Photoplay (Apr - Sep 1918)

58 Photoplay Magazine In her home — Durand, bored with everything in general, and himself in particular. Durand, — restless, morose — It was almost a command when he announced one evening: "I have decided to go for a cruise on the 'West Wind.' Do you care to come?" But Laurel chose to ignore it. ''I have my work," she said quietly. "Perhaps you are afraid that Dr. Leslie might miss your valuable assistance?" Durand suggested. Laurel winced; and Durand's suspicions, ever-ready, seemed to him to be confirmed. So Durand went alone. And it was scarcely three weeks later when Leslie called, a crumpled paper in his hand. Laurel's welcome died on her lips at a glimpse of his strained white face. Then — "What is it? Tell me — " In silence he gave her the paper with the shrieking headlines: " 'West Wind' Destroyed by Mine. Millionaire Durand and Entire Crew Missing." Here, at last, was freedom ! After the first few days of the -shock, Laurel attacked her work with renewed energy. Little Donald was all hers, now. And Dr. Leslie had become a more frequent visitor to her laboratories. He came one evening, when Laurel was in an indolent mood, relaxing after long hours of weary research ; and the butler showed him into the drawing room instead of the laboratory. Richard stopped short as he saw the woman he loved, seated at the piano, radiant as a child on a holiday, while her hands caressed the keys in a mood which hinted of many things. It happened almost as a matter of course that Leslie should tell her all he felt for her ; all he'd been feeling for a long, long time. And by j, one of those stage pranks which fate loves to play on her puppets, Clinton Durand, his hat pulled far down over his eyes, entered the It happened almost as a matter of course that Leslie should tell her all he felt for her; all he'd been feeling for a long, long time. grounds of his own home and drew up to the drawing room window at the very moment when Laurel for the first time surrendered to Leslie's embrace. Then, in quick succession — the doctor was called away on a case; Laurel was left alone, and Durand, his face livid with rage and ungovernable jealousy, confronted his wife and made known his escape from the wreck of his yacht. "You seem none too delighted to welcome your husband back," he began appreciatively; "But papers often make mistakes, you know — " and then he stepped closer, his ugly laugh replacing his uglier sneer — and tried to take her in his arms. When she shrank disgustedly away from him, he shrugged his shoulders, and laughed again. Then, mercifully, he left her. Laurel, choking back the sobs, addressed to Richard a hasty scrawl of her husband's return, of his rescue by a French ship which held him until identified. Laurel caressed the roses Leslie had sent her; and added: "As I watch your roses wither, they seem to typify our hopes. However, we both have our work — Please do not come again; it will only make everything harder. If it is any comfort — know, dear, that my heart is all yours." Closing her eyes, she pressed one of his flowers to her face. In time, Durand, finding that his wife no longer received Leslie, took a certain delight in inviting the doctor to dinner. He would watch them, always, when they were together; but Leslie's sense of honor, Laurel's composure, only served to intensify Durand's hatred of them both. The plague raged on; and Durand, reading of the appalling number of children's deaths each day from infantile paralysis, became worried, so he averred, about Donald. "I want you to take him to the country, where he'll be out of danger," he told Laurel; "While you are trying to save those miserable little youngsters at the hospital, you are endangering the life of my son." Always it was "my son." "Donald is safe; I watch over him so carefully—" Durand broke her off. "He's going to the country; and vou'll take