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THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN
. :
Revelations |
of a Wife |
By Adele Garrison.
WHY WAS: MRS, ALLIS ON THE
STAIRS IN THE MIDDLE OF
THE NIGHT?
COULD barely distinguish the
three stealthy figures which
~ so cleverly imitated the per
sistent call of the screech owl.
If it had not been for the shadows
which their figures had made
against the lamp ds they hurriedly
crossed before it when the call
sounded I would have had no idba
who the midnight prowlers were.
But the shadows gave me a
shrewd jdea that the three people
hurrying through the darkness in
the direction of the bird call were
Mr. and Mrs. Cosgrove and one of
thefr twin sons. i
I/Tancied that I heard the sound
of convulsive sobbing in the dis
tance, but I was not quite sure.
My brain whirled with the mys
tery of it all. 1 gropped the win
dow sill as I mentally ran over
the queer things I had observed
since the night before, when Dicky
am¥i T had arrived at the Cosgrove
farmhouse,
Mrs. Crosgrove's evident terror
at my assertion that I could tell
her twin boys apart—something
which no one else in the house
professeNo be able to do—the pos
session by the family of a collee
tion of pictures painted by Mrs.
Cosgrove's brother, which Dieky
<had recognized and pronounced to
be worth $50,000, and the queer,
furtive behavior of Mrs. Allis, our
‘fellow boarder, when she discoy
ei‘h that Dicky was an artist and
‘had an expert’s knowledge of the
«pictures—all rushed through my
mind with Kaleidoscopic rapidity.
THE CREAKING BOARD.
I recalled the sudden wild shriek
,of joy from Mrs. Cosgrove at
*Dicky's valuation of the picture:
““Is it really true? Think of what
it will mean to Robert——" and
-the note of warning in her hus
«band's voice when he answered:
«“We khow what it will mean to
Robert’s sister to have these paint
“ings soo honored.”
= From the way in which both
:Dicky! and the Cosgroves had
‘.spoken of Robert Savarin, 1 had
«thought that he was dead, but the
Jnemory of Mrs. Cosgrove’'s hysteri
wal exclamation made me wonder
Jif he were not perhaps alive, and
sis there was not some reason for
JJseeping his existence a secret,
* BDicky had been so tired -and
:flleepy when we came up to our
‘room that I had had no opportunity
to ask him about the history of the
spictures and the artist who painted
gthem. I resolved to find out every
+Ahing he knew about them as soon ’
‘as he awoke in the morning.
- It was not all curiosity that made
‘me wigh to find out the farmhouse
mystery, although the happenings
‘of the night were enough to stir
any woman’s interest. But I had a
‘queer, indefinable conviction that
Mrs. Allis meant harm to the col
lection of pictures in the farmhouge
parlor, while the memory of Mrs.
Cosgrove's tortured eyes convinced
ane that she needed aid of some .
sort,
« But watching at the window I de
“cided was of no use. As I moved
away from it my ear caught the
faintest of sounds as of a door
sopening on the opposite side of the
hall. A mlaute later a board of
staircase creaked. The person who
who was descending stairs must be
well trained to stealthy flittings, for
1 heard no footsteps until creak
‘of the stairease,
WHAT SHE SA!D. '
" With a lightning flash of intuition
1-k¥hew that the prowler was Mrs.
Allis,. Had she, too, watched the
departure of the Cosgrove family,
‘and resolved to seize the oppor
tunity to accomplish the nefarious
purpose which 1 believed had
brought her to the farmhouse?
1 heard Dicky's snores comincz
f the corner room, and knew
1&? it would be very dificult to
awaken him. He would not miss
me were I gone for hours.
With® a quick resolve I threw
over my nightdress a silk petti
coat and kimono, drew og my feet
a pair of high fur trimmed slippers,
took fro munder my pillow the elec
tric flashlight [ always have twith
me, and stole into the hall. On
‘the bottom steps, in an attitude
of listening, stood Mrs. Allis.
The right from my flasdhnghr
2l ed on something round and
blacl': held against her dress. P{'vr‘
a moment 1 thought she had a
revoiver in her hand and shrank
back in unreasoning terror against
my door. Then with a mental
execration at my own cowardice |
Jooked again and saw that the sup
‘posed revolver was only another
flashlight like my own,
With the utmost nonchalance
Mrs. Allis glanced up at me as the
‘=feam of my pocket lamp struck
her GX“.
%4 you Tear a noise, too?" she
#sked. Her tone held only casual
friendliness. "1 was sure T heard
something queer, and 1 at once
thought of what your bhrother said
of the enormous value of these
paintings. You see, when the rooms
in the house are full, as they are
nqw, the family sleepg 1u the bun
galow outside, soo 1 knew there
was no one in the house to look
after the paintings, and T thought
1 had better see what was going
on.”
. Her words and tone were so
;p!aullb]o, so eonvincing, that for a
ooment I distrusted my own in
tuition which had warned me
Qzainst this woman as being dan
gerous. Was I making a mountain
ut of a mole hill?
& I started to speak of what I had
%ee then closed my lips again. T
#id not know how much Mrs. Allis
new of conditione at the farm
;:nuse- and resolved that she should
Jeeeive noinformation from me.
(Te Be Continued.)
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN'S MAGAZINE AND FICTION PAGE .
That Expression of Sympathy When Your Rival Falls . ; sirorisior
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Good Night Stories
By Blanch Silver. ‘
PEGGY VISITS MRS. SEASIDE
WORM.
NE day in the summer as
O Peggy was playing in the
sand by the seashore she
spied a queer little white tube as
hard as stones lying among the
pebbles.
Peggy picked it up and turned it
over, and over in her hand, jon
dering what it could be, for it was
hollow and made a funny sound
when she tapped on the side. .
“Isn't that _pretty?” asked a
merry voice, and Peggy turned
around to see Squeedee, the elfin
from Joyland, smiling over her
shoulder. “It takes some architect
to build a house like that, doesn't
intm
“House!” exclaimed Peggy, gaz
ing at the tiny tube in her hand.
“Why. . Squeedee,’ yvou don't mean
to tell me that this tiny tube is a
house! Why, it’s as hard as a
stone!”
“Sure it’s a hcouse'!” laughed the
elfin. “And I just met its owner a
few seconds ago going down to the
water.”
“Well, of all things!” laughed
Peggy. ‘“What kind of a fairy lives
in such a house, It's hardly high
enough to be a house, and then it's
80 very narrow.” :
“Plentg large-enough for its own
er.” replied Sguedee. “Here she
comes this very minute,” and
' Don’t Drink I
By Brice Belden, M. D.
ANY people drink too much
M water at their meals. This
tends to interfere with
proper mastication and favors fast
edting.
Food should not be swallowed
until it is insalivated. Insalivation
depends upon mastication, obvions
ly. Mastication is a very important
part of the digestive process.
Too much liquid with meals di
lutes the gastric juice unduly. Then
if the liquids are excessively cold
cr hot other evil results are
produced.
If the food be too highly sea
sone,l with spices and other thirst
provoking condiments, excessive
drinking is encouraged, not to
speak of the sitting up of catarrh
of the stomach and disorders of the
liver due to the intense local irrita
tion,
The excessive use of salt is an
other factor in producing excessive
water drinking. Probably most of
the physical disorders traceable to
the excegsive use of salt are sec
ondary to digestive derangements
dependent upon undue dilition of
the gastric juice with fluids.
The eating of fresh fruits and
vegetables in season goes far to
ward supplying the normal amount
of fluid required
If milk is taken with meals, there
is all the more veason for not im-
PBME modh “water In" adaition?
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vn‘.\"/' Sl T ‘ )
S/ & i 58
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TN Ny :
BN oy
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*)\l&;’lu?"‘% B LA~
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Ljin \
“Oh, I'm Used to That!” ¢
oo epu e b aon
Squeedes blew three timeg on his,
magic whistle which he carried at
his belt, and Peggy became so small
that the tiniest of pebbles around
her Igoked like huge mountains,
and the long, slender worm that
wiggled over the sanas toward
them locked like a great, big snake.
“Mrs. Seaside Worm, I want vou
to meet my little friend, Peggy,”
said Squeedee, tipping his cap pe
ltely. ‘“‘She nicked up your house,
and I'm afraid if 1 hadn’t been here
to rescue it she would have carried
it home with her.” ?
“You see I didn't know it he=
longed to any one,” langhed Peggy.
“I just thought it was a stone of
some sort. I'm glad that Squeedee
hapvnened ‘flnng to stop me.”
“Oh, I'm used to that!” laughed
Mrs., Seagide Worm. “We seaside
folks never know whether we'll find
ouy homes waiting for us or not
whet we leave them. But, dear me,
I'd never get anything done if T sat
around watching my house all the
time ” '
“It'¢ hecause thev are such won
derful little thinge” eaid Squeedee,
“T was just wondering if we could
not show Peggy through yvour
houge?' Then he added nolitely, if
it isn't too much trouble?”
“Nothing one ¢pn do to please
one's friends should be a.trouble.
'l only be too glad to take yon
throngh,” and Mre. seaside Worm
led Peggy and Saudédee into her
heautiful littie snow-white, shell
like house. .
Its walls were pale pink and blue,
and the halle twisted and turned
until Pegey almost grew dizay from
winding through them,
“How in the world did you get
them to wind like this?” asked Peg
gy. She had, never seen anvthing
quite €0 pretty.
“Well, wa worms have a aneer
way of buildine.” replied Mrs, Sea
side Worm. “Onr halls run the
wav we weave ahout inside them,
A honse with winding Halls like
this, T think, i= much safer than one
where the haMls run straight. One
ha€ a hetter chance of hiding, for
most ‘folks find it hard to get
gtraightened out when once ingide,”
Pegey laughed gs she and Squee
dee once more stepped out oh the
shore. Bhe hade Mrs, Seagide
Worm good-by and promised {hat
she'd hi more earefil next time not
éMf}:w'hvr_’houp(; and run away
A Clean Newspaper for Southern Homes
Business of Homemaking ,
By Mrs. Christine Frederick.
YOUR SHEETS AND PILLOW
SLIPS.
BELIEVE it is in Texus :hat
l _the length of hotel h-d sheets
is regulated by law. ertainly
toaraers in other citivs and per
haps guests in our home may wish
that theve were legal refuirements
in other States as to standard
sizes of bed linen. It !s certainly
true tthat in many homes no two
sheets have the same area and one
pillow is not like unto another. Are
there standard sizes in sheet’, pii
low cases and linens? Yes. The
most commonly used bed is the
\hroo‘quurter, irequently mistaken
for a single size. Another common
size of bed is the twin bed, increas
ingly gaining in favor. In eithe:
case a sheet should be 380 inches
widel than the mattress. If the
mattress is 45 inches wide, the
sheet should measure 72, and the
same point holds true with refer
gnee to a double bed, as th's gives
enough “lap” to turn under and
cover mattress and spring satisfac
torily,
The yard stick revealed the fact
that the modern bed varies from
gix feet four inches to Bix feet six
incheg—a good bit longer, by the
way, than the old-fashioned bed.
There are two standard lengths of
Teach the Child to Study
By Dr. William A. McKeever.
N ways that the ordinary busy
l eitizen does not even surmise
the public schools all around us
are constantly separating the sheep
from the goats. And would ygu be
surprised to learn that the chief
line of cleavage is the ablility to
study-—or the lack thereof?
No pupil at first knows how to
study. He must be taught.
Ability to study is not so much
an indication of a smart learner
ag it is of a smart teacher.
The child who masters the fine
art of sticking to his lessons till
they are learned usually does so
at first under stern pressure and
borrowed incentive.
The wisest teacher in the gram
mar grades andgabove devotes all
her best energies during the first
few weeks to assisting pupiis to ac
quire the ‘habit and method of les
son getting,
Very few parents have #ither the
time or the ability successfully to
go through the trying ordeal of
teaching their 12-year-old to get
his lessons at home; that is, un
less the teacher also instructs him
in the proper method of attacking
each lesson.
The greatest break in the school
comes at the grammar grade pe
riod. Boys who run away at this
time give various false oOr half
triuth statements—" Didn't like the
SONOBLT T #Hehob] *AofEn"t tedch me
> sheets when finished, 94 inches
and 104 inches. This gives another
® generous “tuck in” at both ends,
which is essential, both from the
comfort and the sanitary point of
view, as short sheets allow the
mattress to become exposed, and
‘[ hence soiled. Just as in the width
of the sheet we should allow an
‘ excess of thirty inches. or fifieen
- on the side, so in the length of
r the sheet we should allow 27 or 30
~ inches of material in excess of the
} actnal length of the mattress,
Now, as to pillows. Down is too
hegqting to be used entireiy in a
pillow. The most luxurious “kiftd
is a combination of ddwn and best
chicken mehbrfl.Hgn excellent serv-.
iceable quality ig“made entirely of
good grade chicken feathers, thor
~ oughly geterilized. and, by the way,
- we should be proud that at least one
State hag a definite law on the gan
itary onmmgm of feathers. Just as
~ there was db ryuch indignation at
the quantities of Chinese hair im
~ ported some time ago, so the Chi
nese feathers are under the ban, and
likewise feathers from other pillows
which have been resterilized.
~ “L.ook for.the label” is as important
‘ in buying a pillow as a can of meat.
llf the feathers are not fresh or new,
the label requires that they sav so
’ and thus it proteets you,
(Copyright, 1920, Wheeler Byndicate, Inc.)
what 1 Htke.” “Wanted to earn
money,” and so on. But the d.eeper.
more significant fact is not usual
ly revealed, namely, the inability
to stick to the lessons and master
them until they glow with an in
terest of their own.
Nothing succeeds like success, If
you want to keep a boy or girl in
school, set up every reasonable
incentive, of course, but by all fair
means hold him firmly to the time
and methods of lesson getting till
this beecomes a habit, He will grow
fond of the lessons he thus mas
‘ters,
At the beginning of each school
vear pupils of the middle and up
per grades should be Separated
into two classes—those who have
the parental help and facilities for
sucressful home study and those
who have not. The" second group
should be held at school for an ex
tra pc’rlod each day and drilled in
the work which the others will
naturally ,receive at home. Thus
many quitters and delinquents
might be saved and kept on the
road of real development.
From every quarter there is
coming to me from young school
men and women the contention
that they must give up. To all
stwch 1 will give the one simple
rivle of success: Have a regular
s4y period. Entef that each day
PNt 10, gaod Pl songition,
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1920.
' The Cinema Murder ‘
By E. Phillips Oppenheim.
6 ITH Dane” he mut-
W tered. :
; She nodded.
“Yes, that was his name-Mr.,
Edward Dane. [ came out to iden
tify Douglas.”
“You weren’t going to give him
away,” Philip asked ocuriously. %
“Of course not, 1 ghould have
made my bargain, and then, after
I had scared Douglas for leaving
me as hesdid, I should have said
that it wasn’t the man. And in
stead—l fpund you!”
“Listen,” he said earnestly, “Dane
has always suspected me. Some
times 1 have wondered whether he
nadn’t the ‘trutli at the back of his
head. You can make me safe for
ever.”
“Tell me exaetly how much of
Douglas® money you have spent”"
she demanded.
“Only the loose money from the
pockethook. Not all of that. [am
earning money now.”
She leaned across the table.
“What about the twenty theu
sand pounds?"
“I haven't touched it.” he as
sured her, “not a penny.”
“On your honor?
He rose silently and went to his
desk, unlocked one of the drawers,
and drew from a hiddon place a
thin strip of paper., He smoothed
it out on the table before her,
“There’'s the deposit note,” he
said,~“Twenty thousand pounds to
the juint or separate eredit of
Beatrice Wenderly and Douglas
Romiily, on demand. The money's
there still. ‘I haven't touched it.”
She gripped the paper in her fin
gere, The sight of the figures
seemed to fascinate her, Then she
looked ayound.
YHow can yon afford to live in a
place like this, then” she demanded
suspiciously. “Where does ybur
money come from?”
“The play.” he told her, :
“What, all” thig?" she exclaimed.
“It is a great success. The the
ater is packed every night. My
rovalties come every week to far
more than I eould spend.” .
“Wonderful!” she murmured.
“You pnid the price, but you've
won. You've had sowething for
it. 1 paid the price, and up till
NOW" =
“Well,” he asked, “what are you
going to say to Dane?”
“] shan't give you away--at
least | don't think so,”" she prom
ined cautiously. *“1 shall see, Prea
ently T will make terms, only this
time I am not going to be left,
I »m goineg to have what T want.,”
“But 'Lu"ll be waiting to hear from
you!” Philip exclaimed. “He may
come here, even.”
“he ghook her head,
“He's gone to Chicago. He can't
he boek for five days, 1 promised
to wire. but I shan’t. TN walt
until he's back. And in the mean~
time"——
Her fingers closed upon the de
posit note. He nodded lhofl’y.
“That's yours,” he said. “You
can have it all. T have helped my
self to a fresh start in life at his
exnersge, » That's all T wanted.”
She folded up the paper and
thengt it carefully into the hosom
of her gown. Then she stood up.
“Well,” she nronounced. “I think
I am getting used to things. It's
{ wonderful how callous ohe can be
~ come. The banks are closed now,
1 suppose,” %
| He nodded.
5 “They will' be vpen at 9 o'clock
in the morning”
“First of all, then,” she decided,
“I'll make sure of .my twenty
thousand pounds, and then we'll
- see. 1 don’t think you'll find me
~ hard, Philip. 1 ought not to be
.~ hard on you, ought 1?”
. i, this i 3 queer!™ ahe ¥ ir
mured reflectively. “Now I want
some dinner, and I'll see your play,
~ Phillp. You shall take me. ' Get
- ready quickly, please.”
He looked at her dbubtfully.
-“But, Beatrice,” he protested,
“think! You know why you came
here? You know the story vou
will have to tell? We are strang
ers, you and I. What if we are
ceen together,” 2
“Pooh! Who cares! I am a
~ stranger in New York, and I have
i taken a fancy to you. You are a
young man of gallantry, and you
are going to take me out * * * We
often used to talk of a little excur
sion like this if lLondon. We'll
have it in New York instead.”
He turned slowly towards the
door of his bedroom. She was busy
looking at her own eyes in the mir
ror, and she missed the little gleam
of horror in his face,
“In ten minutes,” he promised
| her,
Beatrice replaced the program
which she had been studying, on
’ the ledge of the hox, and turned
~ towarfls Philip. who was seated in
| the background. There was some
| thing a little new in her manner
. Her tone was subdued, her’ eyes
[ curipus, ’
' “You really are a wonderful per.
| son, Philip.” she = declared. “It's
' the same play, just as you used to
l tell it me, word for word And
vet it isn’t, What is jt that you
gained, I wonder?-—a sense of at
mokphere, breadth, something
strangely vital" ¢
“I am glad you like it,” he said
* simnly.
‘“Like it? It's amazing! And
| what an audience! . T never thought
that the peovle were so fashion
| able here, Philip. 'T am sitting right
bhack in the bdx, but ten minutes
after 1T have cashed by draft to
morrow I chall he buving clothes.
You won't he ashamed to he seen
anywhere with me then'
He drew hiz chair un te her side,
a little hageard and worn with the
suspense of the evening, She
lauehad at him mockingly.
“What an idiot you are!" ‘she
exelaimed. “You ought to he one
of the happiest men in the world
and vou look like a death’'s-head.”
“The hannjest man in the world."”
he repeated. “Peatricet sometimes
I think thats there ji¢ only one
thing in the world that makes so r
happines®™
“And what's that. booby?' she
aelrnd with some of her old famili
arity.
“A elear conscience.”
She laid her hahd unon his arm,
“Loook here, Phillp,” she said,
“the one thing I determined, when
I threw up the sponge., wag that
l whether the venture woe n gurcess
or wat T'd navar w» bl
moment in. regrota CThing: didn't
Married
Strangers
By Frances Duvall
LXV.—~THE BOMB. %
HILE Keitha was preparing
W for dinner, the French girl's
card, tossed carelessly on her
dresser, reminded her of the attrag
tive stranger who had come to Amer
ica to see her sweetheart. There had
been gomething childishly naive
about her admission and Xeitha
smiled as shé picked it up and. read:
“Mademoiselle Marguerite Forest
fer.”
She tucked the card away in her
desk, gave a last touch to her sim
ple little evening gown and went
into the great living hall that ran
the length of the bungalow.
The Bennetts were all gathered
there before the fire. The sense of
complete harmony was very appar
ent. Lester and his father were
discussing politics with typiecal
masculine absorption. Mrs. Ben
nett and Anita were disagreeing on
some of the gowns worn at the tea
they had attended in the afternoon.
Both men sprang up when Keitha
entered.
“You're a good tooking daughter,
Keitha,” said Bennett, senior, heart
ily, taking her hand and patting ‘it
awkwardly. “You have good taste,
boy,” he added, turning to Lester
with a twinkle.
“I'll say I have,” grinned his son.
“But I'm the one who has good
taste—picking such’ a spléndid
father-in-law,” laughed Keitha.
“Oh, you people with your com-“
pliments,” gniffed Anita. “You're as
polite as a couple of Orientals.”
“Families are never spoiled with
a little politeness, Anita,” returned
her father,
“Do you mean to infer that we
aren't always polite to one ane
other?” inquired Mrs. Bennett, with
raised brows. I haven't noticed -
any shocking lapse of manners.”
“Not at all, my dear not at all. We
are only careless occasionally.
Keitha here, never is.”
“Oh, Keitha is perfect anyway,”
said Anita insolently. “She-—ouch!
—vou clumsy brute,” she addressed
her brother furiously. “Do you
know that vou've stepped on my toe
and no doubt ruined my slipper?”
“8o sorry,” returned Lester
gauvely, but his eyes blazed a warn
ing. “Accept my humble apologies.”
Anita muttered something, clasp-’
ing the toe of her slipper with ons
very ringed hand.
“You should have gone to tea
with us, Keitha,” put in Mrs. Ben
nett with unexpected tact, “Mrs,
Allensworth was very disappointed.
By the way, how is your ‘head
ache?”
Keitha flushed gufltily.
“Much better, thank you. The
mea air was very restful.”
“You didn't.seem to be doing
much resting when I saw you,” put
tn Anita spitefully. “Who was your
gayly dressed friend?”
“A very attractive French girl
who joined me. on the beach,” an
swered Keitha. “She has come to
this country to see her sweetheart,
she told me. By the way, Lester, |
wonder if you ever_ happened to
meet her in Paris?" dhe asked turn
ing to where he leaned against the
corner of the mantel, “She gave
me her card—her name is Margue
rite Forestier.”
“The smile froze on Bennett's
lipe. Hven in the rosy glow of the
firelight, the ghastly pallor that
swept his face was noticeable.
(Copyright, 1920, Wheeler Syndicate, Inc.)
(To Be Continued.)
sl s o Sl S
The Rhymin
l Optimist . l
By Aline Michaelis.
v KRE you over interested in
\'/ the things of which I
7 speak? Have you often
.imes invested in the genuine an
tique? Have you purchased mafly
a relic which has cost you very
hizh, which you once thought quite
angelic, but now irritates the eye?
Have you many wabhly tabies and
some invalided chairs stowed be
neath the attic gables and behind
the cellar stairs? And are these
the merest fractioh of the treasures
that you own, seérving tables
maimed in action, stools too weak
to stand alone? As you harbor this
collection, rivaling the junkman's
£tore, do vou feel a real affection
for these things whose day is o'er?
Some folks, when they buy a table,
test its top and legs and rounds.
Chelrs, they eclaim, should all be
able Lo support 200 pounds. They
like rockers built for rocking and
they foolishly insist locks are really
meant for locking, and that oups
hoards nhnuldn'h list, They abhot
those freakish pieces built on fu
turigtic lines, and they always
choose the gpecies made on “safety
first” designs. But the genuine
collector hugs this solace to MWI
heart, though such chaps are J
ench sector, they are quite deveid
of art. Peridds mean nothing to
‘e and they thipk you're talking
Greek when vou zealously pursue
‘em. prating of yonur pet antique.
And they enter with ne pleasure
into your serene delight when you
gshow vonr « greatest treasure, one
worm-eaten Hepplewhite, They
ean't understand the seeker after
things from davs of yore, and thew
say. “His brain's antioauer than e
stuff be's raving o'er.,”
turn out too brilliantly with me, as
vou know. But you—see what
vou've attained! Why, it's wonder
ful! Your play, the one thing you
dreamed about, produced in one of
the greatest cities in the world,
and a packed house to listen to it,
people applauding all the time. 1
didn't realize your’success when
we talked this evening. 1 am just
beginning to understand. I've been
reading some of these extracts
from the newspapers. You'roetno
ton Ware, the great dramatist, the
coming man of letters. You've
won, Philip. Can't you see that
it's puling cowardice to grumble at
the prlse." 3
He, for his part, was wonder
ing at her’callousness, of which he
was constantly discovering frésh
evidences. The whole shock of her
discovery seemed already, in thege
sow hoire 4n Saers secesd g o)
(To Be Continuse)