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a better status for women. * He had no patience with
;n who was a willing parasite, and if she read him she
that most distinctly. He believed in the financial in
omen in order that marriages might be free from any
afid sale, of any suspicion of a mercenary motive on their
0 income of her own, he thought she ought to gain one
She should be free to exercise her moral right of free
or of choice to have no husband at all. He often said
as wrote in different terms in his stories:
because she has stirred a little transient sentiment in
1 should have to be supported for life by a man.”
rersion among women was the ‘‘degenerate” fashionable
ired her to be a prevailing type in American society, a
by nothing more than an animal love of comfort and
red her of the charge of sensuality, however—would not
tuse for her parasite existence.
ously, through the force of his innate genius for seizing
iader’s attention and driving home the lesson which was
of his labors, he used literary devices invented by Rus-
th whose works he was entirely unfamiliar—at least un-
Like Tchernyshevsky, for example, he frequently ad-
rs directly at the beginnings and ends of his chapters,
em the vital points thus far made. He was familiar,
1st of the writings of Tolstoi and Dostoyevsky, studying
he clue to their marvellous illusions of reality in char-
d the
immediate fruits of it, were, in the mind of Phillips,
the necessary preparation for the rounding out of the
present in the back of his brain—the theme now so
loped and given to the world in his last and greatest
iox; Her Fall and Rise.”
brief scenes from that pos‘humous work are printed
of HEARST’S MAGAZINE, in Which the serial is now
to and Sin Ho more
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Susan
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At
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remained dark: thus,
of her lips had that
essary to distinction.
ie fascinated by those
', by their clearness,
nqulry, by their mys-
sadness. She had a
bt so long as Ruth’s
tfaiutlfully Instead of
about her delicately
if her exquisite neck,
able—that the girls
pity Susan as soon
personality began
It Was but natural
iolp town to “being
it was equally the
have achieved their
he conventional mas-
auch a sense of the
impossibility" that
(rly admiring friends,
to ask her to dance,
t business; but with
mveling superstition,
for, sighed for, the
but they dared not,
thing! What a pity
anything to do with
yjpical example of the
1 le character.
as the cousins went
gave herself over to
of the flowering gar-
they were passing;
for her, all its joy
ad of her cousin so
Rasing the show place
Wrights. She was
ig the trees a young
' he same instant he
hands across the hedge that
mlders, Susan began to move
1 her oq his side of the care-
"I’m going back East
It’s awful dull here
arrier.
.id he.
in—hi.ven’t seen Lottie or
e at thd gate. He opened it,
[RJ,. ,
thost small
quisite
came out into the street. He was a tallish, athletic
youth, dark and pleasing enough of features to be
called handsome.
“My, but you’re looking fine, Susie,” exclaimed he.
“I haven’t seen anyone that could hold a candle
to you—even in the East.”
Susan laughed and blushed with pleasure. ‘‘Go on,’’
said she with raillery. “I love it.”
“Come in and sit under the trees, and I'll fill all the
time you’ll give me.”
This reminded her. “I must hurry uptown,” she
said. “Good-bye.”
“Hold on!” cried he. “What have you got to do?”
He happened to glance down the street. “Isn't that
Ruth coming?”
Ruth was all sweetness and smiles. She and her
mother—quite privately and with nothing open said
on either side—had cailvassed Sam as a “possibility.”
There had been keen disappointment at the news
that he was not coming home for the long vacation.
“How are you, Sam?” said she, as they shook hands.
"My, Susie, doesn’t he look New York?”
“Well, so long,” said Susan.
“Come on to Vandermark’s with me and I’ll stroll
back with you,” offered Ruth. Sam was still gazing
into the store where, far to the rear, Susan could be
seen; the graceful head, the gently swelling bust, the
soft lines of the white dress, the pretty ankles
revealed by the short skirt—there was indeed a profile
worth a man's looking at on a fine June day. Ruth’s
eyes were upon Sam, handsome, dressed in the Eastern
fashion, an ideal lover. “Come on, Sam,” urged Ruth.
“No, thanks,” he replied absently. “I’ll go back.
Good luck!” And not glancing at her he lifted his
straw hat with Its band of Yale blue and set out.
• • •
“Good night—Susie.” Sam held out his hand. She
took it with a queer reluctance. She felt nervous,
afraid—as if there were something uncanny lurking
somewhere in those moonlight shadows. She gently
tried to draw her hand away, but he would not let her.
She made a faint struggle, then yielded. It was so
wonderful the sense of the touch of his hand. “Susie!”
he said hoarsely. And she knew he felt as she did.
Before she realized it his arms were round her, and
his lips had met hers. “You drive me crazy,” he
whispered.
Both were trembling; she had beoome quite cold—
her cheeks, her hand, her body even. “You mustn’t,"
she murmured, drawing gently away.
“You set me crazy,” he repeated. “Do you—love me
a uttle?”
“Oh, I must go!” she pleaded. Tears were glisten
ing in’her long dark lashes. The sight of them mad
dened him. “Do you—Susie?” he pleaded.
“I'm—I’m—very young,” she stammered.
••Yes—yes—I know,” he assented eagerly. “But not
too young to love, Susie? No. Because you do—
don't you?”
The moonlight world seemed a fairyland. “Yes,”
she said softly. "I guess so. I must go. I must."
And, moved beyond her power to control herself,
she broke from his detaining hand and fled into the
house. She darted up to her room, paused in the
middle of the floor, her hands clasped over her wildly
beating heart. When she could move she threw open
the shutters and went out on the balcony. She
leaned against the window frame and gazed up at the
stars, instinctively seeking the companionship of the
infinite.
Her lips were moving. She was amazed to find she
was repeating the one prayer she knew, the one Aunt
Fanny had taught her In babyhood. Why should she
find herself praying? Love—love—love! She was a
woman and she loved! So, this was what it meant to
be a woman; it meant to love I
• • •
"Be careful, Susan, how you let Sam Wright hang
around you,” cried Ruth, with blazing eyes and
trembling lips. "You be careful—that’s all I’ve got
to say.”
“Why, what do you meanT asked Susan wonder-
ingly.
“Be careful I He’d never think for a minute of
marrying you.” . .
The words meant nothing to Susan, but the tone
stabbed into her heart "Why not?” she said.
Ruth looked at her cousin, hung her head in shame.
“Go—go!” she begged. "Please go. I’m a bad girl—
I, a( j pad! Go!” And, crying hysterically, she pushed
amazed Susan through the connecting door, closed
and bolted it.
The first instalment of “The Story of Susan
Lenox’’ will be found in full in the June number
of HEARST’S MAGAZINE.
The Heroine
“After supper Susan had to get
herself ready for Sam’s visit.”
This Is One of Exquisite Draw
ings by Howard Chandler Christy
Which Illustrate “The Story of
Susan Lenox.” Published by
Permission of HEARST’S
MAGAZINE.