Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1921-01-06
Chapter XXI

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M ISIS WESTFIELD is not
|. M receiving" parrot : like
lVl Mrs. Cook gave Clifford
Sloane Helen's message.
Just what do you mean by. that,
My good n"f reCeTe me- How it that d6 S Sne
card to her" He glanced at the bit
of pasteboard she still held in her
hand.
81 gave you her message" The
stolid answer told Sloane all too
plainly that the woman had had her
instructions not to admit him. He
smiled evilly. said something under
his breath and turned away.
Helen Westfield had intensified
Sloane's desire to get even," had
made him absolutely careless as to
the means he took. Her refusal to
see him. obviously planned in case
than he would have admitted.
Hello! What are you doing down
here?" he asked of the man VINO now
was seen often in the neighborhood
the one who had followed Helen,
who patronized the crippled flower
interested in her in the only way his
evil mind could conceive.
Just taking a walk
Often walk here?"
Most every day"
Without further remark Sloane
went his way. But he felt sure he
had stumBed upon something, any
how, upon one who would be Of aid
to him in his battle of wits with
Helen Westfield. Once he looked
back: The man was still standing
on the corner, this time in seeming
ly close conversation with the Grip
pie.
I'll talk to that flower seller my-
self SOON, he muttered; Jauntily
ugly frown smoothed from his fore
head, he was once more his indif-
ferent self, sure that fate would
show him the way to accomplish
what he had determined to do.
Helen hummed a tune under her
breath as Mrs. Cook raped on her
door. The smile she. gave the wom-
an after she had told of Sloanes
visit carried the assurance that she
her orders had been carried out.
He didn't look like he was pleas
ed" Mrs. Cook remarked. He's got
bad eyes, if you'll pardon my say
Yes, he has bad eyes. Thank you,
Mrs. Cook, and please remember he
never is to be allowed to see me-"
Il hate him." Helen said vehe-
mently. as the door. closed after the
woman: Il never hated any one
but him-as I do that Clifford
But as she sat by her window
hours afterward, inhaling the soft
breath of the night and watching the
twinkling. lights Of the square, Hell
en- thought not of the two men she
hated. She thought of Kirk Lansing,
the man she was beginning to love
the man she was fighting.
A desperation seized her when
she thought of Lansing. The des-
spite. of herself she loved him; that
the love that comes but once had
come to her-too late.
At first Helen had been utterly
at ease with Lansing. She had been
jauntily,, blithely. .talkative about
She had taken certain camaraderie
that had developed between them as
a matter of course. recognizing Lam
sings sterling character, his wish
to be true friend. He had moth
ing of the dilettante air of Sloane.
There was nothing dandified or weak
about his appearance. He was ev-
cry inch man, she thought, with
smile that laid on her lips in the
dark, and remained there when she
slept.
For something she never had real
ly desired Helen Westfield had
wrecked her life. For stupid girl
ish blunder she could not live as
other women lived. do as other wom-
en- did. She could not have the
freedom, the happiness she craved
save by losing herself. Now that
she had found that freedom, was
she to be unhappy because of a love
she could not control?
But one thing she saw plainly,
If she told Lansing. she would lose
him. If she did not tell him and
he should find it out, it would mean
more than losing him. 1t would
mean losing his love, his respect
One thing was sure. Helen had
lost herself completely. 1t was now