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Newspaper Page Text
By Jessie Ethel Sherwin
(Copyright, 1916, W. G. Chapman.)
"I shall wait for Mr. Leslie," spoke
Grace Rogers to her cousin.-
"Well, don't lose your way if you
find he does not come."
"The idea!" flashed out dainty and
petite Grace. She ruffled at the
thought of any swain, foresworn or
prospective, daring to place her in
such a predicament, and Paul Leslie
was pronouncedly of the former
class. They were not engaged, but
of all the eligible young men of the
village he had the most fully at
Paul had admired her from the
first day he had seen her, and had
told her so. More recently he had in
sisted that they were made for one
another and that he was gathering
the evidence to prove it to her! She
liked his bright, breezy ways.
Grace was on a two months' visit
to her cousin, Norma Ellis. The pre
scribed period had nearly passed.
That evening there was a party at a
villa two miles away. Paul had prom
ised to call for her at 7 o'clock. She
preferred to go on foot, she told him.
Now she sat on the porch awaiting
the arrival of her expected escort.
The clock inside the house struck
7, then the quarter. Grace began to
grow impatient. Half past. A dain
ty foot began to tap the porch floor
faster and faster. She darted a look
townward full of real temper. She
spring to her feet quite angrily as
the clock announced that Paul Leslie
was 45 minutes late.
"How dare he!" she flared out.
"Oh, I could almost scratch him!"
Ther she jumped back into her
seat, affecting in her pose the utmost
indifference to everything in the
world save the most intense enjoy
ment of rest and the'soft, perfumed
evening air. She had seen a white
garbed masculine form coming down
the road. ,
"At last, my belated cavelier," she
tried to say viciously. "I shall be
marble and ice quite!"
Footsteps crunched on the gravel
walk. Her head was turned and she
gave no token of recognition or in
terest. The footsteps sounded on the
steps, and then "
"My dear Miss Rogers I am in
A vivid revulsion passed through
her frame. Instantly she recognized
"How Dare He!" She Flared Out
the unwelcome voice. It was not
that of Paul Leslie. It was that of
his antithesis, Bryce Willard.
If there was one among her nu
merous suitors whom Grace despised
it was this overfastidious, self-conceited
individual. He was a man of
wealth and leisure. It had come to
her ears that he had boasted the
"Miss Rogers was the nearest to his
ideal of a lovely girl and he had half
a mind to settle down and marry
her," But this intelligence was vapii