Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1892-06-17


centricity OF his.
A sound in the firelit room behind
her makes her spring To her feet. Oh
no! not yet! Not until she has grasped
the back of the chair and has learned
that the incomer is Andy, does she
know that she is trembling from head
to foot and that her lips have grown
so cold-so horribly cold.
My word you're growing active in
your old age" says Mr. McDermot. ad.
vancinE cheerfully to the fire and
polk NC il into glorious blaze. "As
travelling acrobat you'd make your
fortune. What makes you bounce out
your chair like thatP Guilty con-
science. ehp" with grin, And / say!
What swell you are Put on all that
toggery TO fascinate Anketell over
again? i declare, Dulcie. you're the
biggest flirt l ever met. You are
hardly off with the new lover before
you want to be on with the old"
Il don't want TO be on wi h any
body" says Dulcinea, crimsouing with
shame and Indignation. "Its a hor.
rid old gown, and you know it. You've
seen it fifty times If once. If you've
come here only TO torment me-only to
-to-make fool OF yourself, l hope
you'll 60 away again"
ii merely" (pulling up his coat and
preparing to warm himself properly at
the fire. "made the remark that you
were distinctly good to look at. Now
anyone who can manage TO look well
in % gown fifty times old must be "A
lovely girl indeed. Seep 1t was u
compliment. my dear girl; why, then,
this ungratehll virulence"
"Stuff" says his cousin, with in
creasing ingratitude. The fact is she
had had something on her mind when
dressing, something that led TO d de-
sire TO look her best before Sir Ralph
on this-last even nc. For that it
would be his last as her tiance seems
undoubted 10 her. 1t was an old gown
she donned, shabby little b ack
gown; but the square in front showed
lovely neck that cleaned whittier and
more lovely than the snow outside,
and the soft, bare arms that fell at her
side us she gazed at hersel: in tho
glass worked wonders with the ancient
costume.
Mr. McDermot. unmoved by her last
remark, drops leisurely on TO the fem
der.
II say. Ducie, how did you and he
get on LAST eveningP'
about as badly as you can mag
inc"
Imagination is not my strong
point" says Mr.. McDermot, modestly,
speaking the truth for once in his life.
''AboI. no badly, now?"
We'll | ha.e kno IN him for twelve
long months and never, never in all
that time was he $3.50 abominable to
mer'
"Abominable!' - angrily - III l
thong t.
head so that the freight flickerS
from hor long lashes, to the little soft
natural fluff of hair that blows across
her forehead. Not abom nab e in
that way. He wa' quite poiteAhate-
fully polite; never speaking word or
smiling-or- -"
How the deuce could you know
whether he was smiliog or not-the
night was as black as soot?"
"At first! Not after! l saw we'll
enough And besides, his voice would
tell you he wasn't smiling"
81 dare say it was you who wasn't
smiling"
"Oh! OF course you are sure to put
me in the wrong, whether or no." 4
very pretty quarrel is here spoiled b.
one Of the combatants giving in.
Never mind that" says he. "Do
you mean to tell me we'll
wasn't like what q fellow engaged to
you should be?"
"Oh no; indeed he wasn'tr' lem.
phatically). "He was downright
brusque. He-he quite ordered me to
put my hands under the rug!'
"And you obeyed?"
"Well-er-yes. D'- (shamefaced-
ly) "I-he was SO cross, 1 thought
perhaps had better"
IL can't understand it," says Andy,
wrinkling up his brows (these are so
low that it doesn't take second 10 do
it). "Dulcie!' Cunning to her in
rather tragic way), do you think
he was there, mean? that he saw you
and-and that other fellow?"
mo" (dejectedly). "Oh no"
Changing her pretty head so low that
even Parnellite might feel sore for
herr. 1.-The fact is, Andy, that he
hates me-"
"WhatP"
"He hates mer' repeated she, with
rising strength that is strong through
its grief. That's all. ;"
And enough, too" says Mr.. Nc
Dermot. Only" drawing himself
up, al don't believe it,"
Its true for all that" Qorloruly).
I've known it for long time. After
ALL" meditating, "why shouldn't hep"
"Why should hep" says Andy vigor-
ously. "Why, look here; you're as
nice girl as know anyway! Oh, go
to the deucer' says Mr. McDermot, as
if addressing some imaginary person
at the end OF the room. Dye think
can't seeP l tell you this, Dulcie.
he'll find it hard to get as good as
you"
"Ah. Andyl what dear you are"
says his cousin, and bursts out crying.
"But tell you it's true for all that"
says she, sobbing, "He hates me-he
does really, and when he comes to-
night shall tell him all about it, and
set him free.
"Freer'