The Detroit times. [volume] (Detroit, Mich.) 1903-1920, 1913-12-05

In quickly, with a gayly derisive laugh
"You didn't hear mel" Then, as she
did not turn, he sobered. Amy. what
IL It? Why. Amy. Is there anything
/ the matter? Is anything wrong?"
Eyes. inere ~ sometning-wrong.
AMY" he said. thoroughly alarm
ed, what IL the matter? Tell mel"
Il will tell you. Sit down. There;
ut the library table. will-show
you"
He sat down, blankly. his lower lip
falling open with perplexity. She
sighed. then came around the table
stood behind him and laid the book
down beside him. She pressed II open,
and In silence ran her finger down the
page.
The Are sputtered q little: then
everything was still. She had left him
and had gone back to the hearthrug
and stood as before. one hand on the
mantelpiece. the other listiess. at her
| side. The silence was horrible.
Then, suddenly, Thomas Fleming
ripped and tore the pages out OF the
book, aud threw them on the logs
| the quick leap OF the flames shone on
his white face and his furious eyes.
A minute afterward he spoke ;. I'm
der that storm Of outrageous words
she bent and shrunk little, silently
Once she looked at him with q sort OF
curiosity. So this was her husband
Then she looked at the hre.
When. choking with anger, he paus.
ed. she said. briefly. that she had
been hunting for her Commonplace
Book. down on that lower shelf, and
had found--this.
That next hour left Ito permanent
mark on those two faces; agony and
shame were cut into the wincing flesh,
a. by some mighty die. At flrst Flem-
ing was all rage; then rage turned
into sullenness. and sullenness to ex-
PLANTATION and excuse. But a. he
Gained down. shame, an old. old
shame. that he had loathed and lived
with for q dozen years. shame that,
except when Amy was too tenderly
proud of him. he was sometimes able
for days, or even weeks, to forget
this old shame reared it, deadly head,
and looked out OF his abased and shift
ing eyes.
After some miserable and futile ex-
PLANTATION had been repeated, he stop
ped to get his breath: and then stiil
pulling the hem Of her handkerchief
straight on her knee, his wife said. IN
a lifeless voice:
Need we talk about 1t any mnGe!
On Tuesday we will send It DICK.
MONDAY II q holiday You cant send
It until Tuesday, Then We will never
talk about Il any more"
Send what back?"
"The money. To Mr.. Hammond"
Are you out of your senses!" he
said, roughly.
She looked up. confuscdiy. You
can't send It until Tuesday" she re-
peated, mechanically. l@ s'
He brought his hst down violently
on the table. Il will never send II
back! Never! You are insane! Why.
II would be acknowledging"
1T would be confession" she
agreed.
Well that would be ruin. ("
RUM"
why, II people knew" he began.
1T Is ruin, anyhow" she said, DULY.
Don't you see? The only thing LETT
IL restitution"
Il can't make what you cail--'resti-
tuition without--ruin: absolute ruin.
DO you realize what It would mean to
me, In this town, to have It known
that borrowed from the trust, and
and had not yet returned It? On the
stand, Of course. I had to protect my
self; and that would be--against me.
And II WOULD be known. Hammond
would never let II be settled privately!
He couldn't prosecute me on the OLD
charge; but / suppose he might make
a claim of--of perjury. Anyhow. just
the publicity would ruin me. And ne
would make 1t public. Trust Ham
mond. Besides. I've given 1t back ton
times over In unpaid-work to the es'
tate" He stopped abruptly. Amy
had tainted ...
Sunday was long day OF struggle.
The immediate horror Of violence was
over: he was ashamed; and he loved
her; and he was frightened. But ne
was immovable. His hardness was
worse than his violence.
Monday, the holiday-Monday. they
struggled to the death.
r II was In the afternoon that sne
suddenly tagged. She had been knesi-
Ing beside him. entreating him; and
he had been hard and violent and
childish by turns; but he would not.
And toward dusk there came q dread
ful pause. Il was q sudden blasting
CONSEQUENCES that the man must save
or lose his own soul. II she forced
him to make restitution. the restitu-
ton would not be his, but hers. NO.
he must save himself. She could not
save him.
She drew away and looked at him;
then she covered her face with her
hands. II am DONE" she said. faintiy
The afternoon was very long; once
he went and walked drearily about the
snowy lanes, avoiding passersby a.
well Al he could. But for the most
part he sat In the library and tried to
read or smoke.
II was late at night that his wife
came back into the room. She stood
In the old place, on the hearthrug
Very gently she told him what she
had to say.
II have thought It all out" she be-
gan, In q low voice; "and see I was
wrong" He started. II was wrong.
You must save your own soul. can't
do II for you. Oh, would! but l
can't. shall not ever again insist"
Amy" he began, but she checked
him.
"Please!--I am not through yet. l
shall pay the money back. somehow.
sometime. (Oh, walt-wait; DON'T