The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1912-08-20

you haven't" said Berry, "but
you've met my husband"
Roses color did not fade, but this
time she did not avert her eyes. Pride
and social training had come to her
aid. She answered quietly and with
something of dignity.
Yes, | met Mr. Ryan at Antelope
when We were showed up there. |
/ suppose he's told you all about II ?"
NO." said Berry, her voice begin
/ ming to vibrate, "he hasn't told me all
about it. He's told just as much as
he thought l ought TO know"
/ Her glance, riveted on Roses face,
/ contained a fierce antagonism that
/ was like an illumination Of hatred
/ shining through her speech. 'He
/ didn't think 1t necessary TO tell me
everything that happened up there,
/ Miss Cannon"
Rose turned half from her without
| answering. The action was like that
OF a child which shrinks from the an
cry face of punishment. Berry leaned
! forward that she might still see her
/ and went on.
He couldn't tell me all that hap
pened up at Antelope. There are
some things that it wouldn't have
done for him to tell me. A man doesn't
tell his wife about his affairs with
other women. But sometimes, Miss
Cannon, she finds them out"
Rose turned suddenly upon her.
Mrs. Ryan," she said in cold, au-
GEv-h do ov,f
to say to me? You stopped me just
now to say something Whatever it
is, say it and say it out"
Berny's RACES invariably worked
themselves out on the same lines.
With battle boiling within her, she
could preserve up to a certain point
a specious, outward calm. Then sud
| denly, at some slight, harmless word,
some touch as light as the pressure on
the electric button that sets off the
dynamite explosion, the bonds of her
wrath were broken and it burst into
expression. Now her enforced re-
straint was torn into shreds, and she
cried, her voice quavering with pas
sion, shaken with breathlessness:
What do you suppose l want to
say? | want to ask you what right
you've got to try to steal my hus-
| band?'
Il have no right" said Rose.
Berry was, for the moment, so tax.
en- aback, that she said nothing but
stared with her whole face set in a
rigidity of fierce attention. After q
moments quivering amaze she burst
out:
Then what are you doing it for?"
Il am not doing it."
l. You're a liar" she cried furiously
You're worse than a liar You're a
thief. You're trying to get him every
way you know how You sit there
looking at me with a face like little
innocent, and you know there's not a
thing you can do to get him away
from me you're not doing. If a com.
mon gutter girl had acted that
way they'd call her some pretty
dirty names, names that would make
you sit up il you thought any one
would use them to you. But l don't
see where there's any difference. You
think because you're rich and on top
of the heap that you can do anything
Just let me tell you, Miss Rose Can
non, you can't steal Dominick Ryan
from me. You may be Bill Cannon's
daughter, with all the mines of the
Comstock behind you, but you can't
buy my husband"
Rose was aghast. The words OF
Berny's outburst were nothing to her
sound and fury, the madness of a
Jealous woman. That this was a low.
ing wife fighting for the husband
whose heart she had lost was all she
understood and heard. That was the
tragic, the appalling thought The
weight of her own guilty conscience
seemed dragging her down into sick
ened silence. The only thing it seemed
to her she could honestly say was to
refute the woman's accusations that
Dominick was being stolen from her
Mrs. Ryan," she implored, what.
} ever else you may think, do please
understand that I am not trying to
take your husband away from you
You're making a mistake. ! don't
know what you've heard or guessed
but you're distracting yourself with.
L
: do that? l never meet him. 1 never
see him."
She leaned forward in her eager
ness. Berry cast a biting, sidelong
look at her.
How about Sunday morning on Tel
egraph Hill?" she said.
Il did meet him there, that's true,
"a memory of the conversation aug
, mented the young girls sense of guilt
If half this woman said was madness
half was fact. Dominick loved Rose
Cannon, not his wife, and to Rose
that was the whole tragedy. Meetings
words, announcements were nothing
She stammered in her misery.
Yes-but-but-you must believe
me when l tell you that that time and
once before-One evening in the moon
light on the steps of our house-were
the only times I've seen your hus
band since l came back from Ante
lope"
We'll, don't" said Berry, 81 don't
for moment believe you. You must
take me for the easiest fruit that ever
: grew on the tree if you think I'll swal
low a fairy tale like that. If you met
once on Telegraph Hill, and once in
the moonlight. what's to prevent your
meeting at other times, and other
places? You haven't mentioned the
. visits up at your house and the dinner
J tonight"