CAREER MAN’S BRIDE

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXVII, Issue 12824, 19 August 1939, Page 3

CAREER MAN’S BRIDE

CHAPTER IV herself admitted Stephen Z r i: r 1” pale, ter Up> Martin, g . y ** against her whiteness. Eleanor?” Stephen said W ”«ephen ... I had to see you. I tM Cat hear hav.ng you go away angry. Oh, darling She swayed toward him. Her „ re nt about his neck. But Chen stood stonily, unmoved. He “ !hed UP and unclasped her arms. T, ni gnrry—but there s “Eleanor, Im sony uuu little use in our seeing each other ““nen-you hate mo?" Her dark W pi-c tear-laden. shook his head. "I don’t hate ’“'leaner compressed her lips to their quivering. . “Stephen, you „t forgive me. What happened "east nothing. We can’t rum our M because of a momentary silly weakness. I’ll make up everything to you, darling. Let me, Stephen—let me!” “Do you imagine I could ever torget Guy Michaels?” he asked. “But Guy means nothing to me, Stephen!” she cried. “Love is a game to him, and he will make love to any attractive girl—” “IE she gives him enough encouinnompiit.” Stephen cut in coldly.

All paft vanished from Eleanor’s tyes, arid quick anger came. "You’re a fool, Stephen!” Her toice lashed him. “And worse —you are contemptible!. You want to believe things that aren’t true-—things you know aren’t true! How I ever found anything in you to love, I osu’t Imagine! ” “Then, that settles it,” he said, flatly. Alarm came then, replacing her an ser. She clutched his arm. ~ Stephen! You’re not going like Qls? You can’t really be that cruel!”

“Tm sorry, Eleanor —” j She l. erk ed away from him. “Oh, Petr- y ° U now as you really are! w 5 and narr °w-minded! You’d bor ! n ma ’ Y ° U ’ ve hurt John °se~'ye3» he told me you and he Co al Uarrelled ’ All T ' isht ’ Stephen! ho away— be a fool!” strep J 6 !!' ber and - as he walked the bad >* 6 3,8 ** tk® whole world .one wrong. He had lost EleaWhat 7 bad * ost Osborne>. thine v aSk6d ' had he left? N °- * B, mO one. bo\ e a7 h . e Squared his shoulders— "twf’ past few of ’ that he was at masto be on strings, That Ulpulated hy others’ hands. Eleaa or’ s e f^ ng ’ Stacey Hayden, »as in , tker ' telephoned. He U &e com , lobby ’ he * said - and asked Coßl Pauied h!° me UP ‘ He came> ac ‘ atl 11 Wh ° lo ° ked like b «etea3e * ° arried a bulging , Was a vi S°rous sto “tness r stat ure, inclined to lo oked th’p f 6 bad a poker face - and °L a "“—w bo.l- - totrodiiotwi sllook hands, Harris - tbe ° tkev man as “Mr Then, ?’ ith Eleanor your spat Testers ’ „, 0f CoUrse , you two hi *gs up. - 1 _ even tually patch i for my d * didn>t come here U th °se stafe MHarris ’ have < ly c Bt atements?” es - sir.” , Harris opened his

f JOSEPH LEWIS CHADWIU

Copt. UJ3 by gniud fealart Syndicate lOC.

briefcase and brought out some papers. Hayden passed them to Stephen. “There, my boy, is the business my firm«did in Bolivar last year.” Stephen glanced at the figures. “Why show this to me?” Hayden looked bland. "I believe that, with proper application, we might double our business in that particular country. “And where do I enter the picture?” Stephen demanded. “I'll get to that in a minute. Stephen, my firm sells about everything an undeveloped country needs. Farm machinery, factory machinery, building materials. There’s no reason why Bolivar shouldn’t buy these things from me, instead of from John Osborne's outfit or from some European concern. No reason at all —if I had in Bolivar a man in official circles friendly to my products. When Eleanor told me you had broken with Osborne, I thought you and I could strike a bargain.” “Just a minute!” Stephen’s eyes were suddenly cold. “I don't like your implication—that there was a bargain, as you call it, between John Osborne and me. There was none. John Osborne never asked such a - favour.” Hayden looked sceptical, but he said, “Sorry, However, for my part, L consider it good business tactics.

Now yos, Stephen, will earn a microscopic salary in, the Foreign Service. You could augment that salary by doing my firm favours. Earn yourself real money on the side.” “So that’s the way your business is done?”

“Foreign trade is tough these days,” Stacey Hayden said, “A firm has to have connections. You would be a perfect connection for me.” “So instead of working for my country,” Stephen remarked, “I’d really be on your payroll?” “Not at all,” Hayden demurred. “You would merely do ~us favours off and on, in your spare time. As a sideline.” He chuckled. “But the sideline would be your real moneymaker. What is your answer?” Stephen rose. “My answer,” he said, coldly, is—no dice.” *

Hayden looked pained, but remained bland.

“Well—take you Aim© to think it over.”

When he and Harris were gone, Stephen was thoughtful. He recalled John Osborne’s words, “All men are strangers.” And, he reflected grimly, John Osborne was right. If he was to be a diplomat, he’d make that the basis of all his diplomacy. All men are strangers. Trust none of them!

The following day, at the dock, he was troubled. He hesitated about boarding ship. Finally, he went to a telephone, and put through a call to his uncle’s home.

When the butler answered', he said, “Gregg, it’s* Mr Stephen. Ask Mr Osborne if I can speak to him.” Gregg said uncertainly, “I don’t know, Mr Stephen. He’s been in a terrible mood since you left.” . “But-I’m about to sail, Gregg. Tell him that—that I’m about to board the boat.”

‘TII see, sir,” came the doubtful reply.

Stephen waited, feeling cold inside. His uncle surely couldn’t be so hard as to refuse, at the last minute, to bid him bon voyage. Then, Gregg was back on the vvfre. '

“He refuses to speak to you, Mr

Stephen.” “What did he say?” Stephen asked, heavily. “He said, begging your pardon, sir, to tell you to go to the devil.”