The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1910-09-01
CHAPTER II.
A Name Goes Round a rabIe.

Name Goes Hounu Idplos
For tonight, from the moment he
had appeared she had recognized an
unfamiliar mood in him, and it had
come out the more they had discussed
the Chatworth ring.
She wondered, as he heaped her er-
mine on her shoulders, If Harry
might not have more surprises for her
than she had supposed. Perhaps she
had taken him too much for granted.
After all, she had known him only for
year.
She herself was but three years old
in San Francisco, and to her new eyes
Harry had seemed an old resident
thoroughly established. So firmly es-
tablished was he in his bachelor quar-
ters, in his clubs, in the demands
made upon him by the city's society,
that it had never occurred to her he
had ever lived anywhere else. Nor
had he happened to mention anything
of his previous life until tonight, when
he had given her, in that mention of
London ball, one flashing glimpse of
former experiences.
Impulsively she summed up the pos
sibilities of what these might have
been. She gave him a look, incredu-
lous, delighted, as he handed her into
the carriage. She had actually got
thrill out of easy-going, matter-of-fact,
well-tubbed Harry! 1t was comrade-
ship in itself. Not that she would
have told him. This capacity of hers
for thrills she had found need always
to keep carefully covered. In the days
when she was shoeless child-those
days of her fathers labor in shaft and
dump-she had dimly felt her world
to be a creature of a keen, fairly
cruel humor, for all things that did not
pertain to the essence of the life 1t
struggled for. The wonder of the
western flare of day, the magic in the
white eyes of the stars before sunrise,
the mystery in the pulse of the pound
ing mine heard in the dark-of such
it had been as ruthless as this new
world that looked as narrowly forth
at as starved a prospect with even
keener ridicule. Instinctively she had
turned to both the hard, bright face
they required
Fatherless, motherless, alone upon
the pinnacle of her fortune, she had
known that such an extraordinary en-
trance, even at this rather wide social
portal, would only be acceptable if
toned down, CLOSED over and drawn
out by a personality sufficiently neu-
tral, sufficiently potent and sufficiently
in need of what she had to give The
successive fickers of the gas lamps
through the carriage window made of
Clara's profile so hard and fine little
medallion that it was impossible to
conceive it in need of anything. And
vet it was just their mutual need that
had drawn these two women together.
and after three years it was still the
only thing that held them. AS much
of fight as she had put up with the
rest-the people who had taken her in
she had put up the hardest with
Clara. Yet of them all Clara was the
only one she had failed to capture.
Clara was always there in the middle
of her affairs, but surveying them
from a distance, and Flora's struggle
with her had resolved itself into the
attempt to keep her from seeing too
much, from seeing more than she her
self saw.
Their dubious intimacy had created
for Flora special sort of loneliness
"a loneliness which lacked the Sc
curity of solitude; and it was partly
as an escape from this that she had
accepted Harry Cressy. By herself
she could never have escaped. The
initiative was not hers. But he had
presented himself, he had insisted,
had overruled her objections, had
captured her before she knew wheth-
! er she wanted it or not-and held
her now, fascinated by his very sue
cess in capturing her, and by his beau
| tiful ruddy masculinity. She did not
ask herself whether women ever mar