The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1888-12-20
WILD OLIVE.


YOU are thinking about" he said
querulously, as he came up behind her
chair
would you7" she asked, in a cool
contemptuous voice.
He had grown so used to her con-
tempt he scarcely minded it. Her thin
white dress enhanced the pale GOODNESS
of her face, as she sat there on the
hotel veranda with her somber hazel
eyes looking ouu to the serene, sap
phire sea and the distance-whitening
sails. The sun was setting, but the
band still played on the fanciful band
stand, which stood like shell against
the peaceful azure of the sky. The
moving crowds still thronged the wide
piazzas or poured down upon the
benches and refreshmcnt tables were
all occupied. Here and there a scarlet
parasol made Il spot of flame; and there
were beds of scarlet bloom upon the
well-trimmcd lawns.
The band still played-a light gavotte,
which tinkled TREMENDOUSLY on the salt
sea atmosphere.
Would you" repeated Sybil Den
ming, as she turned to regard her
husband. There WAS curious toler-
ance in her expression, dislike APP
preaching hatred Because | would
as soon tell you. ] was thinking how
handsome Gordon Marquand is" A
smile Overcame the tolerance OF her
face; she seemed fairly to revel in the
impotent rage she had aroused.
Hamilton Denning shut his teeth
upon an ugly word.
Madam he said 'you choose your
time well; you would not speak so else
where than in public; you would not
dare to say that to me in your own
room"
She rose from her seat and faced
him.
Come up te my room and s,e what
| viii not dare
Her smile scorned him again; her
white dress swept before him mocking-
ly. he could have cursed her at that in
staut with all the fury of his passionate
heart.
Their rooms looked out upon the gay
scene. The band had finished play
ing that tinkling gavotte, and III its
stead a lively pot-pourri came floating
up.
Sybil Denning threw aside the snowy
shawl that had clung upon her
shoulders and stood before the win
dow, looking out
II am quite ready to repeat my
words" she said, as if she gloried in
defying him, II can see Marquand
down there. He is leaning on the rail
Of the water promenade"
Denning came swiftly toward her,
his anger not one whit abated.
you are shameless" he cried; his
utterance was thick and disjointed.
at is not bad enough that you, a
married woman. my wife. should prefer
another to your husband. but you must
launt it openly. Why don't you eiope
with your handsome lover?o
There is only one thing prevents.
"And that?'
His wife might object" she an
swered, languidiy.
He caught her violently by the arm;
his strong grasp br~ised the delicate
flesh.
Her hazel eyes grew luminous with
passion: she answered in a round, dis
dainful voice:
Yes, l dare say anything. You
knew what you were doing when you
married me- You bought me, and
against my cntreaties. Iwarned you.
am sick of lies, and YOU shall hear
the truth. If you wanted love you
should have married my mother; she
loved you, | suppose, or she'd not have
sold me to you. and she was young
enough for YOU.
He dropped her arm and turned
away. She spoke some bitter truths at
times.
He walked the room to stihe his
passion.
Very well" he said, at length.
Sine YOU will be shameless, | shall
not try to live with You. Disgrace
yourself if you will; go on and in
trigue with your lover. | shall leave
tonight"
She shrugged her shoulders lightly.
Perhaps you might ss well. And
now, if you have no objections,
should like to dress: it is near dinner.
time"
Denning stood irresolute. She swept
coolly by him; a subtle fragIanc
foated upon her soft draperies, q
scent which always sickened him,
since it was ever associated with the
presence of Gordon Marquand-the
scent of wild olive. He turned and
went out
The lamps of the seaside city bios.
sommed by thousands on the blue, sof'
darkness The sea swept gently up
about the piles which held the wooden
promenade. 1t was night. and still
The gay crowds thronged the wide
verandas, or s;rolIed the smooth oil
winding walks. There was al moon