Alice Muriel Williamson

“ Bainbridge could control his pent-up feelings no longer, and was about to propose when Joan stopped him.
"We are too poor to indulge in the luxury of being in love," said she, with a sweet frankness which took the sting from the rebuff and dimly implied hope for the future. "I shall not marry until I am earning as much money as—as the man I love. I could not be happy unless I were independent. Oh, Mr. Bainbridge! ”

“ This was such an unusual event that Joan was sure it meant something, especially when Lady Henry demanded one of her prettiest frocks. A footman, inclined to be Maria's slave, was smiled upon, intercepted during dinner, and questioned. "They're behaving like turtle-doves," said he.
Joan had expected this. "That little cat has guessed or discovered that everything is settled, and she means to get the truth out of him this evening, so that somehow she can give the news to The Daily Beacon to-night, in time to go to press for to-morrow," the girl reflected. ”

“ Joan rushed into her whole story, which she told from beginning to end, proving its truth by showing Mr. Portheous' cheque made out to Mrs. Anne Randall. "Lady Henry, no doubt, has an account somewhere under that name. She's too sharp to use her own," added the girl. "Do you believe me now?"
"Yes. You're wonderful. I shall risk printing the news exactly as you have given it to me."
"You won't regret your trust. But I don't want your cheque to-night. I'll take it to-morrow, when I can say: 'I told you so.'"
"Would you still like to come on our staff—at a salary of ten pounds a week?" ”

“ IT is like stating that the world is round to say that London is the best of hiding-places. It is the best, because there are many Londons, and one London knows practically nothing about any of the other Londons. When, therefore, Mercy Milton disappeared from Northmuir House, Belgrave Square, Joan Carthew promptly appeared at the old camping-ground, the boarding-house in Woburn Place.
Joan was no longer penniless, and as far as Lord Northmuir was concerned, she was easy in her mind. A man of his stamp was unlikely to risk the much-prized "honour of his name" to seek her with detectives ”

“ Here's the ninety pounds in gold, my dear. You can bite every piece, if you wish; and you've but to do what I say to get them before you walk out of this house. You settle matters with the house-keeper, and I'll have my niece call on her within the hour."
The girl with the languishing eyes and the weak mouth had her price, like many of her betters, and it happened to be exactly ninety pounds. Joan had brought a hundred, and considered that she had made a bargain. Jessie consented to speak to the housekeeper, and the countrywoman departed. ”

“ He smiled with a certain dry benignity, for Joan was very pretty, and he was, after all, a man. "I think I saw you downstairs."
"I saw you, Sir Edmund." Joan's manner was dignified now, rather than shy. "I trust you will not be angry, but within the last two hours everything has changed for me. Lord Northmuir, whom I know well through my cousin, Miss Mercy Milton, his ward (you may have heard of her; we are said to resemble each other) , has now changed his mind about allowing the piece of information I meant for you to be published. ”

“ But not to the office of The Beacon. Lady Henry's box shall be sent to her by parcel post to-morrow morning, and Mrs. Randall's cheque will be in the coat pocket. That will surprise her a little, but it won't matter to me; for, after having called here for my cheque, I think I'll take the two o'clock train for the Continent. I shall have plenty of money to enjoy myself, and I feel I need a change of air."
"You are wonderful!" repeated Sir Edmund Foster. ”

“ The old countrywoman with the brown veil was voluble to the footman who opened the door. She explained that she had news from home for Jessie Adams, and was shown into a servants' sitting-room, where presently appeared a fresh-looking girl with languishing eyes, and a full, weak mouth. ”

“ She wanted her reward, and that reward must be new excitements, difficulties, and dangers.
"I should like to do something big on a great London paper," she said to herself on the first night of her return to Woburn Place. "What fun to undertake a thrilling journalistic mission, and succeed better than any man! I wonder whether Mr. Bainbridge, who was a reporter on The Planet, is here still. He wasn't at dinner, but then he used often to be away. I must ask in the morning."
Joan went to sleep with this resolve in her mind, and before breakfast she had carried it out. Mr. ”

“ She cooed to her husband prettily, saying how nice it was to be with him alone, and how it grieved her to see him weary and worried.
"Is the old Russian Bear going to grab poor Constantinople, darling?" she purred. "You know, precious, talking to me is as safe as talking to yourself."
"I know, my pet. Thank Heaven! we shall be spared war, for Russia has suddenly and unexpectedly backed down. Constantinople is safe ”