The San Francisco call., 1904-12-04

Su0ucLiy OdyleSnam saw ahead OF
MIN a ngure, which he recognized by
the light of the street lamps. II was
John tanShaW going in the direction
OF MS home 1t was rather late for
John 10 be about, and CayIesham's
first idea was to overtake him and raj
ly him on his dissipated hours He had
already QuickeDed his steps with This
view when it struck him that. after
all, he would not accOst John. 1t might
look as If he wanted to be thanked for
his loan ANY how. John would feel
bound to thank him. and he did not
desire to be thanked. So he fell behind
and followed in that fashion tin his
road home diverged from Johns. But
the encounter had turned his thoughts
in a new direction Tom and Lady Har-
riet were no more in his mind nor
was Flora Bolton. He was thinkins,
about Christine as he turned into his
fiat, and being sorry that she had felt
so much dislike to taking the money
from him. 1t was all right that she
should dislike it. but still he was sorry
for her Christine's small. dainty face
had always kept so much OF the child
about it that il had the power of max
ing him very sorry for her just because
she was sorry Tor herself, apart from
any good reasons at all His feelings,
however. well schOoled they might be.
would not easily have faced a great
distress on Christine's face. But as he
got into his dressing gown the somber
hue passed from his mind. Either there
was nothing to worry about or IT was
no good worrying. Everybody would
get through somehow.
John Fanshaw pursued his home
ward way heavily and slowly. He had
gone straight from the COurtlands'
house To the quietest of his clubs and
sent a messenger to his wife to say
that he was going to dine there and
that she was not to sit uD in case he
were late back. He wanted to think the
thing over, and he did not want to see
Christine. He could not even try to
doubt; Harriet COurtland's passionate
taunt and her passionate remorse-her
remorse most of all-had carried. and
continued TO carry. absolute convic-
ton: and memory, hideOusly active
and acute, still piled him with confirm
atOry details. After these six years
he remembered things which at the
time he could hardly have been said to
know; they emerged from insignih-
canoe and took on glaring meanings.
How had he been so blind? Yet he had
been utterly blind He had had many
Guarrels with Christine over money and
so forth; he had blamed her for many
faults, sometimes justly, sometimes
not. This. one thing he had never
suSpected-nO, nor dreamed-of her.
1t seemed to shatter at one blow all
his conceptions of their married life.
He was confused and bewildered at
the thought of it-so it cut away foun-
d&tions and tore up deep-grown roots.
Christine do that? Orderly. cool. sar-
castle, self-controlled Christinel She
seemed the old Christine no more. He
did not know how to be toward her.
He would hate to have her near him
she would not seem to be his.
He found himself wishing he had
known of the thing at the time. 1t
would have been a fearful shock, but
by now he would have grown used to
1t. Something would have been done.
or, If nothing had been done. the thing
would have become ancient history
familiar fact to which they would have
be told of it now, when 1t seemed too
late to do anything, when the wound
was so old, and yet the smart Of 1t so
fresh
And she had been such a good wife
yes, on the whole. Their chickering's
had been only chickering's. and he had
often been as much to blame as she.
On the whole she had been such a
loyal friend and such a comforting
companion. He had liked even her
acid little speeches-on the whole.
He had always thought her not very
demonstrative perhaps, but very true
true as steel. Cold perhaps-he had
but always true. He had never had
a nisgiving as to that in all his mar
ried hfe.
When he got home he went straight
to his study and sat down at his writ
ing table. 1t was o'clock. and Chris
tine would have gone to bed-hs was
glad of that He made an effort 10
collect his mind, because the tmme-
date question was not OF what Chris
tine had done, not OF the blow to him,
not whether he wanted to see Chris
tine or even could bear to see her. not
Of the change all his life and all his
ideas had undergone. There was
plenty Of time to think OF all that
later on. He must think now OF the
other thing-Of how he stood and OF
what he was going to do.
He took out his keys and unlocked
the dispatch box that stood on the
table. After pausing to take drink
of whisky and water he opened the
upper drawer and drew forth Cayles-
post dated to the Monday-it was al
ready Monday now. In nine hours IL
was to have been credited to his ac-
count at the bank, ready to answer his
obligations. to discharge his commit
ments, TO reassure his creditors, to
drive away all the clouds which had
obscured the fair fame or his firm
Caylesham's check and Grantley's
were TO have been salvation. Grant
ley's alone was no use. And CayieS-
ham'sEhe held 1t In his fingers and
looked at it with poring scrutiny
Twice he reached for an envelope.
IN the mind to send 1t back-to send IL
back either with the truth or with a
lie. Once he took hold OF either
end. as though to tear II across. But
a paralysis fell on his fingers. How
should he send back, how should he
destroy. that all-potent little slip OF
paper? It meant credit. honor, COM
fort, peace-perhaps even life. His
imagination pictured two scenes-go-
ing to the city, to his Office. next day.
with that slip OF paper. and going
without it. The sketch was enough
his thoughts were busy to fill in the
details One picture meant a gradual
ascent from that OF all his troubles;
the other fall into a gulf OF calamity
unfathomable. His hands refused to
destroy or TO send back the check.
But II he kept 1t, used It, owed sal
walton TO it-what would that mean?
The question bewildered him. He could
NJ = 7r,n~