“THE GLARE”

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18011, 23 November 1926, Page 16

“THE GLARE”

“ STAR S ” NEW SERIAL

By

CARLTON DAWE.

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued.) Perhaps Denise was nearer to her father at that moment than she had ever been. Having prepared herself for much bitterness, she was ready to return blow for blow had the occasion arisen: but this sudd eft surrender, her knowledge of what had conduced to it, brought with it a curious revulsion of feeling. All her hard obstinacy fled as if by a stroke of enchantment. He who had found such infinite consolation in his own reflection; who had regarded, or had pretended to regard, himself as among the elect! It was a sad day for a father. The colonel agreed. Retiring to his room he stared moodily across the wilderness of grey slates and grimy chimney-tops. Then he sat on the edge of his bed and reopened those implacable ledgers, growing much confused in an attempt to balance them. Phil, tremulously pausing outside the door, lieaxd the low murmur of a well-known hymn. What was going to happen to them? Exceedingly strong was the impulse to enter and administer comfort, but diffidence restrained her. In a way she feared she might make bad worse. What had Denise said? How hard she was growing. Yet was she misjudging? A great and formidable burden had been imposed on those young if strenuous shoulders; she was carrying the fortunes of the family. This was a knowledge which had been of slow dawning, but once the light had broken there was no doubting its significance. She turned away from the door unable any longer to bear the murmur of that lugubrious chant. Denise was dressing as she entered their room. She was always dressing now .as night approached. Sometimes Phil also felt a mad desire to adorn herself with pretty things and go out. In the night one met adventure, romance. The stars invited one to test one’s wings: the moon held out bewildering promises. And her blood was young, her pulses ready to respond. Wally Cargrave might have made them beat faster, only he was obsessed by thought of Denise. Everybody saw Denise first, which to her seemed natural enough. . That brilliant, dominating one! Yet she was not wholly insensible to her own merits, though there were times when she entertained much doubt concerning them. Men looked at her in the streets, looked very hard. Sometimes, visiting Madame Denise with their women friends, they were extremely affable to the pretty assistant. Lord Marshalmead liked her in brotherly fashion; Dudley Whinstone suggested anything but the brother. He was an intriguing person, that Dudley Whinstone, who often dropped in when hV was passing through Albemarle Street. If Denise were in his visits were brief, but. if she were not he lingered. Decidedly an intriguing person.

“Going out, dear?” she ventured. Denise, in the act; of slipping on her shoes-—pretty silver brocaded shoes with esitrcjnejy hi®h heels'—nodded without looking up. Wasn’t it fairly obvious? “J heard father humming ‘A few more Years shall Roll’ as 1 passed his door.” “’He seems to find -a curious sort of consolation in that fact. Would you mind handing me the button-hook?” “Yes; but it always means that he’s awfully upset about something. I'm sorry for father.” “He’s probably sorrier for himself, which is a much more serious matter.” Denise stood up, very alluring in deshabille. Phil’s eyes followed her admiringly as she crossed the room to loosen an evening gown from its hanger. “You are very lovely, Denise,” she said. Her sister stopped midway, turned, and looked at her. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Oh, I don’t know. But it’s lonely here sometimes, of a night.” Denise, wriggling into her gown, made no answer. Phil crosed Over to the window. Presently her sister’s voice came to her. “Is the Glare getting you too?” “I don’t know.” “Then don’t let it; fight against it. It’s the devil.” “You seem to enjoy his company.” “Pull down the blind; shut it out. It acts like a fever in the blood, a vicious stimulant to the brain.” “Yet you go out into it night after night.” “Hating mj-self and it. Once started on her voyage the ship sails on and on through calm or stormy seas, and she may consider herself damned lucky if she reaches port in safety. This is in the nature of. a parable, child. Turn in and think it out.”

CHAPTER XV. Ti.uugh the story tells us that Cinderella was a model of what all good little girls should be, it was none the less a fact that she did envy.her. sisters when they set out for the ball; was indeed exceedingly sad thereat. Probably Phyllis regarded herself as a sort of modern Cinderella; may even have thought of the fairy godmother, the famous coach and six, and the inevitable Prince Charming. It was Dudley Whinstone, during one of his flying visits through Albemarle Street, who first suggested the parallel. Once he had even called her Cinderella, protesting vehemently, against the unfair treatment to which the worthy Cinderellas of this world are subjected. He could make' his language singularly effective when he chose; his asassumption of just indignation even more so. It was his business, and his master-craftsmanship was universally admitted. Though his plays flirted with vice in many hideous forms, he could let loose a torrent of virtue which never failed to overwhelm the unsophisticated. It' was because he knew how to tickle the senses of the voluptuary, even while he flayed him, jthat he made such a successful appeal, to all sections of playgoers. The seed, not carelessly scattered, did not fall on barren ground. Indeed, it sunk deep, there being plenty of good red earth to nourish it. - Phileven began to wonder if she were a Cinderella, and experienced no pleasure in the thought. True, all ended happily for the neglefcted heroine;' but outside fairy tales can one be sure of the happy ending? It was all ve'fy well for Denise to'-, abuse the Glare, but she was getting a lot of fun out .of it. When one denounces a vice, yet

persists in it, the denunciation is apt to stand convicted of insincerity. After all, those sisters were not more worthy of enjoyment than Cinderella; perhaps not so worthy. The moral of the tale leaves no doubt of this. Whinstone stressed this fact with impressive sincerity whenever he got the chance. At first those little ears of hers were more or less deaf to the voice of the charmer, but he had great faith in the gospel of pegging away. It was by pegging away that he had overcome many more. It was the keynote of success, the one hope held out to man in his battle with fate. From “Cinderella” he advanced to “poor little Cinderella,” letting her make what she chose of his meaning Though she had been contented with her lot she hated being pitied; saw no reason why she should be. Being accustomed to sitting in the back row she had found no ..ill or slight in the mail insidiously suggested that her position assigned to her—until this i>lace was in the front. Then she began to wonder. Whenever the opportunity afforded he never hesitated, to suggest admiration. He had a way of looking at a woman, a whole-hearted and decidedly daring way, which had proved of some value in times gone by. Like most others he had at first been struck by the dominant attractions of the elder sister, but quickly realising the futility of effort in that quarter, he turned complacently to the other. Here was nature, pure, sweet, simple; probably all a-flutter at the attentions of one so distinguished. “A shame,” he whispered. * “Cinderella shall go to the ball if she wants to.” Cinderella began to think that she really wanted to: fluttered in anticipation. Her young feet were as eager to dance as other young feet. All the world was dancing mad; dancing to the devil some said. Be that as it may, the fate that loomed ahead seemed to possess no terror for the multitude. The elect had their thes dansants, night clubs, cabarets, and the like; the shopgirls and boys their eigh-teen-pennv hops in the local town hall, where the}* quaffed lemonade instead of champagne, and doubtless felt that they too were seeing life. Dropping in one 'day, and learning that Madame Denise was on A business visit to 'Paris' Dudley speedily seized occasion and turned it to his purpose. Cinderella was looking tired, was undoubtedly suffering from boredom. A quiet dinner, now, in a quiet restaurant. He knew of such a place—Moroni’s he called it—where they gave one an excellent meal at an extremely moderate price. Probably no one else knew of this miracle of a restaurant, but in these matters Cinderella, was not wise. He entreated, but she shook her head; he argued and at length prevailed. Tt. was awfully exciting, that outing with this most distinguished person; .a bold and desperate adventure. Nervously peering for those flaws in him on which Denise had commented in no measured terms,, and not finding them, she was forced tb conclude that he was a much-maligned man. Undex his irreproachable solicitude her nervousness sqon wore off. They did not drink champagne, but a Sparkling red wine which gradually flushed her cheeks and brightened her eyes. Dudley entertained enraptured visions of her in smart evening gowns. Here was someone who would pay for dressing; spmething unique, extraordinarily alluring. Over his cigarette he grew confidential; spoke of his success with a modesty which struck her as being extremely singular in one so eminent. Not "that she knew much of eminence or its ways, but Denise had always protested that successful people suffered from a curious affliction known as “ swelled head.” Yet here was one of the most successful, a living. refutation of her protest. Triumph, after, all, was a small thing; what a man wanted in this life was that happiness w’hich could only come from sympathy. To be understoood, that meant more to him than all thee sordid treasures of earth. The suggested implication was that he was misunderstood, and as a consequence somewhat lonely. No children, no domestic ties—nothing to spur a man to great endeavour. True, his wife had divorced him under conditions far from savoury, which were long since forgotten by all except the curious few who had tenacious memories for unpleasant things. But of this he said nothing, and she was totally ignorant of that part of his history. There is always a page or two in oiir book of life which we judiciously skip. lie seemed a little curious to know when Denise had gone to Paris, and how long she expected to remain there. Made a casual reference to Lord Marshalmead, one of the very best, he assured her, and did not elevate his brows when Phyllis explained that she had not seen him for some days. After the dinner, carefully solicitous as ever, Dudley packed her in a taxi and sent her home. “ I am much obliged to you. Miss Leighle\ r ,” lie said, in his gravest manner, “ for the unmerited honour you haAe conferred on me. You have made me forget my many serious respdnsibilities, for which I can never be sufficiently grateful. One day Cinderella shall go to her ball.” Probably Cinderella was just a little disappointed that the ball was not that night. Wine, light, good food, the babble of voices, had keyed her up to the adventure. Never had she felt so much like dancing, so unutterably irresponsible. The thought of Denise, gruesome phantom, had vanished in the manner of phantoms; even the form of the Spartan Warrior, the memory of his doleful chantings, were as things of yestei day. To-night she was alive, nerves tingling, brave of heart. That night she told her father her first lie. Replying to his stern look , and rather irascible inquiry, she stam- | mered that she had been kept busyowing to Denise’s absence, and that she had gone out with a friend to dine. But she was conscious of her confusion as she lied, and for fear he should discover her secret pleaded weariness and went to her room. ' But not to sleep. Flinging off some of her things, she moved to the open .window and stared out at the Glare. There.it was, rosy, bright., alluring; calling, ever calling. How often had she seen Denise stand like this, her passionate eyes full of a burning desire; and now she herself was athrob with wonder, marvelling greatly at the mysteries of life. (To be Continued.)