WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 15826, 26 July 1913, Page 2

WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK.

[Pdbhshbd nv Arrangement:.]

By PAUL TKKNT, | Author of "The Vow,'' "The Sacrifice," J " The Foundling," etc., etc. (Copyright.) SYXOI'SIS OF PREVIOUS CHAITEHS. CHAI'TEIiS I and It.-Cyms Warner is the youthful President. of the American Steel Combine. His laiiv secrct-aTy, Christine Wood, is about to leave Xew York "tor England, and he asks her [ to stay or return. She tells liiin that fhe promisod i her dead mother to go to her uncle, Robert j Craven, a!?o a stool magnate. Warner bluntly ! asks Christine to marry him. She tihinks ho only i wants a permanent secretary, and lie docs not ! deny it, so she couplers his Droposal insult, ami t<dls him that ?he hates him. -She sails next ! day, and duly arrives at her uncle's house at I lronhumpton, "where she finds but a cool welcome. ! llobert Craven's artist nephew, Claude, tells his uncle that he is in debt, and asks lor 11 remittance. Old Craven replies that if he wants money lie must earn it, and decides in his own mind thai his ueiee Christina jnust marry his nephew Claude. CHAM'ERS 111 and IV.—Her uncle being confined to his? howo with gout, Christine volunteers .to act ;»is his sectary, llobert Craven grudgingly accepts her' services, and finds her remarkably efficient. Christina learns that Warner is coming to England to call 011 h-or unclc. The i hitter's nephew Claude Craven arrives. Finding his uncle unwilling to advance him uny inow-y, i lie decides to accept a position at the works while continuing his painting in his leisure time. | Claude likes his oousin Christine, ami soon falls I in love with her. He'attends to his iloth'j? ut 1 the works most sissiduously for her Fake. Then he I , nska Her to mam* him, but she tells him that *he can never be his wife. Ho decides thai he raust go away, and tells Iris uncle that he is ; going back to London. ' j CHAPTER V. ; | Jlr Craven was thoroughly angry with i; Claude, and his voice was stern. : | "You have carefully thought out what i it means to you if you go back to LOll- - don?" he said severely.. i ; "Yes—l understand," Claude answered \) quietly. j ' "It will be useless to come back whining ; when feel the pinch of poverty." j j "I'm not likely to do that." 1 And Mr Craven knew that he was speak- ; ing the truth. j "Claude, lam bitterly disappointed. 1 | thought you had settled down. The : manager speaks favourably of you." j "I wish I could stay, but is is impos- | sible."

" I have been dreaming dreams—l thought you were growing fond of Christine. I had hoped that you would marry." Claude remained silent, for he could not tell his uncle that he had been refused. If t M,r Craven knew, without doubt he would bring pressure upon her. If he could not win her love, his pride would not allow him to have her on any other terms. "I feel that I am ungrateful; but, uncle, I must go away. All my life you have , been kind to me, and I haven't made much ', of a return. But now I'm going to paint seriously. I want to show you that I'm not altogether a waster. Good-bye!" >, "So vou're going away at once?" "1 must." "Very well, good-bye," said Mr Craven coldly, and then departed for the works. Claude had already packed his trunks, and when he left, the library they had. been placed in the hall. Christine was standing there, gazing at them in consternation. "'You are going away?" x "Yes. Good-bye!" he answered. "Come to my room. I must talk to you."

He followed her obediently, and she closed the door. "You are going because—because I can't marry you." "Yes, I can't stay. Last night was terrible. I love you body and soul. This moment I am longing to take you in my arms, and cover your face with kisses. The sight of you is a torment—and a greatjoy. I want to be a man—l want to fight and conquer my love, for I.know, that you are not a coquette. I know that 1 haven't a chance. If I stay here it will be one long continual struggle. I shall have to see men come—and in time one will arrive whom you can love. I couldn't stand ft, dear," " Claude, 1 am so sorry. If I could have cared " " Isn't there a chance? I could be so patient," he pleaded.

But she .shook her head without a moment of hesitation. " J have dreamed a'woman's dream of Jove. The man that I marry must be- all m all to me. He must be my master—f must be able to give myself to him unreservedly. It is shameless for me to talk in this way, but I want you to understand." "1 understand—only too- well," ho answered bitterly: '' You want a man and not a weakling." "You were ;iever that, Claude. I'm so sorry you are going. Uncle will be very disappointed. You mustn't go. Your place is Tiere—l will go. I'm almost a stranger—while you " "Don't talk nonsense. Good-bye." " Claude," she called after him, but he did not stay, merelv pausing tb fay a final '(good-bye,'' and the looked aftev him a troubled agression in he' eyes. She went down to the hall in a few moments, and found that he had gone. Mr Craven returned at an early hour and summoned her to the library. " I'm not as strong as I thought, anct shan't go to the works for a day or two. Do you care to act to my secretary, or would you prefer to go on tinkering with the house?"

" There is no need to ask that question." "Then we'll start at once." " I'm so sorry Claude has gono back to London," she began nervously. " I'll trouble you not to mention that fool's name to me. I've Teached the end of my patience." " I ought to tell you— —" "You can't tell me anything I don't know. 1 ' he snapped back, and she was foTccd into silence. Mr Craven at once began to dictate at a rapid -rate, and Christine became engrossed by what she heard,} for it dealt with the coming fight between Warntr and her uncle. " I think you are wrong on that point," she interrupted him once. He stared at her rudely. " For goodness sake niind your ov:n business. If you can't do that I shall have to get a girl from the ofike," he said irritably. Christine had already regretted what she had. said, and was thankful that ho had not aiked what 6he had meant. From the outset she had determined to say nothing of her connection with Cyrus Warner. The information which she had gained as liis secretary should never be divulged. And yet she could have helped her • uncle enormously in his plans. On one particular point he was absolutely wrong, and a word from her would have placed him on the right track, making

success almost certain; but that word remained unspoken. The position was such that either might win, and Christine was not quite sure which she wished to be successful. Both Warner and her uncle were extremely able men—but the former had youth and energy on his side, while the latter had the greater experience. " You are the most competent secretary I ever had." Mr Craven remarked to her when they had finished work. When oinner was over he sat with her in the drawing room and smoked his cigar in silence, but she was conscious that bis eyes were ever resting on her.

"Uncle, I do wish you would run up to London and see a specialist. I'm quite sure you ought not to be working so hard. This fight with Mr Warner would try any man's strength.'' .. " I won't be worried- with any London doctor. The local one's bad enough." " Then why not send for Mr Warner, and make terms with him?"

"The fight's over,' 1 he announced laconically, "What do you mean?" she asked in surprise. 1 "Since I've been sitting down here I've found out where I was wrong,' 1 he answered, and then proceeded to explain in detail the change which he proposed to make. Christine quickly realised that her uncle would probaoly win the fight, and she was deeply thankful that she had not given him the information which had been on the tip of her tongue. But Cyrus Warner was not the man to accept defeat without a struggle. " W.bat made you think of it?" she asked curiously. "I don't know. It suddenly came. A flash of inspiration some people would call it. It's sucli flashes that give a man 6UCCP6S." " Do you believe in telepathy?" " It's bosh!" "Don't you think it possible that a, person's thoughts may be communicated to another?" "Bosh!'' he repeated. "Yet mother and I often found our-, selves thinking the very same thing. Jt couldn't always have been just a coincidence," she said musingly. . " What's telepathy to do with what wo are talking about?' " Nothing," she answered hurriedly. There was silence of a few moments, which was broken by Christine. "I feel sure that Claude will make, a success of his painting." " I've forbidden you to taJk about him!" " You would be proud if he made a great name." "A mere dabbler in art!" lie said contemptuously. "Have you ever seen his work?" "I've not been interested." " Come to his room now. Claude is not a dabbler. I'm no judge of painting, but I'm sure he has talent. " She rose, and he followed her upstairs. As a matter of fact, Mr Craven was- intensely disappointed by Claude's departure, for the way in which the latter had stuck to work had made him very hopeful of his Suture. More than that, at heart he was really fond of his nephew, although ne had never given any sign of his affection. Perhaps be had not even admitted it to himself. He gave a snort of disapproval as he viewed the luxurious furnishing of Claude's room, but soon his attention was fixed on tlie paintings. . t "What do you think of them?" Christine asked triumphantly. "Humph! Not bad—but there's no money in them." "I'am not so sure of that." " Why couldn't the fellow settle down here and marry you?" "I've no wish to marry," she said

hastily. „ The next morning Mr Craven stayed m bed, and Christine was summoned to his room.

■"I want you'to go to the works and see the manager," Mr Craven said, and then proceeded to give her instructions. " You ought to have been a man," he wound up. "It's wonderful how quickly you grasp a thing." . She (lushed at the unusual praise, but made no answer and hastened away. The visit, to the works was full of interest, and Christine at once made a conquest of Mr Robertson—a rather , gruff Scotsman—who insisted upon conducting, her round. There was much to be seen, and it was lunchtimo when she once more reached home, bringing with her the morning's correspondence which required Mr Craven's attention. He had come downstairs, and the whole of the afternoon was devoted tc work, and from the matter that was dictated to her Christine saw that the fight with Warner was rapidly reaching a crisis.. " I shall beat the Yankee/' Mr Craven remarked, .when he had finished. "Don't you think so?" lie added as she remained silent. " How can I judge?" " You've an unusual amount of commonsense—for a woman. You know the facts. What do you think?" " It certainly looks as if you will win>" she answered quietly. " I'm certain to win,'! he rejoined irritablv. But Christine was not sure. For one thing she had had evidence, of Warner's indomitable courage and lighting spirit. Then there were weak points in her uncle's ease of which the latter was not a\V'are. As a matter of fact, with the information which she herself possessed she could have turned tlie peaies on either side. Which <jid she wish to win? The question fluddonlv came to her, and in a ildsh she understood that aJI the time her heart had been 011 the side of Warner. She was humiliated to know it was so, for surely her svmpathv should bo with her uncle. Yet Warner had bean the most considerate of employers, and (the had had no grouuds of coipnlamt until he had asked her to le his wife.

When she was in bed that night she thought over that last interview with him. She remembered how contemptuously she had refused his offer, and he had had nothing to say. His surprise had been so genuine and so apparent. " I hate him," she-muttered. Yet, if hatred was in her heart, why did she wish him to succeed. An understanding suddenly came. CHAPTER VI. When Christine Wood realised that all the love of which she was capable had been given to Cyrus Warner, many things became clear to her. Sleep was impossible, so she jumped from her bed, put on a dressing-gown, and began to walk restlessly up and down the room. She was ashamed that she loved a man who had only valued her for her usefulness to him. True, he had asked her to be his wife, but that fact did not heal the -wound to her pride. He had never thought of her as a woman—only as a machine—while it was the man who appealed to her. But he was now in Jingland, and very soon they might meet; She stood before the long mirror, and staTed long and critically at her reflection. Yes, she was good-looking enough—Claude loved her, and why should not She pulled herself up with an effort, 1 and t'he colour flooded to her cheeks. 1 But imagination would not be dimmed. ' What joy it would be to see the stern look in Warner's eyes soften and turn to j love, to feel his lips pressed to here! 1 Again a vivid flush came to her face. ' " I'm a sentimental idiot/' she cried * aloud, and was ashamed. 1 At breakfast in the morning Mr Craven ' suggested that 6hc should accompany him j to the works |

"Would you .like something to do— regularly?" he asked bluntly. Yes, very much." • " Then I will make you my secretary. What did you get in New York?" "Thirty dollars —sis pounds. But. of course " " I shall give you three hundred and fifty a year. I guess I can pay as good a salary as a.ny Yankee,'' he said grimly. "You are going one better," she answered -with a smile. "You'll earn your pay. I've confidence in you." ".Thank you." " It's a pity you weren't a boy, then I shouldn't miss Claude so much, and I should be quite content for him to go on with his daubing. 'Why doesn't the boy write. Have yon heard from him?" "Not a line. I shouldn't worry about him, uncle." ' ■ " If the boy had had eyes in his head he'd liave fallen in love with you." "Perhaps he did,'' she answered lightly. "Not, much, 4 or he wouldn't, have gone away. Get your hat on; we're late." That morning a table was placed in Mr Craven's private office, and Christine quickly jaw that heT new post was to be no sinecure. " I want you to get a, grip on everything. If this infernal weakness is going to continue you will be able to save me a lot of worry. Try your hand at answering these letters. They're not important. Dictate them to one of the typists." Christine smiled as she undertook the work, which was ridiculously easy to one with experience, and in a short time she returned to the private office with a sheaf of letters in her hand.

"Quite good," he muttered approvingly when he had glanced through them. "But where on earth did you get'your business instincts from? Your father was a fool, and your mother-—'' Ho broke off with a sieh. "You are very like her, child, but only in face." "As to my brains—you're not a fool, uncle, and there is Craven blood in my veins," she answered quietly. _ "That's true—but who said you had brains?" he asked, and there was an unusual twinkle in his eyes. "I didn't," he added .maliciously. "But you must have thought it to pay me seven pounds a week. You haven't the reputation oi being a philanthropist. 1 " "You've got me there child. Put these papers in the despatch case, and we'll finish our work at home."-

, It was evident that Mr Craven had no intention of sparing her, but at the end of the week he suggested that she should run up to town. "You can dojsome business for mt, and perhaps you'd like to shop at ■'the same time." "I've never stayed in' London. Can I stay in London from the Friday till the Monday V' "Alone?" he asked in surprise. " Why not? American girls can take care of themselves. I might call on Claude. Perhaps he will take me to a theatre.", "You can go;' he said promptly. And when, the next morning, she was about to leave, he placed an envelope in her hands. "I expect you to spend cvory penny of it—and on yourself," he said hurriedly, and to her surprise gave a hurried peck at her cheek. Christine was moved, and without any hesitation threw her arms round and kissed him affectionately. "There, there. Run along or you'll miss your train. Don't forget to wire what time you return so that the car can be sent to meet you. liood-byc, and (have a good time.'' It was not tint# she was in tho train that she opened the envelope, to find inaide bank notes to the value of two hundred ant) fiftv pounds. "He's really a dear. It's only that',his

heart has been frozen. A little love will thaw it, and I'll give the love." In the course of the afternoon her business—which was with Mr Craven's solicitors—was finished, and then she drove to Claude's studio. He was at home, and from his appearance had been hard at work, but when she entered the studio the canvas had been turned to the wall. "It is good to see you. Are you going back to-night?" he asked, nervously. "No. You're to take me to a theatre— and again to-morrow night. But first we'll dine. I'll run to the hotel to change, and you'll take me to the most fashionable restaurant. I've moneyi to burn—look, uncle gave me these." "He was never mean," Claude saJd. "Are you hard up?" she asked quietly. "I can get along till I sell a picture." "We'll divide these notes."

"Nothing of the kind," he said decidedly. "To-morrow I'll take you to spend'them. I know the names of all the best' dressmakers and milliners. That's one advantage of having been what is called a 'ladies' man,' " he wound up with a mirthless laugh. In Christine's nature there was a grtat capacity for enjoyment which had rarely been indulged. She revelled in the shopping and the restaurants and the theatres. Claude was an ideal companion, and not once did he spoil her pleasure by referring to his love.

On the Sunday Christine hired a private motor 'car ; and drove with, ihim in Hyde Park. They were going slowly along, when she saw walking ahead a man whom she recognised at once. It was Cyrus Warner, and with him was a fashionablydressed girl. Christine gave a quick look, and a sigh of relief when she recognised his sister. Just as they were abreast Warner chanced to look at them. _ Recognition came at once, and he raised his hat, then moved forward quickly. But at that moment the car hastened its pace. Christine was about to tell the chauffeur to stop, hesitated, and then changed her mind—why she knew not. "Who's your friend—he looks like an American?" "His name is Warner." "That was a pretty woman with him. I should like to paint her. Was it his wife?" "No, his sister." ' "You might introduce me if you get an opportunity."^ "I'm not likely to meet Mr Warner," she answered a little coldly.

"Shall we go back to the hotel now? To be frank, I'm as? hungry as a hunter," he said with a smiie. As a matter of fact, Claude was anxious to get out of the car. Christine was close to him, and all the time he was being tempted to blurt out his love. Yet he knew that it would be useless, and he did not wish to pain her. "I'm going back this afternoon, then I can start work in the morning. I muat earn m.v wages," Christine remarked. All the time her eyes were wandering round the fashionable restaurant—and they were searching for Warner—longing and I yet fearing to find him. Claude went to the station to see her off, <ind held her hand for a moment. "Haven't you a message for unclc? He really misses you," she asked. "What can I say?" "That you'll come back ajid stay." "I wish to heaven I could.' -Christine, I miss you every moment of my life. Isn't there any chance?" lie asked desperately. "I Wish I could say. 'Yes,' but it wouldn't be fair. Good-bye, dear." "Good-bye!" he answered listlessly. Mr Craven was unfeignedly glad to see her. "I didn't expect vou till to-morrow. I've missed you, dear." "You don't look very well."

"I'm not,* and it',s a wretched nuisance. Warner is coming down, and 1 shall have to see him here. The man's beaten, and knows it." "Don't be too sure," she said warningly. "How's Claude?" he asked gruffly. "Any chance of his coming home';" ' "I don't think so at present. He's working very hard." "Work!" he snarled. "It's nothing but play. Take him in hand and marry him. I don't believe there's a man who' could refuse you anything." "Good-night, dear; I'm very tired," she said, with .a smile, and kissed him.

Christine longed to be alone, for the news of the coming of Wartier on the morrow had disturbed her greatly, She longed to see him, and yet there was pain in the longing. How sfiould she receive him? Just as if nothing had happened— coldly and in a businessliko way—or ? Morning camo, and she dressed with unusual care. The morning was devoted to work with her uncle, and for the first time she was guilty of one,or two trifling mistakes. "Aren't you well to-day?" Mr Craven asked with a grim smile. Lunch was over, and they returned to the library. "What time do you expect Mr Warner?" she asked with well-assumed indifference. "In about five minutes' time. By-the-bye, I want you to stay in the room." "Is it necessary?" she asked nervously. "I wish it." And then there was a knock at the door, and the butler entered. "Mr Warner to sec you. air—by appointment," ho announced. Instantly Christine rose to her feet, Then the man she loved came in. He gavo a start at seeing her, and his mouth grew stern. "My congratulations, Mr Craven. Now I understand my defeat at your hands. It was a skilful move tc> obtain your information from my late servant.' I hope

you find Miss Wood as competent a secretary as I did?',' he said coldly. • Christine stared at him in amazement, but quickly anger came to her eyes. \ • (To be Continued.)