Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-09-10

Joke ct It. Failures are not the KIND OF Things
like to Joke about You Joke because Joking
makes YOU forget. I'm not trying to forget.
| couldn't if | wanted to. I've learned that
out here My wife can do as she likes. If
she wants to marry Cort Bent, III give her
a divorce; but as for me I've done with it
for Cood.'
Ic. mad sunk to the rock beside her, his
head in his hands. while she stood a little
way off looking down at him. Their relative
attitudes seemed somehow to make Il differ
ence in her way of thinking of him. In spite
of the light bitterness OF her mood, she too
felt the weight of his thoughts.
"Do YOU mean to say" she murmured,
half in pity, half in contempt. that you
still love your wife as much as this
But he made no reply.
dts really quite extraordinary, she went
on with a manner that seemed to go with
appraised brows and a lorgnon. you re
really the most wonderful person I've ever
known This is the kind of fidelity one
usually associates with the noble house dog.
I'm sure she'd be f1;ttcrcd But why will
you give her divorce? Since you're not
going to marry, what's the usc?'
He rose and went to the horses. "Come,
he said, its getting late. Let's get back"
She refused his help, mounted alone, and
silently they rode down the slope through
y
found a trail in the open.
"Does this lead to Mesa City, she asked.
He nodded.
"Goodbv, them" She hourished her hand,
and before he realized it was off and had soon
disappeared from sight.
He urged his horse forward into a full
gallop; but saw that he could not catch her.
Apache was the faster horse. and his own
animal carried too much weight. SO after
few miles he gave up the race walked his
winded horse, and gave himself up to his
thoughts.
The exercise had refreshed his mind, and
he was able to think with calm amusement
of the little comedy in which he had
been an actor. What a spoiled child she
was! He couldn't understand why he had
ever been afraid of her. 1t was only pity he
felt now the pity of those tears, the only
really inartistic thing Rita had ever been
guilty of-for her face had not been so
pretty when she cried. And yet they APP
pealed to him more strongly than any token
she had ever given him. What did they
meano He had hurt her pride, of course
he had had to do that,-but somehow his
conscience didn't seem to trouble him much
about the state of Rita's heart. Love meant
something different to him than the kind of
cold, ANALYTICAL thing Rita Cheyne was capa-
BILE of. If it hadn't been for those tears!
They worried him.
A S he reached the edge of wood he
= caught glimpse of her just disappear
ing over the brow of a hill half mile away;
SO he urged his horse forward. 1t wouldn't
do to have her ride into Mesa without him.
He rode hard, and came upon her suddenly,
kneeling at the border of a stream dipping
his bandana into the water and touching her
eyes, When she saw him she looked up
pertly, and he saw that she was only child
washing her face.
"Hello!' she said. Il was waiting for you.
Do you see what I'm doing? It's rite. Do
look like Niobe:' I'm washing my hands
of YOU"
Jeff got down and stood beside her. do
be sensible, Rita"
Il am. Am cleano You haven't pow
der puff about you, have your
"You'rc going to tell me you forgive me. )"
"Theres nothing to forgive. If you think
there's anything to forgive, I'll forgive, of
course" She got up from her knees, wiping
her face. sat down on a treetrunk, and mo-
tened him to sit beside her.
"Jeff, !" she said, "I've confession to make.
You know what it is, because you're cleverer
than you have any right to be. | don't love
you really, YOU know, and I'm pretty sure it
isn't in me to love anyone-except myself.