The Washington herald., 1917-04-30


sSThe Married Life of Helen and War
rem" appearing exclusively In this pa
per, n the only series now being writ
ten By Mabel Herbert Urner.
3" His arms about her obliter-
ated the long months of suffering.
The very rigidity of his muscles
brought her q sense Of infinite peace
and security. As he held her closer,
she had the leaping consciousness
that all his strength was PROSTATE
before the frailty of her feminine de-
pendency.-
Helen laid down the magazine, athriIl
with the tense, emotional story. 1t was
the story of a strong mans answering
love and devotion for a frail, almost in
valided woman.
Her own tired lassItude Of the last
few days sccentuated Helen's suscept-
bility to the story's appeal.
Stin under the glamour OF the hnaI
romantic love scene, she glanced w1st-
/ fully across at Warren who, with his
pipe, his paper and elevated feet looked
comfortable but decidedly unromantic.
Dear" she was at his side, trying
! to creep into his inhospitabls lap, my
head aches sol Don't you want to hold
me-just for a moment?'
''Eh? Head ache?'' without looking
up. go over and lie down"
But Helen. visioning the ever-encircl-
ing strength and tenderness" Of the
magazine hero's arms, demurred a plead
1 ing.
I'm not well-I've felt wretched ali
| day. Dear, ia love to be held"
Grumblingly he lowered his feet and
she stole into his reluctant arms. For
while she lay still, her head on his
| shoulder as he read on, the occasional
rustic of the newspaper the only sound
Don't you want to read out loud?'
plaintIvely.
No, I don'tI" with emphasis. Then
after several moments. irritably con-
scious OF her hurt silence, Got to nurse
and read to you, too. Ell? Well, what
shall 1t be?'
There's a wonderful story in this,
1 reaching for the magazine. I've Just
I read it but I'd love to hear 1t again"
"One OF those mushy love yarns, eh?'
| viewing with disgust the full page front
lspiece in which the hero, a clothing-ad
| type, clasped in his arms the slight
dropping form with the fashion-supple,
| ment face. well. II you want to read
that maudlin rot all right, but you don't
rope me into"
'Tt isn't maudlin," hotIy. The pic.
lures may be, most illustrations are, but
the story's well written and II par.
ticularly want you to read it."
mot much" he threw down the maya.
zine. 'Ill not wade through that dope
| Look here" restively moving his knee
you're not a feather-weight! Gained
haven't your"
Why no." Indignantly. It only. weigh
| u.s. comparing Warrens ungaliant re-
| marks with the dissertation of the mar
In the story, when he lifted the "frail
burden" of the woman he loved.
well. 11Ss enough when It comes down
on a bunch of keys" with a grimac ce
holding her up to shift the keys in his
pocket.
As in hurt rebur Helen slipped from
his lap. with manifest relief he promptly
crossed his knees.
Going to bed already" he glanced at
the clock. We'll, cut out that hot bath.
That's what weakens you-soaking every
night in hot water. No wonder you feel
dragged. It's 'nough to kill a horse"
Repulsed by Warren's gruffness, she
took refuge in the tender romanticisrr
or the story. In her own room, as she
undressed and took down her hair, with
herself as the heroine, Helen reIiyed
each emotional scene.
1t had been the woman's cltnging help
lessness that had brought on the pro-
tecting strength of the man. Why was Il
that she had never made a similar ap-
pNeAA " W Lie more E0o ClunR 10
him, the more she showed her depend
ency, her need of him-the more cold was
his withdrawal
1t had always been so. ANY display
Of feminine weakness, instead of arous-
ing his tenderness, seemed only to repel
him. And Of any slight illness, he was
brusquely intolerant
Helen's longing for a demonstrative af-
lection, a longing that was never graft
fed. a1vyava ,ubo, .ho
was physically depressed.
Disregarding Warren's admonition. her
throbbing head and aching muscles now
demanded the solace OF a hot bath. Turn
ing on the water. she looked in the medi-
cine chest for box Of perfumed bath
tablets, too expensive to use except as an
occasional luxury.
Tooth paste, talcum, peroxide, camphor,
vaseline-everything but the bath tablets.
Then she glimpsed the pink box on the
top shelf behind a row of bottles.
The shelves of the cabinet were mar
row and overcrowded. On extricating the
tablets she knocked of a bottle of chlor-
oform liniment. She tried to catch it, but
the loosened stopper came out, drenching
her bath robe with the pungent liquid,
while the bottle crashed to the tiled floor.
STOPPING to pick up the shattered glass,
she breathed the stupefying fumes. In
tent on getting up all the pieces she did
not realize the strength OF the chloro-
form.
"AIl right in there?' called Warren,
alarmed by the crash.
'It's only a broken bottle" cropping
dizzily for some bits of glass under the
washstand.
But the running water. drowning her
voice, he called again. now with an un-
mistakable note of anxiety.
"All right, Kltten?'
That note Of anxiety-an unaccustomed
note! Was II the drugging fumes or the
throbbing consciousness OF a dramatic
situation, prompted by the story. that
now kept her silent3
"Helenl Helenr' he was pounding on
the door.
Swaying dizzily she held to the med
icine chest. The intoxication Of the
chloroform blurred with a thrilled emo
toinahsm.
''HeIenr' he was trying 10 force the