New Britain herald., 1917-07-14
How Madgc's Worry Made Lillian Forget Her Troubles.

There was long silence in Lillian Underwood's library after my out break against the mocking cruelty of her husbands letter to her. and her resolve to deny Harry Underwoods request for the formality of a divorce, because of the notoriety she and her little daughter would suffer. but to leave him forever free from any claim of hers.
 With her chin cuppled in her hands, she sat gazing into the fire d mournful stare which made my heart ache for her. l knew the sense of failure the humiliation which was stretching her sensitive soul upon the rack, knew also that until she broke the silence herself it were better not to question her.
 was in no mood for speech my self. There were number or barbed arrows in Harry Underwood's letter and with an amazed self-con- tempt l realized that one of them was the fact that the extravagant ad- riration for me which he had always professed had had so slight a tenure, had been so easily displaced by the many attractions of Grace Draper the girl whom I had the greatest req son in the world to distrust and dis like.
 I have always feared and disliked Harry Underwood, so that there was no reason for my feeling of pique, save wounded vanity, silliest of hu- man emotions. My cheeks burned with shame as I forced myself to recognize that underneath all my re- Dugnance to Harry Underwood, all my real loyalty to my husband ana Lillian there had run a secret despic- able feeling of gratifed vanity at my evident power over the man.
 With a little shudder I put the realization behind me and turned to another recollection of the letter l had just read, that which pertained to my father. I had read it hur- riedly, but I knew there was some thing in it that I should heed
 I picked up the crumpled sheets of the letter from the floor where I had thrown them, and. smoothing out the pages from the place for which I was looking The words in Harry Un- derwood's bold, beautiful chirog- raphy, stared up at me!
 A Cold Little Fear.
 "A more mysterious old cuss never lived-more intriguing and thieving officials coming to see him than you can count. If 1 had an ina ginatiOn I should say he was an international spy, but he proba bly, Is playing some little graft game of his oWn.'
 My first feling was one of unbridled anger against the man who had writ ten the words The cheapness of him; l.; hn al who had resented his Wickedness, by slandering him in letter!
 Then cold, little fear clutched me. What, after all, did I know of my father, of the mysterious business in which he was engaged, or of the source of his income? All my life had schooled myself to dislike and despise him, because of his cruelty to my mother He had deserted her, and taken with him her closest wom- an friend when I was but four years old.
 Rut my mother on her death bed had asked me to forgive him if he should ever come into my life again, and when after I had met him as Robert Gordon, the mysterious "Quester" of Broadway, he had re- NSdleu HlulSelL u 1llc lily idlIlSI, | found that all the hatred I had felt for him melted away at the sight of his contrition and of his love for me.
 And now I faced the possibility of disgrace, perhaps worse, for him. The word "spy'' has the terror for me that it holds for all women, and in a moment my thoughts had flown back to the stranger whom Dicky had brought to our home, the man Drake who asked me so many questions about my father that I guessed he had secured the invitation from Dicky for the purpose of questioning me.
 How glad I was that I had been unable to give MT. Drake the address for which he asked. I had not heard from my father for weeks, even