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THE HEART OF A WOMAN
By Delia Broughton Wistway.
"She's the loveliest girl in all
the world," Tom Evans said
again and again, and. Horace Mal
vern began to believe him.
"You will' like her after you
have met her," said Evans, and at
last Horace allowed Tom to take
him home with him one evening,
although he protested against
taking young Mrs. Evans by sur
prise. "But that's the beauty of it, old
man. If I had to send Nell word
"verytime I brought someone
home wfth me half the pleasure
would be -gone." ,
- "I'm not the first visitor, then ?"
Horace said with a little sigh.
- "Oh, dear no. I have brought
iout 20, and she's just the same all
the time. Tell you in confidence,
,she's the finest little housekeeper
iyou ever saw," and Tom beamed,
i Horace had known Tom well
several years before, but when
the latter married, Horace had
J'peen in the west, So had not met
'Mrs. Evans. He confessed to a
'slight quickness in the beat of his
Jheart as he followed his host off
'the car, and then he felt his pulses
Jstop beating, for there on the
Jplatform, demure, with a slight
tdroop to the lips, dainty in her
Hovely gown and costly appoint
ments, stood the only woman he
xhad ever loved, Marian Hastings,
r The next instant Tom was
sbending over the sweet face and
.kissing it. Then, as though in a
Jtiream, Horace heard Tom sayr
t 'Nell. JVe brought another
friend tonight. Horacer this is
Nell," and Horace Malvern bow
ed awkwardly before Marian
The dear, old well-remembered
voice said cordially with that ten
der, underlying cadence:
"Mr. Malvern and I have met
before," and he saw the old smile.
"Yes," he stammered.
"He knew me then as Marian,"
she explained to Tom, Avho nod
ded. "I hate that name," he said, as
he led the way to the little run
about just outside the station.
"Nell's, middle name is Helen, and
so I use that." How simple it all
was after all. He had loved Mar
ian Hastings so dearly, although
he had felt himself tod poor to
tell of that love. Now that he
saw her the happy, adored wife
of his old friend, he knew what he
had missed. "Still, I couldn't
have made her happy as he has,"
he told himself.
No hostess could have been
more gracious, or more self-possessed.
She pointed out the va-v
nous attractions, chattered pleas
antly and easily, and more than
once assured him of his welcome.
"I have heard Tom speak of
Horace Malvern, but I never con
nected him with Mr. Malvern of
that happy summer," she explain
ed cordially, giving him one of
those brigh smiles which dwelt
in his memory.
Tom was delighted, and fre
quently interrupted his wife to
add his own words of welcome, so
that Horace would have been dull
indeed if he had not realized that