The herald., 1922-04-27


him.
He looked fresh. hard, even young,
In his white flannels. They stood look
ing at each other for a moment with
out speaking.
"Where have you been?" said Rich.
ard, sharply, then, You look i'll"
Tears, despite her desperate resolu-
tiOn, suddenly stung Harriets eyes.
And yet her heart leaped with hope.
II wanted to see you, Mr.. Carter"
she faltered. "I couldn't sleep very
well. I've been down at the shore. But
later-any time will do"
You couldn't sleep" he exclaimed
with quick sympathy. He looked from
her about him, as If for a shelter for
her emotion. Here" he said, "come
down the steps q bit. l was going
down to the court for little tennis;
Ward may follow me, but he won't be
dressed for half an hour yet. Sit down
here; we can talk"
| They had come TO the marble bench
on the terrace. where Isabelle and An
thony Pope, shelt@ed by these same
towering trees an,i low brick walls,
| had had their talk year ago. Har-
riet, 10 her own CONSERVATION, felt
that she was in danger Of tears.
II hardly know how TO say It,"
she began. "But-but you know how
ashamed 1 AM"
! "I knOw-I know how you feel"
Richard said with n sort Of brief SYM
pathy. I'm sorry! But you know
you mustn't take this all too hard. 1
didn't was thinking OF this last
night; didn't ask you for-well, any
more than you gave me, in this mar
riage of ours. Your divorce was your
own affair.""
The girls tired eyes flashed.
There was no divorced" she said,
quickly.
mo divorceP" he echoed with puz-
zled frown.
81 want to tell you about til" she
said. But the tears would come again.
I'm tiredl" Harriet said, childishly.
trying to smile 1--WE been up-walk-
Ing couldn't sleepw
The consciousness that he had been
able to forget the whole tangle, and
sleep soundly. gave Richards voice
little compunction as he said:
"You don't have to tell me now.
Wen find a way out Of 1t that is easy
for every one"
"No, but let me talk" Harriet, in
her eagerness, laid her fingers on his
wrist, and he was shocked to feel that
they were icy cold. 81 want to tell
you the whole thing-I want you to
understand ~ she said, eagerly. Rich
ard looked at her In some anxiety;
there was no acting here. The rich
hair was pushed carelessly from the
troubled forehead. She was huddled
in the enveloping coat, different fig
ure indeed from his memory Of the
, superb and angry girl Of last night In
the library lamplight.
"Mr. Carter, I never knew my moth
er-" she began. But he interrupted
, her.
, "My DEAR" he said, In a tone he
might have used to Nina. He laid his
, warm, fine hand on hers, and patted
, II soothingly. my dear girl, II you
feel that you would like to 60 to that
motherly sister Of yours-if you feel
: that IL would be wiser"
"Oh. I am going to Linda at once !"
l Harriet said, feverishly. hurt to the
I soul. T had planned that! But-but
E won't you let me tell you?" she plead
D ed. She had framed the sentences a
e hundred times in the long night; they
Y failed her utterly now, and she groped
\ for words. 81 was only three years
: old when my mother died." she said.
"Of course I don't remember her-I
t only remember Linda. I was shy, my
G father was q professor, we were too
e poor to have very much social life.
v lived in books, lived in my fathers
shabby little study really; never had
a an intimate girl friend! Linda was
a always good-angelically good-talk-
ing of the Armenian sufferers, and of
q the outrages in the Congo, and Of the
poor in New York's lower East side
she never cared that we were poor,
j and that we hadn't clothesw
81 know-I know!" Richards eyes
we're smiling, as II he knew the pic
\ ture, and liked It.
swell. Linda married when I was
ten, and Josephine came, and then
Il Julia came. I still lived for books and
q babies. But, unlike Linda, I cared. y
; Harriet's whole face glowed; she
looked off into space, and her voice
? had a longing note. IL cared fol
!. clothes and good times!" she said. 81
q adored the children, but I dreamed
Of s-glory-achieve
ments! / knew that other women die
u it"
- To BE coNTINUED)