Gilpin observer., 1917-08-02
AMan'S aMan

She brushed Jack Wakefield aside
scornfully as she turned to leave the
room. "That Is the worst thing that
can be said Of any man." she added.
Jack blocked the door just in time.
There was nothing to lose now, SO 1t
didn't matter what he did.
Before you CO." he said quietly,
"you may as well hear my opinion of
you. It's only fair, you know. AS
long as you've gone out Of your way"
II haven't gone out of my way" she
interrupted, glaring at him as much as
her sweet blue eyes were capable Of
ION the contrary, 1t has been forced
upon me. 1t is true you may not have
asked me directly for my opinion Of
you. But-well, in view of other mat
ters, 1t was only fair that should only
tell you before-before we part for
everg"
He gripped the portiere SO that it
stretched away from the brass rod
above, and began to snap.
"That's all right" he said. "But
you'd better know how I feel, too. 1t
will be something at least for you to
look back to. Let me tell you in the
beginning that you haven't the slight
est idea of what you are talking about.
But suppose you are right when you
say that 1 don't care"
What is there in every man of such
human perversity that always prompts
him. when he is accused, to make him
self out SO much worse than he really
is2 Jack Wakefield went on reck-
/ lessly. ~ .,
Eyes, I'm one Of the boys, and am
going to be as reckless as please with
my own life. AS between the life
lead and some Of your sweet Sunday
school notions there can be no hesita
ton on my part. I purpose to gamble
when want to, drink when want to,
swear when want to- and do general
ly as please without let or hindrance.
And, by and by, when you have learned
a little more Of this old world you will
find that a man can be a man for all
|
that"
And so they parted.
He went to his club and had three
highballs In succession.
She went to her room and cried 1t
out.
1t sometimes happens, however. that
a good cry doesn't do much to relieve
the situation. Eleanor felt no better
the next day. Her responsibility for
this young man somehow grew upon
her. To her ardent and pure girlish
Imagination she herself was to blame
for every excess that she felt sure he
must be committing now.
When she had first heard of his dis
sipation it had come as a great shock
to her.
And when she had confronted him
with it all, and his carelessness had
angered her so, she had turned him
off, she was only conscious that she
was doing right. Now, however, she
felt guilty. What was he doing mean
while? Suppose In his reckless aban-
don he should commit some crime |!
She shuddered at the thought. After
all, would it not have been better to
bear with him in patience, to make
the endeavOr to lead him back to the
paths of rectitude? Was this, after
all, not her woman's duty? Besides,
after the stress Of their parting, she
found that 1t was hard to forget this
handsome, erring young man. She
loved him in spite of his wickedness,
and his last words haunted her.
A man! Yes. she felt that under
meath his devil-may-care manner there
was man after all, in spite of the
fact that her own experience, strict as
1t had been, had never permitted her
to appreciate this kind Of tempera-
ment.
And finally there came the day when
she could stand 1t no longer. She
would not, could not, shoulder this re-
sponsibility.
Her letter was dignified, yet sufii-
ciently humble.
II feel that have been wrong" she
wrote, "in saying what did to you,
and I hope that you will forgive me,
will you nOt7 I cannot, in my pride,
ask you to come back to me. but IL Of
your own free will you care to do so,
I will endeavor to show you that real
ize my own imperfections." And so
on.
Jack. who had been up at bridge late
the night before, read the letter
solemnly in one Of the recesses of the
club.
He was sober enough now.
"The dear GIRL" he said, "she is, af-
ter all, made Of the right stuff. know
| ha ha ts ,fr &ka& T.