Beverly banner. [volume] (Beverly, N.J.) 1877-1964, 1924-08-29
CHAPTER III

The morning came with glorious win
ter sunlight, and Ellen Latimer, turn
ing luxuriously under her warm soft
blankets, stared blankly at clock
that was rapidly moving toward nine
o'clock. They must all have had
breakfast by this evidently no.
body cared whether she was alive or
dead.
Ellen had had a white night, one of
the few In her experience. For long
hours she had lain awake. thinking
soberly about the events of the past
two days, and, quite unconsciously, as
similating their bitter lesson.
These girls were not better than she,
not wiser, not really happier. But
their circumstances were utterly differ
ent, and 1t was Ellen who was to
blame, not they, for trying to bridge
the gulf between their lives. She still
had her good home, her own admiring
and affectionate group, her books to
read by the fire, her garden to dream
over In the spring, and the swimming
and boating and tennis that absorbed
all youthful Port Washington from
June TO October. Lucia and Doris were
not real, and Ellens life dealt only
with what was practical and sane. One
might sigh for the prettiness, the gay
ETY., the responsibility, of Lucia's life,
ones face might burn because this
pretty butterfly could be so triumphant,
~ rude, and so seLf-centered, but 1t
was wiser to forget ii all, or remern-
bering. remember, too, that the dainty
superfuities were a mere accident of
income. Ellen Latimer would have
something that Lucia Torrey might
envy some day, and through no acct
dent of BIRTH
The breakfast room was deserted.
Ellen was the first of all the house
hold to appear. She smiled over her
carefully served courses, and presently
was hanging absorbed over a jig-saw
puzzle that had been scattered upon
one of the library tables the day be-
fore. Her train went at half-past
eleven, it was not vet ten o'clock.
! AS the young people struggled down
| stairs she looked up to nod at them
composedly. She presently went quiet
| ly upstairs to pack, and pinned on the
| fur-trimmed hat, and fastened little
clump Of fresh violets, from a vase,
against the sober little suit. 1t was
only goodby now, and the whole ex-
perience was over.
"The limousine's coming round,
dear" Mrs. Rose said. They stepped
out to the stone yeranda that Ellen
had crossed with such high hopes two
days ago, and looked down upon u
| panorama of scattered homes and gar
dens powdered with the light snow apd
washed with brilliant sunshine; stone
fences, brick fences, clean-swept drive
ways, everything shining and prosper
GUS in bath of Sunday peace.
Ellen began her thanks and good
| bys. Don't say one word, dearie,"
| said kindly Mrs. Rose, I'm only sorry
you have to CO." Her eyes suddenly
were fixed upon the gate. and Ellen.
turning, too. saw low-hung power
fully built roadster turn in, and come
quickly up the drive. Nov, who's
that?" wondered the older woman, dis
contentedly cycling the two furred men
who occupied the car. 81 never sit
down to game of-why, it's Ward
It's my husband and Gibbs Josselyn!"
She turned agitatedly to Ellen. For
heavens sake, what shall do?"
| Ellen, aware of an emergency, had
YET not at all grasped the situation
when the two men came laughing up
the steps, and greeted her hostess
Mrs. Rose dazedly kissed the small,
| gray-haired man who was her husband,
and dazedly introduced Ellen.
"Ward. this is Nellie Buckley's girl
you've heard me talk about, and Miss
Latimer-Mr. Josselyn," she said.