THE TELEPHONE GIRL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume L, Issue 15233, 21 February 1913, Page 4

THE TELEPHONE GIRL.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ABRANOBMEKT.

tBY ALICE AND CLAUDE ASKEW, 1 Authors of "Tho Shulamite," "The Etonian," [;-' .'.." Tho Woman Deborah," " Behind Shuttered ' Window*, *' Love the Jeiter," eta. COPYRIGHT. V ■ . CHAPTER XXl.—(Continued.) Honoria had written a most enthusiastic letter announcing the engagement. Amy, she said, was delighted—happy as the day was long. And as for Owen, he seemed quite recovered from, the foolish infatuation that had threatened to make him faithless to his promises—promises which Honoria chose. to endow with more importance than they had ever deserved and had now absolutely returned ~to his old allegiance. " I'm sure this.has been largely due to your influence, Arthur," Honoria wrote, thinking to flatter the man; but the remark only .served to arouse those • qualms, of conscience that were troubling; him.

That Oweia, under the. circumstances, should bo quiet and reticent was not to be wondered at. He was getting over his disappointment, his sorrow, doing his best to reconcile himself to the new conditions. But Amyit was her behaviour that puzzled Lord Cavershanu

Ho could not help thinking that, despite Honoria's enthusiasm, she was not happy. She was shy and reticent, and never seemed quite at her ease. She had lost much of her natural brightness—the quality that had always endeared her to his heart. She seemed very anxious to please Owen in everythingwas gentle and docile but there were black, tell-tale rings under her eyes and a suggestion of unshod tears. : ; -

Owen seemed to notice nothing of this. He believed that Amy loved himshe had said so in answer to his questionand it was himself that he blamed for his inability to be moro demonstrative towards her. She did not know that he had a passion in another quarter. The secret had been carefully kept from her. So if she was colder than a man should expect his betrothed to be, the explanation must. lie in his own behaviour. Amy was very young, and it wsis natural for her to take her cue from him.

This was tho explanation that first suggested itself to Lord Caversham's mind, and Owen, spoken to on the subject, agreed that the blame lay with him. "But what can I do, uncle?" he inquired, his -'brows clouding. "Heaven knows, I don't want to hurt Amy, who is as sweet a girl as any man can desire for his wife. Only when it comes to making love—to repeating all the sweet nothings that every girl expects, and which ,ought to come so' easily, to one's —oh ! you must see how hard it is for me. But I'm doing my indeed, I am—and it will come more easily time." "Are you sure"Lord Caversham put the question hesitatingly— Amy wants to bo your wife *" Owen looked frankly astonished. The idea that Amy might not want to marry him had never entered his head. He had always been under the impression that she was quite ready to allow the sisterly affection which she undoubtedly bore him to develop into a deeper passion. She had never, to his knowledge, protested against the engagement which; had been made for her when . she was too young to have any will of her own i and now that the wedding day was really in sight she had accepted everything without a murmur. He did not remember that she had expressed any actual pleasure, but he had taken that for. granted. He had given himself no time for reflection after Peggy . had written that letter by which she had so effectually taken heri self out of his life. He had never dreamt that what she had done was done for his sake. She did not want to many him, and. all" she had-said about difference of station was nothing but an > excuse. '.;;■■, She was afraid because of his threat that he would not let her go. and so she. had taken the surest course of getting rid of him for ever. ; He Was sadly disappointed I in Feggy, deeply wounded in his pridei but his heart ached for : herj and - nothing that ]he could do was 'able to banishher from:his mind. 'C-.?;'--: : A.>' ;; '- :; :-'

■S He .had imagined that he might best; attain, this end by losing no time in making his engagement to Amy definite. • On his return from Greenhills he had seized the first opportunity of going to Berkeley Square, and, Amy being out: with her father, he had; taken tea with Honoria, to whom ho had confided his desire to return to his allegiance. . v..;- ■ ' : ;;i Honoria was delighted, and displayed a most forgiving spirit. Young men would. hi> young men, she declared, but she had always felt assured that' Owen was too sensible to wreck all his prospects in life by ■ taking the false step which he had threatened. She was very careful not to say a , word :to Peggy's detriment. On the contrary, she pretended to commiserate with the girl. It was very sad for Miss Ryley who, no doubt, was all that was ■ charming, but she must realise how impossible it was for her to think of marriage with Owen. She would certainly forget in time, but, in tho.. meanwhile, was there anything ' that . Honoria could do?

"No, thank you, aunt," said Owen, shortly, "and I'd sooner .not talk about Peggy at all, if you don't mind. As a matter of fact, she is going to be married to someone else."

Honoria expressed surprise, acting her part with quite remarkable skill. As a matter of fact, she knew quite well thab Peggy believed herself engaged. Grome had announced his success, announced it with a. wink that seemed .to imply that the engagmeent should last just as long as he pleased, and no longer. Gromo had accepted Honoria's effusive thanks with his usual complacency. Of course, he had never doubted that ha would be successful. Women seemed to Tike him, somehow, and when he was really in earnest, well, there 'were not many who could hold out against him. As for Peggy, he had won her by sheer force of individuality. She had never even, confessed to him about Owen, and he imagined that she could not have cared very much for that young gentleman; E& any rate, she had preferred Mr, Standish Grome. Grome stroked his, black moustache and flashed his whit© teeth as he spoke. " . Well, the result of it all was that Honoria might make herself quite easy in her mind as far as Owen and Peggy were concerned. They would certainly not meet again. There would, perhaps, be a bit of a row if Owen got to know to whom Peggy had transferred her affections, and although he had originally thought it would be amusing to "score off" Owen in this way, ho had changed his mind now.' Owen might suspect th» trick that had been played upon him, and that would upset things. In her own interests Honoria must recognise that the name of Standish Gromo was best kept in the background, unless Peggy herself revealed it or it came out accidentally, in' which case, of course, ho was quite ready to face the music. In the meanwhile he was rather hard up: v/ould Honoria oblige him with a couple of hundred The cards had been infernally against him of late. She need not worrv about the money, as things would be" all right for her so shortly—as soon as she had brought off tho marriage of her daughter. . Honoria reluctantly wrote a cheque, for two hundred pounds. A great deal of her income had found, its way thus, on one pretext or another, into Grome's pocket. Moreover, .was he who had instigated a good many of the .speculations which had turned out so disastrously; also he had discounted bills for her with what profit to himself he alone knew, while, as for her betting transactions. Standish Grome had long since constituted himself her agent. Now and then he really did make a little money for her, sufficient to tempt her to go on. Honoria soon discovered that Owen did not know the name of the man who had apparently replaced him in Pegcrv's affections, and so she was discreetly silent upon the subject. Also, she was quite ready to observe his wishes that tho whole topic should be allowed to drop. Least said soonest mended—this was undoubtedly jtrue in the present- case*

V! Sho contrived; to see her husband and Amy alone as soon sis they came in, and successfully imposed her will upon both of them. Dick Pennant, indeed, had already been given his conge, although -this had not happened without a scene of some violence, Amy bitterly resenting the imputation that her lover had acted dishonourably in proposing to her when she -was presumably engaged to someone etae. " Dick didn't know anything about it," she urged, tearfully. ■ "If anyone is to blame it is I. But J never, never thought seriously of Owen as my husband. He was just my big brother. And when you talked of an engagement between us I— I only thought of it as a joke, and I didn't love anyone else then, you see, 60 why should, I have contradicted you/" Amy had her father's entire sympathy, but the good man was quite helpless. The vision of impending ruin was ever before him, a ghastly phantom that refused to bo exorcised. A bankrupt—he ! Why, ho would never hold his head up again in the world; the Martins had such a splendid record behind them, and was it ho who was going to bring a slur upon the family name? And then, of course, ho would have to give up his club, he would bo deprived of his only pleasures in life —the daily walk to Pall Mall and back, the meeting with his old cronies, the smokingroom gossip, the mild bridge and billiards— could ho live without hie club? Nothing could save them but Amy's marriage to Owen—Honoria had made that point quite clear. Amy had been told so, too; it was the marriage portion that she would receive from Lord Caversham that was to set them on their feet again. Had it rot been for her father, Amy, who was by no means _ without spirit, might have rebelled against this, but, as it was, for hie sake she was impelled to yield. Also, she firmly believed that Owen loved her and wanted to keep the engagement to which she .had thoughtlessly lent herself; it had all been ,?. ghastly mistake, but she could not help *eeliiog that sho herself was very much to blame. And «o r that same evening, when Owen asked if she would be his wife, sho tremblingly slipped her hand into his and said sho would, and when ho kissed her she did not notice, because of the despair at her heart, how cold his lips were, and mora than he realised, because his desires were far away, that his kiss was not returned. And thus it had gone on. Neither had noticed that there was anything amiss with the other, each holding self to blame; and now that the idea of Amy being unhappy was suggested to Owen's mind by Lord Caversham, he was inclined to scoff at it as being something altogether out of the question. " Amy not want to marry me, uncle ? Why, whatever put such an idea into your head? Isn't it' just what she and you and her people have all desired Perhaps she notices that I'm not quite the thing, but that will pass. I'm trying hard to play my part of an. engagedman, and it will come easier, to mo as time goes on. I'm awfully fond of little Amy, my childwife to be, and I should hate to feel I was doing anything to hurt her." But Lord Caversham. was only half convinced. The indefinable sense that there was something amiss grew stronger within him. Ho ventured to take Amy herself to task. Her behaviour did not serve to reassure him, in spite of her vigorous assertions that she loved Owen devotedly and desired nothing better than to be his; wife. For why should she shiver and tremble, why should her cheeks hi so flushed, and why, above all things, , should there bo tears in her eyes .- .'■■ '.' "Oh, it is all iust as it should beindeed, indeed it is. dear Uncle Arthur sho explained, clasping hey hands together feverishly. "Owen and I love each other devotedly. You don't know how dear ho is to me— kind. And I'm very happy —proud and happy—do, do believe me!' She spoke the lie with nervous intensity, and. though it did not carry conviction, Lord Caversham could not repudiate it. And after that, in his presence, both Owen and' Amy were assiduous in their attentions to each other. They were acting, and it was pitiful for anyone who srispected the truth to watch their brave efforts at deceit;. and the irony of the situation was increased a hundredfold by the fact that' they were not only acting for the world at large, but for each other.; And thus they drifted on—their kisses gentle lies, their protestations of undying love for each other phrases of mere kindly deceit, the true bitterness of their hearts veiled' and concealed to the best of their ability. And the days sped by with relentless rapidity— days that .brought them nearer to each other and further away from all that their souls still longed and "craved for. . : And so, all too soon, came the eve of the wedding-day. ; (To be continued daily.)