Oxford eagle. (Oxford, Lafayette Co., Miss.) 1876-current, 1904-04-28

| am to do without him"
Here she buried her face in the pill
lows and Judith looking on was
shocked to see that her shoulders
shook.
She left her wsrk, took a seat in
the rocking chair, and sat there for
some time silently endeavoring, to the
best Of her ability, to express her SYM
pathy through the medium of mental
telepathy, since she failed to find
words.
Bye and bye Louise, lifting herself
weariedly UP. took out her sidecombs.
combed back her hair. put them in
again and began to talk.
"Of course" hesitatingly, 81 must
do without him." she said.
Considering the unhappiness you
might cause his wife," she decided. 81
should think you must"
Louise got up and walked the floor
for space, not very far this way or
that, for there wasn't room.
Presently:
why will these men marry?" she
exclaimed.
Before they have seen u.s." finished
Judith. at is just as well. If we were
their wives they would soon find some
other little artists around In studios
that they would like better"
The subject had grown in interest.
She concluded to give it her undivided
attention.
"How would you like to be his
wife?" she asked and some day come
down and find yourself in his studio?"
Louise stopped walking and stared.
Find myself in his studio?" she
questioned Imply.
81 mean find some other girl" Ju-
dith hastened to explain.
II shouldn't like it, she declared.
Then passionately:
"It would kill me!''
ut perhaps affects his wife in ex-
actly the same way" remarked Judith
calmly. "She wouldn't be woman if
it didn't. Go on. though, if you must.
Then some fine morning she'll discover
you. She'll find you in his studio and
him gazing at you with those dreamy,
shifting artist eyes of his and drop
dead in her tracks. And 1t will be
you" finally, that will be afther hav-
in that death to answer for, as Philip
would say"
Philip was the Irish janitor.
All the laughter had gone out of
Louise Her eyes were sad. Slowly
she walked to the door and opened it.
'I'll give him up" she promised.
adding reminiscently and with SEEM
ing irrelevance, 1.-The lovely little din
ners he took me out to-"
Judith observed her in surprise, only
half comprehending.
But" she added quickly, 'T'll give
him up. | promise you" and the door
shut on the word.
AS Judith looked out the window at
the heartening view of blackened Chin
neys, she thought:
''An honorable. straightforward girl,
that. l like her."
What was her amazement then to
see the girl on the following evening
dressed in her best, going down in the
elevator with Gilbert, going down
blithely and out to dinner with him at
some cafe; for she heard him say so.
She smiled across at Judith anxious
ly, propitiatingly; but she resolutely
turned her back, refusing to speak.
II was late that night.
Judith had come home from her SOL
itary dinner at little cafe, brushed
her hair. made her preparations for
sleep, robbing the couch of its varie-
gated day covering and turning If into
a Whitley counterpaned bed; and was
lying on it. half doing in the dark
when she heard light footstep in the
hall and skirts brush against her door,
There came hoarse voice whisper
ing outside 1t was the voice of Louise
: "A dinner is a. dinner" it whispered,
and waited.
Judith lay quite still. Not getting up
and asking her in to sit on the side of
her bed and talk awhile, as she would
formerly have done. Just lying there
"Under the circumstances" said she.
after a time, 81 think | would rather
starve."
Then back came the voice from the
dark of the hall TO the dark of her
room in a cry revealing depths in the
life of the girl which happily Judith
had not sounded.
But you have never been hungry
yet" it said. repeating. "but you have
never been hungry yeti"
Judith sat up and gazed into the
dark. which seemed all at once to her
frightened eyes to be filled with skele-
ton fingers ready to clutch her, with
the relentless fingers Of poverty. bony.
merciless and grim.
"Oh. no. she whispered back, her
own voice hoarse as that of Louise in
her fright, 81 have never been hungry
yeti"