The Washington herald., 1914-12-27

that the annual exodus of the womer
from the city came around, and she LEFT
for the seaside. / took her to the
train, with her parasol and her dog and
her comic magazines.
| Her resentful mood still continued.
Sorry you felt you must come down
Perkins" she said. "You mustn't think
of us again, even. Doodlekins and
just want to go off together alone for
the summer to some quiet spot, and
read Ibsen, and let our souls grow.
More vaudeville, of course.
''Good-by, Perkins" she said, at last.
! you've got two months of your own.
If you look around, you may find some
nice, refined character that pleases you.
That's all | am shy OF iow-to have
you desert me entirely"
So that night was aio.Ie in the city.
II was sodden weather-an early hot
spell New York steamed like a soup
kitchen. was depressed and uncom-
Portable went back 10 the hotel-the
Chetwynd. You know it-that huge
100000 pile, half city block on Broad
way, a crowded warren of cheak New
York rich, with the population of a
country town Everybody strangers to
each other, on principle. We had been
there only about two months. / had no
aoquaintances there, and didn't want
any.
sat in the gilt-crusted dining-room,
near its entrance, and watched the ma
chine-made women and their escorts go
by-a sight!
You know the air of night like that
how it catches and magnifes scents /;
not only perfumes, the gross smells
hotel sauces, gravies, desserts, that
sweetish-sourish SAVIOR that makes the
breath of the city hotel dining-room the
world over / was eating indifferently
through the meal, when there came to
me, all at once, another perfume-Some-
thing which caught my attention.
With that perfume came back the
memory of a woman | had known
very well indeed. Oh, fifteen years ago.
| had never noticed it since. The ordi-
nary perfumes, you know, are mixtures,
built I'D like cocktails. This was the
clean, faint, delicate odor of a single
flower-the jasmine. Very rare, very
expensive-or it had been then-and
only to be had at very few places in
the south of France.
looked up. A tall woman with very
black hair, wearing a gown of rose and
gold, was passing rather slowly by,
Those were her colorsl 1t looked like
her, had her striking individuality. And
yet when she sat down at her table, |
was not sure-her face was so white
and thin.
Who is that?" | asked the waiter.
That" whispered the man-"that' 5
the sick lady on the third floor, sir. She
don't come down here for weeks at a
time Very wealthy, they say, sir" And
finally he told me the name II was the
woman / had known-still unmarried.
| recalled then, vaguely, of hearing
about a woman on the third floor who
never left her room. And l remember
ed passing down that corridor one night,
and hearing from somewhere a piano
playing Schumann.
Good LordT ! had said to myself.
"Schumann in this palace of ragtime
and embalmed youth !"
1t must have been she-playing Schu-
mann still.
went across the partly emptied din
ing-room, and spoke. She remembered
me before reached her; was as cordial
as possible But her voice, | noticed,
was very weak. She looked like very
sick woman.
She introduced me to her companion
an elderly Scotchwoman; one of
those efficient structures of bone COW
cred taughtly with glossy skin.
81 am an invalid now, you know" she
went on. This is quite an adventure
for me. coming down here for dinner.
l suppose l ought not to be here to-
night"
Quite right" said the Scotchwoman
grimly. you oughtn't."
You must come and call on me" my
old friend went on, land bring your
wife" She looked up questioningly.
Unfortunately" / said blunderngly,
81 am in no position to produce a wife
at this moment. Is it necessary?
Certainly not" she said. /
! only thought afterward. She had
really asked me if | were married, and,
to all intents and purposes, | had said
| was not.
Now, | am not going TO talk about |
this woman. You have noticed, perhaps, !
that / don't give you her name. I've
told you how met her again to impress
one fact on you She did not know that |
was married. She never learned, for
/ never corrected that first impression.
And | saw her very often.
/ heard very little from my wlte-a
curt letter or two at first, then silence:
This was nothing new; it had happened
before i
But one day had an odd reminder of
her.
Al see your wife was in the city yes
terday," said the clerk at the hotel desk,
He had passed her on the street, he
said told him he must have been mis-
taken. And yet he certainly knew her
we'll. decided to go down and spend
The weekend with her at the shore.
I was rather shocked at her looks.
She lad grown, it seemed to me. thin
and faded. Her silent fit was still on
her. and II was a most uncomfortable
iay for both of US.
That night l slept badly. always
10 those first nights at the shore. The
iampness, the hollow pounding OF the
surf, disturb me: l have never been a
sound sleeper. 1t seemed to me as II
nv wife didn't sleep at all. awoke
once. She had raised herself on her
.lbow, and was looking across at me.
She must have watched me fully ten
minutes. Finally she lay down again,
with sigh.
Don't you sleep well?" l asked her
n the morning.
Sleep" she said peevishly. why?
.Nh,t do yOr1 care what I dO2 I'm a |