The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1917-07-14
CHAPTER v.

moonlight. Up the long slope, where
three months before he had ridden to
find himself confronted with the ad'
venture of his life, John Strangewey
logged homeward in his high dogcart
The mare, seeming her stable, broke
into a quick trot as they. topped the
long rise. Suddenly she felt hand
tighten upon her reins. She looked
inQuiringly around, and then stood pa
tiently awaiting her masters bidding
1t seemed to John as If he had passed
from the partial abstraction of the last
few hours into absolute and entire for
getfulness of the present. He could
see the motorcar drawn up by the side
of the road, could hear the fretful
voice of the maid, and the soft, pleas
ant words Of greeting from the woman
who had seemed from the first as il
she were very far removed indeed
from any of the small annoyances OF
their accident.
II have broken down. Can you help?
He set his teeth. The p0ignancy o.
the recollection was torture to him
Word by word he lived again through
that brief Interview. He saw her de-
sccnd from the car, felt the touch OF
her hand on his arm, saw the fash
of her brown eyes as she drew close t
him with that pleasant little air Of ia
miliarity, shared by no other woman
he had ever known.
Then the little scene faded away, ant
he remembered the tedious present
He had spent two dull days at thu
house Of neighboring land owner
playing cricket in the daytime, dancing
at night with women in whom he wa!
unable to feel the slightest interest
always with that faraway feeling il
his heart, struggling hour by hour will
that curious rcstlessness which seeme(
to have taken d permanent place in
his disposition. He was on his way
home to Peak Hall. He knew exactly
the welcome which was awaiting him.
He knew exactly the news he would
receive. He raised his whip and
cracked it viciously in the air.
Stephen was waiting for him, as he
had expected, in the dining room. The
elder Strangewey was seated in his &C
customed chair, smoking his pipe and
reading the paper. The table was laid
for meal, which Jennings was pre-
pairing to serve.
Back again, John?' his brother re-
marked, looking at him fixedly over
his newspaper.
John picked up one or two letters
glanced them over, and flung them
down? upon the table. He had exam
ined every envelope for the last few
months with the same expectancy, and
thrown each one down with the same
throb Of disappointment.
"As you see."
"Had a good time?"
"Not very. Have they finished thu
barley fields, Stephen?"
GAIL in at eight o'clock"
There was brief silence. Their
Stephen knocked the ashes from his
pipe and rose to his feet.
"John," he asked, "why did you pull
up on the road there?"
There was no immediate answer
The slightest of frowns formed Itself
upon the younger mans face.
"How did you know that I pulled
up?"
II was sitting with the window open
listening for you. came outside t.
see what had happened, and saw YOU
lights standing STILL"
II had a fancy to stop for mo
ment," John said; nothing more"
"You aren't letting your thoughts
dwell upon that woman?"
II have thought about her some
times" John answered. almost defiant
". "\Nhat's the harm? I'm still here
am l not?'
Stephen crossed the room. From tn
drawer Of the old mahogany sideboar,
he produced an Illustrated paper. HI
turned back the frontisplece fiercely
and held it up.
do you see that, John?"
"1've seen it already"
Stephen threw the paper upon tn,
table.
"She's going to act in another o.
those COMPOUNDED French plays" h,
said; TRANSACTIONS with all the wi
taken out and all the vulgarity lef
In"
ave knew nothing Of her art" Johl
declared coldly. eve shouldn't under
stand it, even if we saw her act. There
fore it isn't right for US to Judge her
The world has found her a great &C
tress. She is not responsible for tn
plays she acts in"
Stephen turned away and lit hi
pipe anew. He smoked for a minute o.
two furiously. His thick eyebrow
came closer and closer together. HI
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