Putnam patriot., 1913-04-18

v
 "A while ago you asked me who I .am-and what"
 ~It doesn't matter" he interjected. You were her friend: that is all I care to know. went back to Spring field, after three years-but she was gone. I was told that her uncle had cast her of, and she had disappeared. It seems that she'd made friends with class of people who were not who were not-respectable."
 Fran's eyes shone brightly. "oh, they were not" she agreed. they were not at all what you would call respectable. They were not relig- ious."
 So I was told" he resumed, a little uncertainty. There was no way for me to find her"
 "Her?" cried Fran: you keep on saying her Do you mean--?"
 He hesitated. She had chosen her part--to live with those people, left her to lead the life that pleased her. That's why l never went back to Springfield again. I've taken up my life in my own way, and left her-your friend"
 Yes, call her that" cried Fran. holding up her head. T am proud of that title. glory.in it And in this house."
 'I have made my offer," he inter rupted decidedly. 'Ill provide for you anywhere but in this house."
 Fran regarded him with somber in- tensity. I've asked for home with you on the grounds that your wife was my best friend in all the world, and because I am homeless. You re- fuse. I suppose that's natural. I have to guess at your feelings because I haven't been raised among respect able people. I'm sorry you don't like it, but you're going to provide for me right here. For girl. I'm pretty in- dependent: folks that don't like me are welcome to all the enjoyment they get out of their dislike. I'm here to stay. Suppose you look on me as a sort of summer crop. I enjoyed hear ing you sing, tonight
 "'We reap what we SOW,
 We reap what we sow I see you remember"
 He shuddered at her mocking holy things. "Hushl What are you say ing? The past Is cut off from my life. l have been pardoned. and l will not have anybody forcing that past upon me-"
 Her words came bitingly: You can't help it. You sowed. You can't pardon a seed from growing"
 q can help 1t. and will. The past is no more mine than hers-our mar riage was legal, but 1t bound me no more than it bound her. She chose her own companions. I have been building up respectable life. here In Littleburg. You shall not overturn the labor of the last ten years. You can go. My will is unalterable. Go- and do what you canl"
 Instead of anger, Fran showed sor- row: How long have you been mar ried to the second Mrs. Gregory-the present one?"
 He turned his back upon her as if to go to the door, but he wheeled about: 'Ten years. You understand? :? Ten years of the best work of nay life that you want to destroy"
 Poor. lady," mnrmured Fran. sThe first Mrs. Gregory--my 'friend'-has been dead only three years. You and she were never divorced The lady that you call Mrs. Gregory now-she isn't your wife. is she7"
 Y thought" he was suddenly ashen pale-"but thought that she l believed her dead long ago-I was sure of it-positive. What you say is impossible"
 But no one can SOW without reap. ing" Fran said, still pityingly. When you sang those words, it was only a song to you, but music is just a bit of life's embroidery, while you think 1t life itself You don't SOW, or reap in choir loft. You can't SOW deeds and reap words"
 'I understand you, now" he faL tered. You have come to disgrace me. What good will that do you, or or my first wife? You are no abstrac. tion, to represent sowing and reaping, but fiesh-and-blood girl who can go away if she chooses"
 She chooses to stay" Fran assured him.
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