The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1913-11-12

OI you lyAAS IAOIS OOCW OCA A4AS and death among strangers"
 ''They cared for me like the best of friends" said Brancaster warmly.
 Quite sweet of them!'' went on the woman, "but it was who should have been with you. It was my right, my duty, given me by our love. What should I have done if anything had happened-if had been left alone?''
 She touched his shoulder with the nghtest of pressure, yet it was exceed ing1y repugnant to him, and he squirm- ed in his seat, finally arising.
 Nonsense! You've plenty of friends, Norar' he exclaimed, annoyed.
 Friends ?'' she responded in a pecul- far infection.
 "Yes,' he went on hurriedly, but still firmly, you always had before we met and will again after''- Even he could not yet finish the sentence.
 "After what?' she asked, leaning far over toward him.
 Brancaster took a deep breath and nerved himself.
 After you've forgotten my exist ence,'' he said; friends who'll amuse you for the day, entertain you, invite you here and there, for this race week or that season, as I did"
 fDid?' she asked, repeating the past tense meaningIy.
 tfYes," went on Brancaster, affecting not to notice. ''When you were tired with town and wanted rest and quiet in the country
 The voman's voice now became low, intense and full of a sinister threat.
 ''Was that quite the spirit of your invitations, your letters, your protesta- tions?'' she asked quietly.
 Brancaster shrugged his shoulders.
 "Oh, well, surely no midsummer mad ness Is expected to live through an autumn,'' he said firmly.
 The woman was now on her feet and quite close to him, while her eyes fair ly blazed into his.
 What are you. trying to tell me, Hu- bert?'' she demanded.
 '"That-that when man has been as near to death as have,' he continued, ''he learns to look at life differently, more clearly and'-
 She broke in with:
 "Stuff! When the devil was sick the devil a saint would beY You've a fit of the dismals, and I don't wondee after a month of prunes and prisms in a place like this. Come back to the Rfevers. We'll ask some cheery peo- pie down to stay. You'll be yourself again.
 "I am not coming back to the Rie- vers,' he said shortly.
 "Eh? We'll, 1t is gloomy. Much jol- Her to meet again in town"
 'sNo,'' he said.
 ''Then where?''
 seNowhere,'' he replied. eve can't meet again at all.'
 Cant? Why?'' she asked, ready for the clash.
 "AIl that's over, Nora,'' he said. 'T'm sorry, but it's best to say it out. I've determined between us this today is 'goodby.''' '''
 "Do you forget that you asked me to be your wtfe?'' she said.
 ''That was before''- he began and paused.
 Before pack of lies were published in the papers, she finished for him; 'Iinnuendoes-sus that I was never called to answer-that were only half believed because = because you know how defenseless a woman is nothing was proved. Did I ever de ceive you about myself? I told you everything''-
 "Everything?'
 "Yes''
 'I am sorry," he said, 'Ebut I do not remember-the statements read about you last week, you did not explain. remember no explanation from you"
 You do not rem nember many things that happened before your accident Sir Andrew said,'' she replied.
 Some etrifes-certainly,' he respond ed.
 '"Trihes!'' she exclaimed. 'eYou forget that you confirmed your promise to me, BuD0rt xvhafova1- world of me, thinks of me, you were different. told you all. You knew-and under stood. Shan't we walk down the old paths togctner again? Won't you lead me to the new life, the hope you prom tsed?' '.Nora, forgive me-" said Brancaster, in deep agitation, ''but whatever promised I did not then know