The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1907-04-18

Lillian waved her fan once or twice,
then closed it softly. "Love is the
motive" she said.
Now, the balancing-the adjusting Of
impression and inspiration-is, Of all
processes in life, the most delicately
fine The simple sound Of the word
"love" coming at that precise juncture
changed the whole current of Loder's
thought. 1t fell like a seed, and like
a seed in ultraproductive soil, it bore
fruit with amazing rapidity.
The word itself was small and the
manner in which it was spoken trivial,
but Loder's mind was attracted and
held by it. The last time it had met
his ears his environment had been
vastly different, and this echo Of it in
an uncongenial atmosphere stung him
to resentment. The vision Of Eve,
the thought Of Eve, became suddenly
dominant.
"Love?" he repeated coldly. $50
love is the motive?'
Eyes" This time it was Kaine who
responded in his methodical, contented
voice. '"The motive Of the play is
love, as Lillian says. And when was
love ever serious in three act CON-
edy-on or off the stage?" He leaned
forward in his seat, screwed in his
eyeglass and lazily scanned the stalls.
The orchestra was playing a Hun
garian dance, it's cratic harmonies
and wild alterations Of expression
falling abruptly across the pinks and
blues, the gliding and lights of the
pretty, conventional theater. Some
thing in the suggestion of unfitness
appealed to Loder. 1t was the force
Of the real as opposed to the ideal.
with new expression on his face,
he turned again to Kaine.
"And how does it work?" he said.
'This treatment that you find So
French?"
His voice as we'll as his expression
had changed. He still spoke quietly,
but he spoke with interest. He was
no longer conscious of his vague
uneasiness; a fresh chord had been
struck in his mind, and his curiosity
had responded to it. For the first
time it occurred to him that love-the
dangerous, mysterious garden whose
paths had so suddenly stretched out
before his own feet-was a pleasure
ground that possessed many doors and
an infinite number Of keys. He was
stirred by the desire to peer through
another entrance than his own, to see
the secret, alluring byways from an
other standpoint. He waited with in
terest for the answer to his question.
For second or two Kaine continued
to survey the house; then his eyeglass
dropped from his eye, and he turned
round.
ITO understand the thing" he said
pleasantly, "you must have read the
book. Have you read the book?'
mo, Mr.. Kaine," Mary Esseltyn in
terrupted. "Mr. Chilcote hasn't read
the book"
Lillian laughed. "Outline the story
for him, Lennie," she said. II love to
see other people taking palms,"
Kaine glanced at her admiringly.
''Well, to begin WITH" he said amiably,
two men, an artist and millionaire,
exchange lives. See?''
"You may presume that he does see,
Lennie.''
! Fright. Well, then, as I say, these
beggars change Identifies They're as
like as pins, and to all appearances one
chaps the other chap-and the other
chaps the first chap. See?"
Loder laughed. The newly quickened
interest was enhanced by treading on
dangerous ground.
"Well, they change for lark, of
course, but there's one fact they both
overlooked: They're men, you know
and they forget these little things!
He laughed delightedly. ''They over
look the fact that one of 'em has got
a Wife!''
There was a crash of music from the
orchestra. Loder sat straighter in his
seat. He was conscious that the blood
had rushed into his face.
"Oh, 1ndeed?' he said quickly. Zone
of them had wife?',
"Exactly!' Again Kaine chuckled.
oAnd the point Of the joke is that the
wife is the least larky person under the
sun. See?"
A second hot wave passed over Lo-
der's face. A sense Of mental disgust
filled him. This, then, was the wonder
ful garden seen from another stand
point! He looked from Lillian, grace
ful, skeptical and shallow, to the young
girl beside him, so frankly modern in
her appreciation Of life. This, then,
was love as seen by the eyes of the
World-the world that accepts, Judges
and condemns in a slang phrase or
two! Very slowly the blood receded
from his face.
And the end of the story?" he asked
in strained voice.
'"The end? Oh, usual end, of course
Chap makes mess of things and the
bubble bursts
And the end of the wife,"
'The end of the wife?" Lillian broke
m, with a little laugh. "Why, the end
Of all stupid people who. instead of