The Olneyville times. (Olneyville [Providence, R.I.]) 1887-1917, 1914-09-11
-Ano 1 have got TO start for Paris by

AND have got 10 start for Paris by
the night train." continued. without
leaving her time to recover her breath.
do you happen TO know OF good
pawnbroker round this neighborhood? 70
What do you want pawnbroker
for?" she inquired. staccato.
ITO raise the fare" / answered. my
purse was stolen today, and so want
TO pawn my watch"
''But you can't go to a pawnbroker,"
she cried, still more staccato than be
fore. and eyeing me as though were
some new species OF animal. Where
are you going to stay?"
/ Unless ] pawn my watch, you may
address my letters TO the third bench
inside the man entrance to the Bois
| de Boulogne," / answered, calmly.
"But I'll lend you the money, dear"
said Estelle. her mind at once diverted
to this new problem. I've got ten
pounds I have no use for" Already
she was unlocking a drawer of the
secretaire. She took out two fiye-
pound notes and thrust them into my
hands. You must take them, Anne"
she insisted. We don't 90 back on
one another In Cedar Plank And it's
only fair payment for getting me into
the abbey and saving my reputation at
home"
You dear thing!" I said, pocketing
the bills. when get my bonds from
the Paris bank shall return this
promptly"
where are you going to stay?"
cried my companion. branching out
along another trail of speculation. do
you know what dreadful city Paris
is? No single woman should go there,
nor any married one, either, until she's
thirty-five, at any rate"
How old are you. Esteller'
asked.
"Thirty-fve," she said, innocently.
went into Mysteries quite sudden
the strain Of the morning.
Nov. dear. If you go to Paris. do go
to the Pension Anglais," she insisted,
when she had shaken and slapped me
into sanity. and bathed my face with
eau de cologne. Promise me that and
know you'll be well looked after and
come to no harm"
I'll promise" / gasped weakly.
but one thing | won't do" / contin-
ued, pulling off her wedding ring. 81
wont wear this"
And then i realized that, instead Of
laughing, | was crying. And for my
life l couldn't tell why, unless 1t was
with anger against the man who had
Inundated me.
l had the greatest difficulty In per-
suading her to let me depart. Especial
ly she insisted that the wearing of her
wedding ring would be necessary to
my safety in the French capital, OF
which, not having yet been there, she
entertained exaggerated and, secretly
how eluded her well-meant intentions
of OBTAINING me, and eight o'clock
found me at Charing Cross station,
waiting for the Dover train.
l had ten minutes leeway, and
strolled idly up and down the plat
form, watching with interest the vari-
Gus travelling types. There was par
ty Of Frenchmen on their way home
after the coronation who interested
me in particular. The faces Of more
than one seemed half familiar to me,
and especially l found myself regard
ing tall Englishman, Immediately
attired. who, evidently In the guise
of interpreter, went busily from one
to another, settling difficulties, label
ing baggage, and generally smoothing
away the little troubles of their jour
neying. Turning suddenly as l was
passing, he almost ran into me,
stopped dead, and lifted his hat. Then
/ knew who he was. and who those
others were. They were aviators and
their friends, and he was the chief
steward, with whom I had exchanged
words at the aviation meeting the
week before when volunteered to
ascend with the Chevalier DIVES
(then unknown to me) in his mono
plane.
my dear madame, why in the world
don't your husband call for his price"
he calculated. pulling out his pocket