Beauty for Ashes (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill

as she said, "Oh, Brand! Have you seen the paper?"

      "No," growled Brandon, "I just came downstairs. Anything the matter? You look like last year's tax bills. What's happened?"

      "Plenty!" said Vanna tragically. "Stan Asher's been killed!"

      "Killed!" said Brandon, echoing her word stupidly. "How? When?"

      "Shot!" said Vanna with a gasp of her breath. "Shot in a nightclub in New York last night! Shot with a dancing girl he had with him. They're both dead! They've arrested the girl's lover. He didn't make any attempt to get away!"

      "Good night!" said Brandon in a shocked voice as if he had suddenly grown up.

      "We mustn't tell Gloria!" said Vanna breathlessly. "Not yet! Not till Dad comes! He'll be sure to be here soon. He'll see it in the paper. He'll come to her right away! Better go hide the paper. It says awful things about Stan. She mustn't ever see it!"

      "She'll have to know pretty soon if Dad doesn't get here!" said the boy gravely. "And if Mother finds out"

      "Is Mother down yet?"

      "I don't think so. Her door was shut when I came by. What if we phone down to the office to see if Dad has got it yet? He went to New York yesterday, didn't he? You sure he was coming back to-day?"

      "No, but you know he'll come when he sees this. And he can't help seeing it. It's in all the papers, great big headlines: Stanwood asher, wealthy heir to millions, shot down with chorus girl by jealous lover in notorious nightclub! Oh, it's awful! To think anything like that could come to our family!"

      Vanna caught her breath in a great sob and then suddenly held her breath and looked up the stairs, her eyes large with horror, for there stood Gloria in her lovely orchid dress with her gold hair aflame and her eyes wide pools of dark blue horror in a white, white face.

      "Vanna! What is it? I'm not a child! Tell me everything! Quick!"

      Vanna gave her young brother a frightened glance and sped up the stairs.

      "It's about Stan, dear!" she said, trying to make her voice sound steady. "It's bad news!"

      "Yes! I heard!" said Gloria. "Tell it over again slowly, just as you said it!"

      Vanna gave a little gasp like a sob as she spoke the words, "Stan was killed in a nightclub in New York last night, dear."

      "And the girl?" said Gloria, fixing her sister with a keen glance.

      Vanna caught another little sob in her throat.

      "She was killed, too. By a jealous lover!"

      Gloria reached out and caught hold of the stair railing.

      "Brand!" she called to the brother who lingered in blank horror below. "Bring me that paper! Yes, please–!" as she saw Vanna shake her head. "I've got to know everything right away! Bring it, Brand! Vanna, won't you please help me off with this terrible dress?"

      Vanna drew her sister into Gloria's own room and began to unfasten the hooks with fingers that trembled.

      "There–couldn't be a mistake, could there Vanna?" asked Gloria, casting an imploring glance her way as the dress was lifted over her head.

      "No, there couldn't be a mistake," said Vanna sadly. "I telephoned Nance! She said her father went up on the early morning train. He phoned about ten minutes ago. It's all true!"

      Vanna looked around for Gloria's robe.

      "No," said Gloria sharply, as her sister brought out a blue silk robe. "No, I've got to have a dress on!"

      "You ought to lie down, dear!" soothed Vanna. "You don't realize yet! You need to lie down and take it quietly!"

      "No," said Gloria, "I must do something! I don't know what, but there'll be things to do. I must have a dress on and be ready."

      Vanna searched helplessly in the closet for something appropriate. What would one wear on an occasion like this? Mourning? If Gloria was dressed, people would be likely to see her, and they would criticize whatever she had on. Clothes had always played such a large part in Vanna's life that they seemed important even now.

      But Gloria pulled out a drawer and snatched up a brown and tan knitted dress she had worn the day before and flung it on.

      "Just anything! It doesn't matter what," she said as her sister looked askance at the dress. "Brand, is that you with the paper? And please, Brand, will you take this orchid dress up to the sewing room and tell the fitter it is perfectly all right just as it is, and she can just hang it up there when she has finished? Tell her I won't be able to come up again to-day."

      Vanna looked at her sister in admiration. She seemed so cool, so collected, yet there was something terrifying in her eyes. Vanna put her hand to her throat and tried to still the stifling sensation that threatened to overwhelm her. Oh, it seemed just impossible that this tragedy was really happening in their family. Stan, the handsome brother-in-law, dead! Just a week before the wedding!

      Then she began to realize.

      There would be no wedding!

      Over there in the green guest room closet were hanging the bridesmaids' dresses, soft spring pastel shades of chiffon, with silver shoes and lovely big garden hats wreathed in spring blossoms. Back in the apricot guest room, the bridal array was waiting and there would be no wedding!

      Three long connecting rooms to the left were cleared and furnished with long draped tables on which already a goodly array of costly glitter was set out, and the presents were pouring in every hour! And there would be no wedding!

      But Gloria went steadily on arranging her dress, smoothing her rumpled curls, putting her brush away, as coolly as if nothing had happened. Didn't she realize what it all meant? Why wasn't she lying on her bed sobbing? Why wasn't she breaking her heart? Stan dead, Stan whom Gloria adored, and Gloria going about with a quiet, stony look in her eyes! Vanna was frightened.

      "Does Mother know?" asked Gloria suddenly in that quiet, capable tone that was so new to her, as if she had certain things to go through and just so much strength with which to go through them.

      "No," said Vanna, "she hasn't gone downstairs yet."

      "Does Mrs. Asher know?"

      "Yes, Nance said she was in hysterics. They had sent for the doctor," said Vanna.

      "Poor thing!" said Gloria with a terrible trembling sigh.

      Vanna stared. She knew Gloria was not especially fond of Stan's mother, and yet here she was without a tear for herself, pitying Stan's mother.

      Gloria dropped into a chair and began to read the paper, her white face growing even whiter as she read. Once she groaned aloud, and once she looked up and said, though more as if she were stating a fact to herself than speaking to her sister, "He'd known that girl for a long time. There had been trouble before. Two years ago! That was before–before we were–engaged!" She looked at the paper again. "No–it was after! Two months after! Oh–!" The sound she made was not a sob. It was more like a wounded animal getting to cover.

      Vanna was silent, filled with misery for the sister who had always been so much a part of herself. She was feeling what Gloria was going through. Neither of these girls had had any sorrow in their lives before beyond a broken doll or a lost kitten. Never any trouble before that money could not mend.

      From where she sat, Vanna could see the gleam of the tiled roof that was her sister's new home. What would Gloria do now with that house? Would Dad have it torn down? Would they all move or go to Europe or something? How everything had been upheaved and made impossible in a single night! A bullet gone home, a heart stilled, and two families were plunged into dismay, their world collapsed!

      Vanna began to think of the young set that made up their social life. How could they bear to go among them again? How could Gloria ever enjoy the crowd and all its doings with Stan gone! And gone in such a terrible way!

      Suddenly she caught her breath and put her head down on the arm of the chair where she sat, the