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SANDRA THE . I E IEALUIIS § El By Jane Phelps i

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saunas REMOVEQ some PIC. runes

, unaware xix Neva

fldifl 9d us. were about, Everett's‘ e. - I- guldift. fail to see. the look pf slirntfl Wvifttbeirf tacos when Everett had-t-intro sod wished

wouId-,_rnake medook older. But when theylleft_.us, I forgot all these things 1n my returned anxiety as to what Everett would say and do about the pictures. I tried to persuade myself that ti was in the right. and would insist that I had been.

1 talked to myself all the time I was d-eesing for dinner, and then when I waited for him, il- never had learned to hide my feelings, but l had decided to say nothing until at. ter dinner. I had heard that men were more amenable when their stomachs were full. ~

To my delight he seemed to be in particularly good spirits. He again complimented me on my appearance,

and upon the way 1I had carried my- ‘

self before his friends. Had it not been for my wearinesei it would have made me very happy; new I was only pleased it might make him _iess severe if he should disapprove 0i,‘ what I had done.

It may perhaps seem foolish to at- tach so much importance to there moval of the first-Mrs. Graham's pic- tures, but if anyone who reads has ever been a second wife, and had dune the same thing—or has want- ed to do it, they will appreciate how I felt.

I wniteduntii we were having cof- fee in the library, thou I said in as casual itone as I could master.

“You forget to tnke the pictures of your-ilrst-wifc down, Everett, so I had Richard take thcm and put them‘ nicely away I11 the attic. I was sure you would be pleased to have it utlcndcil to without annoyance to you. The last words fniriy tumbled over each other so fearful was I flint he would interrupt before I could finish.

I had been watching him closely as I talked. and was frightened when I saw how dreadfully white he bc- came. ‘IIe was livid. , With an awful effort, he seemed to pull himself to- gether, as hc asked in a voice that took away what little courage I had left:

"You did what?"

"i l1ad—hcr—pictilrcs put—in the ——aitic." This time there was no tumbling of ivowis, I could scarcely drag the reply from my lips.

The ‘stern look .1 already had learn- ed to dread come In Everett's face, only it was more stern than ever I nhd seen it before.

“i absolutely forbid you to touch anything in this house without my permission.”

Where the courage came from I do not. know, but Iaskcd:

“Am I not mistress of the house? Don't. I have anything to say?"

"No!”- he thundered, “You do not!“ He. touched the bell.

"Go into the attic-and get those pictures you took up there today;

down and hang thcni where they were before."

“Yes. Sir."

Richard never raised his eyes to Hi0. yet II had caught a look upon his face something‘ very like pity. It made me wild. Even his servants pitted me. _

I dared say nothing more. Iiis sot face, his severe tone had caused my courage to ooze from me. Aftcr a moment's hesitation during which my eyes filled with tears, and I be‘ gan to tremble at what he might still say, I stunvbied from tho room. Not only did he fail to attempt to stop me. but I could tell by the look on his face he~did not know I hud left him.

"He is thinking of hcr," I thought bitterly. and when half an hour after- wards I crawled quietly part way down the stairs, he was in the draw- IIIR room looking up at her picture with such a look as I never hud seen 0n his face.

I crouched there shivering and watched him through the open door. Finally his head dropped upon his arms which were folded on ihc mantle RR he gazed up at the lovely face of tho woman, Leoia, and he gronned H0 despairingly that I quickly run back to my room, ashamed and afraid to spy upon his misery.

I was not so ashamed the next momlng, however, for the minute l1c loft the house I rushed to his bureau drawers and found that he had taken "Wily the photographs.

EVERETT TELLS SANDRA _ OF LEOLA Chapter XX.

3 "Another proof of guilt," I thought

Ifpun need smoothing more than talcum flee need

KOBA - KONIA.

Because lOI-A-KONIA. while WI-

N _ “agape su-Blfld to finish c.‘ a lune on - “was that day. The. men. w _‘

. .. slllfiv I -_I ‘didn't look so ..qssguny,

young, and» Everett would aI- - low mete wear my hair so -'that it

‘herself.

ll‘; 5;. tyioveg

. . as I realized the pictures were miss- log. = “Why it was like a fiction story!" I was sure I never had read one quite likeit. There ran through my mind even thcn that if I had to leave Everett, I would be ashamed to go home. Ashamed to face all the boys and girls who had known me all my life. What an awful thing for me. Only seventeen! and my life ruined.

Then such anguish went through me that 1 nearly fainted. _

Dinner time came at last, and with it came Everett. Ilc looked‘ tired and talked but little. I thought dinner would never cud. At last. we were seated in the library before the firc with our coffee. I moved my chair so that I could look at him, and then when we were alone I asked without preamble:

"Who is the lovely woman whose pictures are in your bureau-drawers, Everett?” My voice trembled a little in spite of all I could do.

Ilc gave a perceptible start.

“What pictures? And what wcro you doing in my things?"

“Mother always tidies dad's chif- fouier so I though I would do the same for you!“ I answered his last question first so that 1 might gain time to steady my voice a little. "The pictures were of a beautiful woman. On the buck of one it said "From Lcola to Everett)“ Whnt -an odd ‘name. Lcoia," I repeated.

Something very like a groan broke frnin Iilvi-rett. '

“As wcll now as some other time." he snid in a low voice, butl realized he was talking to himself; that he hnd not mcniit me to hear. I said nothing, but waited, every nerve in my body quivering with excitement.

"Sit over there." He pointed to a chair whore he could look at me, but where it Wflllltl be impossible for me to ace his fncc.

Rcluctantiy I obeyed.

“I meant to tcll you before. It is your right to know. But you were so young that I waited a while hop- ing you might become accustomed to mc and so better able to understand what I am going to tell you."

Ile waited so long that I thought he had changed his mind, and stirred uneasily. lwas all a~thriii with the wonder. the something akin to fear of what was co1ning,; the story my husband was going to tcll me.

Ilc took from his pocket the two pictures I hnd mentioned, lIc looked at thorn, thou opened a drawer in a little table nt his clbow and laid them in it. _ .

“Yes, Lcnla is an unusual name; and she was n11 unusual woman. She was my wifc. We married when I was thirty, she was twenty-six. l was jealous. She was imprudent and would brook no rostrainLWVequar- rclcd constantly. Yet-I loved her," his voice trailed off ilrcamiiy for a moment as if he had forgotten inc. "and she loved me . But she was strong ivilioil," his volco cold and calm again, "and so was I. Our fierce love-making was interrupted by flercei: quarrels always because of some iudiscretion of hers, and be- cause of my jealousy which shc aroused. I was rich, she wasn bril- liant wonnm. Society laughed at her iudlscretions, calling them eccentri- cities. Sh.» know this and it made her careless-careless of herself, and of. n1e."

Again ho waited what seemed an ilnconscionablc tiiuo before he went (Ill Willie I waited breathless, forgot- ting it was my husband who was talking, thinking only of the story ho was toiling mo. "Ono _dn_y shc mot scouted to attract her than others had done. I accusotl hcr. and she only laughed. My impres- slon was confirmed when one day I found him making lovo to her. Shc WEB Iilllghiug, sure of her fascina- tions and careless that shehurt him. as she was indifferent to my angulslp That night We quarrclcd worse than over before. Wc both said cruel bit- ter things—l shall never cease tn hear them ycL. 1 know now, I ‘knew then, that Lenin was good and true. In my heart, I never doubted hcr."

MORE ABOUT LEOLA. CHAPTER XXI.

a man who

IIIOPB OVOII

"From that time we quarrclotl con- stantly." Everett went on in the sumo represseth tones. “Yct often after our fiercest quarrels we would give voice to our lovo for each other just as fiercely. Leolu was the most beauti- ful woman I have ever known. Also, the quickest to lake offense. She could not brook restraint. Instead of trying to prevent myJeaIousy, she laughed at ii, and deliberately did things to arouse it. 'I‘hings I—no man in love can endure with calm- ness. But Leela was just as proud as she was reckless. I threatened to divorce hcr. We hnd been at the seashore for, several weeks. That night she ran away and -— drowned Iler body was not found for hours. But that we kept secret, no one knows she was a suicide-mo one but me.

"I beg you will not speak t any- , ...%1

one eLhcrr .. Jiv- 111s ‘here 11.. 1 had‘ taken her away some e before in '

the hope flint she would he kinder tn ms.l have intended to tell you of

- her, but feaonortelk of her calmly

even yet-so Imwaited." .

That “yet" hurt e. -I had felt a fiertain relief when hens ‘gsbe was ead. But—-he still loved her, or- did hQTK-J must find out. “Lgoiawras twenty-eight when she left met-nine years‘ ago." he added after s. few‘ moments~"it seems like yesterday," again he seemed to be unaware of my presenée as he said the last few words. ' I I could keep still no lqgfir, This Leela ~had been dead nine-years yet he still grieved over her.‘ J-gathered lay-courage to ask: W; "If you were so unhappy with her, why didit you w-ant w. Bet .married again, why-—"' tv-"o

"Un p !" he interl-up _ (again seemirixgl”; ytorgetting gem he was talking. “l never‘ sh I know

what it means to be happy-J’

dThis time it was I“ who interrupt e . ‘.

"Why did you marry me?” I asked excitedly. He was hurting mo tou dreadfully. " ' "Yes-you have a right to ask that too. I was attracted to you from the first. You are very like Lcola in coloring. She had just that wonder- ful hair-that you have. But I had no thought then of marrying again. But you seemed to like me, to enjoy being with rue. I saw the simple way you had been broug-ht up. The kind of parents you had. You would be a wholesome woman. You had none of the diabolical fascinations

make a good wife and mother. I want such a wife, and I want, chil- dren. If you are what you promise to be we will be Ilappy together. New please leave me alone. I am very tired tonight-I have had a hard day. And this has been hard for mo as well as for you. Before you go there is just one thing I want to say. Never as long as we Iivc to- gcthcr mention-her to me again. I have been perfectly holiest with you; have, told you all there is to tell. Never speak of what I have. confided to you if you value my-dove," he had hesitated just a second beforc the last \vord. “Now, good-night."

I was (iisnnisscd. Yet at the mom- ent my principal feellug was one oi‘ compassion for the man who, sat bc- forc the grate fire, who bad covered his eyes with his hands when hc stop- ped speaking. and who bud seeming- ly forgotten that I existed.

The revulsion cnmo when I reached my room. It was still early and bed seemed a far possibility. My brain was seething, boiling with what Ihad just heard. I must think. llllllk-

One thought sccmcd to stalk more boldly than the rust through my mind: “Everett still loved that beauti- ful woman who pncc had been his wifc-that Leela.” Young as I was I realized tho passion in his voice when he spoke of hcr. Ncvcr had it been there for 1110. But I was his wife! No one, not even Lcola could take that from me. And he was a widower so could rightfully mnrry mo. My mind fairly rcciod with thoughts that pressed down upon it. But it was not until worn. out by my emotion,‘ sick at heart because al- though hc was my husband Everett loved a dead woman; that the reason for his marrying me came over mcin all its-to me-stark Iovelincsru. IIe had married me because he thought I would make a good wife and mother. Ilow dreadful! not because ~ho loved mo; but for those other reasons. Ho (iidu’t think mc attractive enough to make him jealous if.I did have hnir likc l1cr's. like Leela. I tore at my heavy braids until I hurt myself so I was obliged to stop or cry out with pain. I hated my hair! I would have It dycd, or I would cut it off! It was because my hnir was ilk." hcrs be had IICOII attracted to mo. IIe didn't love mo at all. Iie never Irh . . . .

I do not think that up to that uightiu the library when he told me of his lovo for Lcoin that I was at all in love with Everett. I hnd admired him, been flattered by his attentions and lllS gifts. But now there suddenly tiawned the thought. that I loved him at the same lllnllllllll. I dccidcd that he cared nothing for inc. It was torture. '

Long afterward I knew that Ever- ett, hnd not unites realized how (rrui-l- ly he had told his story. Not in the words, perhaps. but in the tones of his voice, and in his almost whisper cd words when he seemingly forgot that I was his wife. That he was talking to me—thut I had married him and couldn't get away, but must boar whatever he chose to put upon mo to bear. And I IIIIIBI- bell!‘ Il- nlonc. Neither to him or to any other could I sneak of what I felt sure meant entire ruin to my "I6. my llflll- piness.

“lf ho only had tol1i me before we were married." I groaned, then real- izing that had he, I never should have lnarrictl him. Aud he wouldn't have hud a "good wifc and childrcu."

SANDRA REBELS.

Chapter XXII

I clenched my hands, I comment-rd to sob. I wouldn't bc a good wife, and I wouldn't have children; he IHHI no right to lovc thut other woman, that Leela. when I W"?! his WIIP- I" mv ‘distress I forgot that he would. 1...»? angry if he found mc in tears. And gave f11ll vent to my feelings. Irlo was in the room before I hud heard him.

"What are you crying about?" he asked, "Does your head still irche?“ The idea that after he had talked to mg n5 hi3 hull just i! lltlltl Willie before he could nsk what I was m-ylng‘ about, I just didn't answer at nll; I only cried the hnrdcd.

"You Will make yourself ill," his voice wan not quite so kind.

“Whnt inudc you mnrry mg when you didn't love mo? You don't love mo now;" I stormed. I wanted to say “when you lovo that other wo- man," but didn't dare.

"I certainly shall not lovo you if you do not stop crying," his voice stern with displeasure. "I thought I told you I disliked a crybaby."

As I tried to control myself I wondered if Lcola never had cried. If she had always laughed and that was the_‘reasbn he loved her so.

,_ Suddenly there earns 1.06mi once again my foolish bragging speech to Rose Graudon: "He is crazy to mm’- ry me." IIe m

ightbhnve been. Surely all

_i had declared he didn't love me.

some women possess. But you would g

., 1

his gifts and attentions looked that way. But now I knew why he want- ed to marry ma. Thea 1 thought it was “because ho loved me. Now I knew it Wasn't. A good wife and children, how I wished he hadn't said that, that he had pretended he married me for love. She. Lens, was dead. It wouldn't have hurt him and I wouldn't have been quite so miserable even after I knew of her If he had let me go on thinking he had loved m0-

I stopped sobbing. Then to my surprise Everett leaned over the bed and kissed me softly.

"Bo a. good little girl and go i0 sleep. You'll spoil your looks unless you do."

Before I could say-a word, he had left the room and closed the door. IIe had not answered my question. neither had hes contradicted me when

I But someway his kiss, his sudden gentle speech comforted mo, and ut- terly worn out I soon slept. Once more he had gone to the of- fice without kissing me good byc. I realized when Hctty brought my coi- fee and told me that Mr. Graham said I was not to be disturbed.‘ "You aro worrying nuflam. I feel very sorry I told you anything." “You needn't feel sorry Ilctty. Mr. Graham toIJ me all about it, and It wasn't hull‘ as bad as I imagined. I didn't know she was dcat ." “You thoughL-she hung words In air, Iiorror in her tones. “I thought shc had divorced Iilir. or something; that maybe he was a bigamist. I don't know what I thought! I only know that we must not talk about it because I gave him my promise not to. But I fcit so lonely, so alone and forlorn that on onc pretext and another I kept Iletty with me until Mrs, Gray i-aiilcd iler. Shc was young too, if she was a ser- vant, and u dainty, prctiy girl also. About 11 o'clock the telephone rang. It was Everett. ‘ “Moot me at Lipu1an's—a large fashionable shop-at three o'clock. I saw a coat in illc window I Iltlllllftlil, and if it is becoming I want it for you." He did not wait for an n11- swcr, but innnctiintely hung up. ‘ IIow arbitrary ho was. IIo hnd not asked me if I hail any plans, or if I Olllil meet nun. ilt‘ haul simply or- dcr-od inc lo ho thcrc. i didn't car- if it were to do sonivtliing nice for mo. I would insist that hc stop treat’- ing inc likp a child. I surely felt old enough those last few tiays-"Mcthu- solah hnd nothing on mo." I thought as I sighed l1cuvil_v, so heavily that Mrs. Gray who had just come up stairs asked if I was sure I fclt able to gct up.

her

and repeated her,

so frcn with their 11111m-y.""_ “Money isn't everything,"

I itssurcd her that I was all right, Everett's message to

“Your husband is very generous. Not many girls marry mun who are

I said sententiously._. I hnd heard dud say

may: a

“It l! B- sood deal, lny dear. Not that I think it is everything, but there are . few things in life that a competence, the ability to gratify ones desire does not help. At least having pretty clothes and a beautiful home Iiolps to take your mind from other things which may not be so pleasant. Mr. Graham's taste is ex- quisite. I am suro the iroeit will be u lovely one. Rest a littic longer so that you may look fresh and rest- cd when you meet him."

“Why should I care how I look when he doscn't lovo 1nc." Igruin- bled after she left me, but I never- the less did as she hud suggested,

and remained in bed until nearly time for lunch. I did look rested Better than I

had looked for days. And when she

told me so, she added: "Mr. Graham

will be pleased."

l3‘ "ill THE POOR RICH GIRL.

"So iEdiih married a wealthy man. is she happy?" “I hardly think s0. that slic can't. enjoy ing."

THE CAUSE 0F BACIIACHE

Only in Rare Cases Does Backachc Mean Kidney Trouble iii