Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1908-03-28

"My dear, Leroy hasn't returned, and
l suppose he's forgotten about the
bridge. l can bring Mr.. Plank, if you
like"
Every WELL" said Sylvia, adding, eff
Mr. Plank is there may l speak to him
a moments?
So Leila rose, setting the receiver on
the desk, and Plank came in from the
library and settled himself heavily in
the chair.
did you wish to speak to me, Miss
Landis2"
as that you, Mr. Plankl Yes. Will
you dine with us at 8? Bridge after
ward, ii you don't mind"
THANK you"
"And, Mr.. Plank. you had a note
from me this morningT
EYES,"
please disregard it."
IF you WISH"
81 do. 1t is not worth while" And
as Plank made no comment, II have
no further interest in the matter. Do
you understand
mo" said Plank doggedly.
81 have nothing more to say. l am
sorry. We dine at g." concluded Syl-
via hurriedly.
Plank hung up the receiver and sat
eying it for awhile in silence. Then
his jaw began to harden and his under
lip protruded and he folded his great
hands, resting them in front of him
on the edge of the desk, brooding there,
with eyes narrowing like a sleepy
giant at prayer.
When Leila entered in her evening
wraps she found him there, SO i'm
mersed in reverie that he failed to
hear her, and she stood a moment at
the doorway, smiling to herself, think
ing how pleasant it was to come down
ready for the evening and find him
there, as though he belonged where
he sat and was part Of the familiar
environment.
Recently she had grown younger in
a smooth skinned, full Tipped way-so
much younger that it was spoken of.
Beverly" she said, 81 am ready"
Plank stood up, dazed from his rev.
erie, and walked toward her. His
white tie had become disarranged.
She raised her hands, hating him, and
pulled it into shape for him, conscious
ly innocent of the intimacy.
"Thank you," he said. "Do you
know how pretty you are this even
ing?'
Eyes. was very happy at my mir
ror Do you know, the withered years
seem to be dropping from me like
leaves from an autumn sapling. And
1 feel young enough to say so poetic
ally. Did Sylvia try to flirt with you
over the wire?'
eyes, rs usual" he said drily, de-
scending the stairs beside her.
"And really you don't love her any
more?" she queried.
Scarcely His voice was low and
rather disagreeable, and she looked up.
81 wish l knew what you and Sylvia
find to talk about so frequently, if
you're not in love-"
But he made no answer, and they
drove away to the Belwether house, a
rather wide, old style mansion of
brown stone, with a stoop dividing its
ugly facade, and series of unneces-
sary glass doors blockading the vesti-
bule.
A drawing room and a reception room
flanked the marble tiled hall. Behind
these the dining room ran the width
of the rear.
There We're half a dozen people there
lounging informally between the living
room on the second floor and Sylvia's
apartments in the rear-the residue
from a luncheon and bridge party CIV
en- that afternoon by Sylvia to a score
or so Of cardinal women. A few Of
these she had asked to remain for an
informal dinner and a desperate game
! later-the sort of people she knew well
enough to lose to heavily or win from
without remorSe-Grace Ferrall, Ma
rion Page, Agatha Caithness. Trusting
to the telephone that morning, she had
secured the Mortimers and Quarter,
failing three men, and now the party,
with Plank as Mortimer's substitute,
was complete, all thorough gamesters
sex mattering nothing in the prepa-
ration.
In Sylvia's boudoir Grace Ferrall
and Agatha Caithness sat before the
fire; Sylvia, at the mirror of her dress
er, was correcting the pallor incident
to the unbroken dissipation Of a bril-
liant season; Marion, with her inevita-
bile cigarette wandered between Svl-