The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1917-04-26

hers which were an everlasting dan
ger to her till she could regain them
and make sure of their destruction.
Her smile faded as she saw the look
of wrathful contempt In Gloria's eyes.
Then she caught q glimpse of that fate
full envelope which she had last seen
In Doctor Royce's hands. How could
Gloria have obtained 1t? OF all peo-
pie in the world, Gloria was most to be
dreaded with those letters In her pos
session. Lois heart began to pound.
her mind told her to run, but her
knees could not ever uphold her.
Gloria wasted no time on ~prefaces.
She said: 81 see that you recognize
these letters. Shall I give them to
David now, or have you anything to
say first?"
What shall ] say? What can I say?"
Lois stammered.
you might begin with the truth.
What was Dick Freneau to your"
Lois shivered at having to make con-
fessiCn before such a court, for Gloria
was young and clean-minded and she
could not understand the trials and
tribulations of q woman like Lois.
And Gloria, too, had been wronged.
Her lover had been killed in his sins.
Lois realized what a hateful face vice
wears when its pink domino is ripped
from it's smile.
But Lois told her story, justifying
herself by laying all the blame on Ere
neau or on Gloria. She told how FIRE.
neat had won her heart in Florida, but
he had been poor and David had won
her from him with his wealth. Then
she made the old excuse, that David
had neglected her for his ambition and
had left her a prey to Freneau's fasci-
nations. Freneau had made her utter
ly his and led her into the depths of
guilt only to cast her off when Gloria
appeared in all her panoply Of youth
and innocence and idolatry.
She told Gloria that Freneau had
protested to her that he did not love
Gloria, but only wished to marry her
TO save himself from bankruptcy and
poverty.
This was an unwise confession, for
Gloria was revolted by the proclamation
of her love. She did NOT believe the
charge. She cried out hoarsely that it
was q black falsehood. Lois persisted
that 1t was true. But she had lost the
tone of contrition and Gloria had lost
all power of mercy.
When Lois finished her stcry and
told of Freneau's plan to elgp.e with
her, Gloria's heart was hard aD marble.
Lois made her final plea:
II have sinned, but i have atoned,
and David trusts me. Give me back
the letters and let our lives go on in
peace."
Gloria looked at her in wonder, and
sneered:
You don't ask much of life, do you?
You have the love of two men; bring
one to death and one perhaps to crime,
and then you say: Don't let any harm
hefall me. 1 must keep e%verythingr
You act q LITTLE too much, Lois"
Lois stared at her In amazemenf.
"YOu don't mean that YOU are going
tell David what 1 have told your
EYES,"
And wreck our lives; together?"
THAT Is for him to decide. He
shall have the truth, and then he can
do what he plenses."
"You will give him the lettersr"
Gloria nodded grimly. Lois stood
wavering in despair. The silence was
pierced by the distant cry of a locomo-
tive's whistle. An express train was
coming round a far-off curve. 1t would
sweep down the tracks that ran at the
foot of the Stafford estate, along the
edge OF the river.
Lois hardened a moment, then the
engine shrieked again. She made her
wild decision.
"Give him the letters, then. 1t won't
to me-"
She turned and ran down the long
sloping to the embankment
that hid the trains from view. Gloria
often paused on the edge of It to
watch the train rush terribly past. She
understood Lois full purpose. What.
ever and whosesoever the guilt. there
had been tragedies enough. Lois mus,
die.
She ran after her calling, calling.
But Lois was far ahead of her and the
train was rushing with terrible speed
them meeting place.
fTO pE C0AyrrHyryrr