The Washington times., 1937-02-18

ing vista broke through the tops
of the pines. Retreating to
slightly higher vantage, she sat,
arms clasping her knees, feeling
very far away from everybody and
everything that constituted her
natural environment.
Sylvia crouched beside her, so
close she felt the dogs warmth
through her short tweed skirt.
The Gibsons had been much
amused over Sylvia's marked atten-
tions to their guest; but, as Mrs.
Gibson casually observed, there
was no accounting for what dog
might do.
Gerry, when tactfully asked
about Sylvia, had replied diSinter-
estedly that she belonged to fel-
low named Paige who lived up in
the woods somewhere with an older
man, Mr.. Stafford, who occasion
ally came to talk with her father
and sometimes stayed for dinner
in his big boots and rough clothes.
I'm sure don't know what they
do up there" Gerry had remarked
indifferently. Hunt maybe. I
don't believe they're much good,
either of them, though Mr.. Paige
is very handsome. They look like
couple of buns who have seen bet
ter times
Once Phyllis had had a glimpse
of Mr.. Stafford who was just leav-
ing the house as she was arriving.
Mr.. Gibson had introduced them,
telling him that Miss Dexter was
I their new teacher, but failing to
say who or what was Stafford. He
was, indeed, a pretty tough-looking
specimen of something that had
reverted to type. The fact that
Newell Paige had not appeared at |
the Gibson home since her arrival
made her believe that Mr.. Stafford |
had reported her presence in Wenl-
belton. If so, his continued absence
could be easily explained. He didn't |
want to meet her, naturally.
For a while Phyllis had alter
nately dreaded and desired to see
him, but as the weeks passed, and |
no sign was had of any intention |
on his part to revisit the Gibsons |
her anxiety on the matter sub
sided. She was not to see him.
He would attend to that.
This afternoon she gave herself
to some very ealiStic day.
dreaming. With absolute fidelity
to the smallest details, she pains.
takingly reviewed every step, every
minute, every word, gesture, smile,
of that eventful day when she had
met him at the cathedral.
Suddenly-Sylvia raised up,
cooked her head on one side at
tentively and lifted one front paw
a little.
With a bound and a bark, she
was off, over the rocks, through
the trees, and had disappeared.
Phyllis quickly scrambled to her
feet and followed along, trembling
little. At the end of the great
ledge near the trees, she paused,
preferring to remain in the open
until she knew certainly what was
up. There she stood, with a dry,
throat, listening to Sylvia who was
barking her head off for Joy.
Presently she saw them coming,
Sylvia leaping ahead and running
back to him in hysterical swoops.
He was roughly clad in heavy cor
duroy trousers thrust into high
boots. a leather jacket, and an
old, battered, gray felt hat drawn
we'll down over his eyes. His lean
face was deeply tanned.
He took off his hat as he neared
and ventured a reasSuring smile,
the sort Of smile he would prob.
ably wear to hearten any fright
ened girl he might have met in an
unfrequented spot. But he had
the same hurt look in his eyes
that had haunted her ever since
they parted.
A wave of contrition swept over
Phyllis. Momentarily experien-
cling recapture of the mood in
which she had sat waiting for him
that day in the Art Institute, she
advanced few steps to meet him.
His eyes quickly responded to the
overture of conciliation, and when
she extended her hand he grasped
1t tightly. Phyllis lowered her eyes
under his penetrating quest.
"I'm sorry" she Y1o1IrI1oIIrad Of
length, quite at a loss to know
what to say, but anxious to voice
her delayed apology.
"Please!" entreated Paige husk.
lily. Anything but that"
Coming-Wednesday, Feb. a.
Leisure to Repent" Ursula Par
rott's novel of modern marriage.
Don't miss the opening chapters.
(TO Be ContInued)
Copyright, 1887. by Lloyd c. Douglas.
Distributed by King Features,