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Show O These HThrcc ovcs (J Xj by Louis Arthur Cunningham leave then for Montreal. Gillian saw Simon Killigrew ; watching the merry-go-round, perhaps per-haps thinlung of other fairs, of a young girl beside him. She felt an ache, a wistful yearning in her heart. He looked so lonely there, j and so young and so lost and ! still so stubborn. j "Don't forget," said Jon, "you are to show thai bay, Hero, for nie. What-ho! Here's Landry looking look-ing for me." (To Be Continued) and wasn't it that which upset you?" "Yes." Gillian's- voice was quiet, remote. "If you must know, it was that." "Perhaps I can keep them from talking that way. I most certainly certain-ly can." She shook her head. "You couldn't couldn't make him stop thinking like that. He Simon Killigrew is down on me because he blames me for what happened to Jaffry. He believes what everyone every-one else believes and Jaffry was his his friend. But it hurts me." "And does it matter so much what he says? Or thinks? Or does?" She knew it did, that it mattered matter-ed terribly. "I won't talk about it any more, Jon. He knows what he is about. We'll let things take their course." The next day, Sunday, was one of Autumn's loveliest. Gillian went riding with Jon. They rode down green, , lea'fy tunnels where the sunlight was dappled gold on the carpet of the forest, where the maples were turning scarlet and the willows gold and the water in the lakes and ponds they passed pass-ed had the still and dormant look that belongs to the Fall. She felt happy now, all doubt thrust aside. Jon smiled at her as they walked walk-ed up the steps to the lodge. It had been a good day for him, too. He felt sure of life again, sure of love. He thought of the ring he would buy for her a great emerald he had seen a few days before. Its green fire would go with her hair flashing green and deep gold. He thought of the lovely things for which she was starved and his heart was warm at the knowledge that he could give her all of them. Then he saw young Killigrew sitting sit-ting alone in a corner of the piazza, a sheaf of manuscript on his knee, a straight-stemmed briar pipe in his mouth", and all the unpleasantness un-pleasantness of last night came back to him. He saw Gillian look too and then turn away, and some of .the sunshine had gone from her eyes. "Let us forget those old things." he said, stopping her on the threshold. "Let's put them away, Gillian, forever." She said: "I have forgotten much of the bitterness; So many of the old. dark things forgot." And she smiled up at him, but even then remembered that the lines she had quoted were written writ-ten by Jaffry Clay. Most of the company stayed over on Monday to go to the fair at St. Cloud, which had begun to attract at-tract thousands of visitors from the country round about. Simon Killigrew said he would visit the fair for an hour or so to see Jon's horses shown, but that he must Clay, who had gone to Valhalla, or wherever poets go, leaving behind be-hind him a romantic impression that he had deliberately done himself him-self in for love of Gillian, because Gillian woudl have nothing to do with him? And she thought, well, it was only after she turned him down that he started in trying to drink it all up. Maybe there is something in the yarn. Saner men than Clay might have a bust-up over that face and figure. I hope she is good to Jon. If she isn't, I'll break her neck. Oh no, here CHAPTER V Synoiis Lovely, red - headed Gillian .Meade lives with her uncle, Colonel Colon-el Anselni Meade, at. Itydnl House, in Eastern Canada. Realizing that the family fortunes are nearly exhausted, ex-hausted, Gillian determines to accept ac-cept Jonathan Hillyer, wealthy friend of the family, while she is his guest, at. a house party on his luxurious estate. She meets Simon Killigrew, best, friend of Jaffry (lay, a brilliant young poet to whom Gillian was engaged. Killigrew Killi-grew net-uses GillUm of having been responsible for Clay's death. This disturbs lier, and at the very instant, that Jon Hllyer is proposing, propos-ing, she finds herself wavering in her resolve to marry him. o "There's one thing I must tell you, Jon," Gillian said at last, loosing the clasp of his arm: "I've thought this all out too. I've been cold and calculating in wanting to marry you. Oh, don't mistake me I think you are splendid. There is no man I honor or admire more, except Anse. But I feel 1 would be less than honest if I didn't tell you the truth that there's no love in me nothing of what the world calls love."- love him? Simon Killigrew was not with the crowd in the living room. Some of them were playing bridge, some just talking. He was nowhere about. It came to Gillian with a queer shock that his dark head was what she had looked for first. Not finding it she felt something some-thing that she hated to admit was disappointment. The room seemed empty somehow. She joined in a game of bridge, but had to fight to keep track of the cards. She saw two of the players exchange ex-change sly, knowing glances, when she forgot it was her turn to bid and had to be reminded. They thought she was looking for Jon. Expectantly, when she and Jon returned from the lake all these curious eyes had gazed at them. "You're not with us, Gillian at least, not in spirit," said Moira Canavan sweetly the Hon. Moira, who had the best seat on a horse of any woman in Quebec Province, who had wanted Jon Hillyer herself her-self and wanted him very much. For himself, too since she had a great fortune of her own. "Well, I for one can't blame you." The game went on. Moira, when she was dummy, had leisure to speculate on Gillian, on what made comes the dark and brooding one out of seclusion "Oh, Mr. Killigrew!" She was watching Gillian as she called and saw a sudden twitching of red lips, an uneasy movement of slender, slen-der, golden shoulders. Simon Killigrew Kil-ligrew came and stood between her and Moira. To Moira's question, "Were the novels too dull?" he answered, "Dull enough." "More fun out here, I should think." Moira smiled up at him and across at Gillian. "Tell Gillian Gil-lian Meade how to play her cards. She has Morton all upset." "Miss Meade?" Simon's voice had an edge. "Oh, I couldn't advise. ad-vise. I know little about bridge. Anyway I shouldn't think she knows how to play her cards." Gillian's eyes darkened. She stiffened in her chair, but did not look at him. "But there can be." In spite of his wisdom, his vaunted sophistication, sophisti-cation, he was oddly disappointed. What had he deluded himself with? He was more than twice her age. Gillian was not yet twenty. "I don't know," said Gillian. "I'm afraid of love, anyway." She spoke almost sullenly. "But I can be happy with you and I can make you happy. That's all love could mean anyway. Isn't it, Jon?" "Poor Gillian!" he said softly. She clung to Jon Hillyer. "Don't say, 'Poor Gillian.' Don't feel sorry sor-ry for me, Jon." "But the greatest thing in life, Gillian the thing that belongs to youth that is youth you have not known it." Her eyes were cold, cold, and her heart was cold. "I don't know what to think. I only know you are troubled, and that I'd do anything anything in the world to help you." "I'm still thinking of love, Jon. still wondering if one can really die. for love. Oh, Jon, forgive me for talking this way! Forgive me and and love me. I'm not afaid of your love, Jon." "You need never be. Nor afraid for it." With him the let-down feeling persisted. This moment had been' nothing such as he had pictured. "We won't announce it tonight," to-night," he said. "Perhaps we won't annnounce it at all. We'll just go off -one of these days, soon, and be married." "I'd ike it to be that way." Her clasp tightened on Jon's arm. He smiled down at her. She said, "I don't think I've made you very happy. Jon. I'm sorry. I want you to know I'd like to make you happy. hap-py. I'd like it better than anything else in the world." But was it so? Wasn't it her own well-being, her own security, that mattered most? If she wanted want-ed to make him happy was she going the right way about it by marrying him when she did not her forget the game. One by one she eliminated the men in the room: Pender and Sutton and Royce were middle-aged and married mar-ried and had their wives with them; Savarin played a 'cello and Morton Ilsley was the worst bore in the Province; Sir Bates Eyston might do, only for the fact that he'd been trying to flirt with her since she came in, and she hadn't even seen him. Simon Killigrew! Moira, when it flashed on her, almost dropped her cards. She whistled noiselessly. noiseless-ly. She had it now! Simon and she had been talking before Jon and Gillian returned, and he, too, had been watching for someone, looking every now and then at the door and into his eyes would come a stormy, brooding look. Certainly, Certain-ly, mused Moira, it isn't love on his part if I'm any judge. I wonder won-der what it's all about. She had forgotten her make. It was her turn to be laughed at. She laughed, too. She said, "Mr. Killigrew Killi-grew must have found ris pretty dull. He left for his room with the plea that he had some novel manuscripts manu-scripts to read. Can you conceive of anything duller even us?" "Oh, yes." Morton Ilsley, Gillian's Gil-lian's partner, knew all about books and publishers. "Quite a coming man, Killigrew. Killi-grew. He's published a few things that did quite well and I hear he's going right into it. Well, it's nice work, giving genius to the world. Genius has a hard time." "Genius," said the Hon. Moira, "always gives me the idea that what it needs is a kick in the pants." Morton looked shocked. He bid three no-trumps offhand and knew he had overdone it. Moira doubled him promptly. Smug little caterpillar. A lot he knew of geniuses. Ask Gillian Meade she could give you the real low-down on the tribe. Hadn't she been wild about that crazy-eyed, crazy-eyed, gin-swigging poet, Jaffry Moira was not too pleased with her handiwork. There was no great malice in her. "Well, if you can't be any help that way," she said, tell us something of the great books you're going to publish. Morton Ilsley there tells us you're playing big brother to genius." "Only when it needs a big brother, bro-ther, Miss Canavan. And I can't always be on hand to play the part. Genius is so much the small boy you've likened it to trusting, trust-ing, quick to give its loyalty and its love, gullible. But it's not tough, and when it is first petted, then kicked aside because, perhaps, per-haps, it's poor " Gillian's cards dropped from her hand and fluttered to the table, to the floor. She half-rose from her chair. Her cheeks were chalky white. She saw Jon, who had come in from the billiard room, stop and stare at her. Moira took her arm and forced her to sit down.. Ilsley and Sutton, the other man, busied themselves with picking up the cards, "I think we've had enough bridge," said Moira. "Let's call it a day." She whispered to Gillian, "Are you all right, my dear?" The blue eyes 'were wide and angry. "Much you care if I am! You called him here to to" she stood up abruptly and hurried out onto the porch, grateful for the coolness, the stillness, the kindness kind-ness of the night. ' Jon Hillyer came presently and stood beside her. She knew he was troubled. She had seen the amazed amaz-ed look, the bewilderment, in his eyes when she was getting up from the card table. "Gillian!" Jon put his hand on her shoulder and gently made her turn to him. "Tell me what's the matter. Something that, happened in there has upset you terribly. Wasn't there something said at the card game about Jaffry Clay some allusion to genius? Didn't Killigrew tell them some stuff |
