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“I am a. fool!" he said. "I am living in a fool‘s paradise, and I shall wake pre- sently to find myself inâ€"the other place. I’ll burn this. Yes; I’ll burn. itâ€"andâ€"aqd try to forget her." He held the poor lit- tle ribbon to the candle~but drew it back with something like. a moan on his lips. The ribbon slept on‘his heart that. night â€"~and every night; and his heart said to it: ‘fI love herâ€"I love her!” and the rib- bon murmured back, “I know it." me for anfthihgiâ€"yvou mint." And so on. and Bobby could only stammer his thanks. - Decima. said not another word, but. as he wished them good-bye, she gave him her hand and looked at him with all her glitteful _soul in_ her _lovely eyes. He took the look home with himâ€"it haunted him as he sat.‘ smoking endless ipes, in the chair she had bought. for Eim. 11: followed him to his room, wheye. aving dismissed Robson. he stood WIth hat; ribbon in his hand. In the morning he cursed his folly. Was this the way to forget, her? To b‘rood in the solitude of the great; house over' his secret love? After breakfast he came to a. sudden resolution. He would go mm so- ciety; 'he would meet the people he had a.v_oide_d, seq fresh faces, r“divert his mind.” He drew it. awayvsharply, and his lips twitched. thenâ€"as she looked at him half startled by his sudden ge-utmeâ€"he alid his hag}! bgck and laid it, on her arm. .,__ .... “flu “mu Av Vu ucA sum. it"YouLy‘Su forget all that you.have done for me. Decima." He bit his hp. "I bps your pardon, Miss Deane! The name 511p- ped out. 1â€"1 hear your brother acalling 1'9}; soâ€"so often.” “I'm arraid'thatâ€"that it. wouldn't be quite the thing.” he said. "Butr’well, you must let me think of you as"~t.he name seemed too dear. too sacred to be spoken- "ag Decieâ€"gometimes.” As he waikgd up “with them to The Woodbinesâ€"he gained another half hour with her by doing soâ€"he gave some keys m”_l_30bby. “Use. anything there as it it. were' your own.” he said, in a casual way. “The wo- man cooks very fairly, and can manage a little dinner-party; it's more comfortable than_ diuingfit the club. You’ll write to all too palp‘ably, had been got, up in his honor. And he did his best to be agree- able. and. harder still..to be amused and “diverted.” There was a large familyâ€" mostly girlsâ€"at the Oathermoles’, and they were all mad over him. Gaunt was the sort of man to catch a girl’s fancy. They raved about, his good looks. his dis- binguished manners. his travels and ad- venturesâ€"his very grimness~for some- times when he was more than usually bored, Gaunt was almost as grim as deathâ€"was voted an added charm; and his reputation for wildnessâ€"well, when wo- men cease to be women, and only then, will the wickedness of man lose its fas- cination for them. He kept away from The Woodbines, and avoided the village while he was going through his course of “diversion” and making the attempt to forget her. But instead of forgetting her, his mind dwelt. on 'her day and night. She came upon him as he sat at a big dinner-party. and he would lay down his knife and fork and look straight before him with an expres- sion of abstraction which not seldom startled the lady who sat. beside him, and to whom, a few minutes before, he had seemed all attention. “Blit‘; tidesvit~fi1atter?” she asked, smil- ing at him innocently. “Why shouldnjt you call me Deeima, if you like? It 18 better than Miss Deane. And Decie is better still." In the afternoon he had out his mail phraeton and pair and drove round pa)“ ing calls. The Cattermoles, the Petter- gills, and all the rest of them received him with great, and scarcely concealed joy. They thought him rather absent- minded and grim; but they were only too delighted to have him in any mood. He came back wearied to death, and in a. very bad humor; and in a. few days .Lhe usual invitations poured in. He accepted them one and all. and went the round of the dinner-Damien and festivities which, “Oh, yes; we have gone on just as if ‘yofl were here. Mr. Bright. wanted to ask you about things; but I begged him not to worry you, but to let you go 011 en- joying yourself." He lobkea at her steadily, 11‘s lips nom- presaed. She was torturing him, and all so_ __1}1noo¢n 21v! He avoided Deoima. But one day he met her coming through the village. He was riding along. his head bent gloomily, the dogs running silently at his heelsâ€" how quick the dogs are to understand and harmonize with their master‘s moods!â€" and he saw Deoimra coming toward him. She had a small basket on her arm, for she had. been visiting some of her sick people. As he raised his eyes, something shot. through his heartâ€"a dull, aching painâ€"â€" for he thought she looked pale and sad. But her sweet face brightened as she saw him, and her eyes darkened with pieas- ure as he stopped and regarded her awk- wardly and in silence, for the sight of her unnerved him. “T‘YZdVfi-avâ€"éEéen in thase cottages again. There is measles 01‘ something. isn‘t thegg?” he gaid._by _wa.y 9f greeting: “Oh, yes; but I’ve had the measles long ago. And they're nearly over now, you know. But you haven’t been into the vil- lagg lgtqu, kayo ryoru?” ‘ “I know.” she said, quickly. “We have heard of your visiting andâ€"and dining out; and'l am so glad." “Glad! Why?" he asked, moodily. “0h, because it must be so pleasant for you,” she said. “Pleasant!” he said, grimly. “Isn’t. it?" she said. “I think it must be to meet new and nice people. And it was so dull for you at the Hallâ€"all alone, and seeing no one." 7 “It was not. dull.” he said, trying to speak more cheerfully; “and if you think that a oourse'of dinner-parties is provo- cative of pleasureâ€" All. well!" He look- ed round. “Is everything going on all right?“ he asked} as he walked beside her. “No,” hé'said, l-ooking away from her. "Ijhave been busyâ€"-" becima nodded brightly. She hadrbeen' pale and sad a moment or two agoâ€"he was suyg'of it. Was_she pleased to see him? “Thanks!” he said. through his closed teeth. “That, was very kind of you." Enjoy'n himself! ’ "Yes, ,r. Bright, agreed with me. He is Do denghted at your going out so much." “on. he is?" “gndudgd yourhear from Bobby?” "353,-" he gala. ‘ "He Wrc‘fia me [such a long letter. And he told me all about your rooms. They are beautiful, he says, only much too hand- some and rich for him. And he is so proud 0!. ing a member of that fashion- " d I was to try and thank you, never could. He says he is working 11 rd. but, having ‘such a good time!” ‘3‘; CHAPTER XIV. (Cont’d). Her Great Love; CHAPTER XV. Or, A Struggle F‘or a Heart “I will come if you wish it so much. of course,” she said. with a. simplicitly that emote him. “Oh, look at. these water- liliea!" she exclaimed, pointing to a bunch floating near the edge of the water. "‘I’ll get you some." he said. ' He went 011‘ the bridge and knelt on phe bank, and slipped back his coat and shut- sleeves from his left arm. Decima. was watching him with a. soft. smile in her eyes. It was nice to have met him, to see and hear himâ€"although he seemed so grim and stem. The day appeared to have grown brighter; and yet the sun had been shining, just as it was now, when she met him. you.” lie said. I shall hate come." Suddenly, as he plunged his arm into the water and drew up the lilies by their long stems. she caught sight: of some black marks or scars on the bare flesh. “What agé thoéémniaf‘ié 6y} 5:611} Rim?" she asked. “0h, nBthing,” héhajiiffifiiiing down his“ sleeve. “Caustic marks. I got a. scratch or two from a young liouâ€" There are the lilies. ‘Let me put they; in your basâ€" Irnf. " ket.” He was busy cutting the atom, and was off lxis guard for a moment. She stood stock still. the blood rushing to her face and then away from it. again. her eyes fixed on his face with a strange look in them. She remembered the Zoo and the young lion. the swift outstretch- ing of his arm to save her, the sound of the rent cloth. The lion had torn hlE arm. then! For a. moment ‘something beat in her heart, a pulsation which al‘ most deprived her of breath. She lopged to take the arm and press her lips to the black marks; for he had got them in sav- ing her. They should have been on her arm instead of his. Her eyes grew hot. and filled with tears, and the first thrill of love ran through her veins. Troubled, Derplexed. fighting against this feeling with all a girl’s instinctive dread of pas- sion. she held out the basket; then, as soon as he had placed the lilies in it, she turned her head away. "I must go!” she eaid. “It is late, and â€"~ Good-bye!" and she left him suddenly, her whole being quivering. He had not seen her faothe had been engaged with the liliesâ€"and he suspected nothing of the fimotgons which had swept over her young ear . That afternoon Bobby walked into the Orientâ€"walked with the sense of proud possession which the young man feels in his first clue. He made his way through the imposing hall, with its solemn porter and stately footmen, into the handsome smoking-room. and .lighting a cigarette. took up a paper; not to read. but as a screen from which he could look at the other members who were present; for Bobby was a stranger. and everyone who belonged to the Orient was of interest to him. He knew some by sight. or from their photographs displayed in the shop windowsâ€"for there are some famous men in the clubâ€"and he was wondering whe- ther he should get to know any of them personally, when two men entered through the greatglgme doors: "I want, you to." he said. “It will be the only thing that will make it $019.!" able.” He paused. “The Mershone wxll 001119, I hope. You know them?" “Oh, yes," she said unsuapriclously. "We see, more of Mr. Merehon than ever. He is’always at The Woodbines. Father and he are engaged in~well, I don’t. know what it is; but they spend a. great. deal of time poring over papers. And Mrs. Sherborne is often there. I have gone out driving with her several times. It. has been rather dull lately. I suppose I miss Bobby," she added. innocently. He glanced at her. “Well, the dinner-party may amuse Bobby looked at, them curiously. One was a. tall, fair, very fair man, with a, clean-Shawn face. frank-looking blue eyes, and lips wearing a. peculiarly pleas- ant and winning smile. The other was a younger man~of Bobby‘s ageâ€"with red hair and a pale face. He was plain, but there was something of suppressed force in the rather sullen-looking face which was noticeable. His eyes were somewhat bloodshot, and, as he looked from side to side, they had a suggestion of ferocity, of siavageness held in check by their own- exiflwhich made them still more remark- a e. V “Hilloo, Trevor!" he said, holding out his hand. ’ “I am going to have a. big dinner," he said. “I have to feed those who have fed me, not wisely but too 'well. I want you to come." ' Decima shook her head and smiled. “Oh, I don‘t think so.” she eaid.“Bobby’s not here, you know, and fatherâ€"and fa- ther would be lest in a big party. He never goes anywhere. No, I do not. think I <vgill some, thanks." Bobby took a. second glance at him; then, with an exclamation. roe-e to his feet. For he had suddenly recognized the young man as a fellow school~fellow. The young fellow eyed him with a. frown for a moment, then he said, with- out__a_rgy grgalo di‘spliaryi Qf joy: “Not since we left that beastly Rugby." said Trevor, gloomily. “Are you staying up for any time?" I “For a month or two,” said Bobby. The fair man stood looking at them with a pleasant smile in his blue eyes and on his well-cut lips. His heart, was beating with the joy of being near her, the delight of hearinz her voice again. They reached the bridge which spanned the narrow, rippling river, and they stopped and leaned on the rail, looking at the stream. “Hallbo: Deane! ~ Didn‘t iuiow you were in town?” “I am pleased to hear it," he said. There was a silence. “No,” said Bobby in his bright way. “Itjg a lpng timq (ginqe we; meni” Trevor glov'vere'd for a moment at. the thick Turkey carpet as if he had a grudge against. it; _tpen_he> ga_i_d. sul_len1‘y: “Delighted to know any friends of Tre- vor’s,” he aid. "And very glad to find you are a member of the old club, Mr. Deane.” “A meeting _of old friends, Trevor?” he said in a soft musical voice. “Will you introduce me, my dear fellow?" ‘i‘It's an 'old school-fellow of mihe. Mr. Deane. This is a ‘ friend, Deane-Mr. ThyrpeL MOI-gag” Thorpg.’: _ There was something flattering in the Bpeeph and its manner which made Bobby flush with pleasure. "And what are on doing-~just on a pleasant visit to t e little village?” ask- ed Mr. Thorpe. "Shall we sit down, Tfe- vo_r? “Mr. Deane, will you join us in a drmkr" Mr.‘ Morgafi 'l‘ho-rpe‘held out his hand wigl 3g yvinping gmile. 4 Eligby said he would have cofiee, and it was brought, in in company with the soda and whiskies of the other men. “I’mâ€"nglfidi’hgr for Sandburst." said Bobby. "Ah. I envy you!" said Mr. Thorpe in the same flattering way. “Nothing like the service. I was in it for some yearo." dinner-party may amuse "I hate the thought of it; it worse it you will not “Now. that’s very good of you,” said Mr. Morgan Thorpe, gratefully. "We .dine at seven-thirty. Early, isn’t ‘ it? But you won’t mind just once in a. way. My sister â€"-well. my sister is rather delicate, and goes to bed early. Seven-thirty. How stupid of me! I had forgotten the ad- dress." He took a card from his case and gave it, to Bobby. with a charming smile. The card bore this inscription: ' "Mr. Morgan Thorpe, 31 Cardigan Terrace, ELW.” Bobby but thenard in his pocket, said he would be punctual, and. the two men left the club. “Why the devil did you ask him to din- ner? It; wasn‘t necessary. I don’t know much of himâ€"an 01d school-fellow.” Morgan Thorpe smiled. “My dear fellow. that's no reason why you shouldn’t know more of him. I’ve taken a. fancy to himAhave indeed. Be- sides, he will be a. pleasant addition to 0111: petite parti.” ' “I say! timeâ€"time! Dear me, how quickly it has flown. That's thanks to you, Deane.” He had dropped the “Mr.” already. which was really very friendly of him. “We must be going, Trevor. We dine early, you know. 011. by the way, Deane. I wonder whether I could persuade you to wa‘ive ceremony and come and dine with 'us’-â€"I mean my sister and m‘yselgâ€" and Trevor of course. We shall be qu1te en famille. you know, and I can assure you that. my sister will be' very pleased to see you. A friend of our dear Trevor has the’ surest passportâ€"eh, Trevor-Pf Trevor looked, with a kind of savage wistfulness, up at the windows. then shook his head. “No. I shall be there at seven-thirty.” “So long, then. dear boy," said Thorpe; 5mg he went up the steps and rang the Trevor did not: res};de fifth a émile to the smile. but glanced at Bobby, and then sullieinlyi made a. red hazard. ‘5 "Thahk you," said Bob'b’yf. “I shall be veg: pleased.” When they got outside, Trevor said, gloggxily: Trevor got up with a. kind of reluctance, and they went into the billiard~room. Tre- vor and Thorne played, and Bobby took his first lessonâ€"in marking. Thorpe play- ed, as he said, indifferently; and appear- ed to take more interest in chafing with Bobby than in the game. He talked-well. Bobby thought he had never met a more charming man, or one more fra'nk and candid, and really. almost child-likeâ€"in his genial simplicity. In the course of an hour Bobby felt as if he had known My. Morgan Thorpe for years. Trevor sand little, but played with a kind of‘ moody absorption, and made some splendid breaks. Mr. Thorpe hummed a bright little aiy, and Trevor muttered something under his breath. They walked to Cardigan Terrace, and Thorpe stopped outside No. 31. “No use asking you to come in, I sup- pose?” he said, blandly. bell. The do was opened bv a maid-servant, a. middle~uged woman with the unmistak- able face and manner of a. French woman. “Never too late to learn, my dearfiel- low!" said Mr. Thorpe. "I’m a deuced bad player myself or I’d teach you; but Tre- vor is a first-class performer with the stick and the spheres. Come 011, Trevor, and give us both a lesson." Presently Mr. Morgan at his watch. “A woman,” says an observer of the sex, “has as much excitement in getting her fortune told as a man has in making his.” ' Robb} haki 1610565391111“ he didn’t know billiards. “Deane~DeaneP Let. me see, are you one of the Deanesnf Leamington P” continued Mr. Thorpe. ' ' "No." said Bobby; "I live at a place called Leafmoro." “Ah, 1‘ know the ‘Deanes of Lemnington very well. Leafmore?” He ehot a swift glance from his blue eyes- at Bobby. “Leafmore in Downshire? I’ve heard of it. Now, what shall we do? What, do you say t_o g- game of pool?” “Not an English one, alas!" said Mr. Thorpe. blandly. "I was in foreign ser- vice. A free lance, Mr. Deane. a free lance. I have my brevet colonencyâ€"but of course I don't use it here. I am a civilian in England; but, over there~" He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Bobby would have asked where "over mega” was; but dign’t, like to. ~ “What regimen-t?" asked Bobby. who of course knev!‘ hi5 1Army Liqt by heart. .nv.. , , (To be continued.) We are supplying Canadian farmers with the highest quality of Portland Cement it in possible for human skill to make. We have reduced the price of Canada Portland Cement until it is within your reach for practically every purpose. It iathe only building material that is not increasing in cost. Thorpe glanced The knapper of Ely, says Harâ€" per’s Weekly, finds his material ready to hand in the extensive strata, of flint lying amid the chalk beneath the surface. Shafts are sunk direct to the floorstone, and from these burrows are made into the chalk. This mining is all done in the most primitive fashion, as the men, for the most part, work singly, Without fear of syndicates or corners. Each has his own claim, his own workshop. Quite often, though, he employs hélp in getting his wares ready for market. The claim is abont; a. man’s length and three feet wide. Generally he digs down about 35 feet, and thence in a, horizontal or «slanting line, as best suits his purpose. His pick is shaped like a. figure seven, and he goes down the shaft; by toeholes, asâ€" cending by the same means. His workshop, like his mining, is also primitive, being a rude, cheap shed in his garden, the only fittings of which are a, block of’ oak tree trunk, rather smaller than a, butcher’s block, a, seat, a, little stove to dry the flint, pails and some old tin cans. \ ,' It might be supposed that flint- IOcks went out of use about the close of the Revolutionary War, but thc‘se ,knapperls still find the steadi- est and most important branch of their industry the vsupplying of Hints for this old-fashioned fire~ arm. Where do these relics of bygone days go? To make mulskets for the negroes in Africa. Some are ship- ped to South America, and China. As yet there has been n_0 decline in the demand. Another odd ship- ment was made during the Boer \Nar, when 14,000 tinder flints were sent to British troop-sfivso that they Manufacture of Bogus Pro-Historic Tools and Relics. In the low oountry about Ely, a. town Within 72 miles of London, Eng., there is carried on a, flour- ishing industry which the world in general knows little about. This is the manufacture of bogus prehis- toric implements and relics. The workers at this trade are known as “knappers,” or flint cliprpers‘, and they use the same tools and work in much the some manner as the men of the Neolithic age. â€"_‘_-- - â€"â€" unto“ MU "tut-I VIII "Vanna.qu W 1031 PM- Gimme. mechanical work. rapid done. A11) terns furnished. Palaver no ex oran required. W. ‘tumiih Prooeu chemicals and supply you with g tum to color. which you return to as. price: paid rompsly by themes or month. No oanvuuln: or sellingâ€"our trav- ellers 301! t a find: and tho field in unlimited 10:- our work. I! you want, u pleasant work t 0 your round (or whole or spare time, write us and. we wxll .9 on contract and the ricea we pay. KOMMEROIAL ART w RKS, 315 COLLEGE STREET. TOROIEQ. ONT. WANTED“.I A. STRANGE TRADE. More Workers M °n°° 9° do ' thnir lama 9): m" They “up a handwhe promptly. yet do w .oontdn any of the dungorous drugs common In hem. ablaze. Auk your Drawn Ibou‘ them. 250. a box. Why doesn't the take NA-DRU-CO Headache wum Ignite-u. have A“. common. co. .0 mun. ulna. l2] M". their home wfii our wonderful M gimme. Wanmquyigigldk Gage. Ali‘pak \A-i‘In- _-AA__ __A “Remains of the Neolithic 313e,”, now to be ‘found in many museums and private collections, were men ufactured by this little communit in England. .They consider thei [business entirely legitimate, andi a. way it is, for it is the ehrewd, unJ scrupulous middleman who sells fell] a, goodly price these valuable an tiquos to the innocent. A grea. many schools and public educationl. 3.1 institutions are supplied by thesd’ knwppers, and, whether the object are known to be imitations or not, they are much more valuable thanl diagrams or illustrations in the' teaching of history and geology. g You would probably be surprised: if you knew how much good‘ hag come out of your mistakes. . could get light when Wet ruin- the matches. The cooing stops_with the honey moon, but the'bil-hng geesfbn for ever. Pure sugar it necessary to {baht-9.1m of young or 014: Good homemade candy, sugar on fridge, fruit or breadâ€"not on y pleaaqa but atimulatem Bu St. Lawrence Extra Granulated in age and be Guys 0! the fines; Sold by but dealers. 1 :1. lawer 8m! Refined». lelhd. - Manual. nix-e sane sugar, untouched by hand. ‘rom factory to your kitchen. FULL WElGfl'l' GUARANTEED. Children Neg! Sugar Bags 1001135., g 11:23., no 1139., Cartons 51 5., albs. 00102131: jqr 31h