The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1914-05-05

hihs W pc didfIucu. Tier yOutnfui
protege was carrying democratic
training too far: ii was quite pos
sfble that a request to modify an
unconventional freedom of man
ner where Fitzroy was concerned
would meet with blank refusal.
That threatened a real diff
Guilty in the near future. An open
rupture, such as she feared might
take place IL she asserted her au-
thority, was not to be dreamed Of.
Are you angry because Fitz-
roy is occupying the same hotel
as ourselves?" asked Cynthia ct
last.
Mrs. Devar managed to smile,
pouting her lips in mockery of
the suggestion that a chauffeur's
affairs should cause her uneasi-
ness.
Il was really thinking" she
lied glibly, "of that woman in old
rose brocade-she Is sitting with
a bald-headed man at the third
table on your left. Well, that Is
the Countess of Porthcawl, and
the man with her is Roger Ducrot,
the banker. Millicent is awfully
nice. | will introduce you."
After dinner Medenham, in the
hall, suddenly came face to face
with Lady Porthcawy, who saw
him take telegram from the rack
where 1t had been reposing since
afternoon. IL was, she knew, ad-
dressed to "ViscOunt Medenham."
That, and her recollection of his
father, banished doubt.
GEORGE" she cried, don't say
I've grown so old you have for
gotten me-"
He started, rather more violent
ly than might be looked for. In
fact, he had just been disturbed
by coming across the unexpected
telegram, wherein Simmonds as
sured his lordship that the re-
juvenated car would arrive at the
College Green Hotel, Bristol, on
Friday evening.
You have misinterpreted my
amazement, Lady Porthcawl," he
said, spurred into self-possession.
Il could not believe that time
would turn back even for q pretty
woman"
"Oh, hush!" she cried. "When
did you arrive in England?
You've grown quite a man in your
1ungles. Will you come to the
lounge? Mr.. Ducrot is there
the financier. you know = and
Maud Devar. Have you ever met
her? And to show you how
broad-minded l am, I'll ask her to
bring downstairs the sweetest and
daintiest American inkehue you'd
find. Cynthia Vanrenen is her
name, daughter of THE Warren
en-. He made. not a pile, but a
pyramid, out of Milwaukees. Nam
ma Devar is gadding around with
her in mo-car. Do comet"
"I'm awfully sorry" Meden-
ham said, but the telegram L
have just received affects all my
plans. | must hurry away this in
slant"
She watched his tall figure as
he strobe off.
He used to be a nice boy"
she sighed, "and now he is a man.
Heigh-ho, you're a back
number, Mile, dear!"
But she was her own bright
self when she returned to Ducrot
and Mrs. Devar.
What a small world It isl"
she vowed. II ran across Meden-
ham in the hall. Fairholme's eld-
est son."
Mrs. Devar chortled.
Such fun" she said. Our
chauffeur calls himself George
Augustus Fitzroy."
How odd" agreed Countess
Millicent.
Medenham. of course, realized
he had been vouchsafed a mar
row escape. What the morrow
might bring forth he neither
knew nor cared.
He counted on the exigencies of
Lady Porthcawl's toilette stopping
a too early appearance in the
morning, and he was right.
At ten o'clock, when Cynthia
and Mrs. Devar came out, Fitz-
roy, the chauffeur, threw the Mer-
curry into her stride with a whirl.
Mrs. Devar was smugly COM
placent. Difficulties that doomed
large overnight were now vague
shadows. When the Mercury
stopped in front of a comfortable
inn at Yeovil and Cynthia elected
from the front seat during the run
to Glastonbury, Medenham
thawed, too.
BY chance their talk turned to