The Washington times., 1931-03-17
NOw Go On With the Story

professionally I am not sup
posed to have known anything
about the war save from
nursery standpoint"
st won't betray your fatal
secret. What was his name?"
asked Larry with idle interest.
"Lorrimer. I was crazy about
him." she said, half dreamlly.
But he was killed"
Larry stared at her. He
wanted to shout, to grasp her
hands, to call her by name.
Now he knew the resemblance
which had worried him. She
was a little like Mary Lou
small, red-haired, blue-eyed, the
same shaped face, the features
not unlike. A little like a car
bon copy, an elder sister who
had seen a good deal Of life.
But she mustn't know-untl
he had seen Mary Lou and told
her, until they decided what to
do. He must see Margaret Lor-
rimer, too. His thoughts raced.
He was still staring, flushed
with excitement. And she
asked him, amused:
whats the matter? Why
on earth are you staring like
that?"
Obediently he dropped his
eyes to her hands. He saw
that she wore one ring, mans,
a seal ring. He said, greatly
daring:
Sorry to be rude. I was
wondering-I am sure it is
pretty-I was wondering what
your real name could be?"
Real name? But I've had"
she admitted, "a few. in my
time"
"The one you were born with.
Is it really Diana Hackett?" he
asked.
Her Real Name
mo, but it has the same
initials. II almost forget it,
at times" she said. a little bit
terly. 1T doesn't suit me very
well any more-for it is-De-
light. Delight Hartford" she
said.
Delight Hartford :!
Larry stared at her. After a
minute:
"It's a very pretty name" he
commented, namely.
isn't it? So appropriate,
too," she responded, with a
definite acidity. Her face
dropped into lines Of relaxa-
tion. All that her life had
made of her was written there,
all that her life had brought
her. One could trace in the
fine cobweb marks about eyes
and nose and mouth the years
of contrasting circumstances,
too , good living; semi-starVa-
ton; hope, despair; and a
feverish gayety. Shed not
had an easy time. this Delight
Hartford, and the gifts with
which she had been literally
endowed at her birth, gifts of
health and vitality, laughter
and strength, she had Squand-
cred for something less than
the usual pottage.
Yet she had, still, a partly
obliterated, a dimmed but dis
cernible beauty, fine contours,
lovely modelling, a skin which
had withstood much of the
wear and tear as far as natural
coloring and texture was con-
cerned. She made Larry a
little sick somehow, so like,
and so unlike, Mary Lou she
now seemed to him.
Found at Last
He was of course not aston
ished at what she told him. He
had known the truth from the
tiNfe she mentioned, casually
enough, Lorrimer's name. He
was past astonishment. Hi
that he could think OF was th&>
he had found her for whom,
for so long, the Lorrimers had
been seeking. What this would
mean to Lorrimer, to his
mother, to Mary Lou herself,
Larry could not think, dared
not think. The story of the
prodigal son flashed through
his bewildered mind. some
thing about. ."it is meet to
make merry and be glad. ."
But was it?
|, He looked about the room,
hastily, saw a dramatic critic
he knew slightly, and the tenor
of a light opera which had had
a long run. He pointed them
out to-what should he call
her?-his companion, and spoke
easily, wittily of this charac-
teristic or the other. He soon
had her laughing at his simple
idiocies, forgetting, perhaps,
her confidence.
Later, he took her back to