The Detroit times., 1914-04-24
The Ambition of
Mark Truitt

you better not drink he caunseled
! gravey. "Or only beer
! Mark laughed recklessly aud repeat
I ed his order Thrice he drank. The
weight dragging at his limbs lifted.
/ the misery ranking in his heart dis
! solved He was cheerful. laxative,
soon maudlin Before he reached
home the whisky had possessed his
unaccustomed brain ne was stagger-
| ing drunk Roman undressed him
and put him 10 bed without supper.
| But he had had his period OF forget
1 fitness.
The next day he paid-and the cray-
! ing gnawed more sharply That even
ing Roman, understanding. avoided
the saloon and led Marx by a straight
course homeward. Thereafter il was
his custom until Mark saw the care
and forbade.
You needn't be afraid II costs
too much, Everything" he added
with, bitterness for which Roman
had not the key, costs too much
10? But you are tiredt. Unit you
are not strong Wy do you not leaf
the york;"
Give up now, after holding on this
far. I guess you don't mean that.
But some day I'll get where ! want
IN have life by the throat" IL
did not seem melodramatic TO him.
Then I'll make It pay for this--on
it's knees"
Roman shook his head gravely, as
at a blasphemy.
you shouldt not gay 20. Always
life iss the master. But you are
tiredt."
Marks indulgence was not repeat
ed and where stronger men succumb'
ed he endured, because when the
need came he found just will power
enough TO carry him through. The
trial left its mark. The gaunt crack
ed face set in hard grim lines. The
bloodshot eyes became dull and som.
Der. The look OF youth-youth itself
vanished.
RCd tn the midst OF the -prdeai
- h. = shse scosghf 4tS, dfstffa ttIe- 1ssi
times he was almost grateful for the
physical %enrinss' that distracted. him
from the inner struggle,
He learned then how insensibIy
Unity had receded into the back
ground, She had become vague. OF
little substance; she was story he
had read long time ago. But she
was real, Too, in that She was a habit.
He had constructed OF her-how? we
need not ask: youth in love is an
artist who can paint the divine Gre
ating what his model lacks-an ideal
fine, pure. of the spirit, dwelling on
the heights. He thought he wanted
that. loved that, so much that he
judged his creation generously. made
excuses for glaring Inconsistencies.
Her GOODNESS, the chilling disappoint-
ment OF her prim passionless little
letters. were but the noble womans
reluctance TO reveal the contents OF
that holy place, her heart. The dis
content that had urged him forth to
conquest was a romantic desire to
see her valiant lover in the victori-
Gus estate rightfully his He was not
alarmed. consciously at least, that he
could think OF her only as sharing
that estate.
There was a memory that accused
"a girl. for once warm and yielding,
in the last glory OF the sunset. cling.
ing to him with the tremuous cry,
you won't forget me out there?' He
had made vow Within a
twelvemonth he had clasped another.
That other was both real. intense
w real-and near. He tried TO avoid
her: II was not easy. Their eyes
would meet across the table. Instant
ly longing would leap. He would
come upon her alone in the
hall inyomntarily- promises, eaicuia
ton and other loves forgotten-he
would catch her In rough close en-
brace. Often no word was said ON