The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1902-01-09
about the struggle and stress Of her

more ansJ more that her confidence
was self forgetful and mrestrained.
Their old positions were reversed !;
Ahee was absorbed in Il uncon-
scious revelation Of her foneing for
Il his sympathy. Lawreae ew seri-
oas; he found hirnsef slrprised IL
+ to a conversation that was both init
mate international.
/ Leaning forward and istening in
/ tentlv, his hand rested for min
ute near to Alice's arm on the
! table. With a rapid mo ement, un-
like herself, she clasped both her
hands round his.
"Lal, dear" she murmured,
"everything has chanredvmy life
the world-but you are the
same!''
"Just the samep he repeated,
pushing his hair back from his fore
bead. "But d'you know. Alice, I
j haven't tod you anything for the
interview, have | -
"Tell me now"
ssI'm afraid you have heard it all
BEFORE" he went on after a pause.
"Struggles, tours, the deadly COM
monplace! But when my chance
came at last, three years ago, it was
allowing to a woman's goodness
a woman OF great charm, great tai
ent. | don't know how to express
it, but she seems to draw one into
an atmosphere of color and fra
GRANGE; not strictly beautiful, but in
her buoyant youth like flower in
bloom. There's fine sentence for
you, Alice! She was vers; kind to
me from he beginning. | found
myself getting into one good thing
after another. She has always been
popular, and people are good
enough to rather like us both. You
must come and see MY wife," said
Lawrence. 81 have so often told
her about New York. I want vol
to like her. | am sure she will like
you.''
/ The sentence ended feebly. Alce's
face was cast down in shadow; he
could see nothing but the dark OUT
line of the dropping head There
was long silence. When Alice
moved at last, she looked inquiring-
| ly at Lawrence.
! Don't you think it is time to
go?"
care you tired.?'
J eyes, veryp' said Alice.
| "May I.take you home9"
| "No. 1t is late-it must be near
! ly your time to return to the the
] alter. L will go with you so far"
! "I'm afraid you will have to in
vent all sorts of things for the in
terview, Alice. I told you I.was an
awful subjectr"
The cold rain was flicked against
| their faces; the wind blew Alice's
! hair in long w:sps across her eyes
as they drove along.
IS 81 think will first 60 to the the
ater where my wife is playing" said
Lawrence.
Alice leaned back in her seat. The
streets seemed interminable. She
lcnged to be alone. At last their
cab stopped in a narrow court; she
hastily refused Lawrence's entreaty
to drive home and stood facing him
under the dim lamp over the stage
door.
Holding her hand, even though
she tried to draw it away, he thank
ed her once again for the sympathy
] Of the old days.
I "Good night, goodbyp' was her
only answer.
The next minute Lawrence was
/ running up stairs to his wife's dress
ing room in the theater. He tap
ped and opened the door at the
same time There was faint odor
iAof. flowers and the bright little room
was scattered with pretty and costly
things. Mrs. Lawrence Bright had
just arrived and was standing in
front of the glass. Her long, cling
ing dress was as delicate in tint and
line as the Malmaison carnations
at her breast; her thick, wavy hair
looked as rich in color as old gold,
and she turned to greet Lawrence
with flashing smile. After few
words he threw himself into low
chair and sat thinking. In the cold
and gathering darkness of the night
now lost in shadow, now seen by
the Pickering CLEAN of the street
lamps-his heart sped after Alice.
Suddenly he looked up and met
bis wife's beautiful eyes in the glass.
A smile answered hers. Rising.
quickly he threw his arms lightly
rO11nd har and STONED 70 Law her