Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1919-05-30
CHAPTER XVII.

E
In the course of a few wretched
days Clay picked up some Of n facts
about Daphne's presence in Wether-
ellis fatal car. He was more furious
at her than ever and more incapable
of hating her.
He saw Bayard often, but Bayard
knew little and said less. One after
noon he invited Clay to ride with him
to the hospital, whence Leila was to
graduate. He warned Clay not to be
tray how shocked he would be at Lei
las appearance, which, he said, was
a wonderful improvement on what it
had been.
She was, indeed, a mere shell, and
Clay was not entirely successful with
his compliments.
Leila sighed: Much obliged for
your good intentions. I'm a mere
sack of bones, but I'm going to get
well. The doctors say that if | take
care of myself every minute and go
to a lot of specialists and go to Bar
Harbor in the not weather and to
Palm Beach in the cold and spend
about a million dollars I'll be myself
some day. That's not much, but it's
all I've got to work for. Poor Bydie!
He didn't know he was endowing a
hospital when he married me-"
"What do I care. honey?" Bayard
cried, with perfect chivalry. "The
money is rolling In and I'd rather
spend it on you than on anybody else.
"The moneys rolling out just as
fast as it rolls in" Leila sighed. "The
Lord seems to provide a new expense
for every streak of luck. And that's
my middle name-Expense."
She had actually learned n lesson.
That was a hopeful sign.
Clay sought Daphne in her odious
| Ito him) place of business. She asked
him what she could sell him. He said
he would wait till the shop closed.
She raised her eyebrows impudently
and gave him a chair in a He
| sat there feeling as out of place as a
| strange man in "a harem.
Eventually the last %garrulous GUS
toner talked herself dumb; the last
sewing woman went. Mrs. Chivvis
pulled down the curtains in the show
window and at the door and babe good
night.
Then Daphne locked the door,
dropped YEARLY into a chair, and
sighed, "Well, Clay"
81 want to know why you don't give
up Tom Duane"
She shrugged her excellent shout
ders again, but she did not smile.
She spoke instead: II don't ask you
to give up your stenographer."
"Oh. it's like that, Ell? Well, then,
why won't you let me lend you money
instead of Tom Duane"
Her answer astounded him with its
feminine logic: II can borrow of Mr..
Duane because I don't love him and
never did and he knows it. | can't
borrow of you because"
He Ieaped at the implication: "Be-
cause you love me?"
Because I used to-"
Don't you any more?" he groaned.
Glow can I tell? It's been months
and months since I saw the Clay
Wimburn that came out to Cleveland
and lured me on to New York. The
only Clay Wimburn I've seen for
some time has been a horribly pros
porous, domineering snob who is too
proud to be seen with a working
woman. He wants to marry a lady.
1 never was one and don't want to
be one. I'm a business woman and
/ love it."
sand you wouldn't give up your
shop for me?"
Certainly not"
He looked at her with bafled emo
lions. She was so delectable and SO
obstinate, so right-hearted and so
wrong-headed. It was intolerable that
she should keep a shop. He spoke
after a long delay:
MAY I come and see you once in
a while?"
IF you want to-"
"Where you living now"
"Still at the Chivvises'."
"Yoa ought to take better care Of
yourself than that, Surely you can
afford a better home"
"T suppose so, but it would be
! lonely anywhere else. It has been