The Washington herald., 1916-11-13

forced to have their model gowns clean
ed, she knew. But the fAded, stiffened
sachet bag! Even though some of the
French makers sewed sachet In their lin
ings, there was something personal about
this little bag. 1t was so crudeiy made.
the careless stitches so unlike the fin
ished workmanship of the lining.
Taking the gown to the light. Helen
examined II with dawning suspicion.
The underarm seams had been let out.
and there were other faint but undoubt-
able signs Of wear.
A rattle Of paper as she felt some-
thing stiff In the waist folds of the fichu.
A creased bit OF note paper! Smoothed
out II was the last page Of letter, the
writing vague and bleared. never
understood or appreciated you All he
can give you is money. Will you always
be content with that3 But what's the
use To write-you know love you to
distraction"
Tucked In the close folds of the waist.
|it had escaped the vigilance Of the clean
er. And now II was conclusive proof that
the gown was not new.
1t had been owned and worn by the
woman TO whom this note had been
written. Who was she? Where was she?
What was her romance or tragedy-for
the note savored OF both.
However. the secret Of Madame Jean
cites imported model gowns at slaughter
prices was plain. Her place was only an
exclusive secondhand shop! Did Mrs.
Burnham know? Was Madame's model
gown story only a pretense to save the
pride Of her customers?'
Was this regular business? A cater
ing to women with imported tastes and
domestic incomes?
Then as Helen held the gown of, view
ing II as whole. her Indignation waned
before It's alluring loveliness. After all,
It had been cleaned-it was perfectly
fresh. On that point she need have no
scruples.
In her absorption she had failed to
notice 1t was after g. And now while she
was again trying on the gown. Warren
tramped through the hall with a brisk.
inquiring:
Hello, there?"
"oh. I'm dressing! Wait. dear. I'll be
out in a minute"
But he was already at her door, star
ing at the charming vision OF Helen IN
the shimmering gown.
| by George, that's a peach! When'd
you get 1t? Turn around"'
| "oh, was just fixing it, didn't want
you to see It yet"
Say. that's out Of sight! whatd you
do-pawn the silver?'
Dear, you know I'm never extreea-
CANT" drawing away.
We'll. you had to come across for that.
What'd they soak your
| "Oh. I got It absurdly cheap. It was
a model" flushing, "a little shopworn." :"
What d'you call cheap?' Warren's
knowledge Of values was often disconcert-
ing.
"Thirty-hve dollars"
Huh" with an incredulous snort, "you
never got that for any thirty five plunks. -
Dear did" Indignantly. II know IT.,
worth more. but that's all paid"
What's wrong with it?' surveying Il
shrewdly. where's the Joker? What's
the rest of the story"
Under warren's keen scrutiny, Helen
always faltered.
why TIT was especially ordered fol
| a customer. She made a deposit and
then wouldn't take 1t. SO they sold 1t for
what they could get"
Sounds fshy!" was his blunt com.
ment.
"oh, I believe they altered 1t for her
| too," fioundering deeper. There was a
lot of trouble. and they wanted - get
rid of It."
well it's q corker, all right! Suits you
to a T." drawing her before the glass.
Looks like I'd guessed right on the
! market Eh? How about it?" with q
grin. meeting her eyes In the mirror.
Helen's gaze dropped in confusion, a.
she hid her face against his shoulder.
The movement was not a caress, 1t was
IN sbject self-loathing for having been
again entrapped into a nervous, palliating
falsehood because she had not the cour-
age to tell the truth.
1t was her old weakness that she had
hoped she had overcome, the weakness of
fertile invetiveness. of an easy fabri-
cation, as an ever available escape
(Oopyrirht lg6)