Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-07-22

the left hand know what the right was
up to. The animal used actually to fiirt
with my assistants the moment | turned
my back And then they would COM
plain to me and threaten to go. Besides,
he disturbed my temperament. How is
| one TO dream creations with a pig of the
gutter like that at ones elbow? Ger
tainly ] discharged him.
He would not believe me at first; but
soon convinced him. Even then l had
my famous temper: the thing was
known. So. one day he went. And that
1t was I who could not believe it true
thief had absconded with $4,000 of my
| money. 1t was cheap at the price, l told
myself; Of course. after that he would
never return, And he didn't; l am al
ways right. ! never saw him again until
a month or so ago, when he was dying.
| Then he sent for me, and at first l
wouldn't hear of going. But finally l
| went; | went to find out what he had
done with my money
Madame paused. puffed her cigarette
vicously until the smoke grew too hot
for comfort. and put 1t aside.
My dear. she pursued fancy my
feelings. That biac6leg. Rhode. came
with the longest face imaginable to tell
me Savaran was dying and had asked for
me. ! flew to him. repentant. prepared
TO forgive him-to forgive him even the
! $4,000. Besides. I had made my mind
up that he had long since squandered it
IN reckless pFoHlsacy. inquired 10 my
self the scene; the poor man dying in
want and misery. the deserted and
| wronged wife Fastening to his side to
comfort his last moments. angelically
pitiful and compassionate. And 1
found him on the point Of expiring it's
true. but surrounded by every imaginable
comfort and luxury. Never was woman
so disillusioned Do you believe he had
sent for me to beg my forgiveness? Not
he not Savaran. He merely wanted to
N 1T
| ciated in business venture none too
savory, and had quarreled. so he sum-
moned me 10 make me present of his
interest in It, that | might be a thorn
i'm Rhodes side
What a deathbed. l thought it was
who would die of amusement, as soon
| as ! got over being indignant, I bear
George Rhode no love myself; he is my
| the same piece as Savaran-only a rarer
cut. you might say. He married my only
daughter against my will. and got what
| he deserved. She was more Savaran's
daughter than mine. anyway. and she
| left George Rhode after making him
| properly miserable for a year. more or
| less
| The old lady paused to rejoice with I'M
| natural glee over the discontinue of the
Red Man: and Cynthia fascinated. inter
jected an excusable query.
| Is she living. madame-your daugh-
| ter?'
| "Of course. We never die. We Bless
| ingtons But she's no good. l have moth
] ing to do with her. beyond giving her
money when she's broke. But no
| matter: l never talk Of her. To get back
| to my husband; we had 1t hot and heavy,
| right and left, Savaran, Rhode and my
| self Rhode wished TO prevent his talk
| ing; he's slow, that one: he'd never
guessed what Savaran was up to when
| he asked for me in his pathetic whisper.
| And in the end had to put the hulkng
red brute out OF the room; and he let
| me do 1t. Just fancy that, He was
afraid Of me, the great coward.
'Then Sayaran told me something
about his affairs. 1t seems he had not
wasted the stolen money; and that was
/ like him; he never by any chance did
| what one would expect. He actually had
| the face to insist 1t was my temper that
| made him drink and that once free Of II
he Strengthened out, went on the water