The evening world. Newspaper, September 16, 1914, Page 17

OCCA CODD COUT (Copyright, 1919, by Louis sosepn AENOPAIS OF PLEIN: bet and dove om tbe plea that ie mpending the might elsewiere, Next day © ball room there and for eoverat toe Mattias. Through the Deans Quand, @ young actor in tina: fis pat oan et Hisiena i. Sead, eee 724 have Bsom ty ‘ite ach or Tautval tora “nd bee Meinvitation_ to. tiste Biaxernite ala ee he has quits CHAPTER VIII. (Contizued,) OLD on!" Quard protest- ed. “I want to talk to you about”— “About what? / “What I want to talk to you about is a sketch I got hold of @ while ago. You know you picked the other one, only that was punk etuff compared with this, I think. Please read this and tell me what you think about it. If you like it, I think I will try it out soon. If It's any good it’s @ cinch to cop out Orpheum time for a classy act like this. Of course, I mean I want you to act the woman's Dart if you like the sketch.” He handed her a blue covered play masuscript. In her room that night abe read it. It bore a title, “The Lie,” an ex- Dlanatory line, Play in One Act, &nd the name of the author—one quite strange to Joan and which she Promptly put forever out of memory. Its twenty-odd type-darkened pages told a story intensely and, even to { an amateur judgment, unusually dramatic, culminating in a scene of surprising strength. The author had wasted no time angling for “laughs, | er om any point not vital to bis pur- | | pose; from the first line the action | was swift and certain. Of the five characters only two were “princi- pais,” and of these the woman's role was the stronger. Struck by this last, Joan read the little melodrama again and again— but only once from the standpoint of the audience. After that first reading she was always the woman, fighting for her happiness founded upon a lle, and eventually saved by a lie. @he saw horself in every situation, beard her own voice uttering every impassioned and anguished line as- signed to the wife, Quard, of course, meant to play the blackmailer. Joan could see how ad- mirably tho part was fitted to his robust and florid personality * * © She realized without a qualm that there was no longer any question of her intention as between Quard’s of- fer and the wishes of Matthias, Whatever the consequences she meant to play that part—but on \\ terms and conditions to be dictated Gy herself. But for a long time she stood faaci- mated by the beauty and lustre of the @iamond on her left hand. A stone of mo impressive proportions, but one @f the purest and most excellent water, of an exceptional brilliance, it meant @ great deal to one whose in- @rained passion for such adornments had, prior to her love affair, perforce been satisfied with the cheap, trashy and perishable stuff designated in those days by the term “I'rench nov- eity jewelry.” Bubconsciously she was sensitive to @ feeling of kinship with the beauti- fal, unimpreasionable and enigmatic stone, as though their natures were somehow complementary, Actively whe knew she would forfeit much rather than part with that perfect and entrancing jewel. With nothing @se in nature, anintate or inert, would ft have been possible for her to spend long hours of silent, worshipful, sym- pathetic communion, If she were to persist in the pur- mutt of her romantic ambition it might bring about a pass of cleavage between herself and her lover; it was more than likely, indeed, she knew the prejudices of Matthics to “be as atrong 2s his love, and this last no stronger than his sensu of honor, Tacitly if not explicitly, she bad given him to understand that she would respect his objections to @ stage career. Ile would not for- ive unfalth; least of all, such clan- Gestine and stealthy disloyalty as she then contemplated. The breaking of their engegement would involve the return of the dic~ mond, Antolerable thought! And yet— Btaring wide-eyed into her mirror, @he saw herself irresolute at cross. Yoads; on the one hand Matthias, Marriage, the diamond, a secure and honorable future; on the other, Quard, “The Lie," disloyalty, the loss of the Next Week’s Complete Novel in THE EVENING WORLD Joan Thursday | i CHODOOVODSGOGUOOHOGOT' PUOIOMIOH vista of grim, eee And yet—she had four weeks, prob- ably six, perhaps eight, in which to th tho possibilities of this tre- mendous and seductive adventure, “The Lie’ might fail. © * © In that case, Matthias need never know. J her a snlary of $50 a week. Gloucester, a clever stage director, was engaged to coach the little company, and rehearsals began. Then came the “tryout.’ Before a guying Tuesday combina- tion house audience “The Distin- guished Romantic Actor, Chas. H. me Quard & Company,” presented “The Lie” as the fifth number of a matinee bill. The curtain rose. Through the Biare of the footlights thé auditorium was vaguely revealed, a vast and gloomy amphitheatre dotted with an Infinite, orderly multitude of round pink spots and still with the hush of expectancy. Joan thought of a dotted lavender foulard she had re- cently coveted in a department store and the ridiculous incongruity of thie comparison in some measure re- stored her assurance. Turning her head slowly, she looked at David, who was properly intent on his newa- Paper, smiled, and parted her lips to epeak the opening line. From the gallery floated a shrill, dovish aqui “Gee! pipe the pippin!” ‘The audience rocked and roared. Joan's heart sank; then, suddenly, resentment kindled her temper; she rrew coldly, furiously angry, and forgot entirely to be afraid of that stupid, bawling beart, the public. But her faint, charming smile never varied a fraction. Turning, she spoke the first line, heedless of the uproar, and as if magically it was stilled. A feeling of contempt and superiority further encouragea her. She repeat- ed the words, which were of no special value to the plot—merely a trick of construction to postpone the ringing of @ telephone bell long enough to let the audience grasp the relationship of those upon the stage. In a respectful silence David looked up from the newspaper and replied. The telephone bell rang. Turning to the Instrument on the table beside him, he Hfted the receiver to his ear and—the plot began to unfold. David, the husband, in his subur- ban home, was being called to New York on unexpected business with a cent booked to sail for Europe in the morning. It was night; reluctant to go, he none the less yielded to pressure, rang for the coachman and ordered a carriage, in the face of the protests of Joan, his wife. She waa to be left alone to the house with thelr little son, for the matds were out and the coachman slept beyond call in the etable. Reasssuring her with his promise to return at the earliest possible moment, David de- parted. © © © A brief and affectionate passage be- tween the two was rendered inaudl- ble by derisive laughter, but this was almost instantly silenced when Quard showed himself at a window in the back of the set, peering furtively in at the lonely woman in the unguarded house. An excellent actor when properly guided, and fresh from the hands of ‘one of the most astute producers con- nected with the American stage, without uttering a word Quard con- trived to infuse into thie firet brief appearance at the window a sonse of criminal and sinister mystery which instantly enchained the imagination of the audience. In the tense silence of the house the nervous gasp of a high-strung woman was distinctly audible. But it passed without eliciting a single hoot, Darting round to the door, Quard entered and addressed Joan. She cried out strongly in mingled terror and horror, A few crisp and rapid lines uncovered the argument; Quard was the woman's first huaband, who had married and deserted her all in @ week and whom she bad been given every reason to believe dead, Ashamed of that mad union with @ dissolute blackguard, she had con- cealed it from the husband of her second marriage. Now she was con- fronted with the knowledge that ber innocently bigamous position would be made public unless she submitted to blackmail. Promising In her tor- ment to givo the man all he demand- ed, she induced him to leave before the return of the servant. At this, @ ecene curtain fell, and a notice was flashed upon it informing the audionce that the short moment it remained down Indicated a lapse of five hours in the action. Already the Interest of the audience had become so fixed that It applaudod with sincerity, Hurrying to her dressing room, CHAPTER 1X. JOAN accepted Quard’s offer, securing, after much hag- Bling, his promise to pay The Evening Wor World Daily Ms Mag azine, Wedn Senna A Complete Novel Each Week in The Evening World ‘The Story of a New York Giri to Rrhecael Good as YT eal + WAS 2360 38EDTHDODIDTTODOOANDTVISTOUVTOSTSOOOOTD Joan stepped out of hor pretty frocic and into a negiigee. The removal of & fow pins permitted ber hair to fall down her back, a long, thick, plaited rope of bronze, Then grasping a re- volver .Jonded with blanks, she ran back to the second left entrance, ‘The scene-curtain was already up; on the stage, in semi-darkness, the thief, having broken into the house by way of the back window, was attempting to force the combination of @ small safe behind a screen, © ° © Quard, kneeling to peer through the fireplace, lifted a signalling hand to Joan. David stampe& loudly, off- stage. In alarm, fhe thief hid him- welf behind the screen, and Joan came on, with @ line of soliloquy to indicate that she had been awak- ened by the noise of the burgiar’s entrance. As she turned up the lights by means of @ wall-switch, Quard re-entered by way of the window, in a well-simulated state of semi-drunkeaness which had os- tensibly roused his distrust and brought him back to watch and threaten his wife anew. © © © Here happened one of those terrible blunders which seem almost insep- arable from first performances. As Joan wheeled round to recog- nize Quard, her hand nervously con- tracted on the revolver, and it ex- ploded point blank at Quard's chest. Had it been loaded he must inevita- b'y have been killed then and there; and when, pulling himself together, Quard managed to go on with tho business—springing upon Joan and wresting the weapon from her—the audience betrayed exquisite appre- elation of the impossibility and sbrieked and whooped with joy un- restrained. It was some minutes before they were able audibly to take up the dia- logue. And this was fortunate, in way; for the shock of that unexpected explosion had caused Quard to “dry up"—as the slang of the stage terms nervous dryness of the throat whether or not accompanied by forgetfulness, He required that pandemoniac pause in which to recover; and even when able to make himself heard, he re- peated hoarsely and with extreme difficulty the line called to him by David—who was holding the prompt book in the fireplace. But the instinct of one bred to the stage from childhood saved him, And with comparative quiet restored, he braced up and played out the scene with admirable verve and technique. Joan was well aware that, stronger though her role ‘might the man was giving a performance that over- shadowed it heavily. He was drunk and he was brutal, David had telephoned that he was at the railroad station and would bo home in a few minutes; Quard, not content with promises, insisted on money, of which the woman had none to give him, or her jewels, which were locked away in the safe, When she refused to disclose the combina tion or to open the safe, Quam, in besotted rage, attempted to force her to open it, Struggling, they over- turned the acreen, exposing the Thief. Through a breathless and silent in- stant the two mon faced one another, Quard bewildered, the Thief seoing his way of escape barred, Then si- multaneously they fired—Quard us- ing the woman's revolver. Ono shot only took effect--the Thief's—and that fatally, Quard fell. Joan selzed 000000000000000060000 the arm of the Thief and urged him from the house; as he vanished through the window, she picked up the revolver which Quard had drop- ped, and turned to the door, Frantic with alarm, David entered. Joan reeled into his arms, ecreaming: “I have killed a burglar!” On this tableau the curtain fell— and rose and fell again and again at the direction of the house-manager deferring to an enthusiastic audience, Crude and raw as was this composi- tion, the surprise of its last line and the strength with which it was acted had won the unstinted approval of @ public ever hungry for melodrama. Quard, revivified, bowing and smil- ing with suave and deprecatory grace, Joan in tears of excitement and delight, and the subordinate members of the company in varying stages of gratification over the pros- pect of prompt booking and a long engagement, were obliged to hold the stage through nine curtain calls. On her way back to her dressing- room Joan was halted by a touch on her shoulder, She paused, to recos- nize Gloucester, of whose presence in the house she had been ignorant.’ “Very well done, my dear,” he sald loftily; “very well done, You've got the makings of an actress in you, it you don't lose your head. Now run along dry your eyes, like a good girl, and don’t bother me with your allly gratitude.” With this he brusquely turned his back to her, But Quard, overtaking her in the Bangway, without hesitation or apol- ogy folded her in his arms and kissed her on the Iips, And Joan sub- mitted without remonatrance, athrill and elate. “Girlie!” he cried exultantly— “you're a wonder! I knew you could do it! © © © But, O my Gawd! you nearly finished me when you let that gun off right in my face!" ¢ ©¢ Somehow she found her way home alone, and shut herself up in the hall bedroom to calm down and try to re- view the triumph sensibly. Unquestionably she done well, Quard had done mu better—but no wonder! She wasn't jealous; she was lad for bis sake as well as for her own, Of course, this meant a great change, There was to come the day of reckoning with Matthnas, © © © Bhe had four letters of his, not one of which she had answered, © * © If “Tho Lie” got booking, and she went on the road with it—and she knew In her soul she would; nothing now could keep her off the stage—she would almogt certainly lose Matthias, Quard, however, would remain to her; and of Quard she was very sure, That he loved her with genuine and generous devotion was now the one clear and indisputable fact in her un- stable existence. If only be would refrain from drinking. . . He was to telephone as soon as he received any encouraging news; and he had expected definite word from Boskerk before tho afternoon was over, In anticipation of being called downstairs at any minute, Joan re- mained in her street dress, aching for her bed though she was with reaction and simple fatigue. But it was nearly elght o'clock before she was sum- moned, “That you, girlie?’ the answer came to her breathless “Hello?” dining with him now, We're to open mext Monday some- where in New England—Springfeld, probably; @olld on top of that.’ Girlie. you to-morrow.” as an Acires 2DDHOVSHOODSOOTOOHO OOOOOTDI “Yea—yes, Charlie. What is itt” “I've seen Boskerk—in fact, I'm It's all eetticd, and we get forty weeks “T'm go glad!” “Bure you are, We're ail giad, I guess.” “and—Chariie”—she etammered, “Hello?” “Are you—are you all right?’ “Sure I'm all right. Good night, Take care of yourself, See “Good night,” said Joan. Hooking up the receiver, she leaned ) momentarily against the wall, feeling @ little faint and iu. ‘Was it simply overtazed imagina- tion that bad made her believe she detected a slight constraint Quard’s voice—a hesitation assumed to mask blurred enunciation? CHAPTER X. UT when Joan met Quard in the morning her anxious eyes detected in his assured bearing none of the nervous unrest, in his clear eyes even tone of his coarse, pasty-pale skin none of the feverish stains, that are symptomatio of alco. holic excesses, Surprised and grateful, she treated the man with a tenderness and ewoeet- noas she had otherwise been too wary to betray. © ° * By Thursday tt was settled that ) they were to open on Monday at Poll’s Theatre in Springfield for an engagement of a week. If the audi- ences there indorsed the verdict of the first, Boskerk promised Quard a full season's booking. From the Springfield house he was to receive $360. He permitted Joan to understand, however, that bis fee would be no more than $300, Joan made her preparations for Jeaving her hall bedroom with a craft and stealth worthy of a burglar pre- paring to break prison. If her break with Matthias was to become absolute, she was determined Bot to leave any clue whereby she might be traced. An inquiry as to the best place to take a dress to be dry cleaned fur- nished sufficient excuse for lugging away one well-filled: uit case, which Joan left at a cheap theatrical hotel a few blocks farther uptown and east of Broadway, where she simul- taneously engaged @ room for Satur- day night. And on Saturday after- noon she carried away a second sult case containing the remainder of ber wardrobe, informing Mme. Duprat that she was going to visit her folks tor @ day or two, Sitting at Matthias’s desk, eho in- closed in a large envelope his letters. Two had arrived since Thursday; but these she had not opened. Sho handly understood why she desired not to open them; she still took a real and deep interest in his fortunes; but she was desperately loath to read the mute reproach legible, if to her eyes alone, between his lines. She meant to leave him a note of her own, tenderly contrite and at the samo time firmly final; but in spite of a mood saturate with an appro- priately gentle and generous melan- choly, sho could not, apparently, fix it down with ink on paper, Eventu- ally sho gave it up; destroyod what she had attempted and sealed the packet, leaving Matthias no written word of hers savo his name on the faco of the envelope. ‘Therot remained the most dificult duty of all. With painful reluctance, Joan re- moved the ring from her finger (where It had been ever since sbe had last parted with Quard) and replac- ing it in its leather-covered case, sat for a long time looking her farewell upon that brilliamt and more than in- trinsically precious jewel. At length, closing the case, she Placed it on top of the envelope, rose and moved to the door, There she hesitated, looking back in pain and longing. There was no telling what might happen to tt before Matthias re- turned. A prying chambermaid, © * * And then it was quite possible that “The Lie’ would not last out the week in Springfield. Quard had more than once pointed out: “There's nothing sure in this game but the fact that you're bound to close sooner’n you looked for.” “Maybe I'll be baok inside a week,” Joan doubted, ‘There was always that chance: and she had already left one door open wainst her return, “Anyway, it len't safe, there. And I can mail it to bim, registered, when I'm sure he’s home.” Turning back, she snatched up the leather case and darted guiltily from the study and out of the house, oe ee eo we ew “The Lie" scored an instant and tremendous hit, on the road; came to New York, where the hit was dupli- cated, and thence went to New Jer- eoy. Moantime, in a theatrical MISS WEALTHY, Deputy Sheriff. ° >) © © © A STORY OF LAW, LOVE AND A KITCHEN STOVE. ® @ ®@ @ — ~ "TF bBAL VO 3D AVE, gS ~yeige| Struggles DHODOOHGOGT DOODE ITI 4 paper, Joan read of “The Jade God's" fatiure in California, Ble wae genuinely sorry, Her firet Impulse was to seok Matthias, if he Were in town and tell him of ber sympathy; her second (discarded with even less ceremony than the firet) to write to him. Two things held her back: sheer moral cowardice, that would not let her face the man whom she had failed even as had hia play; @nd the impossibility of ex- Diaining that she loved the stage more than him or anything else in the world—except his ring. And whilo she er faltered from mean- ing to return this last “before long,” she could not yet bring herself to part with {t. Always it was with her, on hor finger when at home and alone, iu her pocket-book when abr or with Quard. Never did she let Quard 800 it, nor know of its existence; still in her tmagination retaining som thing of ite vaguely taliemanic virtu standing to her for something fanci- ful and magic, which she coutd not name, 9 visible token of the mystical Powers that yorked for her good for- tuna * Joan was thinking a great ebout Quard and very seriously, In- stinctively she foresaw that their re- lationship could not long continue on its present basis of simple good fel- lowship. Quard n't the sort to be content at arm’s length; he must either come closor or go further away and might be depended upon not to adopt the latter course until the former had proved impracticable, And Joan didn’t int him to go further away. She was positive about this, But she was also very sure that the arm's length relation- ship must be abridged only under certain indispensable conditione—de- corously—and foon, if at all, elso she Must be the one to withdraw, lest a worse thing befall her. It was « Problem of two factors: Quard's na- ture and her own, She had herself to reckon with no less than with him, and herself she distrusted, who was no stronger than her greatest weak- ness. He attracted her. She often Caught herself thinking of him as she had thought of ne other man— not Matthias, not the Quard of “The Convict’s Return,” not even Mar- bridge, except, perhaps, for one shameful instant, Something in the iawiens, ranging, Wanton grain of this man called to her with a call of infinite allure; something latent im her thrilled to the call and answered. © © © That way lurked danger, @isguised, but a. uly, In Trenton they lodged at the same hotel, tho other members of the com- pany finding cheaper accommodations at greator distance from the theatre, This increased thelr close and confi- dential association. They fell into the habit of breakfasting together. Quard, always fret to rise, would telephone to Joan's room, ascertain how soon she would be dressed, and order for both of them accordingly. In return for this privilege he had that of pay- ing for both meals, A negro waiter spoke of Joan one morning, !n her prosence, as “the Miseus.” When he had retired out of earshot, thelr eyes sought one an- other's; constraint was swept away in laughter. “We might’s well be married, the way we're together all the time,” Quard present!y ventured, “Oh, I don't know about that,” Joan retorted pertly. “I mean, tha way other people see us. I shouldn't be suprised if every- body in the hotel thought we were married, girlie.” Joan colored faintly, Thelr place on the bill was near the ond that week; @ trick bicyciist fol- lowed them, and moving pictures wound up the performance. Conse- quently, by the time they were able to leave tho theatre in the aftornoon the gun was already below the horizon. They emerged the same eve- ning from the stage door to view @ cloudless aly of pulsing amber, shad- ing into purple at the zenith, melting into rose along the western rim of the world, A wash of old rose flooded the streets, lifting the meanest struc. tures out of their ugliness, lending @n added dignity to the rows of Square-set, old-fashioned residencea, of fire brick with white marble trim- mings. “Which way are you going?” Quard inquired as they approached the corner of @ main thoroughfare, “Back to the hotel?” “No; I'm sick of that hole,” Joan replied with a vivid shudder. “I'm going to take @ walk, Want to comet’ “I was just going to ask you.” Thoy turned off toward the Dela- ware, “There's plenty of family acts been Playing the circults heaven knows how long,” aaid Quard, with a vast display of interest in the sunset glow, “I could name a plenty that'll stick in the big time unti) their toes euri, It's all right to trot in double har- ness #0 long’s you manage your own company.” ELIZABETH NEFF. ———S—S—===_ [== “Well? Joan asked with @ sober mouth aad mischievous cyes, “Well—what?” “If you're ing ready to slip me my two wecks’ notice, why not be a man and say so?” “What would f do that for?” Quard Gemaned indignantiy. “Because you're thinking about getting married, and thero’s only room for one leading lady in any company I play in.” "Quit your kidding” the man ad- vised eulkily; “you know I coulda’t wet along without you.” “Yes,” Joan adinitted calmly. “Tt know it, but I didn't know you did." “Joan,” he said throatily—"girile, don’t you love me—a little?” Her mouth grew tremulous. by don’t... . know,” whispered. “I love you!" he cried suddenly in An exultant voloe—"I love you!” Ho folded hor, unresieting, in both hia arms, covering her face with Kisses that bruised and hurt her ten- der flesh, but which she still sought and hungered for, insatiable, 6he sobbed a little in her happiness, feal- Ing her body yield and yearn to his, transported by that eweet, exquisite nameless longing. . . . ‘Then suddenly che was like a steel spring in his embrace, writhing to free herself. Wondering, he tried to hold her closer, but she twisted and fonded bin off with all the power of her strong arma. And still wonder- ing, he humored her, She draw away, but yet not wholly out of bie clasp. “Charliot” ebe panted. Darling! “iow do you get married in New Jersey?” Te pulled up, dashed and a little disappointed, and laughed nervously. “Why, you get a Heense and thea— well, almost anybody’ll do to tie the knot.” She nodded tensely: “I guess a regular minister will be good enough for us.” A changed; Joau Thureday ‘ seemed but a memory, a . slight and somehow wistful shadow In the shadowed depths of that darkling mirror, yesterday; in her place another creature altogether reigned, the Joan Quard of to-day, woman, actress, wife; with a gold band round her finger; strong, poised serensly, clear of eyé; with added graciousness in her beauty, conscious of added powers over man, but dis- Crest in thoir employment, To begin with, she was very happy. Fond to distraction of her husband, she never doubted that he worshipped her; be gave her quick wits no cause to entertain a doubt. They were to- gethor always, inseparable, She felt that naturo must truly have fash- loned them solely for one another, and could not forget her wonder that their pansion should be @o mutual, so complete, She loved bim to diytri tion; all his traits, his robust ewag- wer, his sonorous and fexible tones, the flowery eloquence of his gesture, bis broad, easy going, tolerant good humor, the way he wore his clothes and the very cut and texture of them, And she ruled him like a despot. Conscious only of his adoration, Joan was enchanted by their mode of life, with ite constant shifts of scene, its spice of vagabondage. She vb lieved she could never tire of trave! ling. Railroad journeys, with their in- evitable eoncomitants of dirt, noise and dipoomfort, never discouraged her: she really iiked them; they were taking her sumewhere--it difin’t much matter where, She even derived a eort of pleasure from auch nauseating experiences as rising to catch a train 4.30 in the morning, against their ng Jumps.” Sometimes she thought pityingty of Matthias, aad wondered if he knew she wes mar: 1 and what she was doing; and whether he were angry, or heartbriken, or eaten up with morbid jealousy; and how he would act should chance ever throw them together again, Sho wae sorry for him had lost her, 2f only he had been @ little more enterprising. If he had married her then, would she be as contented as she was now with Charlie? She doubted it; Quard was #0 completely his opposite, © ° © Bho ceased to worry about the ring. She meant to return it some day, per- haps. Though she did not wear it and bad never so much as mentioned Matthias to Quard, it remained « pos- @easion whose charms tugged at ber heart-strings. At times she amused herself formulating idle little in- triguoes, with the object (if ever set in motion) of excusing the appearance of the jewel upon her hand. But all her schemes seemed to possess some fatal flaw, and she was desperately afraid of the truth. Meanwhile the er CHAPTER XI. IND then, suddenly, the tace of Ife was indescribabiy ring lay perdue at the bottom of a workbasket of woven sweot-srase whieh abe had purchased shortly receptacles, its hiding place was w@i calculated to escape detection by even 8 iaformed purioiner. * Quard’s tardy engagement rag wee eet with an inferior diamen@ flanked by artificial pearis. Joan deagieed it secretly. For a long time it wad @e sole blemish on the bright etalé of ber happiness, © ¢ ¢ And then one night, after the per- formance, Quard went out with seme fellow-actors. He came bome broad daylight, very drunk. Hile remorse was touching and, as Jong as it lasted, unquestionably et#- cere, Joan accepted without com- ment his lame expianation as to the manner of bis temptation and fall during an all-night eeasion at “with the boys,” and gave gen' credulity to his protestations thet i would never, never happen egaia. «i under somewhat less aonaang a cumatances, Hoping Against hope, fighting wits » him, pleading, reasoning, threaten- ing with him, even praying, Joan en. dured for @ long time—much longer than, in retroapective days, seemed possible even to her; for she honestly fond of her Mioans, af more so than she was ever of other living being save hereeif. They reached San Francisco the third week in April. For some time Quard bad been drinking rather methodically but atealthily. A threat made by Joan while he was sobering from last debauch to the direct that on repetition of the offense she i. would leave him without am Bour's notice ‘had frightened the man to the extont of making him hesitate to add one drink to another except at inter. vale long enough to retard the cumu- lative effect: but never a day passed? on which, in spite of her watehfut- ness, be did not contrive to throw sevs @ral eops to the devil in possengiongif => | without ever quite losing his ; rhs On the Wednesday afternoon ot thelr week in Ban Francisco the git : did a bit of shopping after the mati. « mee, It was half after five befote she returned to the hotel and walked into thely room to find Quard, with his coat off, seated in a chair thes faced the door. From the look in his eyes she starts 4 back as from @ blow. 2 “Charlie! What's the matter?” Quard opened his Itps, guiped spas- modically, closed them without speak ing, The muscles om the lett side of his face twitched nervously. Abruptly he shot up out of his strode to the door, locked it pocketed the key. His face as Be turned was terrible to see, 4 She shrank away, but his eyes held bers in the fascination of fright. “Why—Charile!—what"— He interrupted with an imperative gesture, took a step toward her ané shook his hand in her face. Between his thumb and forefinger glittered something exquisitely coruscamt tp » the sunlight. ‘What's that?” he demanded ia» quivering voice, ‘ he moved her head tn assumed 6 wilderment, staggered to recogmigs the symbol of her broken tréte wif Matthias, “I don't know, What te it? keop moving it around go, I aeo”" eo ee 8 “There, then!” he cried, stead; . mY the hand under her nose, a u Instinctively her gaze veered to her trunk. Its lid was up. On the Seer lay her work-basket in the fitter ef its former contents, Her indignation + mounted, hy “What were you doing im map trunk?” she demanded, hotly. a “I wanted—shew on spender bustde wanted work-basket” ¢ ° © Anger returned; his voice mounteds “And I found this! Whatteit™ | Joan snatched at the ring, bet 3 sry back his hand too quickly + ir. mine. Gtve {t to me!” “Where'd you, get it? Tha'sh what / I wanna know fs eee of Iter business, Give ‘Tm your husband—gotts right t know where you get diamoni sneered — “diamonds tke pro 9 never bought it.” “No,” abe Samed back; “you're too stingy “Btingy, am I?" He faltered, eway= ing. “Tha'snough. I'm tightwad, @ @nother guy gets chansh to buy yor i diamonds. Tha's way of It, hey? a “You give me that ring, , ‘ Joan aemanded ominously, . oe, ok anotha good guess s ‘Your what? sharply. “My engagement fo fee a gaged last summer Fy ee Mae before we began sketch.” ‘9 Be Continued.) 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