Norwich Bulletin Newspaper, January 9, 1920, Page 13

F\HERE are few legitimate rea -sons for divorce, according to my way of thinking” ssld Natalie 'nun-m failing to s¢e her hostess” signal ‘o, steer the conserva- tion into less dangercus channels. "If married people keep their heads, there 4s always a possible solution ef any hyman problem: - Do you "agree, Mr. Planchard?” she asked the brilliantly snecessful civil engineer, who hiad re- cently undertaken a big plece of con- on work near the city, rce is a very debatable sub- he .answered, enigmatically. a great many cases divorce ie cau by the fickleness of women,” said Tony McClure. “They are rest- legs. They want new emotions. . Why, even old mother Eve left father Adam to listen to the wiles of the devil,” laughed Tony. “I am a bahelcor be- cavse I am afraid that I am not clever enough to hold the sllpperv affection of any lady fair." “Judging by your yémarks” inter- Ject. posed Mabel NeedHam, “the woman'is always to blame. You are narrow- minded, Tony.” “Well, a woman can do whatever she pleases with a man, and you know it,” said Tony, warmly. "M“Qp thing that I do know. It evéry woman kmew a man like you "there would be Mo‘m maids’ like T am in the wofld ‘and’ fewer unhappy married ‘women.” “You're not an old maid,” argued Tony. “You're just'the Fight age, old enough to have some semse.”.’ “1f you two are not careful, we wlll be buying your wedding presents with- in a year,” said the pretty, generous young widow, who had made her home, among them for three years. Tony grinned cheerfully at her. “You can ‘say the micest things, Mrs. Wal- lace. If it were not for-Mabel now, 1 would propose to you.” He winked openly at Ned Planchard, for the young engineer had evidently fallen in love with' Lenore Wallace on sight. She ‘treated him as she did nll other men. She was pleasantly agreeable, ot haignt B daked, siteine down beside her. Somewhat clumsily nothing more. Only her muu(i;m ‘he pulled the armine stole she wore dinner table knew that she was not a real widow, merely the otfem ‘abused . “divorced woman” who had taken her maiden name. clg.er around her bare shoulders’ ‘She. did not answer him. Her eyes were on the flowers around her, flow- ers whose fragrant petals were, drift- When dinner was-over and.the, m’!dng dofl .at, exery little kr'eeu that lmgermg for a while over their liguors and ‘cigars had finally gone in’ search of the women, Ned Planehard looked vaiply around the drawing room for Lenore Wallace. ‘A « French M opened on the terrace and through- it he caught a sight of a white gown flut- tering outside. Before him stretched a flower gar- den where delicately txqted CcOSmos, dahlias and late roses still courage- ously flaunted their blossoms, although there was a hint of early frost in the 3ir. -~ He followed Lenore dewn 3 winding grevel path to a stone bench before a fountain where . the falling water dropped like sparkling jewels in the moonlight. ( nwled over ihe garden. “I am in love with you. You know— you must have um—— “Don’t!” she -exclaimed wnruy Then, after a pausé, “Each of us has the capacity for one great passion in life. When that has ‘been dissipated, there is nothing left but the ashes of 2 burned-out firé. When they were in- nocently: discussing divorce at the ta- ble tonight, I wanted to cry out, ‘How ean you argue questions of which you know mething. I have been through the mill. There are scars burned in- to: my flesh—' “Tell me,” whispered Ned Planch- ard, “tell me, did you love as deeply as that?” She turned to him, her face wan in tke, moonlight. “For three years I have smiled at the world, a new world . into which:I forced myself, far from ibe scemes of my one time happiness. But through it all my heart has been maimed and crushed, like a bird with broken wings M struggles valiantly, vet vainly, to fly again To forget is impossible. Someone has wisely said that a man disappointed in leve lecks ikat room in his heart dear to the old love and throws away the key, but a woman brushes the cobwebs frem the door and returns again and again, to dream the old dreams.” “I love you, Lenore;” he said, lifting ber hand to 'his lips. ““I Tove you. I swear that I will live to make you happy."” “You!” she cried accusingly. “Yeu, who took my happiness away! Ok, the irony of life,'that.you should come to me, after all these years and say, ‘I love you” Why Ned, you don’t know what love means.”, He caught her-in his afms and held her head against his throbbing heart. -“1-have been uiterly misevable every ‘minute since I let you go, Lenore. We were young, foolish, inexperienced—" me then. Now that you have achieved success, gratified- ypur gmbition, reached your goal—" J03 oW InOA Ur 92%{d OU_PEU NOX,, “I agonized for 3 fading crown,” he told her sadly. “I wanted to work— work for you, of course, and you thaught ‘that T neglected you for a whini, a mieré selfish purpose to ad- vance myself in my profession. Girl, dear,” he lapsed into old lover-like en- dearments, “when a man finds the one woman, he Tongs' to succeed to lay his laurels at her feet. We quarrelled about it opce. Let's begin all over again! Success is nothing, life is noth- mg~mflmut you'!” He released her ‘abruptly and leaned forward, head in his hands. The ar- rogant, selfishly -important boy she had loved was gone. A man, sadly wise and utterly !mely was there l. his Motherhood, long deniefi. stirved in her heart, the heart that she had scheeled hergelf to believe could hold only the dust of her youthll& dreams. £ “Of- course,” he said in a tone tth brought a lump to her throat and & it of tears to blur her g7 &ct ¥eu to come back to Inc. I have made what the world calls success, but it is gall and wormwood without you, “And if T come back to you?” shq whispered breathlessly. ° The sweet humility in the eyes he lifted, the gentleness in his touch ag he held her .in his arms again, -tol@ more eloquently than words how mue} he really loved her. “Your litile world will claim you. Tony McClure sayg that half the men here are in love with you,” he began jealously. you happy?” 5 “A bird whose wings have been broken never tries to iy high nor tlr, Ned, dear,” she s2id sofly, i By Phil Moore ELP! -Murder! - The police!” H _exclaimed Fossett, disgust- edly, as he rejoined Mr. and Nri Dian Pugan on the hotel porch. *Pdrrest’s goin’ to lay over in this hole another day. 1 koew mno good would coms in bookin’ this tank route. We ought to be back at the Olympia and gopd old Broadway. . I'm dyin’ of dry rot in this dump.” And he plumped himself into a willow rocker despon- dently. Mrs? Dan Dugan; othérwise krown and publiciy billed the night before at the opera house us Bates, of Fossett, Dugan and Bafes, “Those Different Daneer= * grinned and patted Fossett on the knee. “Hold in there, Bill,” she admonish- ed. ~"Tt'll do your system a powerful lot of good to miss fhe giddy going for nother day. Let's have a little game, x, never, no,” protested Fossett, positively. . “I'm-going to- get the “eol man and go down Main street and kid the rubes a bit.” He rose, yawned loudly and ambled into the Tobby. Tacking over te the eigar stand, where Forrest was critieally hunting for a familiar smoke, he deliberately divert- ed the attention of the young girl from Forrest. s 2 “Miss, where's any excitement?” \he asked, leaning over the case with a friendly smile, “I beg your, pardo.n." she repl&ed in- nocently. “What do you mean?” “Just this,” he persisted. “This gentleman here has seéntenced me to another day’s exile from my native heath, which is & broad concrete thor- oughfare spoken of often as Broadway. T wish to keep the sunny smile and amuse myself. So the best little thing you can do for this tired business man, which is me, is to tell me where I can be amused tonight. Me and my rural friend, Mr. Forrest, here.” Forrest, having dined ‘Tuxuriously over the first chemically pure fried Tlittle girl. chicken he'd had for a year, and feel- ing in a good humor, chuckled. The girl, however, felt 2 little nettled over Fossett’s manner, feeling in some in- stinctively way that he was “joshing” her. “I don’t know whether it would interest you or not,” she replied with iey sweetness, but there’s a little en- terfainment down at the Baptist Chureh tonight. Even you might en- joy it Fossett winced, while Forrest gave him a sharp dig in the midrib. “Beore one for the little shouted Forrest. Pete.” Fossett grinned sheepishly. “I guess you're right,” he admltied, with a laugh. “Buy yourself that big box of chocolates and charge it to me, I'm stang. “Come on, Pete,” urged Forrest. “Let's take in the big show. Let's go now and get a front seat.” And he grasped Fostett's arm and led him lady,” “She's called you, - away. Five minutes later they were in the jostling holiday-bedecked thromg in front of the ghurch. Neither was recognized, for Fosseit’s makeup the night before had laborately concealed his features, while Forrest was only the manager, and therefore not previ- ously in evidence. They ensconced themselves comfortably in two seats well front, and managed to take a snickering interest in the first part of the program, similar as it was, in ev- ery respect, to the average of its kind. Then the Sunday-chool superinten- dent, an important little man with im- pressive “sideboards” and officiousiy acting as stage manager, call-boy, stage carpenter, eleetrician and stage hand, authoritatively assumed unto himself the additional splendor of an- nouncing that “the next feature (accen- tuatpg the le.;t éyllable) on our pro- gram will be Miss Fannie Thompson, of whom ‘we are all so proud.” He further explained, to Fossett's glee, that she was the rival of any “per-fes- sional singer on the stage.” He re- tired reluctantly, and Miss Fannle Thompson appeared. Fossett, expect- antly awaiting “Silver Threads Among the Gold” by a limpid- soprano of doubtful age, sat up with a start. “@reat guns!” he whispered, hoarse- 1y, to Forrest, “but she’s a winner?” Forrest, however, made no answer, for as the orchestra swung into the opening strains of a late popular hit, and the girl started to sing, he sat as if dazed. Where in the name of Heaven did ghat girl come from? such personality, and such winsome vivaci- ty! At the conclusion of her'act, For- test, silently and dreamily, grasped Fossett's arm and led him to the street. Once outside, Forrest turned to Fos- seit with a look of wonder. ‘Man alive!” he cried, “that girl's a knockout. Why, she’ll fill the Olym- pia to standin’-room. She’s a find. How He Helped Matters Alv-on I'm going to book her up.” “Wake up, you're asleep,” ridiculed Fogseit. “Why, there ain't a chance of ‘you coaxing her away from here. But I've got to hand. it to you, she's a wonder. And pretty,”well—I think I'll stay over a while.”" “The next merning Ferrest got the addreas of Miss Thompson from the cigar tlerk, and, accompanied by Fos- sett,”who had been impatiently trying to get the manager started for up- wards ;of two hours, they departed for rthe Thompson home. They were graciously received, but- their propesition met with a decided chill, . Playactin® asserted Mother Thompson, was all right in its. place, but she didn't want her girl to be an aciress. They coaxed and pleaded, but to no avail. Fosseit, however, by his power of persuasion, and helped by his really likable self, that Fannie wasn’t long'in finding out, gained in her a possible ally to their plans. He whis- pered to her that he would probably be in town a week, and drew; for hime self an nvitatien to dine the following evening. Once outside, Forrest shook his head dejectedly. “It’s a durn shame!” he complained. “She’d be a great card. , Well I guess we'l go back tonight without her.” “There, there,” soothed Pete, “don% give up. Look here, I'm going to stay here a while longer. Maybe I can lunl her.” A week later Forrest received Lhc following telegram: \ “Thompson is coming with me to- morrow. Bill her with Fossett, Dugan and Bates. PETE.” Forrest’s brow wrinkled. It would be a great fizzle to bill her up in the papers and then have her desert him. So he shot back another wire to Fos- sett: “Are you sure she’ll stick?” The answer was brief, but convine- ing: “She ought to. She promised me before a preacher.” Rv Ahner Anthanv ANEEN cherished no illusions about the smart sef after the formal dinner that had ush- ered-in the gaities for the house party of which she was the only insiggificant N member. She had been private sec- retnryto Mr. Mymsen, of Munsen Com- pany and Son, for two years, when the Mungéns began planning an elaborate week.end entertainment at-their coun- try ce for a group of their son's friegds, and io her:pleasant surprise, she found herself included in their list of guests. On receiving. fthe invitation, l\anean spent one entire’ Saturday aftermoon buying the trivolous things for which she had never before had any need The first evening: at.the Munsens she hed dressed herself carefully, her young heatt ;‘héating high “wifh'the thought that she was to associate for three wHolg days with the cultured sons and daughters of the eity’s richest men. */ ° 7 Her = disillusionment- ecame very swiftly, Two of the girls drank so much ‘wine-at dinner that they had to .-men rosg quickly, be carried upstairs by servants and al- most every man was too utterly ‘fool- ish to carry on any sort of conver- sation. This was the life, then, that she had read about and envled, con- sldered Naneen thoughifully, as she looked around the roem at the girs, lounging indolently on chairs and di- vans, puffing at cigarsettes. It was quite early the next morning when, in .8 chic serge suit and stout brown walking-boots, Naneen availed herself of her hostess’ suggestion to get up gnd lopk ever tha farm a bit if she did mot like to sleep late. She found her pleasant employer and his good-looking son at breakfast. Both greeting her cor- dially, and she experienced her first real pleasure at the much anticipated ‘house M while she sat at the table with them. She anmouriced her inten- tion of taking a brisk walk, whereup- on ille younger Munsen asked to ac- company her. While he was gone upstairs to get iato a pair of high ts, her old employer aimed 2 broad- de at her. z “You met Miss Betty Calloway last night, didn’t you?” he began' lazily, “Charming girl! I don’t mind telting you—" here he leaned eonfidently to- ward her—“I want Don to marry her. Truth of the matter is—I have reason to believe ‘'that they are alrefldy en- gaged.” “Indeed!” said Naneen,looking the old man steadily in*the eye. She felt the blood flame into her face. Her employer was taking care.to see that she read the “No poaching” sign on his handsome son. She made a few agree- able remarks, touched on the weather, _the beauty of the meadows seen from the breakfast room window, and com- mented with rare good judgment on his prize stock that she had noticed the day before when she came down. Then she excused herself and went swinging off down a gravel path be- tween rows of early tulips. ‘To her surprise, she encountered Bob May- field at the end of the path. “I've been here watching for you for an hour. You certainly made a hit with me last night” He caught her arm and turncg toward a little knoll beyond which an orchard offered a paradise of drifting loom. Naneen breathed deeply and threw out ‘her arms in a gesture of happy abandon. To her astonishment, Bob Mayfleld put an arm around her care- lessly. "Cope on, you pretty thing,” he drawled.quittly, “I'm going to kiss you, You've got me going.” . Naueen was quick as a flash. A ‘business girl knows well enough how to protect herself without making a scene. When she had told young May- fleld, who was a ‘millionaire’s son and therefore considered himself a privi- leged character, just what she thought of him and bis kiad, she whirled blind- 1y ‘into the orchard. There she found an old seat built around a gnarled ap- ple tree and she dropped down on it, her knees trembling so thaf she was glad to rest for a minute, “You ran away from me, didn't you?” Den Munsen sat down beside Ler. Them soberly. “I heard every word you said to Mayfield. I wanted to thrash him within an inch of his 'for her, life, but if°he has an ounce of gray mattep, he won't need anything but a telegram calling him away from here today. You're a very wonderful girl— to me, Naneen.” If there is one thing that hurts a girl more than anything else in life, it is to have the man with whom she is in love and who is estensibly not complimept her. " For two years, every time Don Munsen had entered his father's private office, Na- neen had felt that all of the blood in her body was beating in her small eats. Etvery time' she had heard him call some girl-over the telephone to make engagements, she had wanted to seream, but instead, because she was a glever girl who always - used head, she had never by the-flickering of an eyelid let him know what he mattered to her any more than the old’ janitor. One day, just a week or two before the house party, he had brought her a ‘bunch of violets. She had been so pverwhelmed, so utterly hapy that she was almost speechless, but she had been able to thank him perfuncforily and to keep right on typing, as if her salary dgpended on getting that sheet .through the ma- chine with all-speed. " She had known that she was playving with fire when she accepted -an invitation to his home, but when a girl is just twentystwo, pretty, in love, and the year is at the spring—wh_flt can ‘one expect even if she is clever enough to always use her head. L] “Isn't it lovely here,” she asked quite composedly, veering the conver- sation away from the unpleasant epi- sode, “the sunshine on the apple trees, the birds darting in and out—we are very far from the office today, aren't we?”’ “I wanted to kick Mayfield for put- ting his arm around you a while 2go, but if you don’t turn here and let me tell you how much I love you—' A bird seemed fo be singing in her heart. Naneen’s breath came fast, un- evenly—then memory stabbed -Lier fleeting happiness with recollection of her employer's statement at breakfast about Betty Calloway. “I—I can’t listen.” She jumped up and turned quickly from him oaly te encounter his father, who had planted himself squarely in the way. “What's this?” %e demanded. “She doesn’t—care,” said Don. Naneen could not endure the pain in his voice so she looked up at him, her eyes blurred with tears. “Your father told me that you were engaged to Bet= ty Calloway—" “Why, Dad, yo—you” The senior Munsen took 2 very small, cold hand and patted it as he placed it in his son’s hand, eagerly stretched out to clasp it. “You see,” he explained, “I wanted to help Doa along—you’ve never even appeared to notice him in the office and so I thought, perhaps, you would think better of him if some other girl seem= ed to want him.” Naneen smiled “Why, I suppose Don,” radiantly at him. every girl wants she said with the world old conceit of the species over the maie who happesis to vause when ke passes - ber way. LOVE you betier than Iayth!.nl in the world,” numnryhrbes ashmfl:flhmmeuw pf the gir! who had just meq:tad him. It wes a’balmy ' summer evening Myra McKean was like a girl in a Hnmry. Onu-axnhocmlhedharmhm Jt seemed as if he were kissing cach one of her silky brown curls. Then espying some ome just ehtering the Ttalian portola at the other end of the garden, he suddenly reieased his new- Jy acquired possession and he and Myra hastened toward the portola. Myra’s father and mother were seated there. And it was with a joyous tri- umphant ring in Henry's voice he told of thié engagement, adding at the end, ~With your consent, of course.” “here isn't & more ideal young man anywhere,” Mr. McKean had often said to Myra’s mother during the many days Henry had courted Myra, and Mrs. McKean had always agreed with him without a momient's hesitancy, al- though in her own quiet moments she sometimes fell to wondering—and then she would = suddenly’ stop” afid- chide’ herself for being so intense in analyz- ing one's The next m it was o very en- thusiastie young man whe ran up the steps of the exélusive baehelor elub of Detroit to tender his resignation. And it was with & new and firmer grip he extened his hand in response to that of his best chum, Willard Lawrence, when that honorary member wished him the best in the world. “But tell me,” began ‘Willard in his quizzical way when they had seited thémselves on the open balcony of the clubhouse, “how in the world did you come to choose little Myra McKean when there were so many other glils ‘at your heels?” ~ “Seriously?” asked Henry as he reached for his high ball on the wick- er tray at the side " of the “big easy chair he was slouching into, “Why, yes—wes there really a rea- son deeper than the lure of her ty brown curls and big violet eyes?” “Indeed ‘there was,” Henry sald de- And cidedly. “You've always ‘kmown my pet ideas of heredity, haven't you?” “Well, that’s it. You see, I believe that environment playe no part what- soever with a human being. It’s all in the blood, Laury, and although all the other girls I kmow were perfect la- dies ' with. charming manners, -some- how I always found their finesse had been acquired and never been born in them. That's what has made all the difference in the world. It's the pa- rents of a-girl I consider in choosing a wife—not the girl herself so much, for you know the old scientific law is that character always skips a genera- tion and—" Henry suddenly realized he Bed said enough for Willard to un- - derstand his point. He settled back again Into his big chair and m-ucx a’ match to his cigar. “You might be right, old boy,” re- marked Willard lightly, “but I don’t. thipk I could be so scientific about loving. 1f T loved a girl that's all there'd be to it, 'm afraid.” But Hen- 1y held his own opinion and shook his head in decided disagreement. One afternoon . when Henry was playing bridge with Myrd in the great drawing room of the McKean mansion, Mrs. McKean called Henry aside on some pretext or other and escorted him to her_private reom.. " _ “Henry,” she began a little solemn- 1y, “I have someéthing-to tell you be- fore you marry Myra. - I-think, now that you are about to become.her hus- band and will hald her future in your hands, you qught 10_know. um she is not our child.” Henry’s face went a ghastly white. Mrs. McKean noted it, but continued" “She was left on our front step twen- ty ygars ago, a little ‘hundle of pink life, apnd we topk her in.and raised her as our own.” Mrs. McKean arose as though her conmfession was’ over, much to her relef. Henry walked si- " in his-eyes. McKean like a body whose soul had flown. Then the next morning Henry arose. He was a néw man with a new light and told her Myra’s birth made no dif- ference to him’ Wwhatever. “I'lov her beyond-ail:-worldly interference, “and, although- my. plan-has always been 2 little different—Iiove knows mo law— and Myre m\‘l ie ny wltn Just the same.” - A few weeks later, just as the last strains -of the wedding march died down and the multitudes of people be- gan to crowd out of the door of the church after the bride was flitted away in a palatial car to the McKean home, Mrs. McKeam leuai back into the cushions a1 lently out of the-room just behind Mrs. ;, merrily.: He went to Mrs. McKean aloud, “so glad it's the real thing. I had my doubts. I must get to him at . once.” Mrs. McKean cornered Henry in am - alcove of the reception robm just afte er they had )ecelved the guests in (due formality. “Henry, my son,” she said softly, & light of affection in her eyes, “it isa'y so at all. ra. I was just testing you to find out how much you really did love her. Willard had told me your ideas of lifs, and I experimented on your love with the acid test. Will you forgive me™ she asked sweetly. And Henry, taking her soft, smooth 3 face between his hands, kissed her reverently. 3 “But wait till T get Willard” ‘he - grinned, rushing off in-his direction, . “T'can'y ’ “Can I maky She_is our baby—Ilittle My-+"