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Their Married Life
By MABEL HERBERT URNER.
“TY R wi,n you Ilft out trl *
| /1ray for me?"
“Where do you want it?"
With his cigar in his mouth, Warren
lifted the tray from Helen's trunk and
stood looking around for a place .o
put it.
“Here, on the bed. No—wait, I
wunt to fold some things there. Just
put it here,” shoving forward a chair.
But the chair seat was not quite
wide enough, and the next moment
;he tray toppled over, its carefully
packed contents scattered over the
iloor.
"The devil!" muttered Warren,
sc >wling at the up-turned tray
‘Oh, and I had It all packed!” be
wailed Helen, almost in tears.
"\\ ell, why’d you tell me to put it
1 here?” resuming his study of the
steamer plan, while Helen turned over
ihe tray and began to repack it on the
door.
“This outside room on Deck B looks
pretty good,” he frowned, “but there’s
that promenade deck right outride,
and we don’t want any Infernal band
waking us up every morning, as we
had coming over. What d’you say?
Take a chance on that room?”
“Why, dear, whatever you think,”
murmured. Helen absent-mindedly,
intent on repacking the tray.
"Well, look this over when you get
through there.” And Warren threw
down the plan, thrust his cigar be-
1 ween his teeth, took off his coat and
drew a bunch of keys from his pocket.
When Warren packed, he went at It
with a grlin determination to get
through, and it took him only about
one-fifth the time it took Helen.
Now he pulled out his trunk from
the wall, unlocked it, strode over <o
the wardrobe and came back with an
armful of suits.
“Oh. do be careful,” warned Helen,
who wan sitting on the floor, with the
'•ontents of the tray spread around
her. But even as she spoke a box lid
crunched under Warren’s foot.
“Then don't plant yourself right in
i ne middle of the floor! Shove that
stuff up against the wall or go into
the front room- -this bedroom isn’t big
enough for us both to pack in.”
Helen dreaded packing. It was al
ways a trying time, for Warren hated
the contusion and wan always irri
table.
Warren Finishes.
“How about these soiled clothes?”
ne demanded, taking down the laun-
drv bag- from the wardrobe door.
•Want me to put these in tnv trunk?”
“Oh. yes, if you will. Dear, I’m
c.o’ng to be SO crowded—if you could
onlv snare me a little room?”
“Well, I can’t. 1 told v 0 u to buy
.• >. extra trunk If you didn’t get it—
iiia'’® your own lookout.”
“But we’ve got more trunks at
home than we’ve place to put them."
protested Helen. “I hated to buy an.
Then suddenly, “Isn’t that
someone knocking? Won’t you see?'
V arren strode into the front room
••'d returned with a large basket of
clothes.
“Oh, I’d forgotten about the laun
dry,” exclaimed Helen in dismay.
How WILL I get all those things
in?”
With a shrug Warren went on with
Ids packing, and in a marvelously
short time he was through.
"Now, you can have the field to
yourself,” as he locked his trunk and
went into the next room. “I’m go
ing to write some letters.”
For the next hour Helen anguished
.,ver her packing. Even her dainti
est things had to be crushed into the
smallest possible space.
“(Jetting through?” Warren ap
peared at the door with the stamped
letters in his hand. “This is our last
night In Pads. How about going
over to the Cafe de la Paix?”
“Oh, dear. I can't—I’m not nearly
through.” glancing around the room
still littered with things yet to be
packed. “And with that hard Channel
trip to-morrow—won’t we be too tired
it wc go out to-night?"
“We'll have the whole week on the
steamer to rest up in.”
“Yes, I know', but I don’t believe I
CAN go out to-night.”
“All right, suit yourself—but I’m
going.”
Her heart sank as she watched him
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brush his coat, take his hat and stick
, start out. It was a wonderful
night. A soft breeze blew aside the
curtains, bringing in the strains of a
distant hand organ, and the mingled
street sounds of the summer night.
Helen started up. It was their last
night—oh, why hadn’t she gone with
him? She could finish packing when
they came back. What difference did
it make if she didn’t get to bed at all!
Breathlessly she ran to the door, but
the hall was empty. Warren had gone
down. Then she saw on the dresser
the letters he had left there when he
brushed his coat. Would he come
back for them?”
Hurriedly she dressed for the
street to l.e ready in case he should
come. Then she gathered up the let
ters and started down to mail them.
He might still be lingering about the
office.
Mails Letters.
The lobby was full of people but
Warren was not there. She dropped
the letters in the box and walked to
one of the long, low French windows
that opened out on the street. This
was their last night in Paris. Never
had the lights and gayety of the
streets seemed so alluring.
She pictured Warren at one of the
little outdoor tables before the Cafe
de la Paix. sipping a cognac and ■
watching the gay throng that
streamed by that popular corner.
Then like an inspiration came a sud
den thought that sent the color to
her cheeks. Why could she not go
now? If she took a cab—she would
be perfectly safe.
Whenever Helen yielded to an im
pulse, she yielded quickly, knowing
that if she stopped to think it over,
she would probably not yield at all.
And now she rushed up to the desk
with an eager request for a cab.
Three minutes later she was being !
whirled toward the Cafe de la F J aix.
What if Warren should not be there?
But she need not get out of the cab
unless she saw him. Her heart was
beating fast. To be driving alone at
night through the streets of Paris
-—the very daringness of it thrilled
her with a sense of adventure.
When the cab drew up. Helen
gazed out in dismay. She had not
realized how many tables there were
in front of this famous cafe. How
could she find Warren in all that
I crowd?
j The driver opened the door expect
antly, but Helen would not leave the
sheltering refuge of the cab until she
had located Warren. -\t length she
saw' him at a small table far back of
the green hedge.
With eager excitement s*tte sprang
out. paid the cabman and started
through the maze of crowded tables.
Warren was just as she had pictured
him, his hat pushed back, leisurely
smoking a cigarette with a small cor
dial glass before him. He did not see
her until, with an excited laugh, she
slipped into the chair beside him.
He did not seem surprised. War
ren was never startled. Now he mere
ly (licked the ashes from his cagerette
and asked, with cold displeasure:
“What sort of a caper do you call
this?”
“Oh, dear, I couldn’t stay there
alone. I should’ve come with you. 1
It’s our last night in Paris—and I
couldn’t spend it packing.”
“How’d you get here?”
"I took a cab—it was perfectly
safe."
“Suppose I hadn’t been here?"
He Is Angry.
“I’d have gone back—I didn’t leave
the cab until I saw you.”
“Well, you might expect such es
capades from a young girl—but you’re '
old enough to have more sense.”
“Please don’t be cross, dear,” slip
ping her hand into his under the ta
ble. ‘1 pictured you sitting h<
and I couldn’t help coming.”
“What do you want to drink?” un
graciously, as the waiter suggestively
wiped off the little marble-topped ta
ble.
“I’d rather have an ice. Do they
serve ices out here?”
When, a little later, the w'aiter
brought a tall, slender glass of mer-
lnque glace, Helen dipped into it with
a, sigh of content.
For almost an hour they sat there. I
watching the changing crowds at the i
tables and the never-ceasing stream
of people passing by.
“Dear, wouldn't you think they’d
have these street cafes in New York?”
“Sidewalk space too narrow and
taxes too high,” answered Warren,
who by this time was in a better hu
mor. “This sort of place isn’t so
profitable. See that fellow over there
with the Panama hat? He’s been sit
ting there all evening and he’s or-
dej-ed only that glass of beer. The
management’s losing money on that
table, all right.” *
The theaters were out now, and cab
after cab rolled up, from which step
ped women in conspicuous toilets.
Many of them were actresses, and
some of them looked as though they
had come direct from the stage. Their
escorts were dapper Frenchmen with
opera hats and light gray spats.
One tall blonde in a trailing white
gown was followed by a huge white
bulldog with a jeweled collar. From
the next cab swept a pale, slender
woman with gleaming dafk eyes—a
famous French actress.
“Dear, this IS a wonderful place,
isn’t it ? You do see things here. No
—no, let’s not go yet,” as Warren
pushed back his glass anil glanced at
his watch. "They’re just beginning
to come in from the theater. We may
never be in Paris again—oh, I’d love '
to stay a little longer.”
“Well, you’re a marvel of consist- I
ency,” shrugged Warren. “You didn’t
have time to come at all—now you
want to stay all night. But all right.
I’ve no packing to do—I’m game.” as
he lit a fresh cigarette and shoved
his empty glass toward the waiter.
Home, Sweet Home.
It was midnight. The burglar had
entered the house as quietly as pos
sible, but his shoes were not padded
and they made a little poise. He haci
just reached the door of the bedroom
when he heard some one moving in
the bed as if about to get up, and he
paused. The sound of a woman’s
voice floated to hlH ear?'.
"If you don’t take your hoots off
when you come into this house,” it
said, “there's going to be trouble,
and a whole lot of it. Here it’s been
raining for three hours, and you dare
to tramp over my carpets with your
muddy boots on. Go downstairs and
take them off this minute.”
He went downstairs without a
word; but he didn't take off his boots.
Instead he went straight out into th«
night again, and the “pal” who was
waiting for him saw a tear glisten in
his eye.
"I can t rob that house,” iio said.
“It reminds me of home
By ANNA HELD
One Woman’s Story
Bv VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER
My Own Beauty Secrets
No. 2—The Magic Thai Makes Scrawny Necks Appear Attractive
CHAPTER XXXV
of rose water and add it to the
mixture. This will keep your skin
free from roughness all during the
winter weather, and in summer it
will prove a foe to sunburn.
Now wash your neck and shoul
ders. Of course, you say? Yes,
but'I mean wash in a way that you
have probably not thought neces
sary.
First, prepare for the cleansing
process by taking a few simple
arm and shoulder and throat exer
cises so as to get the blood in cir
culation and the skin glowing.
Then rub the neck, arms, shoul
ders and back w ith the cold cream
and remove every bit of it with one
of the soft cloths. Gray and
grimy the cloth will be.
That means that the pores have
yielded some of the dust they have
been attempting to secrete.
Now wash thoroughly with a
fine white lather of your soap
(unperfumed soap unless you can
afford the finest and most expen
sive of the perfumed kinds), and
use your brush of rubber or soft,
silky bristles to scrub away any
lingering soil.
Next make a paste of the cool
line ut your throat, will not this
dainty strap be a blessing?
My long string of pearls gives
the “V” line that is so kind to the
plump face and the short neck. A
bit of ribbon and a pretty little
locket will produce the same long
line from neck to throat.
In the same way the long “V”
at the back of my dress gives a
chance to show the long line from
the nape of the neck to the back.
The Huffy feather finish across
my shoulders is very softening
and becoming.
Out of such a. filmy mass a. long
w'hite throat and curved shoulders
rise most effectively. If feathers
are beyond your pocketbook. tulle
will again prove the friend in need.
A little study of line, a little
patience in doing away with hol
lows or surplus fat and care to
whiten the skin are the first steps
toward acquiring the beauty of
perfect, arms and shoulders.
Then artistic clothes and a good
arrangement of ornament and—
Mademoiselle Pupil, or Madame
Student—I think you will be the
belle of your next ball!
M ARY answered Gordon Craig's let
ter, writing a short and formal
reply, thanking him for his sym
pathy and saying that she hoped his ;
little daughter would be a great com
fort to him. She did not suggest that
she might ever see him again. Indeed,
she never allowed herself to think of
this possibility. The man was dead to
her.
Nor did her sentiments change when,
six months later, she received a San
Antonio newspaper, containing a marked
notice that Gordon Craig would soon
move to New York to open there a
branch office in connection with bis
business in Texas. She was interested,
to be sure, but still she told herself
again that bis coming Fast meant noth
ing to her She wondered for a minute
where his baby poor motherless mite—-
was. As Craig did not tell her that his
own mother was caring for his little
daughter, Mary’s heart ached at the
thought of the child’s loss of the mother-
love that had been her own portion and
which her own child received in gener
ous measure.
Her little boy continued delicate, and
Mary was always anxious .about him.
Once she asked her physician why the
boy was not strong and well.
“1 give him the best care of which I
am capable," she said, “and just the
food that you sav he should have, yet
he does not gain flesh and color. What
Is the trouble with him?”
The doctor looked grave. “To be
frank. Mrs. Fletcher, ”he answered, “you
were overworked for months before the
child came and, of course, your ner
vous condition told upon him. But we
will hope to overcome this congenital
weakness and make a strong man of
him yet.”
Even as he spoke the physician did
not feel confident of the hope he held
out to the anxious mother. Yet doctors
must say such things if they would
keep their patients brave.
When the child was eighteen months
old, Bert told Mary that he “had to
go away on a three weeks' trip to the
By ANNA HELD
leading “Anna HehTV All-Star Variety
Jubilee,” Under Management
of John Cort.)
(Copyright, 1913, International News
Service.)
H AVE you beautiful white
shoulders?
Is your neck white and
swan-like?
Do you dare turn your back to
people with the pleasant certainty
that they must praise, not criticise?
Of course you want the slender,
graceful, youthful figure that, is so
fashionable to-day—but if you have
dieted and exercised and
taken |
medicated baths to acquire it have
you produced a youthful contour
and at the same time brought on a
scrawny neck, protruding shoulder
blades and a back in which every
rib seems fighting for a place in
the world?
I have a message of cheer for
you if you have.
Smooth
as he hald told her put into his busl
ness that she simply could not afford to
give him any more. In fact, she her
self was living more economically than
ever before and had moved into a flat
smaller than the other one she had oc
cupied, an<j in a very undesirable neigh
borhood. She had kept all this from
Mary as Bert had asked her to do, but
the time had now come when the wife
must know it. The proposal Bert's
mother now had to make was that Mar>
and the baby come and stay with her
during Bert's absence.
“The child ain't well,*' she wrote, “and
perhaps the change would do it good.
You’d better be here with me, getting
your food and the child’s than out in
that lonely village starving.”
Mary’s face flushed as she read. How
could she bring herself to be an object
of her mother-in-law’s charity? Then
she reminded herself that she was not
going to town for her own sake, but for
the sake of the child, and that it war
also Bert's child, and ins mother's grand
son. What right had the wife to allow
her personal pride to stand between her
and what might be for the baby's good?
She remembered a proverb of her hus
band’s. and the full meaning of it made
her smile bitterly as she repeated—
"Needs must when the devil drives!”
She no longer deceived herself by trying
to see the good points in her husband’s
character. They were too hard to find
But she must endure for the sake of the
baby. As long as be lived that would
be her duty.
When Bert came home that night she
told him of his mother’s letter.
“Yes.” he said, “ma said she’d write
and ask you down. You’d better go to
her. for Lord knows I haven’t a cent
to keep you on while I’m away. Times
are harder than ever!"
Mary was not impressed by this last
remark, for when her husband had been
spending money recklessly he always
explained the lack of ready funds by de
claring that times were hard or that
there was “nothing doing in the busi
ness world.”
white, plump shoulders
“Business demands it." he said. The
wife was ashamed of the wave of re
lief that swept over her as she appre
ciated what It would mean to be un
afraid of Ills condition for the length
of time he mentioned. She. reproached
herself, for she knew that if he drank
when in New York, he would certainly
do so out in a far off city where there
was no danger of his delinquencies be
ing suspected by his wife or mother.
Then another thought seized her.
“You will leave me with enough
money to live on while you are absent,
wont you, Bert?" she asked. “You
know out rent is overdue, and 1 have
no ready money in the house."
“I’ll manage to pay the rent before
1 leave,’’ returned her husband gruffly,
“but 1 can’t let you have any other
cash. 1 need it for traveling expenses.”
“But Bert." she reminded him, “baby
and I must live. And you know 1 have
not a cent of my own.”
“You might have had some.” tie said
brutally, "if you had not spent the
little your mother left in burying her.
To be sure it was only a couple of hun
dred, but you could have made cheaper
funeral arrangements than you did.”
This speech proved to Mary Flet
cher, more than anything else had ever
done, to what depths of coarseness her
husband bad been sinking of late. She
remembered his seeming grief at her
mother’s death, and wondered how he
could speak as he now did of the wo
rn iaft
Not His Business to Inquire.
“Ouv’nor,” said the dusty traveler,
“how far is it to Gloucester?”
“ 'Bout a mile and a half,” replied
the farmer.
“Can I ride with you?”
“Certainly. Climb in.”
At the end of three-quarters of an
hour the traveler began to be uneasy.
“Ouv’nor,” he asked, "how far are we
from Gloucester now?”
“ ’Bout four mile and a half.”
“Great haystacks! Why didn't you
tell me we were going away from
Gloucester?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted
to go there?”
It Is Easy to Cure Defects.
Study Your Lines.”
and throat and a chest and back
to match are waiting for you and
for every woman who is not too
lazy to help herself to them.
Two Principles.
There are two great principles
at stake in the beauty search. The
first is, cure all the defects you
possibly can.
The second is, cover over in
some artistic way all the defects
you can not conceal.
For instance, if you can bleach
the skin of your throat white, clear
milk white, and it still insists on
being a bit too thin for actual
beauty, cultivate the habit of ar
ranging some soft folds of tulle at
your throat.
The shadowing effect of the
tulle will t.hrow r hollows and bones
into the background and bring out
your beauty of skin.
On the other hand, if your skin
is yellow and the flesh of your
throat is firm and plumply out
lined a bit of black velvet will
make you look comparatively fair,
while your beauty of outline is un
concealed. •
However, 1 think it a very easy
matter to cure all defects—both of
color and line. I hope that by the
time you are through reading you
will agree with me.
In the first place lay in a supply
10c Package 1 Equals 4 lbs.
of Beef in;;Food Value
foil spend too much money on meat—it’s the one bitf
'tern in your high cost of living. Cut your meat
bill two-thirds and substitute Faust Spaghetti
for awhile. A 10-cent package contains as
.uch nutrition as 4 lbs. of beef.
Miss Anna Held in Pictures Especially Posed for This Page.
ing almond meal and allow this to
remain on your skin for fifteen
minutes. Finally wash in very
cold water.
Splash it on in great handfuls
so that its force will give you a
natural massage. How your skin
will glow and tingle! Blood is
coming to feed the tissues and to
round out your contours in beauty.
Finally, rub on the cucumber lotion
and let it stay on.
This treatment night and morn
ing. or even every night, will help
a sallow skin and cure scrawny
shoulders. And it is very simple,
is it not?
More Hints.
Now, let me tell you of a few
aids to beauty that I find useful.
If you can not afford jewels you j
may make yourself ornaments of
tulle or soft gauze ribbon, of vel
vet or of filmy chiffon. It takes
but a little patience and ingenuity,
and once you begin to study what #
pretty effects you *\an get with a
line here and a shadow there you
will never lie guilty of an ugly line
or arrangement of jewels.
Notice the strap of pearls that I
wear under my chin. You can get
the same softening effect with a
bit of pink or white maline. If
is made from Durum wheat, the cereal that is ex
tremely rich in gluten, the protein that makes
muscle, bone ami ilesh Faust Spaghetti
, makes a savory, rehshable. nutritious
t meal tree recipe book tells how fejFl
1 Spaghetti can be cooked to tickle
q the palate. r
Al all grocers’— 5c and lOc packages.
XtAM I llttOS, SI. Louis, Mo.
of good soap, a complexion brush,
plenty of soft cloths, some cold
cream, almond meal and a lotion
of cucumbers, that I will tell you
how to make.
Peel the cucumbers and remove
the seeds.
Put the cucumbers and their
juice in a clean saucepan and let
this simmer for an hour.
Cool, strain through a cloth, add
one tablespoonful of alcohol and
one of glycerine for each pint of
juice.
Take one-fourth the total amount
CHOICE OF ROUTES
AND GOOD SERVICE
By LILLIAN LAUFERTY
The poetry of’ earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the ho(
sun
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will
run
From hedge to hedge above the new-
mown mead.
That Is the grasshopper’s—he takes the
lead
In summer luxury—he has never done
With his delights, for, when tired out
with fun
He rests at east beneath some pleasant
weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never.
On a lone winter evening, when the
frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stars
there shrills
The cricket’s song, in
ing ever,
Ami seems to one in drowsiness half
lost,
The grasphopjN i 's among some grass:
hills
—John Keats
The death of earth is (o become wa
ter, and the death of water is to be
come air. and the death of air is t<» be
come tire—and reversely. --Heraclitus.
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