Evening star., 1918-03-24

| She is a woman who has come to q
| certain turn in a road called Sans
Youth"
Being a woman who never means
harm. but only does it, she will natural
] ly go to heaven some day on the pass
| word They know not what they do, '
which admits the general public-this
| being mere advance information to
! excuse her ignorance for saddlfng Satan
| with a responsibility which should be
shouldered onto prehistoric man.
To be intelligible, she gave a little
! talk the other night which she an
nounced as Flesh Camou1age." What
| she meant was cosmetics.
To this soul expert rouge is vanity
Vanity is sin. Sin is-ask Billy Sunday
She had no use for Herbert Spencer's
theory that the first step the savage
| makes toward civilization is to adorn
himself with feathers or brilliant dyes.
And, obviously, she had never been over
to the National Museum on a visit to
those plaster Indians gormed up in war
paint-or the sardonic Jap nobleman.
with his ebony teeth, and his simpering
lady, with her henna-stained nails and
hair as rigid as gum could make it
or taken a look at those tar pot Afri-
cans and every other bedizened aborig-
inc, creased, tattooed or chalked ac-
| cording to his idea of beauty, warfare
or religion: otherwise. she would have
realized that:
Wise old Mother Nature has put into
humanity's heart the desire to please.
And that it is only when We distort that
desire to the harming of others that
Old Nick has the power to print his
hoof upon it and theology the right to
call it sin.
This town is full of good, lovable
women who use makeup. Also, conf
dentially, there are oodles of us dis
agreeable ones who don't Also, again,
there are others who are lovely without
it But their names are not legion;
and, anyhow, whatever they do, it is
none of our AFFAIR." little matter
which the Sans Youth lady overlooked.
There was one little stranger to Wash
ington who had been hokus-pokused.
somehow, into being among those pres
ent and when the lecture lady described
with the accuracy of one who knows from
personal information .'how much God
He made her''-the poor little flapper who
has hand-painted cheeks. and also,
lover. took it to her guilty self.
And she wailed-to another woman,
afterward-her fear that Charlie would
find her out and stop caring for her.
but. oh, my goodness, she had such an
awful complexion. Miss Ann
She had not Her skin of baby white,
al SOlI ana SfnOotn ana hlSSdple,
was of an elusive prettiness that any
rich, oldish woman would give her mil
lions to buy. But it wasn't pink. And
Charlie must have liked the modern
improvement, for her ring was brand.
store new. So the older woman just told
her not to mind.
For well she knows that, while man
may admire sailow-faced virtue in his
mother. his sister or his aunt, when
it comes to marriage give him the
glamour of the lip-stick and the puff.
He has been that way since Adam. And
he will keep on being that way until
that indefinite occasion we know as
the last day. So the woman cheered
the little stranger into happiness. And
happiness is a splendid thiuS-so they
say.
She looked as If she had stepped out
of a fashion sheet into the car. Being
a sunshiny day with chill streaks in 1t.
she had combined a fur coat that rip
pied down to boot tops of gray kid
with a hat Of glazed gray straw
guarded in front by a steel quill cut
in the shape of sword.
But you can't always tell what sort
of impression you are going to make
on the everyday human mind. Two
l,aa <nl eD~i