Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1916-01-27

dazzled her. His wealth appealed to
her imagination.
His wooing-the appealing poetry
of it-blinded her eyes, confused her
judgement. She had been only seven
teen then, and her mother and Agnes
had been overwhelmed with pride and
awe at the greatness of the honor.
Surely it was no wonder she had
erred.
And unpleasant as this realization
was, the realization that she was un-
able to rectify the error was harder
to endure. Her instinct had been to
leave him; but her duty to her family
interfered. So she sacrificed herself
all the sweetness and fineness and
enthusiasm dying in her.
Her hands were tied. Her mother
was absolutely and entirely dependent
upon her, or upon Sedge. He had
made her, splendid allowance, which
enabled her to live comfortably-even
luxuriously. She had such hard
time before.
To deprive her of this would have
been heartless cruelty, for she was a
doll-woman-a simple, helpless, vague
sort of woman. She had married
Gerrys father-a novelist of note
under the conviction that he was
wealthy. And she had struggled all
through her married life with domes-
tic problems and economic problems
far above her.
Then Agnes took the helm. She
taught music. Her ambition - her
fathers ambition-had been the con-
cert stage for her; but stern necessity
interviewed. She stopped studying
and began to teach. After her faith
er's death she supported the family.
Gerry had been too young then to
earn much, although she had picked
up occasional quarters, delivering
bundles for a nearby milliner. Scott
had been too young to do that much,
and, anyway, Agnes insisted upon
keeping both the younger children at
school.
Gerry's marriage had been a mir
acle of relief to Agnes, for Gerry had
explained the situation to Sedge, and
he had generously insisted that Agnes
go on with her studies. Scott had
been sent to an expensive school-a
military school, where he might grow
more robust.
This tower of burdens rested upon
Gerry now. The comfort of all three
depended upon her living on with
Sedge. She faced this problem the
fifth time he had broken his word to
her-and decided to sacrifice herself.
Until young Merrol had spoken of
the money her book would make, Ger
ry had not considered the possibility
of becoming wage Garner. Even in
writing the book she had followed
natural craving for expression, rather
than desire for fame or fortune.
Sitting opposite Sedge, her eyes
wandering critically over him, she
wondered how much longer it would
be before she could declare herself
free. And his eyes, fixed mournfully
on his plate, lifted and found some
thing strange in her expression-some
thing burning, restless, fretting.
"Gerry" he whispered hoarsely.
"Yes?" She met his glance. Her
expression altered,
what were you thinking?" he
asked tremously.
Nothing l want to talk about" she
answered.
Terror dawned in his dark eyes. He
caught his breath.
"You're not going back on me?"
"Not this time. / told you I'd give
you another chance"
He leaned over eagerly and patted
her hand.
"That's good pal," he cried.
"This time Pm going to make good.
And We'll be happy together again.
Well be like we were at first. You
know, dearw
She flushed and withdrew her hand.
"Some time," she said, "there will
be last chance, and if you fail then
it will be the end. Try hard, Sedge!"
"I'll succeed this time," he said.
"Why, l can't help succeeding, dear.
/ couldn't lose you. I've only to stop
drinking. can. Wait and see."
"I'm waiting" she answered pa
tiently. "I've been waiting year"
They did not go out that night
They sat in the mushroom, and he
made her play "Beauty's Eyes" and
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