The Monmouth inquirer., 1922-09-07
Fl aonf 1ael sure 4 in dead.' PanIIne

VsOEfEFNNA
'WeTT demanded Amabel
II should Like to speak TO Gil
bert
If you listen you are lost, said
Amabel. BE warned in time!
That doesn't follow. He merely
asked you To-
TO ind out how the land lay
Don't lead him to think it's an Ell
Dorado cried Pauline.
Amabel came to her side with a
laugh. She rested hand on Paul
ines shoulder. and stoopedto kiss a1er
/ cheek
Still, it's not entirely barren and
.nhospitable, she suggested
Gilbert brought such solemn face
to the interview that afternoon that
Amabel found It hard to maintain
suitable gravity.
Let me take you hat she said;
now please sit down
Have you good news for mer he
cried.
sit down and l will tell you all
about It,
But, my dear Amabel!'
MY dear Gilbert, must go my own
way
It's calculated to drive a man mad,'
he muttered, taking a chair
L Will. leave that to Pauline she
/ said. with a laugh He was on his
feet again instantly
Then, you really think she Will
marry mel
Gilbert you're perfectly lovely,
Amabel rejoined What delicious
thiAg TO say! Now, she continued.
! have been entirely frank with Pau1
inc. ! told her everything you told
me
Gilbert drew a deep breath.
What did she say? he demanded.
Size said she liked you--that she
always had liked you She liked you
two years ago.
You delight IN tormentng me- he
exclaimed
Why, Of course / do. You good
people are so serious. You do make
such a fuss about your little feeaingsl
But. there, Pauline win graciously
listen
Now at ,once! he suggested with
great eagerness.
She is not at home this afternoon,
you know
May come this evening? ne
asked
She has dinner and dance l
am not invited to either Don't you
think it's shame? she said But
if you can come abouu this time
tomorrow, you will find Pauline alone.
CHAPTER III
Gilbert walked from Gloucester
Place to the private hotel in Brook
street where he usually stayed. He
was confronted by a problem OF ex-
treme difhculty-to kill time during
the next twenty-four hours.
He felt afraid to hope, yet he could
not despair. He asked himself a score
of times whether Pauline would have
deliberately offered to see him unless
she intended to surrender; he spec
ulated whether her only object might
be to deliver his coup-de-grace decent
ly and in order
There was no one in London to
whom he could confde his anxieties,
consequently no one whom he cared
to go to see. He dined alone, he
smoked good deal, he went to aEthe-
atre, and left at the end of the first
act. He went to bed at midnight and
lay awake until five o'clock in the
morning, and after breakfast he re-
allied that he had still some hours
to get rid Of
When at last it was four O'Clock, he
set forth to Gloucester Place, where
he found Pauline alone in the draw
ing-room.
A more than usually sympathetic
expression seemed to add to her
charm, though Gilbert understood her
character too well to assume that the
kindliness of his reception necessarily
signified her surrender.
If she had decided to put him out OF
his misery, he knew that her regret in
manner, would almost equal his
own. His anxiety was too intense to
allow him to show to advantage, and
after short, embarrassing silence,
he began to talk little vacantly
about about the weather.
You are impatient to leave Lon
don,' she said presently I know it
is always rather bore to you. You
pine for Horsemere.'
I know | am wanted there, he an
swered Things seem to have
knack of going amiss when one is
away
\. I suppose you are kind of despot,
Pauline suggested.
oh. hope not,
"A benevolent despot, of course, she
said Don't they say thar is the best
kind Of a ruler2'
He isn't in fashion nowadays, Gil
bert answered
Because. despots haven't always
been benevolenttr
He leaned forward eagerly
y hope you are going to prove be-
neyolent, be said
You musn't suggest that am de-
spotic, Gilbert