The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1917-07-27

this was her room, room where any
one lacking her specific invitation TO
enter would be an intruder-a condi-
ton which had not obtained either In
her mothers house or in Rodneys.
She smiled widely over the absurdity
of indulging in pleasurable feeling or
possession in squalid little cubbyhole
like this. The wall paper was stained
and faded; there was an iron bed-the
mattress on the bed was lumpy. There
was a dingy looking oak bureau with
small mirror; a handicapped black
walnut washstand and pitcher stand
Ing in n bowl on top Of 1T.
AS for the hurrying life she looked
out upon from her grimy window, the
difference between it and that which
she had been wont to contemplate
through Florence McCrea's exquisitely
loaded easements was simply planet
airy.
And yet, queerly enough, in terms or
literal lineal measurement, the dis
lance between the windows themselves
was less than thousand yards. And,
such Is the enormous social and spir-
itual distance between North Clark
street and The Drive, she was as safely
hidden here, as completely out of the
orbit of any of her friends, or even OF
her friends servants, as she could
have been in New York or San Fran
cisco.
OF course, wherever she went, what
ever she did, there'd always be the risk
that someone who could carry back
news to Rodney's friends would rec
ognize her. 1t was risk that had to
protect the secret as well as she could.
There were two people, though, 1t
couldn't be kept from-Portia and her
mother. The story given out to Rod
ney's friends being that Rose was In
California with her mother and Portia,
left the chance always open for some
contretemps which would lead to her
mothers discovering the truth in sur
prising and shocking way.
But the truth itself, confidently stat
ed, not as tragic ending, but as the
splendid, hopeful beginning of a life Of
truer happiness for Rose and her hus-
band, needn't be shock. SO this was
what Rose had borne down upon her
In her letter to Portia.
-. have found the big thing couldn't
be had without a fight" she wrote. You
shouldn't be surprised, because you've
probably found out for yourself that moth
ing worth having comes very easily. But
you're not to worry about me. nor be
afraid for me, because I'm going to win.
I'm making the fight, somehow, for you
as well as for myself. want you to
know that I think that realizing I was
living your life as well as mine, Is what
has given me the courage to start.
i've got some plans, but I'm not going
to tell you what they are. But I'll write
to you every week and tell you what I've
done, and want you to write to Rodney
/ want to be sure that you understand
this: Rodney isn't to blame for what's
happened. We haven't Quarreled, and !
believe we're farther In love with each
other than we've ever been before. !
know I am with him. =. Break this
thing to mother as gently as you like. but
tell her everything before you stop. -.
This letter written and dispatched,
she had worked out the details Of her
departure with good deal of care.
In her own house, before the servants,
she had tried to act just as she would
have done had her pretended telegram
really come from Portia. Her bag was
packed, her trunk was gone, her motor
waiting at the door to take her to the
station, when the maid Doris brought
the twins home from their airing. This
wasn't chance, but Encouragement.
"Give them to me-" Rose said, 'and
then you may go up and tell Mrs.
Ruston she may have them in a few
minutes"
She took them into her bedroom and
laid them side by side on her bed.
They had thriven finely-justified, so
far as that went, Harriets decision
in favor of bottle feeding. Had she
died back there In that bed of pain,
never come out Of the ether at all,
they'd still be just like this-plump,
placid, methodical. Rose had thought
Of that hundred times, but 1t wasn't
what she was thinking Of now.
The thing that caught her as she
was looking down on them, was
wave Of sudden pity. She saw them
SUDDENLY as persons with the long road
all ahead Of them, as a boy and girl,
a youth and q maid, a man and
woman.
Shed never thought Of them like
that before. The baby she had looked
forward to-the baby she hadn't had
had never been thought Of that way,
either. 1t was to be something to pro-
vide her, Rose, with an occupation; to
make an alchemic change In the very
substance of her life. The transmuta-
ton hadn't taken place. She surmised
now, dimly, that she hadn't deserved
IL should.
you've never had a mother at
all, you poor little mites" she said.
But you're going to have one some
day. You're going to be able to come
to her with your troubles, because