Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1924-12-27
CHAPTER NX

lex returns
TN the tiny fishing village at the
end of Long Island, Tex had
plenty of time and opportunity to
face what had happened to him and
decide what to do. Never before III
his life had his thoughts been so
chaotic, never had he been faced
with anything that he could not de-
eide; but the thought of Lyra was
like an obsession; he could not seem
to put her out of his mind; and feel
ing as he did, the idea of handing
her over to another man. of know
ing that even so clean-cut boy as
Peter Griswold would possess her,
cut in on his consciousness until he
felt that he would go mad.
There We're times when he felt
that he was already crazy, for it
seemed TO him that he saw Lyra
everywhere. In the pale gold of The
sunrise, her hair streaming out be-
hind her, her starry eyes filled with
a divine light; in the pale light Of
the moon, the icy regularity of her
features softened with silvery mist.
He loved her, he loved heri And
yet, when he tried to bring reason
to bear on this thought, he realized
that what he loved was a dream
woman, not the real Lyra Graham.
But he simply could not be rea-
sonable. The thing had struck him
too suddenly. And so, when he fish
ed or lay on the sands. his face
turned up to the blazing sun, or read
and smoked with Harrington in the
parlor of the little inn where they
were staying, he thought of Lyra
When the two men drove back to
Brightwaters, Tex had come to no
conclusion. There was but one
thought in his mind, the thought
that he was to see her again. 1t fill
ed him with a fire that all his
reason could not quench. Strange
that so fragile a thing of white flesh
and icy perfection could move him
so tremendously, that he could want
her so terribly.
Why couldn't he see her for what
she was? Why couldn't he make
himself realize that she was cold ana
selfish, ultra-sophisticated and quite
without feeling? Reason told him
that all this was true, and yet his
dreams went endlessly on and on,
| and ina gination painted her as some
thing different.
Suppose that worldly manner Of
hers were merely a veneer? Suppose
that underneath she was a warmly
passionate woman, capable of emo
tons as strong as his own?
1t was with such thought that Tex
tormented himself. and when at last
he saw Lyra again he stood before
her in silent agony, waiting for her
to greet him, knowing that she had
the power to hurt him, and would
not hesitate to use that power.
A gay crowd was gathered on the
terrace. Tea was being served, and
Lyra, in cool gray frock, had de-
tached herself from the group and
walked to meet Harrington and Tex
as they came across the lawn. She
had smiled up into her fathers eyes,
holding her cool, white cheek for
him to kiss, and then she had turn
ed to Tex. For moment he held
his breath as the starry gray eyes
met his. For, instead Of the coolIy
contemptuous look he had expected,
instead of the amused smile, her
gray eyes were warm and ingenious,
innocently wides like those of a child;
and, as his big hand closed over her
slim fingers, she said sweetly:
I'VE have missed you very great
deal, Mr.. Hunter. Dad had no right
to carry you off like that"
His blue eyes blazed and Lyra's
lashes fell. 1t was a studied pieee
of coquetry but so artlessly done
that no one, least OF all Tex Hunter
would have suspected her at that
moment. Inwardly she was filled
with amusement, tinged with malice.
That expression in his eyes! Why,
it was there for the whole world to
read. No wonder Cynthia had no
ticed it. Well, the enemy had been
delivered into her hands, and he had
only himself to blame if she took
her revenge. To think that he had
actually touched her with those big
clumsy hands. to think that he had