The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1907-08-29

full things for the man she longed for.
But, Marjorie"-the voice came
steady and strong-"you know that is
Just a little fantastic, IL you will for.
give me for saying SO. People don't
go about injuring other people be-
cause they are better looking or have
finer natures than themselves. They
only say unkind things about them;
they don't kill them, you know"
"Oh. Of course, you are right. Will
iam," she answered, "and hardly
know what I'm saying. the pain of it
all Is SO great. But, then, there is
nothing to say. l can't understand, I
can hardly realize what has happen
ed"
For my part" Sir William an,
swered, II have left no stone unturned
to discover the truth. I have been in
communication with every force or
agency which might be able to explain
the thing. And no one has given me
the slightest hint, except, perhaps
-"
She leapt up from her chair. her
pale face changed.
"Yes!" she cried. what Is it
what Is THAR"
Her breath came thick and fast. Sir
William remained sitting in his chair
and his head was bowed.
"Sit down, Marjorie" he answered;
Il didn't mean to say that"
But you said it," she replied. "Ah!
my ears are very keen, and there was
something In your voice which had
meaning, William. what is it-what is
it?"
Nothing" he answered, in a deep,
decisive voice.
But the voice brought no conviction
to her ears.
She had detected, or thought she
had detected, the note of an inner
knowledge when he had first spoken.
She crossed the room with rapid
strides and laid her white hand upon
his shoulder.
You've got to tell me-" she said.
imperiously. And her touch thrilled
him through and through with an Ok
ouisite agony n an exquisite Joy.
IT'S nothing" he repeated.
Now there was less conviction than
ever in his voice. She laughed hys-
terically. William" she said, 81
know you 81 well, you can't hide any
thing from me. There's something
you can tell me. Whatever it may be,
good or bad, you've just got to tell
me-"
At that he looked up at her, and hts
face. she saw, was drawn and fright
ened.
Marjorie" he said, don't let any
words of mine persuade you into any
belief. Since you ask me l must say
what l have got to say. But mind you,
| am in no way convinced myself that
what I am going to tell you is more
than mere idle superstition"
Tell me-" she whispered, and her
voice Kissed like escaping steam.
We'll, it's just this" he said, "and
it's awfully hard for me even to hint
such a thing to you. But, you know,
Rathbone had recently made rather a
friend of poor Eustace Charliewood.
/ like Charliewood; you never did. A
mans point of view and a girls point
of view are quite different about a
man. But, of course, l can't pretend
that C~harliewood is exactly-well-er
what you might CALI don't know
quite how to put it, Marjorie"
81 know" she said, with a shudder
of disgust, Il know-go on"
well, just before Rathbone disap-
peared these two seemed to have been
about together a good deal, and, of
course, Charliewood is a man who
has some rather strange ~acquaint-
ances, especially in the theatrical
world. Marjorie, l hardly know how
to put 1t to you and I think | had bet
ter STOP"
go oni" she cried once more
We'll" he said, YEARLY, "Rathbone
was a good fellow, no doubt, but he is
a young man. and no girl really knows
what the life of a young man really is
or may be. I know that Charliewood
introduced Rathbone to a certain girl.
Oh, Marjorie, / can't go n these sus.
picions aN unworthy"
IT. n Nzna