Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-06-28

there WIS little girl, out she was quite
Constance knew she wa. being forced
reluctantly. She felt that Audrey,
Connington and herself occupied stage,
with Hardness as a somewhat puzzled
audience, and Lady Barbara Preslow
and her son-both Of whom Constance
recognized-as shadowy, watching fig.
ures in the background, hostile to her.
SELF She turned to Audrey.
audrey, this gentleman is Lord
Connington, whom ] knew when you
were quite little. my daughter, Au-
drey."
Audrey stepped forward, and Con.
nington extended his hnnd Constance
noted the fact in detached manner.
He had not offered to shake hands with
to do SO?
And then Audrey's slim fingers were
In her fathers grasp. To the girl it |
was just delightful meeting with a
kind faced old gentleman who bore q |
great name, and carried the load of Il |
world wide fame. But to Connington |
1t was the greatest moment of his life.
His diplomatic triumphs sank into in.
significance beside this hand grip with
the daughter for whom his heart thirsted.
His eyes searched her face eagerly, and
rs they did so he knew vast sntis.
faction and an overwhelming thankful
ness.
He was Judge of men. He had read
them where the cloud -turbaned noun
tains lift their heads to the root, of
the world, where the long, lazy rollers
swing in to the yellow foreshores Of
the southern oceans; and Audrey was
as an open book to him. At once he
saw the innocence of her, the sweet
ness. the unsmirched page of her inner
most thoughts. More than ever the
stupendous nature Of his folly in re-
fusing the custody Of her came home to
him. But STILL she had been true to
the tradition Of her birth. and had
come through unscathed. he thought. It
did not occur to him to allow any credit
to Constance Brent.
At last he released his hold on Au.
drey's hand and turned to Constance.
The Introduction had taught him that
Audrey, as yet, did not know the real
identity of her father.
"You must be very proud Of your
daughter" he said.
Neither he nor Constance saw the
glance which flashed from Lady Bar
bara to her son. Jim Harkness saw
It, and wondered.
Connington went on speaking with
the ease of n man who has lived all his
life in difficult situations.
MY sister brought me here to see
this picture, although am not really
good judge of art. If you are re-
naming we might walk round to-
gether."
Constance assented almost listlessly.
She knew that his friendliness must
cover a threat. Connington could never
forgive her for the dreadful wrong she
had done him in the past, and IL he
chose now to be on apparently amicable
terms with her 1t was because he de-
sired to achieve some secret object.
And that object must be connected with
Audrey. Constance knew enough Of
human nature to be sure that man Of
Connington's depth of character would
be unable to put all thought of his
daughter from him; she had watched
his face closely at the moment when he
had taken Audrey's hand; and she
realized something Of what he felt in
that meeting.
"YOu Arc Not Feeling Out Of It?"
They walked on, Connington and
Constance leading, with Audrey, to
whom Preslow had Immediately at
tached himself, following. Lady Bar
bara Preslow walked alone. She was
one of those people who are gifted with
an aloofness which Is easily assumed
and carried.
Hardness walked behind. He was
with the party but not Of 1t, but the
circumstance did not appear to affect
his imperturbable self-confidence to any
extent. He knew he was neglected,
almost shouldered out, and found moth
ing but Il cynical amusement in the
knowledge. Yet underneath his calm
exterior he was white-hot with anger.
He realized that, however we'll he might
carry himself. this visit to the Acad-
envy, which was to have sho?n his
triumph over Constance Brent, was O
failure.
In front of him he heard the light
chatter of Preslow to Audrey, and the
quiet succinct observations of Con-
nington.
Preslow at the Academy was ON sure
grounds. He understood modern art.
knew all the peculiarities Of each OF
the artists, and had sure eye for
technique. Audrey tried to draw liark-
ness into the conversation and failed.
simply because Hardness could not tell
n bad picture from good one. In an
attempt to keep pace with Preslow he
condemned an ultra modern produce
ton, which, to him, seemed inexpres:.
sibly ugly and untrue to nature; and
was subsequently floored when Prcslow
was able to point out that the pic
ture was not meant to indicate the
outer semblance of the scene it affected
to portray. but rather the impression
that scene created on the mental eye.
Hardness retired from the discussion
gracefully. He could see the humorous
side of this artistic posturing, but he
was too strong a man to attempt a
cheap cynicism which Audrey must only
construe us boorshness. His suavo
ACKNOWLEDGMENT of complete ignorance
would have rendered uncomfortable
ANYBODY else but Preslow, who had in
heritcd something of the Connington
family's skill in difficult conversations.
At last Hardness made UP his mind
to 20 with the precipitate tirmness
which characterized him. lie told him
, self that he was evidently not wanted,
nnd found the knowledge rather boring
III say, Audrey. I'm afraid l must
get along now" He realized the difi
Guilty of adhering to his decision when
he saw the shadow which crept uT
"But-Jim! thought we were
: lunching together
Prcslow had turned his back and wal
, affecting to study rainswept land
y scape. Audrey lowered her voice. =,
"You are not feeling out of it. JIM!
Harkness smiled. "Of course not
9 But, after all, when old friends meet
8 and your mother and Lord Connlngtol
appear to be such-the fewer new peo
| IL hn