The Marion daily mirror. (Marion, Ohio) 1892-1912, 1912-01-31
CHAPTER XVIII.
The clltterlna Dance.

Doris Missioner was affected much
more deeply than she would have
thought probable when she read the
ardor.breathing proposal Of marriage
from Bruxton Sands. To say that II
surprised her would be to set feminine
intuition at discount. She had known
for long time that Sands was In love
with her, and on several occasions had
been perilously close to the necessity
OF accepting or rejecting him.
Mrs. Missioner sent reply to Sands
with which, she told herself. he must
be content for the present. When she
had written IL, she dressed for dinner
rather earlier than usual, dined with
only little Dorothy March as a visa
Wis, and, after an hour or so spent in
working out pretty problems with
her youthful protegee, rang for her
limousine and was whirled away to
dance at the home of one OF her dear
five hundred friends. Mrs. Missioner's
arrival was an instant triumph, roy
al progress. She laughed and chatted
with men who ndored her, and with
women who would have done the same
If they had not been-women.
Yet there was a monotony about 1t
all to her, for although she was fond
OF society, she had seen the same
faces, heard the same small talk, lis
tened to the same music, and danced
the same dances many, many times in
the course Of the season. Just when
her vague wish for the unusual was
shaping itself into a naturalization OF
the grisly phantom, boredom, a little
stir at the entrance to the ballroom
heralded the arrival of a man who
quickly drove the little drab devil OF
ennui from his perch upon Mrs. Mis-
sioner's satin shoulder.
The newcomer was tall person,
wearing the ordinary evening attire
of gentlemen, with addition, however
of a showy turban that crowned his
long black hair, like a wreath Of snow
! upon a darkling mountain-side. It
needed no second glance to tell Mrs.
Missioner that they had already met
She knew 1t long before the Swamis
dark eyes swung their twin search
light glance in her direction. Mrs.
Missioner recognized readily the mys-
terious stranger of the opera box. IL
was the first time she had seen
him since the night in which she dis
covered the falsity of her jewels. For
a moment, the sight OF his swart face
and piercing eyes recalled the pang
with which she had learned Of the loss
of the Maharanee diamond. So It was
with q most gracious smile that she
interrupted an introduction by her
hostess and said:
I'VE have met quite recently" as
she touched the tips OF her white
gloved fingers to those Of the ORR
entail. She went on: "You see l am
more composed than at our last meet
ing; but then. dare say, you were not
troubled. Jewels, you know. mean SO
much to a woman"
Some jewels mean more, Mrs. Mis-
sioner," said the Swami suavely. 81
thoroughly understand the sense Of
loss-in fact, the bereavement that
came upon you when you found that
beautiful necklace was not what you
| had supposed 1t TO be-.
81 rather imagine" Mrs. Missioner
returned, that you are not unfa-
miliar with the fact that 1t was the
loss of one stone among the many
which really grieved me-"
"You are right, my good friend"
returned the Swami. II will not pre-
tend to be ignorant of the value you
attached to the central gem-the Ma
haranee diamond. You are not alone"
He checked himself abruptly. "It was
stone which we'll might command af-
feotion from its posseBsor. Time was
when devotion would have been tho
word"
rhey were strolling across the floor
as they talked, and In corner dis
tant from the music the widow seated
herself on a Louis Quinze chair and
said. almost coaxingly:
"I feel pretty sure you know more
about the history Of that jewel than
do"
Indeed" was the swami's only con,
cession.
"Yes, indeed and indeed" said the
widow, with a say little laugh, "Ot