The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1922-06-22

In any case-and so was within three
feet of Richard Carter before she saw
him.
He looked fresh, hard, even young,
In his white fiannels. They stood look
ing at each other for a moment with
out speaking.
"Where have you been?" said Rich
ard, sharply. then, "You look Ill I"
Tears, despite her desperate resolu-
ton, suddenly stung Harriet's eyes.
And yet her heart leaped with hope.
~ wanted to see you, Mr.. Carter"
she faltered. II couldn't sleep very
well. I've been down at the shore. But
later-any time will dor
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. ! 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 Ans
thony Pope, sheltered by these same
towering trees and low brick walls.
had had their talk year ago. Har-
riet, to her own CONSERVATION, felt
that she was in danger Of tears.
IL hardly know how to say It,"
she began. "But-but you know how
ashamed 1 ami"
81 kRsW-I kr-ow how you feel 70
Richard said With a sort Of brief SYM
pathy. SIN serryl But you know
you mustn't tHke this all too hard.
didn't was Sinking 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 WE 10 divorced" she said
quickly.
mo divorceT he echoed with puz.
zled frown.
II want to tell you about 1t !" she
said. But the tears would come again.
I'm tired" Harriet said, childishly,
trying to smile. "Tve been up-walk,
ing. / couldn't sleepp'
The consciousness that he had been
able to forget the whole tansle, and
sleep soundly, gave Richards voice a
| little conjunction as he said:
you don't have to tell me now.
Well find way out of it that is easy
for every one"
mo, but let me talkw 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, never knew my moth
err" 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
It soothingly. "My dear girl, II you
feel that you would like to go to that
motherly sister Of yours-lf you feel
that It would be wiser"
ooh, am going to Linda at once |"
Harriet said. feverishly, hurt to the
soul. 81 had planned that But-but
won't you let me tell your" she plead
ed. She had framed the sentences a
hundred times in the long night they
failed her utterly now, and she CROPPED
| for words. 81 was only three years
old when my mother died." she said.
"Of course I don't remember herr
only remember Linda. I was shy, my
father was a professor we were too
poor to have very much social life.
lived in books, lived in my fathers
shabby little study really; never had
an intimate girl friend Linda was
always good-angelically good-talk-
ing Of the Armenian sufferers and OF
| the outrages In the Congo, and Of the
poor in New Yorl1's lower East side
she never cared that we we're poor,
and that we hadn't clothes"
'T know known Richards eyes
were smiling, as II he knew the pic
ture, and liked II.
"Well. Linda married when 1 was
ten, and Josephine came, and then
Julia came. still lived for books and
babies. But, unlike Linda, cared"
Harriet's whole face glowed; she
looked off into space, and her voice
had n longing note. II cared Cor
clothes and good times |" she said. Il
adored the children, but I dreamcd
Of carriages-maids-g lory-achieves
ments l knew that other women did
| it"