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Show "551iAMME LACE I , Frances Parkltnon Koyoa 5faw 1 j SON (EYES NTJ Service I had brought with her, and. motioned to her to sit dowa "Well," he questioned, still lightly, light-ly, when looking a protest but uttering, utter-ing, none, she had settled herself. "Have you actually realized at last that I am In love with you?" She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "Don't cry, Anne. There'll be nothing to cry about, you'll see. . . . And you feel sure Neal doesn't suspect sus-pect at all?" "How could he?" she asked simply. "You mean, It would never occur to him that his best friend would try to approach his wife?" A more meaning word had been CHAPTER VII Continued f- "But you'll get terribly fed up if I go on like this How about yourself? your-self? Doing well, aren't you?" "Kinanelally, yes. It was hard sledding at first, but this year I've earned close to fifteen thousand I've never run Into debt, or even spent nil my income Anne's seen to that," he added ungrudgingly. "Not startling, but pretty solid', I should say. But why do you stress the word 'financially'? Don't you feel you're doing well every way?" "I was thinking that I hadn't done as well politically as I'd hoped. I expected to be governor of this state by now." "Well, yes, I rather thought that was your plan. But after all" Hathaway tapped the arm of his chair with his fingers, gazing Into the open fire as he did so. Then he asked a most astonishing question. ques-tion. "How about your wife? Was she Interested In politics, too?" "Anne?" Neal's surprise was apparent ap-parent In bis voice. "Why, Anne would be Interested, I guess, in anything I wanted to do. She-she's She-she's devoted to me." .'Yes, of course, I saw that. But I mean has she been helping you actively and directly as well as passively pas-sively and Indirectly ?' "She's gone without everything," Neal answered, coming swiftly to Anne's defense, under the impres-! sion that she was being attacked. "Good times, and pretty clothes, and trips and friends. I never would have been able to go Into politics If she hadn't. Once I thought I was going to lose her I'd neglected her terribly, and she was going to have a baby, which made It all the worse and I nearly went wild when I realized what I'd done." "But after you'd had a chance to forget about that bad time, you neglected her again?" "I suppose I did do. But there's never been another woman." "Good G d! I should say not! What do you want the Capitoline Venus?" Jured Anne; and since he could Perhaps, never be entirely selfless, bow he had, In Injuring her, in-Jured in-Jured himself as well. Before he succeeded In framing an answer, Uathaway spoke again. "So that's that And seeing Anne you don't mind If I call her Anne, do you? here tonight brought it all back to me because she's she's so different. And you're so lucky and playing against your luck !" "What," Neal managed to ask would you do, If you were I?" Hathaway balanced the question. Would anything very dreadful happen," he asked at length, "if you left those two corking kids with that pretty maid she'd look after them all right, wouldn't she and took Anne on a vacation? I'm saUing next week on the France-why France-why don't you see If you could get a stateroom on the same boat? And and spend the summer In Paris and let me help give you both a good time!" CHAPTER VIII XTEAXi had come, down with a L heavy cold which kept him confined con-fined to the hotel, but he insisted, since he was not really sick, and since there was so little time left, that Anne should not stay In with him, but should go, as they had both planned to do, and have tea with Clare at the Chateau de Madrid. It was very warm for Paris, and Anne's beautifully dressed hair, shining like burnished gold, escaped from its net about the white nape of her neck and her white brow, and curled in little soft moist tendrils. ten-drils. Her diaphanous negligee, pale orchid color, had slipped away from one white, rounded shoulder, and she raised a slim white hand and pulled it into place. "I shall have to dress." "Since when," teased Neal, "has that been a burden to you? . . . though I must say you look very nice the way you are." She flushed deliciously. "I meant It is so very warm. ... I suppose sup-pose that Glare might think It un- Anne learned to ride Clare had two horses so there was always one at her disposal. She learned to drive Clare's Mercedes. Neal had never thought she "would be able to manage" the Dodge, but now he saw that he had been mistaken. Watching her development, he realized real-ized that Clare had not said half that might be said about her possibilities. pos-sibilities. Well, he would never make the old mistake again. They were going home now, very soon, and when they did . . . Anne came into the room waiting for his praise. "I don't dare kiss you, darling," he mumbled, behind his enveloping handkerchief. "Sure to give this darned cold to you. Clare's sent up word he's waiting for you. Have a good time." She found Clare leaning against the boxlike desk of the concierge, chatting with that functionary. "Neal has a cold," she said as they shook hands, "he couldn't risk going out, of course. But he Insisted In-sisted that I should come, just the Same." "Naturally. I should never have forgiven you If you hadn't." They were soon skipping out towards the Champs-Elysees. Today To-day Clare was driving himself it was a long time, Anne realized, since she had seen his discreet little lit-tle chauffeur. "And so you're really leaving Tuesday?" Clare asked. "I suppose so." "You sound as if you were sorry." "Oh Clare how could anyone help being sorry to leave Paris for HInsboro?" There was real grief In her voice; but the next instant she tried to catch back the words. "Of course I'm counting the days until I see Junior and Nancy. If I could only have had them here, too, it would have been quite perfect." "Well, I can understand that the sort of existence you were leading when I came to your house last spring might pall a good deal now." "If It hadn't been for you," she said with eager gratitude, "I never would have had a glimpse, perhaps, "Though I Must Say You Look Very I Nice the Way You Are." THE STORY FROM THE BEGINNING Disappointed because of her Inability to put finishing touches to her costume for a dance, Anne Chamberlain Is irritated by the stolidity of her escort, George Hildreth. A visitor in the community, Neal Conrad, young lawyer, is to be the "sensation" of the evening, and Hildreth is vaguely Jealous. Conrad readily perceives Anne's fine character. He invites her to accompany him and his hostess, Mrs. Griffin, on a picnic the following Sunday. Anne buys suitable "finery" for the trip from an old friend, Mr. Goldenburg. The picnic Is a delight to her. At the end of the day Neal declares his love," and they become engaged. The marriage Is solemnized, quietly but impressively. At Washington, on their honeymoon, the Conrads meet Clarence Hathaway, friend of Neal's, young diplomat. The young couple start housekeeping. Anne's health begins to fail. Neal, engrossed in politics, does not notice. She realizes she Is to be a mother, but does not tell Neal, now a state legislator, practically living at the capital. Alone and suffering Anne has a visit from her old friend, Mr. Goldenburg. In Neal's absence he takes charge of the situation. Neal is in an agony of remorse over his neglect. Their son is born. In eight years Neal's law nractice and his political standing both mount. A daughter is born to Anne, but her beauty is fading. Clarence Hathaway, now in . a diplomatic post In Paris, visits them. on the tip of his tongue. He had softened it just In time. "Of course It wouldn't occur to him. He would never do such a thing himself." "You're probably right. Neal, with all his faults, is Intrinsically honest. Also, he Is not oversexed. Which makes it easier for him to be honest." "You shan't speak of Neal like that !" flashed Anne, "as if It were ridiculous to be honest and and decent I" "It isn't ridiculous. But It's sometimes some-times Inadequate. "Listen, Anne," he went on, as she stared at him, apparently too stunned to answer, "I must ask you to believe that I haven't gone about this with malice and forethought, so to speak. When I came to your house last spring, I pitied you, and admired you, and I wanted you to have a good time. That was the reason I persuaded Neal to bring you here, and the only reason. I hope very, very much that you will believe this." "I do believe it," said Anne. "But I was very lonely. I'd been through a dreadful domestic experience experi-ence " "And now you want me to do the same thing to Neal that your wife did to you?" She had scored. But, after a moment's mo-ment's hesitation, he went on, still speaking calmly. "Since you put it so crudely, I suppose I do now. But I never dreamed it was going to come to that. To be perfectly frank, I didn't think you had it In you to attract me, in the sense of making me want you. Well, I was mistaken. But even so, I don't believe be-lieve matters would have gone as far as this If I hadn't begun to see that I attracted you, too." "You don't," cried Anne. "Oh, how can you say such dreadful things! I never loved anyone but Neal, never in all my life 1 Why, I wouldn't even finish that dance with you because I suddenly remembered re-membered that the 'Beautiful Blue Danube' was the very first waltz Neal and I ever had together. . . . I very nearly didn't come out with you today at all. I hesitated a long time. If Neal hadn't Insisted In-sisted . . ." "Exactly. If you weren't In love with me you wouldn't be self-con- scious about motoring with me or I joking with me, or having me close to you In a dance. You wouldn't be here listening to me now, Anne. . ." (TO BE CONTINUED.) "No," roared Neal, angrily, "what are you driving at, anyway?" "My dear fellow, please don't think I'm venturing to criticize your conduct. And as for criticizing your wife well, I thought ten years ago she was one of the loveliest, love-liest, as well as one of the most remarkable girls, I'd ever met in my life. I've remembered her, prettly vividly, all this time. That's a little unusual for me. And I confess con-fess that seeing her tonight has been an acute disappointment." "Well, I'm not disappointed in her. She suits me." - "Just wait a minute, can't you? I still think she's beautiful and remarkable. Even more remarkable than I'd guessed. But I think she's tragic." "Tragic !" "Yes. How old is she? Under thirty? I thought so. Well, she looks over forty. She's stagnating, mentally as well as physically. She's submerged herself In your personality, and your career and your children until she's nothing but a washed-out drudge without a particle of individuality left. She's done it voluntarily because she loved you loves you. But she must know, even if you don't know, that she was capable of something a good deal bigger. With her looks and her mind, and her natural gifts as a hostess Neal, you utter fooL" "Even if you are my guest, and an old friend, I think you've gone about far enough in discussing my wife." "Then suppose we discuss mine for a change." "Yours I I didn't know you were married I" "I'm not. But I was." "You mean you lost her? Clare I'm darned sorry, I hadn't heard" "Yes, I lost her. But she didn't die. She found out she cared for some one else more than she did for me. I found it out, too." "Oh " "Yes. Exactly. She was a poor girl when I married her, almost as poor as Anne. And she came from a home that wasn't much better. But she was pretty, devilishly pretty and ambitious for herself. I fell for her hard-and fast. I ought to have known better- Lord knows I've had experience enough but l married her. She began by almost ruining me financially. And ! she ended by almost ruining me diplomatically. diplo-matically. Caesar's wife had nothing noth-ing on that of a rising young secretary. sec-retary. I left that post in Rome which I enjoyed so much, because I was given an indefinite leave of absence. ab-sence. When I went to Paris, I went without her." Neal found himself wre moved than he could have Imagined. And not only moved-nlightened. Oare -had made no compansonsloud. But ea. saw those that he had made mentally, as clearly as if ti e? had been engraved In flaming 1 ters. Saw, too, how he had in appreciative If we both went back on him." She disappeared, into the bedroom, bed-room, and a moment later Neal heard the sound of running water from the bathroom beyond. He smiled. How happy she had been all summer! sum-mer! It was nearly four months now since they had stood beside the gangplank, watching it lifted, waving wav-ing good-by to Dora and Junior and Nancy. The very morning after their arrival ar-rival in Paris, while they were at breakfast, Clare, who had not left them until nearly midnight, reappeared, reap-peared, and mapped out their program. pro-gram. Before they did a single thing Anne must be reclothed. He would accompany them to a dressmaker'sa dress-maker'sa petite maison not too expensive but very recherchee, and worthy of being entrusted with this task. "And I expect," he said frankly, "that the job will have to be done from the skin up. Sou don't look to me as if you had on the right things underneath. Nobody has waistlines any more; onthe contrary, con-trary, every one has legs." "You don't expect me to go with Anne to the dressmaker's?" protested protest-ed Neal, aghast. "Of course. Both of us. Husband Hus-band and interested friend. They d think she didn't have any male relatives rel-atives to pay the bills if she went alone." , . ... . And Clare was right about this as he was about everything else Neal found himself welcomed with open arms. He enjoyed the wel-come-at the first three or four establishments-then It began to pall on him, and he suggested that Clare ! and Anne should go without him, while he went around to the American Ameri-can Express to see if, by any chance, anyone from Belford had registered there. But he pa. d the ! bills without a murmur, in a glow !of satisfaction, as he saw Anne i transformed almost before h.s eyes. ! Presently she looked no more than her a-e again; and then she began to look a good deal less than her age. of any other kind of existence! you persuaded Neal to give me this wonderful chance. I can't ever thank you enough." "Don't try," he said lightly, "it hasn't been a dull summer for me, either, you know. Ah here we are." He helped her out of the motor, and they passed through the arched entrance of the Chateau de Madrid. In a moment, a garcon who had waited on them before, and whose flashing smile gave them welcome, began bringing In tea and little cakes. The orchestra was playing, most unusually, a slow and ancient waltz. Clare rose, pushed back his chair, and bowed. "Shall we dance?" he asked. She nodded, and rising, laid her arm lightly on his sleeve, as they walked over to the parquet. Then she slipped into his arms. He was a remarkably fine dancer, and, closely held, she followed his sure and graceful lead for a few moments mo-ments without speaking. Then suddenly, sud-denly, she raised her head. "Isn't that 'The Beautiful Blue Danube' they're playing?" "Yes. The best waltz ever written, writ-ten, probably." "Would would you mind very much if we didn't finish it? If if we didn't finish our tea?" "Aren't you well, Anne?" "Yes. But I feel a little faint I think I had better go home." "Too bad but never mind! I'll drive you back through the Bols. You'll feel better moving about In the air. It is frightfully hot. And heat always seems so much worse out of season." He made no objections, expressed ' no surprise. In fact, he said nothing noth-ing at all until they had reached the little lake where so many happy bourgeois lovers hire boats and row placidly about. Then he stopped the car. "We may as well have this out now, Anne," he said, quietly. "I'd prefer to take you to my apartment, apart-ment, but of course you'd refuse to I go. 'Ve can sit on the bank." He spread out a light wrap she |