Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1904-06-09

doesn't express much. Here am /, vim.

doesn't express much. Here am I. WIN.
ing to offer you everything, craving for
little love and q little sympathy
oh! you needn't look SO startled; I'm
only asking what I'm entitled to-and
you have nothing to give me in ex-
change. Raymond "-she put out her
hands suddenly towards him, with a
pleading gesture-"you and I should
have, so much in common; we should
be necessary to each other for another
reason than that Of money; have YOU
still nothing to say to me?"
Wont 1t be better to wait little?"
he asked, slowly.
She flung away from him savagely,
and began to pace the room again, keep
ing her back to him. After an uncom-
Portable silence she spoke, Still with
out looking at him.
''You seem to forget that without me
you can do nothing; without me you
are a beggar," she said.
ooh, is it quite fair to suggest that?"
he asked. II might be equally ungen-
erous, and suggest that, by the terms
of that unfortunate will, you can do
nothing without me. But don't like
to look at the matter from that point
of view"
Il suppose there's some one else?"
she asked, stopping again and glancing
at him over her shoulder.
He thought of that fair girl on the
bank of the river, and wondered, even
while he answered the question, who
she was and how she came to be in
that camp Of the gipsies. cit is not
at all necessary to ask that question:"
he replied. Hadn't we better bring
this interview to a close? We shall be
so much better able to talk about it
calmly later on he added.
Il want to know now she said
brusquely. For some within you are
keeping me and keeping yourself out
of fortune; for some whim you mean
to ruin us both-and |, for one, de.
cline to be ruined. I want your an.
swer."
"And must decline to give it," he
replied. las have said before, there
is plenty of time; and have as great
right to choose as you have, Cousin
Grace. The condition in the will was
an absurd and an unjust one; but we
can't help that. AS we are both help
less in the matter, won't it be best that
we should both be merciful to each
other? want honestly to do the best
can, but YOU
Il know" she interrupted sharply, II
am not the Cousin Grace you thought
should be. Well, I can't help that.
You are bound for my sake as well as
your own to fulfill certain contract,
if you can put no higher name to it;
demand that you shall fulfill it."
81 am sorry, but refuse to recog.
nize that demand" he said, with bow
- have as great right to choose as
any one else to choose for me-
He went out quietly, leaving he,
standing there, raging and helpless
The wost of the business was that she
began to feel, in ridiculous fashion,
that she really cared for him; began to
understand for the first time in her
life what love really was, and what it
meant. There was that of goodness
in her that she would have been will.
ing, in that moment, at least, to have
let the fortune go to the winds if only
he had put his arms about her and
whispered that nothing mattered but
herself. And, above all, of course, she
loathed herself for having SO far yield.
ed to the natural impulse of the mo.
ment as to have given him the chance
to refuse her appeal. She would never
be able to forgive him for that-nol
to forgive herself.
ITO Be continued.)