The Celina Democrat. (Celina, O. [Ohio]) 1895-1921, 1911-01-06

The moment I entered my apart
ment on the fourth floor Of the Al
gonquin I knew that some one had
been in my rooms, OF was still there.
l hesitated only a moment before
lighting a match. ! have nothing TO
fear at such times, since have no
Jewels and am not at all beautiful.
So lit the gas and as the light
fared into her eyes a startled femi-
nine head arose from the cushions OF
my couch. admit that my first i'm
preston was distinctly one OF annoy
ance. The head belonged to Felicia
Broughton and knew too well that
when Felicia came to stay all night
with me It meant that I was to receive
her confession. losing my best hours
OF sleep as did so, in order that she,
Felicia, her sin on her conscience and
onto mine, might sleep soundly and
arise the next morning fresh and fair
to gather other scalps for her already
large collection.
1t is my fate to receive the conf
dences Of many people, especially
those of young girls who have found
that their chums are never to be trust
ed when the condolences concern men.
Felicia is not so very young. She is
rather at the between age, which all
men and most women find so charm
ing. But she is old-old as the hills
in the art OF Irritation. Indeed, with
Felicia flirting is positively a profess
sion. She is old enough to know bet
ter, too. which makes her all the more
dangerous. And then, she is one Of
those who believe that sin confessed
is not a sin.
She had evidently been asleep, for
she blinked at the gas as cat blinks
at the sun. Indeed, she is not unlike
a cat. Her eyes are green-lovely,
shining green, like jewels-and her
hair-Well, of course there are no au-
burn cats, but she reminds one Of a
cat Just the same. / have often won
dered why men never saw this until
they had put up cropping hands to find
that their scalps had been neatly and
painlessly removed.
Anyone but Felicia would have
looked blowsy. She was merely
charmingly mussed, with her skin
pink as a baby's from the heat.
knew that | was no more to her than
a confessional booth, where after con-
Tossing she would have to do no pen
ance, but found myself kissing and
welcoming her just as cordially as If
did not know this. And, as l noted
the pathetic droop to her mouth,
wondered If for once Felicia herself
were not the sufferer. For this, as for
all my generous impulses toward Fe-
licia, was speedily rewarded and dis
illusioned.
She told me nothing until she had
eaten and we were making ready for
bed. Then, as she braided her hair
into two long and girlish plaits and
rubbed out imaginary wrinkles, she
began her tale. She was very calm
at first and l knew that the weeping
would come later, when not even /,
the confessional, could see a Redeemed
nose. But 1t took her so long to begin
that once again thought it might be
her own heart
You haven't been beaten, have you,
Felicia?" l asked anxiously.
Mercy, no! Whatever made you
think that?" she asked in astonish-
ment her pink fingers suspended in
the air with surprise, her eyes wide
open.
We'll, then" answered, snappish-
ly, get it over with. I'm tired"
I'm so miserable and sort Of fright
ened," she began, reaching for some
more cold cream.
And so is the man, presume.
That is it, isn't it? You have been
obliged through force Of circumstances
and no fault of your own to refuse an
other man? Who is he?"
Charlie Van Zandt. He just
wouldn't take the hint. ! tried long
ago to make him see that I never
could care And he followed me down
to the beach and made an awful