OUR SERIAL. THE GLARE.

Waimate Daily Advertiser, Volume XXIV, 21 December 1926, Page 3

OUR SERIAL. THE GLARE.

BY

CARLTON DAWE.

CHAPTER X (Continued)

“ Seems more than some of us are able to do." The futility of fathers! But dutifully she restrained the inclination to retort, and with seeming composure rose and left the room. The -colonel, deeply annoyed, glared at empty space, realising that discipline was going to the dogs. This came of women going out into the world and making their own UVes. Women voting, in Parliament, on the bench of magistrates 1 Where was the madness to end? What was the country coming to? He foresaw their overwhelming vote changing the face of things, shutting up the pubs, abolishing war, reducing Empire to the dimensions of a parish council. Dire events to man their eminence prognosticated, until the reaction set in; then probably it would be too late. For, of course, that reaction was bound to come; in the nature of things it was inevitable. Daughters! Were there any in these days with the least elementary notions of deference or respect? Truly it was time he renewed his stock-taking; the world was not big enough for him and them. Madame Denise was not herself that morning; even the arrival of the new consignment of Paris models, so long delayed, did not stimulate her to unwonted activity. She was thinking of something quite different; wished she could shake off a very irritating depression. The shop and everything else might go to the devil for all she cared. Very foolish, quite irrational; all this she knew, and suffered the more acutely in knowing. Nor did the arrival, an hour later, of a box of choice flowers entirely dispel her gloomthough she started, a flood of recollection sweeping through her, as she read the legend on th? card which accom- | panied the gift: “Sweeter than the smell of Lebanon.” Then the advent of Esme Dundas created a not entirely unwelcome diversion, In sailed that famous one, all eyes, smiles and perfume. Delicious perfume, Sabean odours," diffusing a warm and gracious presence, Denise, on guard, instantly forgot her other troubles. “ Lord Marshalmead told me all about this wonderful place of yours,” Miss Dundas said; "and though Duroche always dresses me, I couldn’t let the opportunity slip of paying you a visit. But why did you run away so soon last night? The fun was just beginning.” “ I had had a very tiring day.” Poor dear.” She looked round the room. “ I suppose this is a bit of a fag at times? You must have wonderful patience." Necessity, said Denise, smiling her slow smile. “A hard taskmaster,” she admitted. Then, catching sight of Phyllis, "That assistant of yours is frightfully, pretty.’’ u My sister,” Denise explained. . “ Really! How very interesting! ” Then Denise, loathing the task, ex- , hibited her wares. Esme at once be- j came the keen and critical purchaser, an attitude in conformity with ore who set the fashion for the London stage. But with one " duck ” of an evening gown in geld. J.i.'r.ie she fell instantly in love, declaring that even the great Duroche never conceived a more immortal creation. “ Please send it to the theatre at once, she said. “ I shall wear it tonight in the second act I’m sure I don’t know what my poor Duroche will say when he hears of it. He’s awfully jealous, you know, but I can’t go on advertising him for ever; even though that sort of thing cuts both ways,” she added with a rneaning smile. “ V rai 4 J can’t afford Durochean ! luxuries,” Denise confessed. “Of course, my dear; I quite understand.” But her business instinct .received a shock. Yet this very remarkable milliner intrigued her not a little. She must know more of her; where Marshalmead had found her, and what exactly was the relationship existing between them. Him she knew to be a dear old thing, curiously elusive. But putting money in a hat shop! Her brows puckered in deep thought whenever Denise’s back was turned. Really, it was a most interesting situation; almost worthy of one of h«r Own dramas. • Marshalmead! There, was a time when she dreamt dreams of him; a time'when it looked as though he might bow down and worship. It was rumoured -that he was tiring of Billie Penton, if he had. not long since tired. Rumour credited him with with inconceivable fickleness. Billie Penton! 1 What had become of her? Poor old : Billie! Frankly it was a most exciting situation. Then Denise, realising the necessity of tact, and much against the grain, forced herself to say, “I have not yet had an opportunity of seeing you in your new piece, Miss Dundas, but I thought you splendid in ‘Wilful Woman.’ ” The actress smiled sweetly, but the artist beamed. My dear, I’m a thousand times better in this. The part fits me like a glove. When you come, remember I’ve quite a long wait after the second act. Come round and see me; and if he’s with you, bring him along. Were quite ojd friends.” As she turned to go her glance fell on the flowers, which still reposed in the box. Leaning over to smell them a pair of sharp eyes-saw the card and read the inscription, and though she knew nothing of Lebanon the scribbled legend stimulated curiosity. Doubtless; yes. He had a wav of sending flowers; only he had never sent strange messages like that to her. “How perfectly sweet,” she purred, her eyes laughing. “Yes, they are, rather." But when the famous one had gone she savagely jammed the cover cn the box and push-

ed it out of sight, though not before I she had slipped the card in her breast. Phil was enthusiastic over the capture; foresaw much renown for the firm in association with Esrne Dundas, and was amazed to find her sister treat the matter as an ordinary business transaction. Really, there was no understanding Denise. It was such people she wanted, people who could advertise her. Others would follow Esme's footsteps; the occasion was full of immense possibilities. Father would be frightfully pleased when he heard the good news. What had passed between" him and Denise she had not ventured to ask, but she feared greatly the coming clash of those two wills. Father had all the old soldier’s ways with its fetish of discipline, of which Deise knew nothing and cared less. And because she loved them both she experienced many happy hours of acute ap- I prehension Happening to be in Albemarle Street just before one o’clock, Lord Marshalmead, being a director of Denise et Lie, looked in to see how business was progressing, and beholding a certain shingled head straightway forgot accounts, debit or credit. Professing an acute sense of hunger, he presently led her to a famous resort in Piccadilly, to a table for two in a far corner of the restaurant. Though pretending oblivion, she noticed the obsequiousness of the manager, and the fact that though the place was fairly crowded the small table in the corner was unoccupied, ana that the man Jed tliem straight to it. Seeing that she was wearing some of the flowers he had sent her, he ncdded approvingly. "They are delicious,” she said. His eyes told her that there was one other flower still more delicious. "You saw the card?” For -answer she drew it from her breast. He took it, still warm surreptitiously pressed it to his lips,’ then carefully put it away in his pocketbook. “Sweeter than the smell of Lebanon ” he whispered. Thought flashing back, brought the blood to her face in most adorable confusion. The crowded room, the buzz of conversation, the hurrying seri ants, all vanished. She was rushing through the night towards—towards what? He was smiling at her over a glass of wine that looked like pale amber. Then she suddenly returned to realities. One is always returning to them. “I told Esme all about it,” he said' "As I imagined. She called this morning. Capital. Did she buy you out?” | Not quite.” I Wanted to make an ‘arrangement ’ ' 1 suppose? | “Something of the sort.” I “Nothing doing?” ‘‘l told her I couldn’t afford Durocnean luxuries.” He laughed. “A business woman. 1 ar^ls *- lc but business-like.” 'She’s wearing my costume in the second act to-night. Wants me to go round and see her.” "Very interesting.” “^ nd brin ff you with me.” • ? ot so interesting.” And then, with a smile, What about it?” “Bores me stiff,” he said. “5 ut as a business proposition?" .Rogue! Shall it be a box?”' I hate boxes. Besides, I’m verv dLu ,! 1 sha,! 80 straight home with Phil. • wba ,t am I to do with myself. he asked in mock alarm “Go down to the House %f ’ Lords and put m some useful work for your country.” * “The old hands would resent the intrusion. That’s their job, you know; consider the running of the empire their peculiar privilege.” “Then what about General Mullivant and the War Office?” kou mean to say your father hasn’t heard yet?” “Who’s the rogue now?” “I must look up old Mull. Fact is, hes doddering; forgets to-day what be promised -yesterday. But I’ll certainly give the old tortoise a shaking up Worst of. those old stick-in-the-muds; once they dig themselves ‘iff, it takes high-explosive to move them." But she knew his concern was not overwhelming. Poor father, and his hopes! A little after four that same afternoon another very distinguished per s °u happened to be strolling through Albemarle Street, and on arriving opposite the window of Madame Denise’s establishment he came suddenly to a standstill. There it was, the name, quite prominent, if not unduly obtrusive Straightening his tie he valorOusly assaulted the door, which opened with suggestive ease- Phyllis came forward to welcome the daring male intruder. Dudley Whinstone's bright dark eyes widened admiringly -on the apparition. “I beg your pardon,” he said, instantly bareheaded and smiling most agreeably; "but as I was passing I wondered if Madame Denise ” And then he saw Madame Denise herself, standing in the farther doorway: slim of figure, in a perfectly cut beige cosS?® 6 ’ z eat sb mgled head—everythingMore fortunate than I deserve,'” he said, advanc mg to her■‘How do you do, Mr Whinstonc? Ibis is my sister Phyllis.” ‘Delighted,”” murmured Mr Whinstone. “Of course; I might have known. Just having a cup of tea,” Denise explained. “Like one?” Above all things in the world.” She held the door for him to pass through. Sanctum of sanctums,” he said. Dresses, silk stockings, hats, bandboxes piled On the floor; he took them all in with that quick glance of his. A small table was spread with cakes and bread and butter. From a cupboard Phil unearthed a cup and saucer Denise waved him to a chair Phil disappeared into the shopr •\° 1 Ur siste F is not ’ Oln ’ng us. Miss Leighley or is it Madame Denise?’” (To be Continued.)