TENTH INSTALMENT
And then, as there was no answer
ing smile on his face, she sighed and
went on.
"I wish I understood about myself.
Sometimes I think that you under
stand, that you know all about me,
only you won’t explain to me. Why
won’t you?”
"Perhaps because I’m not clever en
ough. Perhaps because I know I should
only hurt you.”
Diana was looking down at the lit
tle three-cornered scar on her Slender
arm.
"Well, I’ve got this ito remember
you by, anyway,” she said ruefully.
He made a swift movement, as if
of protest, then stood still again.
"Nothing more than that?” he ask
ed.
She raised her eyes.
"Yes, much more,” she said. "I
shall always remember you as the dear
est, best-”
"Don’t make me conceited.”
She sat down in the chair in which
he had sat to dress her arm, leaning
her chin on its high back and looking
up at him.
"Well, that’s that,” she said in a
puzzled sort of way. “When do you
want me to go?”
He smiled at the question.
"Well, not to-day or to-morrow,”
he said whimsically. "I only thought
that before Mrs. Gladwyn comes back
5”
• • • • -*«UJ
"Supposing she never comes back?”
"We won’t suppose anything so un
likely, and besides, I must see that
left arm a great deal better before I
let you out of my sight.”
"Then I hope it never gets better,”
Diana said.
Dennis had come down for one last
visit before Diana returned to Lon
don.
He was full of plans for their fu
ture but Diana found herself cold to
all of them. His caresses failed to thrill
her as they had before her illness.
, Finally Dennis had flung away from
her and gone back to London. His
angry departure had failed to stir her,
although it left her with the feeling
her world was falling away from her.
She wondered if her love for him
had died. And the thought, strangely,
carried with it no regret.
And then suddenly came the reve
lation that it was Donald she loved,
■maddeningly, distractingly. She knew
then she could never be happy with
any other man.
"To-morrow.” Diana said to her
self, "to-morrow I am going to Lon
don.”
She was glad because it was Kath
bone whom she loved; a man surely
worthy of the best life could give him,
and in some strange way that gladness
overweighed the knowledge that, even
supposing he cared for her in return,
he would never tell her so. But she
could not believe that he cared—why
should he? There were so many wo
men in the world more deserving of
happiness than she—noble, unselfish
women—not just selfish, spoilt—use
less. Then she was conscious of a great
fear; fear because all her life she would
have to do without him; that would
be hardest of all to bear.
When morning came she found that
out of the mass of confused thought
only one fact had struggled; she must
keep her pride whatever happened. No
body must ever know, nobody must
ever dream that she had loved him
and her love had not been returned.
“I may as well go away with Den
nis, or anybody else who wants me,”
she told herself recklessly, as she
watched the creeping daylight. "I
can’t ever have the man I want, so
nothing matters.”
i JDiv .a. v
Diana made a quick trip up to Lon
don to do some shopping. She had
lunch with Dennis, who told her Lin
da was going to Paris and begged her
to run away with him.
She kept putting him off with in
decisive replies to his urgent begging
and he finally drove her back to the
country. She promised him, as she
was kissing him good-bye, that she
would give him an answer in a few
days.
Miss Starling told her, when Den
nis had left:
"Dr. Rathbone came just after
lunch.”
"Oh,” Diana’s voice was studiuosly
indifferent.
"He left a message for you.”
"Oh,” Diana said again. "What
was it?” she asked as Miss Starling
kept silence.
"He asked me to tell you chat he
did not consider there was any real
need for him to call any more—that
he had arranged with Dr. Finlay to
look after you regularly, and chat he
hoped you would approve. He asked
me to say that, of course, if you wish
ed to see him again particularly, he
would be pleased to arrange to call or
for you to go to his consulting room
in London.” The Creature was knit
ting so rapidly now that the needles
flashed dazzlingly in the afternoon
sunlight.
Diana closed her eyes.
"Thank you. That will do nicely,”
she said, uncertainly.
When, a little later, Miss Starling
had gone for her usual constitution
al, Diana sent a telegram.
It was addressed to Dennis Water
man at some West End Club, and
consisted of only two words:
"Yes, Diana.”
Diana left the cottage very quietly
on the Friday afternoon. She told the
Creature she was going to dinner and
a theatre with Dennis Waterman and
would not be home until late.
Diana drove straight to Mrs. Glad
wyn’s house when she got to London.
She was not expected, and the maids
seemed rather flustered by her sud
den arrival.
CL _ • . ._J . J _L 11
mvvuuvu tv ^avn. a Oliirtii juif
case for which Dennis would present
ly send his chauffeur, and after that
—well, after that her mind was a
blank—after that nothing would mat
ter very much. Nothing mattered
very much now, if it came to that.
Diana was amazed because she felt so
cold and unconcerned.
Even the thought of Rathbone
hardly distressed her. That episode,
precious as it had been, was definitely
ended.
She did not know what plans Den
nis had made, and she hardly cared.
Since the afternoon she sent that wire
she had often wondered why she had
done it. It was not because she want
ed to go with Dennis except that deep
down in her heart was a foolish, fev
erish hope that perhaps he could help
her to forget—could drug her senses
and take away the endless pain of
loneliness .and longing.
Dennis was the one creature in the
world of whose love she was confi
dent, and so she had turned to him as
a half-frozen outcast would turn to
the first fire that gleams through the
night.
She had no regrets—nothing mat
tered.
At seven o’clock she sent the maid
for a taxi and put on her cloak. She
would be a little early for Dennis,
perhaps, but the silence and memories
of this room worried her—it would
be better to get out and mingle with
the noise and hustle again.
She went down to the waiting' taxi,
leaving orders about the suitcase. She
did not care if her aunt’s maids sus
pected anything; she knew it would
not be the first time she had set them
all talking. It was only really gen
uine people ,like Miss Starling and
Jonas who made one feel ashamed.
The cab stopped, and a commis
sionaire hurried to open the door. Den
nis had chosen to meet her at this
small, rather unpretentious restau
rant, because he said they would be
unlikely to meet anyone they knew,
and it was Diana herself who had
suggested the theatre. "It’s so long
since I saw a play,” was the excuse
she made, but that was not the real
reason. It was because she felt the des
perate need of excitement to help her
—of stimulant to give her courage;
if Dennis offered her champagne to
night she would certainly not refuse.
She walked into the little lounge and
sat down by the fire. It was very
quiet—just the kind of place runaway
people would choose, Diana thought
cynically.
The swing door moved noiselessly,
and Diana turned. If it was Dennis
—Diana stared blankly for a moment
at the woman who came in—stared,
and thought herself mad or dreaming
for the woman was Linda Waterman.
She was alone, and their recogni
tion was mutual before Linda came
across the lounge with easy confidence,
beautifully gowned and looking young
and untroubled.
"Haw strange—that you should be
here,” she said. "Dennis tells me you
have been very ill. I hope you are
"Yes—yes, thank you.”
Linda held her hands to the warmth.
There was a large diamond one one
finger that caught the light and
sparkled into cold white flashes of
fire.
Diana was very pale, and the vivid
blue of her gown intensified her pal
lor. She was wondering vaguely what
would happen when Dennis arrived.
Something seemed to tell her that of
them all he would be the only one se
riously disturbed. With an effort she
forced herself to speak.
"Did you have a good holiday in!
America?”
"It was hardly a holiday. I had so
much business to attend to. Dennis
hated it—he was longing to get back
all the time.”
Her eyes dwelt on Diana’s face
with half-amused interest.
"Are you waiting for him now?”
she asked abruptly.
Diana’s lips moved, and she flush
ed crimson, but no words would
come, and Linda said with an uncon
cerned laugh:
"You need not mind telling me if
you are. I have not come here to spy
on you—it’s just bad luck that we
Should both have chosen the same
rendezvous. I am waiting for a friend
myself.”
Diana rose to her feet.
"I thought you were in Paris,” she
stammered, and then wondered why,
of all the things she might have said,
she should have chosen words that
were surely an admission.
Linda shrugged her shoulders.
"I suppose Dennis told you so?
Well, I wanted him to believe I was
going to Paris,” she said quietly. "It
suited me for him to think so.” She
laughed again. "It’s very odd, but it
never seems to occur to my noble hus
band that perhaps I too have my sec
ret orchard.”
She held out the hand that wore
the big diamond and stared at it med
itatively.
"I’m rather glad you and I have
met again,” she said. "I intended to
write to you soon, anyway.”
"To write to me?”
The burning colour rose again to
Diana’s face—she felt utterly at a
disadvantage. Linda was so assured,
so cool—she was sure at last that Lin
da no longer cared for Dennis.
"You need not look so angry,”
Dennis’s wife said calmly. "I know you
hate me, but you need not. I quite like
you, Diana; if it were not for Dennis,
I believe we could be good friends.”
She moved suddenly, coming a lit
tle closer to the girl.
"I suppose Dennis never told you
that I offered to divorce him, did he?”
she asked interestedly. "I assure you
I did—before we went to America, the
night you dined at the flat.”
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK
"Corpse” Snores,
Women Scream And
Up Jumps A Drunk
Chicago, III.—"Oh, doesn’t he look
natural!” Such was the comment of
Mrs. Clara Nick here last week as she
was showing two friends the "last
remains” of John Killias.
Killias was in a coffin and within
a few hours was to take a ride in that
black car which people are dying to
ride in.
But, lo and behold, from the cof
fin came a snore. The women scream
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developed that instead of being a
corpse, John had danced around the
bottle a little too much and was tak
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There is a man in New York who
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Bronx Zoo and that there he blew
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rhinoceros.
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