The evening world. Newspaper, January 14, 1911, Page 11

WHEN WE ARE MARRIED. SHOULD WET ME A |E,AND & MAN With E MINE, SHOULD BE THAT RETURNS ANS Ee Evenings With Eve By Helen Rowland. The Mere Man Chats With the Fatr Divorcee. é HY do people keep on marrying Nat Goodwin?" complained the Mere ‘ W Man enviously, as he flung himself onto the Fair Divorcee's ro! colored diva nd lighted a cigarette. I think {t's more unfathomable why Net Goodwin or any one else should keep on marrying ‘people,’ returned the Divorcee, turning the pink lights down ¢> a becoming softness and arranging her rose-colored draperies. “Humph!" grunted the Mere M cynically, “that's easily explained. Marriage is like vaccination, If at first It doesn’t ‘take,’ you try, ¢ry again. And with some people it never seems to ‘take.’ ” ell," sighed the Divorce: ‘“T shall never try {t again “What—-NEVER? the Mere Man endeavoring to look deeply grieved and disappointed. The Divorcee shook her head. gazing pensively into the I believe there are some people, ‘with whom marriage never would won't assimilate !t. I'm one of them. “Dear me!" protested the Mere Mai ind yet you have all the symptoms of | ® charming wife.” (The Divorcee smiled cynically.) “You—you do your hair so and you never say unpleasant things; and you haven't any theories, or missions, or ‘isms,’ or pet dogs, or prin” — “MR, CUTTING!” exclaimed the Divorcee, stiffening with sudden indtgna- tion, “I HAVE theories and principles—too many of them! That's why I don‘t fit into matrimony! If 1 were willing to be a wife, in exchange for a home and ‘A Weekly income and a pat on the head, I'd—I'a be married this minute!” “Oh!" The Mere Man shuddered. “But I demand something more—more than any man !s willing to give! went on the Divorcee, rising and pacing the floor dramatically, “I demand EQUAL principles in a husband—equal social and moral standards, equal Meals, and hopes ‘and aims! T'm not willing to be.an angel, holding onto heaven with one @nd onio @ man with the other.” she answered sadly, ‘take.’ Their eystems \ ire “Oh, come now!" interposed the Mere Man pleadingly. “We can't be as bad as ell that! B 7 ‘You can’t be anything e! sighed the Divorcee, sinking down Into her F chair with a sorrowful shake of the head, “you're brought up that way from | babyhood. The utmost that 1s ever expected of you Is to keep out of Jall. Any- thing short of stealing and forgery {> forgivgen and condoned if you. You are + taugh? to look upon marriage as a sort of eccident—something to be avoided as ! long fa possible. While a girl, on the other hand, ts taught to regard {t as an {deal, a sanctification for which ehe must prepare and fit hereelf. The same parents who are guarding her from the world, and painting beautiful f!luatoni for her, are sending you out into the world, and telling you to thave your fling. And by the thme you have had !t you aren't fit for matrimony. You're e filet and & worldling; but ft fen't your fault; ft’e your training. To a woman marriage {s the beginning of life"— “But to a man," interposed the Mere Man, “it's the end of Iiberty—and of the Pursuit of happiness.” “Exactly!” agreed the Divorcee. “They go into tt from totally opposite points f of view, with totally opposite ideas. And naturally, they take totally oppost | paths, instead of following the same road, side by side. The altar is the croi Toads at which they meet—and part, never to meet on common ground again until they meet in the burying ground. Oh, if the women who are fighting for political equality would spend the same time in fighting for social equality"— ( “What!” exclaimed the Mere Man desperately. “Do you want to usurp our . vices as well as our votes “Not at all!” rejoined the Divorcee, “I want to make you ‘usurp’ some of our virtues. If women would demand the same social and moral standards of men that they do of women, the world would not be all topsy-turvy, and marriage | 4.)) - would not be an unhappy experiment. It's the women who make the social tawe— wo have It all Js our hands this very minute"— “And yet you go on crying and harranguing for something you haven't got!" put in the Mere Man disgustedly. ‘Oh, well!" said the Divorcee, shrugging her shoulders end washing her hands of the situation, “that's human nature, fan't {t? A toy on the tree is worth two tn the hand, But some day, perhaps, we'll wake up to a realization of our power, and THEN you'll be—why, MUST you go, Mr. Cutting?" she broke in, as the Mere Man reached for hig hat. “TI really think I must,” eal the Mere Man, rising with a shudder, “T came to you for consolation, and you've given me a fright. I asked for bread and you gave me a stone. I yearned for tea, and you offered me @ lemon”— “Sit down,” said the Divorcee, patting his arm soothingly, and’ I'll give you ‘a cup of tea—with all the sugar you want. After all, men are NICE"— “Yes, aren't we!” murmured the Mere Man, resuming his place with @ con- tented sigh. “Bo long as one isn't married to any of them,” added the Divore: cecernnenmntt significantly. Betty Vincent's Advice to Lovers Love and Trathfalness. EAR young people, be truthful to each other. Par- ticularly, if you care for each other very much, Do| not tell even what some people are pleased to call | “‘Iittle white les.” And this, my dears, is the reason why you must be truthful in little things as well as big. You cannot expect any one to trust you, even @ pereon who loves you, if you are found to be telling @ series of untruths. And, my dears, falsifying is @ habit that grows upon one. If you tell enough untruths abom things that do not matter you will eoon get to the paint where you will scarcely know what is true, Then, the firet thing you | know, @ Ife about something really vital has sitpped out, and | there you are, too much ashamed to admit you have not adhered to the truth, and in mortal dread for fear the person to whom you falsified will find {t out. | ‘The best way, young people, fe just to tell the “truth in everything. A Widower, Broken Engagements. GIRL who signe her letters “A. N." YOUNG man who signs his letters | “IT am in love with a man co “I am in love with a girl who siderably older than 1 am and who és a] has always seemed to care a great deal | widower with four children, Do you/for me, But lately she has broken a think @ marriage wtih him would be/ number of engagements with me What "i advisable?’ shall I dot” | 1 think you should make very eure of| Speak plainly to the young tady and your affection before marrying a man/|tell her how much you are inconvent- | who will undoubtedly bring you many|enced when nhe fails to keep her ap Guties and burdens on your wedding day. pointments, | | r) THEN DARIING, T WILL BUY You. EVERYTHING = f MUST GO NOW AS ME, PLANNING FOR. OUR FUTURE. TO-MORROW WILL BE A_ BUSY DAY FOR. Ophelia! «ve OPreun axep Mme To Jeu You You Weoupn'? Come AND SAOW HER Le, bb Wow To SPELL SuMPIN 4 a Thats RiGHT Swe 6 Via Ti ONE Thind Pip CANT Do And Tuats SPE GEE wre | ar 'D EveR NOWN You HAD suc TASTE, YOU'D NEVER | RING THE OF CEPPERBEAN THRO’ SHE BOUGHT tT. Sey be el ed 0 NT! THE ONLY TIMES “THAT Wom- -AN TRIES To SAV By Clare Victor Dwiggins ew Yorn Work CERTAIN May 1 TRovBe You fo tloLdD My Descartes ? - pv't. Mave TH CLIMB UP ON The BOX — Bf. ain wo! = WAHTA COOK BOOK” OON'T SPEAK To Me! No! t won't Stop! DARN. THIS INTERPERE- ING BUSINESS ar yeny eX ‘TAKES iT BERRY TS KINO OF You To GIT MEDIS Hat, Sint OE VUTHER OWE WAS WITHIN MY MEANS BUT oO St rengne cttemncamee co se enamam, Heauirelet, & | After an exchange of compliments, he [friend Ganimard allowed to escape In} te tw t LUPIN Stor “The _Hollo w Needle” By Maurice Leblanc {Copyrtght, 1910, by Maurice Lettane.) YNOPSIS OF PRECEDING OMAPTERS. Aresene Taps “thief ius’ of France, pet di Ric elt, Mrs arch for th | The quest carrics him to the Norman sea CHAPTER VIII. Continued.) SF morning Isidore was lunch- ing at an Inn within sight of Honfleur, the old city of the estuary, Opposite him was sit- ting one of those heavy, red- haired Norman horse dealers who do the fairs of the district, whip in hand and| clad in a long emock-frock. After @ mo- ment, It seemed to Beautrelet that the man was looking at him with @ cer- tain amount of attention, as though he} knew him or, at least, was trying to recognize him “Pooh,” he thought, “there's some mistake. I've never seon thati mer chant before, nor he me." As a matter of fact, ¢he man ap- peared to take no further interest in hin. He lit his pipe, called for coffee an® brandy, smoked and drank. When Beautrelet had finished his meat he patd and rose to go. A group of mon entered Just as he was about to leave and he had to stand for a few seconds near the table at which the horse! dealor sat. He then heard the man say, In @ low voice: “Good afternoon, M, Beautrelet.” Without hesitation, Isidore sat down beside the man and @ald: “Yes, that is my name—but who are you? How did you know me?" “That's not difcult—and yet I've only seen your portrait in the papers. But 1 are so badly—what do you call it In French—so badly made up. He had a pronounced foreign accent and Beautrelet seemed to percetve, as he looked at jim, that he too wore a factal disguise that entirely altered his feature Who are yout he repeated, ‘Who your” he stranger smiled, Don't you recognize met ‘0, | never saw you before.” Nor I you. But think, The papers print my portrait also—and pretty often, Well, bave you got it?” 0. “Holmlock Shear: It was an amusing and, at the same time, a significant meeting. ‘The boy at once saw the full bearing af tt. said to Shears suppose cause of ‘him’ “Yee, “So—so—you think we have achance n this direction.” I'm sure of At." Heautrelet’s delight at finding that Shears's opinion agreed with his own was not unmingled with other feelings. If the Englishman attained his object, it meant that, at the very best, the two would share the victory; and who could tell that Shears would not attain it fret? Have you any proofs? Any clues?* n't be afraid,” grinned the Bn n, who understood his uneas- ‘IT am not treading on your With you, it's the document, the et-—-things that do not inspire with any great confidence,” 4 with you?” “With me, it's something ditt 1d Ibe jpdiscreet, if?" YOu remember the story that you are here—be- ot at a “You remember Victotre, Luptn's old foster-mother, the one whom my good prison van found Victotre’s traces, § lives on a farm, not far from Nationa road No, 25, National r 1 No, 25 ts the road from the Havre to Lille. Through Victoire 1 shall easily get at Lupin,” “Lt will take long.” “No matter! I have dropped all my “I have cases. of ferocity that betrayed all his bitter t th millations which he had all his flerce hatred of the enemy who had tricked him so ly. jo away, no’ : he whispered, “we are observed, It's dangerous, But mark my words: on the day when Lupin and I meet face to face, It will be—dt will be trate.” ’ Beautrelet felt quite reassured on leay- ing Shears: he need not fear that the slishman would gain on him. And, here was more proof which thi” chance interview had brought him: the road from the Havre to Lille pass through Dieppe! It ts the great sea road of the Caux country, the cons Toad commending the Channel clift« And it was on a farm near this road that Victoire was. installed, Victoire that 1# to say, Lupin, for one did not move without the other, the master without the blindly devoted servant. “I'm burning! I'm burning!" he re- ed to himself. “Whenever clroum- stances bring me a new element of in- formation, it confirms my supposition. On the one hand, I have the absolute certainty of the banks of the Seine; on the other, the certainty of the National Road. The two means of communtea- tion meet at the Havre, the town of Francis 1 boundart country js not large; and, even so, | have only the western portion of the Caux country to search.” He set to work with renewed stub- bornness: “Anything that Lupin hag found,” he kept on saying to himself, “there ‘sno reason for my not finding.” Certainly Lupin had some great ad- vantage over him, perhaps @ thorough the local legends, or than that, @ memory: invalu- able advantages these, for he, Beautre- let, knew nothing, was totally ignorant of the country, which he had first visited at the time of the Am! ‘urgiary, and then only rapidly, with- # out lingering. Bitt what did tt matter? ‘Though he had to devote ten years of his life to this Investigat! a successful . He could see him, he could feel him there. He expected to come upon him at the next turn of the road, om the wkirt of the next wood, outalde the next village. And, though continually 4is- appointed, he seemed to find in each disappointment @ fresh reason for per- "3 Often he would fling himeelf on the slope by the roadside and plunge into wild examination of the copy of the cipher, which he always carried on him. Often, also, according to his habit, he would le dowr flat on his stomach in the tall grass and think for hours. He had time enough. The future belonged to him, With wonderful patience he tramped from the Seine to th and from the sea to the Seine, sradually far- ther, retracing hi pa and never quit- ting the ground until, theoretically Speaking, there was no chance left of wathering the smallest particle upon It, He studied and explored Montivilliers and Saint-Romant and Octeville and Gonneville and Criquetot. At night he knocked at the peasants’ doora and asked for lodging. After dinner they smoked together and@ chat- ted. He made them tell him the stories which they told one another on the jong winter nights, And he never What about the Needle? The legen Hollow Needle? Don’t you kno “Upon my word I don't~never hears of it" — “Just think—an olf wives’ tale—some- thing that has to do with a needle. An enchanted needle, perhaps.—1 don't know Nothing. No legend, no recollection, And the next morning he walked blithely away again, One day he passed through the pretty village of Saint-Jouin, which overlooks the sea, and, descending among the chaos of rocks that have slipped from cliffs, he climbed up to the tableland and went in the direction of valley H d'Antifer and \ the little o PI le Was walking gayly and lightly, feeling a little tired perhaps, but glad to be alive, so glad, even, that he forgot Lupin and the mystery of the Hollow Ni Victoire and Shears, and inte: sky, the great emerald in the sunshine. Some straight slopes and remains a, all glittering brick walls, in which he seemed t recognize the vestiges of a Roma camp, interested him, Then his eyes fell upon a sort of little castle, built in Imitation of an ancient fort, with cracked turrets and Gothic windows, It stood on a jagged, rugged, rising promontory, almost detached from 4! This is the only one I care put. Retween Lupin and me, it's a} i Rt ee ga nO cliff. A barred gate, flanked by fron hand rails and bristling spikes, guarded \t visa a sort|