The Detroit times. [volume] (Detroit, Mich.) 1903-1920, 1911-06-22
CHAPTER ~.
An Alarm In the Nlqht.

There was nothing that could ask,
nothing that l could say, and aside
from her thanks she was silent. SO
without a word turned and helped
the other woman to her feet, and still
In silence the three of US walked
along until we came to an easy rise
where | helped them both to the
track. We were just in time, for as
we gained the track our trolley round
ed the curve and took us aboard.
So for mile or so Miss Tabor and
sat In intimate aloofness. while the
car bore us through the beauty OF the
fading summer day. Everywhere
birds were chanting the evening, and
ever and again with growing insist
ence the vivid breath Of the nearing
sea blew past us. All my life this
first summer tang OF salt air had
never failed to stir me. IL had
meant vaction and the vague trumpet
call OF the unknown. But now l sat
unheedipg. burning with an .unreason-
ing and sullen resentment. | knew
that was fool. What possible diff
ference could a. make to me IL the
acquaintance of a merry week and a
few more intimate hours chose TO
hide wedding-ring In her breast. IL
certainly was no business OF mine,
nor could she owe me any explana-
ton. Yet wanted explanation more
than anything else in the world. 1t
certainly could not be her own and
yet-whose was II, anyway? Ger
tainly not her mothers. for her moth
er knew was alive. But then, whose
could 1t be? And why did 1t matter
so much? Why should such a patent
terror fll her at the thought OF its
loss? Why was 1t again SO finally
and so quickly hidden away II was
even strange, / thought, that she
should let the emotion that she must
know | had seen, pass with no EFFORT
of explanation.
| glanced a her. She was sitting,
looking wearily ahead. distress was
in her eyes, and every little line OF
her body spoke fatigue without hope;
only her hands, tightly clasped In her
lap showed the determination OF some
hidden thought The blue OF little
bruise had begun to show near her
temple. A wave of tenderness swep:
over me. the pity of man for WON
an tired and in unvoiced distress
Who was that should question her?
What possible claim had upon even
the least of her thoughts? She was
pathetically weary and disturbed, and
| was a sullen brute.
| | spoke to her as IL conversation
had been unbroken. "Of course l am
to take you home"
She shook her head.
That's perfectly absurd" I said
There must be some inn or other
near you! | can put up there for the
night and go on in the morning. In
fact, | am pretty tired, myself; the
nearest place that | can get supper
and a bed is the best place for me-"
She considered for a long moment
very WELL" she said at last, Il an
tired and still little dizzy; 1t would
be nice to be taken all the way home
| don't generally mind the dark, but
suppose that we were good deal
shaken up. There Is an inn, too, but
It would be very silly Of you to &C
there. unless-unless for some reason
we could not put you up
"Oh, come" I said, you probably
have houseful at the present mo
ment, and you know 1t. Nothing Is
more upSeltlnB III the WOIiu Gldn tus
unexpected guest"
well, we shall see," she answered
ct am pretty sure that nobody but the
family is at home and father will want
TO see you and thank you. Knight
erranty appeals to him. We vii
leave the asking to mother. II she
can she will want you to stay. II
she can't, well the inn Is not so bad
Yafter ALL There II is, by the way
on that little hill. / had no idea that
we were so near home. We get off al
that next electric light. Will you
please signal to the conductor
The car stopped and l helped hel
down, taking our two bags with the
strange feeling that / was suddenly
coming to the end Of brief senti
mental journey. Our companion IL