wero other explanations on the other side. "You behold us two rather desolate people, Mr L.itimar," Mrs Rochdale said, with her fixed smile. She was a well-preserved woman, bearing only the faintest resemblance to her sister, Mr s Desborougb ; and so aided by judicious art as to seem from the distance very much younger than she had any right to be. Her eyes had a touch of the blue in them that shone out so magnificently in those of Penelope. It gave Deni s an odd. cold feeling of horror to recognise this; for truth to tell, Mrs Rochdale and ihe women of her stamp did not commend themselves very highly to him. As a matter of fact, neither of the two before him inspired liiin with much admiration, though he disliked Marcia considerably less than her mother. and, in fact, had a little feeling of pity for her.

(To be Continued.)