The Trail of Conflict

west. Lights on the opposite shore flickered for a moment as they flashed into being, then shone with steady brilliancy. Lights appeared on the few boats swi

nd commercial, those on the boats carried a silent

to drive him to town that morning. Had she been married only a month? It seemed as though centuries had passed since she and Steve had stood before the altar with their few witnesses and

it had kept time to the revolution of the wheels as she and Steve had motored out to the Manor in the late afternoon. Her lips twisted in a bitter little smile as she remembered Sir Peter's tactful suppression of surprise when they had told him that t

onsented to her father's proposition. Well, the deed was done, her only course was to turn her mistake into a stepping-stone toward

just in time to avoid running down a "Road closed. Detour" sign. The black letters on the white board danced weirdly before her eyes for a moment. She must cure herself of the reprehensible

he garden slope she caught the shimmer of the river. Already she loved the place. The great house had "home" writ large all over it. It bulged, it loomed, it rambled in unexpected places as though it had

happy, she thought resentfully. At breakfast each morning during these interminable weeks he had politely asked her preference for the evening. Should they motor to town for the theatre, dance, what

untry, but please go yourself. I real

at the piano, in the library, and Steve smoked in the big chair in front of the fire. He kept so absolutely still, usually with his eyes on his mother's portrait. Was he dreaming dreams, she wondered. Had there been a girl without money whom he loved? Did he know what "the love of a man f

e tea in the library

his high cheek-bones till it shone like mellowing, yellowing ivory. His colorless eyes glittered as with fever, his forehead reared to where his coarse white hair brandished a sort of kewpie-curl. A black cape, of wool so soft that it looked like velvet, lay across his th

of the Manor, are you? You're the girl who ha

ut she stood her ground. She even manage

made a brilliant bit of color in the dark-toned room. The light from the fire fell on her rose-color sports suit, brought out the sheen of the velvet tam of the same shade, drooped picturesquely over one ear, flickered

e. She had a passion of sympathy for the old. She would ignore his r

rrive via air-route? I am sorry that there was no one at the Manor to welcome you. I was detained by one of those silly detours. Sir Peter has been away b

ever let Steve t

t with an hysterical desire to laugh, he w

rtlandt seen enough of life to know that when a man who has nothing marries a girl with a large fortune he's ruined? If he has any strength of character it turns to gall, if he's a weak party, he gets weaker-it's hell-for a proud man. Why didn't t

ly evident that he was old and disappointed and alarmingly ill. However, ther

the altar of pride of family and possessions, are we? Sentiment is quite out of fashion. What passes for it is but a wan survival of the age of romance and chivalry. Marriage in that strata of society to

in her words he ignored it. His voice was ba

en we get old we treasure it. Well, I warn you now, young woman, that my nephew shan't live the loveless life I've lived. I was born rich. Had I be

nt," the girl dared mischievously. He gl

" He rose and brandished his stick at the girl. He fell back and leaned his head weakly against the chair. Jerry lea

talk about. Give me some tea. Quick! Give it to me-strong. My fool doctor won't let me have anything else. What's Steve doing

ny sparks lighted her eyes

stion? He is in a lawyer's office working for the munif

oil-king is an office boy? Between you all you've made a m

t from between them. She rose, hesitated, then slipped to her knees before the old man. She looked up at him speculatively for a moment before s

live and spend money as befits a Courtlandt, that is, as he thinks a Courtlandt should live and spend, and with that fine illogic, so characteristic of the male of the species, takes it out on me. Steve is so-so maddening. He won't use the automobiles unless he is taking me somewhere, although they were all, with the exception of my

r shoulders with a suddenness an

ll? Can a red-blooded man really love a girl who would marry for position? You're fast getting to ha

und Stephen Courtlandt." A contemptuous snort fired her with the determination to hurt someone or something. "You may take it from me that if I had the chance to choose aga

re a quitte

g coals of wrath. Her voice was low with r

rved there are plenty of them who need money. Believe me, I'm tired of living in this cold storage atmosphere. I wa

fulfillin

rt looped the loop. How long had Steve been at the door? Had he heard that last rebellious declaration of hers? How would he greet his uncle? She hoped that he would be tender, for no matter how di

n some, Uncle Nick. Why didn't y

off, so I roped Doc Rand and came along. I have no time to

s jaw which boded ill for the person who differed with him. "Why not come up to your room and rest before dinner? S

come as Peter Courtlandt entered the room. He se

n his voice. "How are you, Steve? Nick, I just ran into Doc Rand in the hall. He told me

a lot of other stuff, t

still held one of hers

Peter. The house has seemed ter

kle. "Fancy a bride of a month complaining of

rrupted Peter Courtlandt before Steve, who had grown white about the nostrils, c

western possessions were his pride, and he welcomed an opport

see what you had done to Steve," he growled. "Gre

s?" Jerry demanded. A faint color stole to h

it?" Fairfax's eyes were inte

Mr. Greyson las

hat's the matter with him. I suppose the

andt, adroitly getting between his son and the old man. "T

of my life, to own the biggest and finest herd of Shorthorns in the country.

announced Juds

ps. What did it mean? She had met Felice Denbigh once and had been repulsed by her super-golden hair and super-perfect complexio

honeymoon, won't you? But-but Steve left his gloves in my sedan

ce Denbigh had fired the opening gun of a campaign. So there had been a reason why Steve had refused to allow her to drive him to

ice Peyton, don't

unning after when you were in college? Well, Miss Peyton

Peyton now-I married Phil Denbigh when

his. A mother who wept and begged until she kept the boy from enlisting, and by some hokuspokus got him into Class C.-No, I won't stop," as Courtlandt senior laid a perempt

er, her eyes tiny green flames. J

. Denbigh? Poor S-Steve must have been bored to

st be for the family to have your genial presence at the Manor. You don't know how happy it makes me to find that someone remembers Steve's devotion to me. He seems to have forgotten it. G

ve heard it also, for th

na