Casper Daily Tribune Newspaper, January 12, 1917, Page 2

ran nar 3 4 THE CASPER DAILY TRIBUNE Novelized From the of the Same Name Copyright, 1916, by SYNOPSIS. railroad id daugh ria, ” t Pulm Beach, Gloria is a vivacious, but willful young lady who chafes under the restraining hand of a governess from whom she re- Deatedly escapes. Her childish capers Cause young Doctor Royce to fall in love with her Bhe steals from her room at night and in apr uto plunges into the surf where she leaves the car. Becoming lost in the eve jes whe falls into the hands of the Seminole Indians, She is rescued and returned to her father who had offered a reward for her return THIRD EPISODE Never before in all her luxurious | young life had Gloria encountered the alightest hardship. The most ex quisite of the niceties of existence had been hers as regularly as the breath she drew. So she had wearied of them and rebelled. And now she had found that adventure was not altogether pleasant, either. A primeval jungle inhabited py a primeval people was, | to say the ieast, distinctly uncom-| fortable. Gloria felt it especially lucky that since she had to be rescued fate had been polite enough to select a good- looking rescuer for her. The more she studied Mr. Freneau the better she liked him. He had a nice name, too—a nice, marriable name. The only fly in the ointment was the bad behavior of Dr. She had thought him charming now he sBulked and moped Dr. Royce was glum because he did not know just what he ought to do. Royce. But He was confronted with a duty that | he could not solve. It was like some obscure disease, hard to diagnosticate, | the ledge ot the veranda and day- To speak up and denounce Freneau as a liar and thief was impossible. Royce had no proof that Freneau had played either the cad or the coward. He knew only that Freneau must have seen him battling with the Indian, and a decent man would have come to the assistance of a fellow white. Even if Freneau had felt that he ought to put Gloria in the boat first, he might have come back to help Royce. But Freneau had left Royce to his fate. That was ugly. Royce heard Pierpont Stafford say to Freneau: “My boy, you've earned the $5,000 reward offered. You've earned a million dollars!” Now Royce felt that he understood. Freneau had been coaxed into the evergiades by that $5,000 lottery prize. He had won it; and it looked as if Freneau were expecting to win Gloria's iove in the bargain. For Gloria was simply devouring him with her eyes. Royce knew little about Freneau, and that little was not to his ad- vantage. Freneau neglected his of- fice, but neglected no opportunity for }no daughter to be a love affair. Dr. Royce had come to Palm Beach as the private physician ot old Judge Freeman, and he had | in Mid- She Graduated All winter, Alone abundant opportunity to see the t- fluence of Freneau on the judge's daughter, Lois. It was not a whole- some influence. Oe 05 ae ery On the long ride back to Palm Beach they passed“ the spot where Gloria had ieft her brother's racing car in the ocean. They paused to look at it Severai men and a team of mules were struggling to drag it out ot the water. When they reacned the Roya: Poin- ciana Gloria passed through a throng ot welcoming friends, and Freneau received congratulations innumerabie. Reyee sneaked off to his room and | than usual: Motion Picture Play by George Kleine Adelaide M. Hughes plunged into a hot bath, treated hfs wounds as best he could, shaved, and put on fresh clothes Then he strolled out to order a new evening dress in a hurry from a Palm Beach tailor. He met Freneau, carry ing his honors jauntily. Royce went to him and held him skewered with his eyes as he said “Look here, Freneau, havent you a little something to say to me?” Freneau colored a trifle, but he| stared back at Royce without discom- | |fort and he laughed no less easily | Why, no, old man; nothing that I know of—except that I suppose I ought to feel sorry that you arrived to> late. But 1 can’t feel sorry i didn't even know you were there Royce glared at nim, then laughed harshly and said “The diagnosis in your case 18 clear. You are hopelessly infected with yel- low fever; but you are immune to all honorable sentiments. Don't lose your head, though; and don’t try any of your tricks on tittle Gloria Stafford.” Freneau laughed again, a more ugly laugh this time. “That seems to me to be Miss Stafford'’s business, and cer- | tainly none ot yours. | “I'm going to make {t mine,’ said | Royce | . . . - . . . After Gioria had enjoyed ail the redeeming influences of a tub, and a| shampoo, and fine linen and a silk frock, she found that her interest in Mr. Freneau was as keen as ever. She n felt grateful to Lois Freeman for | flirting with David. She sat cut on dreamed When her father sauntered by and asked her what she was up to she answered: “O, nothing! I'm just basking in j the sun.” But when Pterpont carne by that way a little later he found Dick Fre- neau basking in Gloria's most be- witching smile. They were Romeo and Juliet at Palm Peach, separated only by a low wall and a clump of rhododendrons. And Romeo was reaching across that with his walking stick. It was the first time Pierpont had | seen his child in a flirtation. He did | not like her in that employment. He took her by the ear and led her away. She protested at the indignity. Pierpont let go her ear. He had al- ways been afraid of her and unable to manage her. He was not afraid of Freneau, however. He went for him at cnce. He was about to begin with a stout, “How dare you speak to my daughter?” He paused, feeling that without Freneau's help he might have spoken to. Pierpont was used to acc ishing his ends with the weapon of the check book. He drew the weapon now and a@ fountain pen and said “By the way, there’s that roward It will give me great pleasure to pay it over,” He wrote after “Pay to the order of” the name “Richard Freneau” and the amount “Five thousard and no-hun- dredths dollars—$5,000." Freneau's fingers twitched to clutch the fortune, but his brain advised him to play for higher stakes. He put away the temp- tation with a proud smile. “It is reward enough to have been | able to be of service to Miss Stafford.” If Gioria had not adored him be- fore, that chtvalrous speech would have won her. It quite disarmed Pier- pont. With his check book ruled >ut, his best weapon was gone. But he blustered all the harder. “My daugh- ter is a little girl. 1 won't have her fooling time away with ycu. She must get her education first. She is hard- ly more than a child.” “Oh, papa!” Gloria cried. the millionaire. To be accepted as his son-in-law at any time was a marvel- He hastened to give ous promise. his own in exchange for it. When he had promised there was nothing left for Gloria to do but prom- ise also. “For five years, then,’ said Pierpont “you promise not to bother grimly, each other or speak or write—for five years” “I promise!” said Freneau quickly. “From tomorrow,” said Gloria with equa! grimness. “The train ieaves very shortly,” said Pierpont, and led her in to superin- tend the packing. Freneau walked away in a daze. Yesterday he was a broker's clerk. Today he was the son-in-law elect of one ot the country’s wealthiest men What were five years to him? Five years sounded unimportant to Gloria, too at the moment. She would love that young man forever. ° . . . ° . . Five years is a long time, and many things can happen in the eighteen hun dred odd days and nights. Freneau hated Royce, for we rarely like the people whose property we have stolen. Jlorla was gone and Lois was gone, but an attractive youth iike Freneau | was not eft alone in such multitudes ol women as gather at Palm Beach with no more serious purpose than | escaping the cold drafts ot the North and the torments ot boredom im the South. He spent so much time gathering the applause from fair women that when the season closed at Palm Beach his firm gave him his full liberty. He had done nothing, they wrote, to en courage them to pay him further sal-| ary. He had to go next to places where his fame had not reached— where he nad only his winning per- sonality as capital He found men rather hard to impress, but there was always some woman foolish enough to believe in his beautiful eyes Some of them were rich and some of them were as poor as poor Nell She Did Nothing More Vicious Than | Trask, the daughter of Gideon Trask, | feel a canal boat captain. He met her in a cheap boarding house, where he paid his landlady nothing much ex- cept his promises and some extrava gant cc \iments He behaved very shabbily in his af- fair with Nell Trask, and deserted her cruelly because, at a critical time for her, he got a tip on the market end sold it to a broker, who gave him a share of the preceeds. He was so tired of poverty that he went to New York and anticipated his promise. But Gloria and her father were abroad on a summer yacation, and Freneau was thrown on his own resources, other tip and sold that to a broker named Frank Mulry Mulry knew the value of such a partner, and he encouraged Freneau to learn from financiers’ wives and Gaughters what could not be learned otherwise. In the course of time Fre- neau made himself so important to Mulry that he was taken into the firm as a silent partner. At length, through a& most confidential tip,he got in as a sort of stowaway in a piratical raid on the market and cleaned up so much mcney that Mulry was glad to take him into full partnership as the Pierpont went on: “And she's go- ing to school at once. We start north on the next train.” “Then Mr. Freneau will come north, too, and we shall see each other all we want to. For we love each other, don't we, Mr. Freneau? Desperately! Don’t we, Mr. Freneau?’ Mr, Freneau’s answer was blurred. Pierpont studied the two young peo- ple. He had his own opinion of Fre- neau It was formed on brief ac- quaintance, but he was a judge of men. “You love each other, eh? Desper ately, too? Well, well! Now, look here,” he said, after a quick balanc- ing ot his mind, “of course you both know that Gloria is too young for marriage. She must prepare herself for the solemn responsibilities of life and graduate at a good finishing school. Now, it you will wait, and not see each other or write to each other, till then, and it you stili fove each other then, i will not oppose your marriage I'l) do all 1 can to make you happy. Is it a bargain?” Freneau had not the courage to re- fuse the demand in the cold eyes ot | ‘ senior member of the firm. When he saw the legend, “Freneau & Mulry, stocks and bonds, members et the stock exchange,” on the door and on tho letterheads Freneau felt so important that he did not care what Pierpont Stafford or his daugh- ter thought of him. He was the young Napoleon. One of these days he would | buy and sell Pierpont Stafford. His success enlarged his acquaint- ance, his attractiveness, and his temp- tations. He was on the crest of the wave when he met Lois Freeman again. He was studying the diamond crop in a Jeweler’s window and wondering just what peace offering he should buy for a certain person whom he had ren- dered violently jealcus when who should step out of the shop but Lois Freeman! Each stared at the other with eyes ready for flirtation. Each recognized the other as a former Palm Beach comber. “Why, Mr. Freneau!” was Lois ex- clamation Her ianguage was not so brilliant as her eyes. “Why, Miss Freeman!* was bis He flirted himself into an- | equally brilliant answer. The same thing was true of him. , “But I'm no longer Miss Freeman, id she. erm still Mr. Freneau,” said he. “I’m now Mrs. Stafford.’ “Stafford? Stafford? The name unds familiar,” said Freneau. arely you haven't forgotten David Stafford, your old rival for my young affections?" “Of course not,” said Freneau. “I’ve never forgiven him for cutting me How long have you been mar- out ried? < “Oh, for an aternity—two years: “Really? You don’t look it at all! But that’s jong enough for you to come take tea with me some- wh fp t | “J suppose so. Anyway, I'm dead tired and in need of a pick-me-up It’s }so stupid shopping all day. And my | husband has already been married long be quite frank about my ce. But what else is there He is at the office all day; He’s am- to outdo his father in busi- for r and he travels a good deal bitious ness.” “So am I,” sala Freneau. They were buzzing away merrily when they found seats in a tearoom where dancing was the main business, with tea as an excuse. Freneau did not even take tea. He was not par- ticular about excuses. He urged Lois |to dance with him But she saw sev- | erat people she knew and she de- clined. Also, she slipped away early. She knew encugh to be elusive They met again, however, at a tess conspicuous aroom. Then she danced with him And all this while Gloria was cher- ishing her ideal of Freneau and work- }ing hard to make herself worthy of | him And ner ing a trust in Lois and working hard to give her the luxuries she exacted with increasing greed. * ry . . . . . Five years was a long time for | Gloria, too; but not so long as she | told herself. Her girl soul did not to Hold a Chafing-Dish Orgy Now and Then in Her Room. the emotional demands of a | grown woman. She could put Fre- neau’s picture on her bureau and find satisfaction in paying it worship. In the school she had discovered a new world. She fought her way to the captaincy of a basketball team as if it were the presidency of an Ama- zonian republic. She learned to fence well and to box a little. She even took an interest in some of her text books. She thought she was very wicked, but she did nothing more vicious than hold a chafing dish orgy now and then in her room. Gloria had few sorrows of import- ance, beyond the occasional disap- pointment her examination records gave her. The chief of her disappoint- ments was her brother’s marriage to Lois. She never had liked Lois and had never understood her charm. | Lois had taken little imerest in winning the approval of women. She had played a part in winning even David's serious interest. She never cared for him, but she could not re sist the wealth and prestige ot his name. She was bitterly disappointed in him when after the honeymoon was over he expressed his unwilling- ness to live on his father’s money and vowed that he would earn his own way by his own energy. The life of travel and gayety that Lois had Planned was taken from her. Gloria had a staunch little heart and she kept her word to her father, She kept faith, too, with her fiance five yeafs removed. She fell into the habit of talking to his photograph. When she was tempted to forget that she was a solemnly betrothed young per- son she would find strength in his image to be austere and to deny her- self many of the gayeties of the school or cf her comparvons in the gorgeous resting places where she spent her vacations. It was a quaint and bitter trony that the eyes in Freneau’s photograph should have had so pious an influence, while his own eyes were devoted to casting such evil spells. Unconsciously Lois revenged her husband on Freneau, for while Fre- neau was causing Lois to forget her duties to the partnership she had en- tered into with David Stafford her fas- cinations led Freneau to neglect his duties to his partnership with Frank Mulzy, He spent time and money on brother was cherish- | She Learned Lois that should have been devoted to the intricate stratagems—not to Say treasons and spcils—ot Wall | street He and Muiry in the flush of their early successes had spread out—had established branch offices in Albany Buffalo, Cleveland, Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis and Pittsburgh While the tide set their way these branches se@ved as so many hands to gather in shekels. But when the hard times came upon the financiat world they | Served as so many mouths to feed The office of Freneau & Mulry be- came one of those dismal places where the pay roli is a weekly agony jand where the watchword is “every- thing going out and nothing coming in.* When Freneau at last awoke to real- ize that bankruptcy instead of plutoc- Tracy was likely to be his portion he | turned back to his work with a des- | perate energy. And now Lois found that he was as fierce an office man as her husband. He had engagements when she was ionely. | She naturally imputed his neglect to |some other charmer. She could not believe him guilty of overwork | grew jealous and their meetings were stormy. She kept his telephone busy to make sure that he was at his desk. She began to annoy him. He wished to be rid of her, but she would not be jilted. it was during this crisis that Gloria marked off the iast month of her five years’ ordeal. She was ambitious enough to go on and finish her course and get her diploma. She compressed her last year of schooling into half a year and graduated all alone in mid- winter. She dashed into her room at college for the last time, with her solemn | mortarboard askew on her head, her somber black gown flying from her shoulders, and in her hand her parch- ment diploma (in Latin that she could | | nearly translate). She looked like a little Portia for a moment. She threw her diploma in air and her mortarboard after it. She whipped oft her black robe and began to juggle school books, letting them fall where they fell. She danced a jig over her scholarly past and made haste to pack her things and dart out to meet her future. “Future” was her spelling of “Freneau.” The journey to New York from school was as long as the journey to New York from Palm Beach had been y ‘8 ago; only then she had been traveling away from her romance, now toward it. When her father met her at the train she hugged him almost to suf- focation, then asked him how dear Mr. Freneau was the last time he saw him. “The last time I saw dear Mr. Fre- neau was at Palm Beach,” said Pier- pont, who had almost forgotten his name and had hoped that Gloria had forgotten it entirely. As soon as she reached the house on Riverside drive and embraced the old servants and shook hands with the new, Gloria took’ her father into his library and asked him for Mr. Fre- neau'’s telephone number. She had found “Freneau & Mulry” in the book already, and she said: “Do you Suppose that that Mr. Mulry’s Fre- neau is my Mr. Freneau?” | “I don’t know, I'm sure,” Pierpont grumbled. “But it wouldn’t be very correct to telephone a busy man, would it?” “I suppose not,” Gloria admitted. “Where's a peu? I'll write him.” “How long hes it been since you wrote him last?” said Pierpont anx- fously. “Why, I've never written him at all,” Gloria answered, shocked. “I prom- ised, didn’t I?" Pierpont kissed her brow with a profound pride. Say, and wondered how she could manage elicately to attract Mr. Freneau’s attention without seeming to. “Py the way,” said Pierpont, “there's “You bet!” cried Gloria with school- girl elegance. At about that time Freneau was Just putting down the telephone in his of- fice. Lois had called him to say that She | to Fence Well. ner husband was taking her to the benefit and she hoped that he would |be there. She had something im- portant to tell him. Everything she had to tell him was immensely im- portant nowadays to her—and im- mensely unimportant to him. The thing that’ agitated Lois was her khowledge that Gloria had come back to New York and was still iq love with the memory ot Freneay Lois was in an anguish ot fear and jealousy and she wanted to compel Freneau to swear that he would not | forsake her for Gloria. Frenean was oblivious ot this, but he had no intention of keeping his Promise to Lois till Mulry, who had overheard Freneau’s end of the con- versation, said: “Come along. I got stung for a couple of tickets. You can have one of them We might meet somebody who might give us a | line on the market.” | So the Romeolike Freneau went with his Falstaffian partner. They |haunted the promenade of the box- |helders, wishing to be seen in ex- pensive company. Glancing over the balustrade, Fre- neau caught sight of Lois mounting the stairs with her husband. She was looking for him, and he smiled back at her with stinted grace. He did not notice that on the other stairway of the big double zigzag Pierpont Staf- ford was coming up with a vision of young loveliness at his side. He did not know Gloria saw him. He did not see her clutch her father’s arm and almost swoon with delight. He might have observed all this and etill not have suspected who the girl was, for the Gloria he had found in squaw costume in the everglades, the Gloria who had exchanged vows with him on the veranda of the Poinciana, the Gloria who had waved farewells to him from the receding train five years ago, had all but receded from his memory. What recollection he had of her was of a little sixteen-year- old thing with her hair down her back and an air of almost childish imma+ turity. The Gloria who marched up the broad steps of the Metropolitan was @ young lady of twenty, one with her hair up, her head full of knowledge, and her features changed as the bud is changed when it becomes a rose. Her costume was the latest thing from Paris, still Paris in spite of the war. Gloria could hardly climb the steps to the level of Freneau. Her father did not know him, but she did. She left her father’s side and hurried to Freneau’s. He did not hear her or know that she was at his elbow, trem- bling with rapture and trying to keep | from crying his name aloud and seiz- |ing him by the arm that had saved |her from the Indians. She coughed and he did not hear. At last she ven- tured the terrific deed of touching his sleeve with her finger tip He turned and she murmured: “Mr. Freneau, I believe?” He turned, saw that a most exquis- ite creature had addressed him, won- dered who under the sun she was, lift- ed his hat, made a violent pretense at remembering her perfectly, having met her just the day before, and ex- claimed: “Why, hello! I'm ao glad you got here.” He put out his hand, but hers fell away before he could clasp it. She had thrust her arm into her father’s elbow and hurried him along toward the door ot their box while Freneau whirled and stared. Mulry stared, too, and muttered: “Good Lord, who's the new peach with oid Pierpont?” “It must be his daughter; it’s Gloria!” Freneau gasped. “His daughter! Do you know her?™ “Know her!” Freneau laughed. “Well, rather! I'm engaged to her in & way.” Then he stared at her with a cold indifference that veri- fied her wildest fears. Meanwhile Gloria was sitting in to shake away the tears that came Dellmell. She was wringing her iittle white gloved hands and trying not to Sob aloud: “He doesn't me! He doesn’t remember me!” (TO BE |