PATCHING UP A QUARREL

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1685, 15 June 1904, Page 14

PATCHING UP A QUARREL

(By Anna McDermott.)

There Avas no occasion for doubting, no probability of being mistaken —the second glance would surely verify what the first might easily have confirmed —avg had quarrelled. Margaret Draper sat carelessly in one of the Avicker chairs on the verandah of the Lake VieAV clubhouse, her sleeves still rolled up above her elboAvs, her hair slightly deranged beautiful hair, 1. thought, as those stray bits of curls would fall carelessly against her dear face, despite the many times her hands were raised to brush them back. At this moment, indifference Avas the predominant feature. She thought I Avas still finishing a game Avith .Elsie BroAvning, but, instead, I Avas sitting, quite a bit .11 the rear of her, Avatching iier most intently. We had quarrelled, but Avliat mattered that now ? She was there, ana my eyes Aver© filled Avith gladness so keen at sight of her that you could not have discerned tlie anxiety Avhich Avas struggling Avithln me.

L et, to her I Avas no longer in existence, I fear—she satv nothing but that gon' course, heard nothing but the occasional “Fore,” and the small talk going on around her. “Fores” Avere dead upon my ears—small talk did not interest me—--1 only saw her—tnought how pretty Avera her arms, they Avere just a bit, tanned to day—really quite too early for them to be very tanned. I wished this could last, but seeing her move uneasily so many times, 1 assumed she was not quite as happily situated as I —and approaching her, I said : “I say, Margaret, don't you think avo have had enough of this sort of tiling r You know a little of its very nice, but Avhen it gets beyond that little there is something about it that is not so pleasant; I cion't itnoAv Avhat it is, but it s just something. It does not tend toivards happiness, either, at least that is uoav 1 find it, but x suppose it is different Avith you, is it?” “Arthur, you really annoy me. I think you are incorrigible. Lou acted shamefully with that Bivwmng girl just because I had a tiny bit of a putting match with Herbert Faulkner. He really is a very estimable chap, aAvfully nice; stunning, too, don't you think so?” “Uh, yes, Margaret”—sarcastically—“he is nice, oh, yes, very nice; stunning, why, he is surely ali that you say of him; he is even more, he is—•” “Arthur —please. Lou said you Aviso an end of ail that sort of thing, yet it is you, until your distasteful inconsistency, that will continue this subject. 1 like Herbert Faulkner very much, <incl if you knew him as I do you Avould like him'equally Avell.” “Lou see, Margaret, I love you—you knoAV that; you can't help knowing that; everything I say, everything I do, only leads you to that conclusion. Forgive me for saying Avhat I imist tell you, but Herbert Faulkner is not the sort of a man for you to know. He is the only man in the club I Avould not invite to my home to dinner. The felloAvs have iiio use for him. and I positively Avant you to keep away from him. Oh, I beg your pardon I mean I Avish you would, but Avnat's the use of all this ?"

“Only three days ago. Ave became engaged; since then I have tried to do> every conceivable thing I thought would please you, and since that day you have done nothing but smile at * Faulkner. You give him Avhat belongs to me, and 1 do not like it. Why, you made a perfect fool of me on the course to-day, acting as you did Avith him. Could you expect me to go toddling after the two of you? No! no, indeed. Certainly I finished tne game with Elsie. Noav there is just on >■ thing about it, it is either Faulkner, or it is I.”

“Well, if you would rather it would be Herbert, I—“Now, Margaret, don’t be absurd. You knoAV Avhat I wish, you can't help knowing. I am willing to do almost anything for you, but I am not prompted by the desire that you should belong to another man besides myself.” “You only thi nit of what you want and you make me hate you. Yk»u mind my foolish bit of talk Avith Faulkner, yet that is nothing; it is really quite insignificant beside your intolerable flirtation Avith every new face that comes here. You treat me as some little Aveakling, fiend me at your will, throw me aside, and then take me again Avhen its pleases you. I too am wearied ot the whole thing —and to prove to you how little I care for you, to-night I go to the dance with Herbert Faulkner at his express invitation. Are you satisfied with my exp Jan a-

lion nowf” But I only answered: "Really, dear, you are wrong, very wrong in your conjecture/’