The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-02-25

was thin, and pallid with dissipation; there was about him an air of mean- ness, accentuated rather than con- manner; his thin lips twitched with nervous irritation, his hands moved restlessly.
 Behind him was the slight and al- | most shrinking figure of his wife. They had been married but recently. and there was a kind of history att tached to her. She was Princess 1 a Princess of the once flourishing.
 but now decayed, Zorelli family. She I was very pretty, in dainty, elfish ! fashion; and the world said that she had married Lydstone for his money. Poverty makes almost as many mar riages as Heaven.
 Lydstone was rich, very rich; for his father. the first Baron, had been a successful city man-some said, a moneylender--and had bought his title in the usual way, a way which has become a scandal nowadays. Not- withstanding his title and his wealth, Lydstone was regarded rather coldiy by the higher Society, which still, to its honour, declined to accept persons of Lydstone's character and origin: and it is possible that he had married the Princess with the object of forc- l ing his way into that inner circle which had kept him at arms length
 up to the present.
 They had both made had bargain; and the poor little Princess revealed her failure in her pale face and timid, shrinking manner. She was beautifully dressed. her fragile form enveloped in the costly dinner cloak.
 which one of the footmen helped her | to remove, her husband utterly dis regarding her. He stood and looked
 around the room, exchanging nod ane bow here and there, with sul-
 len impatience; then he said. almost | loudly:
 Aren't Mir. Desborough and MT Brandon here?"
 'eNot yet. my lord." replied the man.
 Lydstone flung himself into chair at the table. and the Princess went timidly to a set Of players, and rnl;r- mured a few words of conventional greeting; but; while she was speak ing, her eyes glanced with a peculiar. nervous expression from her lord and master, who was impatiently shuf- fling the cards. 10 the door. After a
 minute or two it opened, and two men came in.
 Heres Ronnie Desborough!" said some one, and the Princess gave an imperceptible start; faint touch of colour came into her pale face as she cast one swift glance at the tall,
 splendidly built young man who was entering, then as swiftly looked away.
 Bonnie Desborough came in with a
 smile on his handsome face, his good
 humoured grey eyes glancing round
 cheerfully. The most careless ob-
 server would have differentiated him
 from the rest of the men present; for
 most of them were pale, and bore l traces in face and bearing of con-
 stant dissipation; but Ronald Des-
 borough looked what he was. the
 most "fit' and happy-go-lucky man | in the world.
 1 He was as erect as a soldier, and l carried himself with the unconscious
 grace of an athlete. The foolish course of life which had set its hall
 mark on so many of the men in the
 room had as yet graven no lines in | his face, nor turned it's healthful hue l to pallor. He was young, of extra ! ordinary physical strength, and of the i bright and cheerful temperament I which had come to him from the ! strain of Celtic blood in the great i Desborough family. As yet, he had stretched out his hand to the cup of | pleasure with a laugh of careless en- joyment; it would remain for Time
 to show whether he would later snatch
 at it with the snarl of feverish des- pair which is born of satiety.
 It may safely be said that Ronald
 Desborough. or Ronnie, as he was called by his innumerable friends | was one of the most popular men ir Society. Alas! popularity, like all oth.
 CT forms of success, has its penalties; he had got into a fast set, and he
 moved, joyously, unthinkingly, in it
 the swiftest of the swift. He was a
 member of the Ace of Spades Club
 not because he loved cards, but be. cause he had been insensibly drawn
 into 1t; the horrid vice of gambling
 had really no charm for him; he
 loved a horse-race for it's own sake
 was good at most of the sports al
 strong men delight in. and was fai
 happier tramping over the turnips
 with a gun, or throwing a fly in g Scottish stream, than sitting on 2
 summers evening in darkenec
 room playing cards; and, whether he | won or lost this evening, his temper
 would remain unruffled, his pulse un. l.stirred.
 Sorry I'm late" he said cheerful ly, as he and his partner stood be- side their chairs.