TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10434, 27 September 1911, Page 2

TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

CHAPTER XX.— Continued

"Yes, I wall, Lorraine. Don't I always tell you everything ?" Clare drying her eyes now, laughed faintly as she blinked the still wet lashes,, but the. laugh had querulous irrita- ■" tion in it. "I dare say I'm a goose, dear, but Ifeel very angry and miserable, and so I do now. And I feel ashamed, too. I need not have snubbed poor Harry so. I was unkind." "Harry?" Lorraine repeated. j "Yes. He asked me again last night!" said CiLare softly. Claire, my dear! Poor boy! i I am very sorry!" "And so am I." The tears were very near Clare's eyes again. "He Jtould not have done it. I have said

No' twice. But it miu>s.t be dreadful to really love any one and to find the love is not returned. He has never cared .for anyone but me, you see, and he was more in earnest :thatf ever last night; It isn't as if I didn't like him, you fcnow—l do. I maght have spoken kiiidly. 5 ' "I am sure you were not unkindy 'Clare—-you could not be."

"Yob, I was; I was almost brutal, I don't remember what I said. I wa» so angry and bo mi8 r eraMie that I was in a rage with everybody and everything." Clare's little Hands were very restless, and her lips trembled in spite of her ' efforts at self-control. "Harry j would not neglect me and flirt with other people!" she said resentfully. : "Glare!" Lorraine -understood now; wrath and indignant wonder sprang up like a flame in her white face. Stole rose, holding ' the girl's

shoulder, trembling strangely. "You don't mean that Soar Derek -" , VXes, X o*o. He did. neglect, me, Lorraine. V _ . To nearly alt who knew her, this side of Clare's character, shown in her hardened voice and eyes, would have come a*, a complete surprise, [t did not com© so to the fositer sister, who knew her a& no one else did. Lorraine had always known that Glare's sweet nature harboured reserves of anger and resentment, which, once aroused, could be very •trong. Had Derek Willoughiby aroused tlitem—had he dared? Terror and passion shook her at the though*. Would he break Clare's heart? Surely no man lived who could be so base as that? She sank down into her seat again. "My darling, you are mistaken—j you must be! Sir Derek would nob 1 dare to neglect you. He loves you

as. much as you love him. Could any one resist levin© you, my sweet?" She the other's flushed cheek nearer and' kissed it with i sudden passion, 1 sitting with her arm®; encircling her. ' 'Perhaps you were flandfur, Clare. He oould not ' have wilMy neglected' you." "Hie. did neglect me," dare cried, w'it!h» her former hardness of tpne and look. Tihe whole expression of her face had ahlanged ivntli the stubborn repetition. "He—Hie forgot to dance with me, Lorraine!" > .. "He miay have mistaken the number, dear. His memory—"HJe csan always remember— you know he ca;rt. He never forgot .before ; and it was not because he forgot, it "Was because he danced it with some ona else." "With some one else?" "Yep," dare laughed harshly. "Oh, 1 ought not to be angry, ought I, /or jealous, either, although' he (has made love to me ever since I was

eighteen, and I have never tHougjht of being any' one'i& wife but his? I ougjiit not to mind what people are spying about him, and,about her? X. ougihib not.to care that he left me apd fiorgpt to dance with, mfe? I ought not to angry btedause he has never once aaked me to marry him, altiibugh he fcnowis I love him. so?" Her forced comjpiosure gave wjay as her vioice broke patebasly on the, •last wtords. She hid her face on Lorraine's breast, sobbing. "Qh* Lorraine, I can't bpar it!" 'Over the brown, head upon li&r breast LorraineV eyes flowed fiercely, but slie uttered no word. Clare raised herself presently, drawing back so tiliia.tr silie. could see her companion. The passipn of her grief hiad: Jor the. tdm©; ceased, it seemed, "but resentment remained. • u Dio you know' Mrs De Blanquiere, Lorraine?" . "I have heard of her. I have not •• I.' •))

seen her. "Slhte w|as a,t Mrs Wilson's laat night. A horrid woman — not a Jady, , One had only to hear her laugh to know that. She liad thte insolence to introduce lierself to me. She was fiUicih' an old friend of Sir Derek Wdllougjhby, she said, that she must know nre because I. was his cousin. She said it horribly—

(OUR NEW SERIAL.)

By CARL SWERDNA, Author of "A Mere Csremony."

I can't describe to you how. I could scarcely answer he;-, I was so astonished, so angry. And then sibe laughed,, and said we should know each better ono of these days, and patted my cheek as though I were a « child. The whole thing drove m© into SiUcih a passion thai I Was frigMened at myself. I never felt so before. And aflterwards, when &he and Derek were talking and I saw look at me, I know that • it was about me that they spoke. They were laughing at me, perhaps!' She clenched her hands. "It amused them that I slhc-uld be angry, I • suppose—amused hanii! And then, later, I heard people talking, Lorraine." "WJhlo were thtey—what did they say?" "One was Charlie Heston— I. den't know the other man. They were not aware that I could hear—they did not see mie. One of thiem

said tjiat. Milly de B.—think of a I Woman whom mien speak of that!— B««mied determined to make > the running with Derek Walloughiby thfri- journey, and the other laughed, and said she didn't mean to let Redbourne slip, although she would have dropped ham quick enough' if Sir Bernard's second wall had not •vanished so mysteriously; she wafT rich eriongh herself, or seemed to bt-yaltihbugh who and what the > dead and gone De B. had been was another mastery—ibu/t site was too sharp to take a mian who wias not still richer. ' Then they laughed again, and-said that each wiould hiavie an equal bargain, judging by the. signs. That is what I had to listen to—.that is what I heard of Derek! And he had forgotten, me to dance with her, had laughed with her about me! Aim I to believe what ' I heard? Do you?" j ■■" She sprang iip\ flinging back heir. hair. Passion, pain, and anger min--1 gied in her voice, showed in her [ face. Jealous doubt and misery had

transformed her. Lorraine put her <aims about her in. an emibrace wliich for the first time met with no response. "No, no, my dear—aio, no! It is not true. He loves you!" Lorraine ,&aid this with a fierce defiance, as hough she set the whole force of her being upon the word®. She even laughed, with a desperate effort at piayifuikie&B in look and tone. "Why what has oome to you, Clare? You must not take notice- of gossip, dear. People will' say anything. And to be troubled is not like you. Wthy, i

last week, if I had said a woM,, against Sir Derjftk you would not have believed it or doubted him. You •would have been angry even with ■ me." ' 'Perhla ps I,should," Clare admitted miaintaining her stubbornly rig-, id attitude and still speaking re-, eentlully. "But I bad not seen her ', then—lhehiad; not made me suspicious an I ealous and angry.", She'. /paused; her voice sank; "And then—-there was that letter, Lorr-: ailhe." "Letter P" . "Yes. That letter warning me that he did not mean to marry me—that he was pledged to iriarry some j

'one else." . "But you did not believe the letter, Clare?' 1 \said. Lorraine •ly"No, I did iio-t believe'it then!'l cried Clare. "You know did not; I would not even listen when Mr Severance wished,, to speak to m© about it. Amy one wlh/o tried to set

me against Derek wias my enemy, I isaid— and I felt it—l w&s so fond of him. But perhapi& it is all true. •Perhaps Mr Severance knew that it was true. You know I made him •almost angry—the said he would speak"'to--me at some other time wiben I was not excited. Periia-ps he has heard people talk— perhaps ihe has heard about Mrs Be Blariquiere. Perhaps she wrote the letted- herself and that is what they (laughed about last night I" ' "No, no, Glare! Don't think so!" (To be Continued.) i , ~