The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1918-05-28

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THE COSTS OF CONsTANCY

ing Donna Tenney came in.
She listened a while to what we
said about Annie and then she
said: 4 wonder il you girls
realize how much courage it takes
to be constant"
Eliene and l both laughed and
then we sobered as we thought
how right she was. 1t had takea
much courage for Annie to be con-
slant to Tim and surely Eliene had
shown remarkable courage in
sticking to Harry-and. little
book. only you and l know that
there were many times when I
thot l could not live with Dick any
longer.
81 did not have the courage to
be constant" said Donna "and so
| left Bill as you know, but I was
glad enough to go back to him for
II loved him."
DO you know, girls, some
times think" said Eliene, that
many men have as ha~d a time
with us as We do with them. OF
course we are not unfaithful, but
venture to predict that as de-
votedly as l loved Harry l made
him very miserable when we were
first married"
But you made up for 1t roy
ally, my dear" exclaimed Donna.
THAT is where you had the cour-
age and where | fell down. Some
times l think | am to blame for
all the unhappiness that came to
poor Kitty Malram. II l had stay
ed on my job as Bills wife, she
would not have fallen in love with
him."
There is no way of telling just
what would have happened If we
had made no mistakes, Donna"
said consolingly, and sometimes
l think it is those mistakes that
make life worth living"
Eliene looked at me specula-
lively. "But it has always seemed
to me. Margie, that you made no
mistakes"
well, my dear, I have made a
good many l answered quickly,
and in my heart, little book, |
thanked fate for you because if
had never had you as An outlet
for my heart ills l would have
probably told them to someone
else. l sometimes think over my
life with Dick and I say to myself,
as did Mrs. Browning: 81 think
we've Jared, my heart and l."
But, oh, little book, I did not
think / would be so lonely-here
is such a feeling of finality about
it all and l look into the future
with fear when l think of the re-
sponsibility of bringing up Rich
ard Waverly III.
For the first time in all our
long years Of friendship I am
very, very sorry for you because
you have not eyes to see and
hands to feel.
Yesterday I awakened just al
the break of day and again that
awful sense of loss swept over
me. For a long while l made
myself lie still as I said to my
self, Don't be a coward, Margie
Waverly - other wOmen-thous-
ands of them-are losing Their
husbands daily and many of them
have not as much to make them
happy as you," and I looked about
the beautiful room in which was
lying.
All at once I heard little
gurgle from the other room. Like
a flash l was out of bed and
across the floor and l pulled aside
the curtains and bent over my
!! baby's bassinet.
ooh Dicky, Dicky, you ador
able bit of loneliness" I said, and
as I sank beside him that blessed
child seemed to understand. Out
went his arms to me. There was
a gurgle of Joy.
snatched him up so quickly
and tightly that he lost his
breath, but he was not fright
ened. He did not cry.
For the first time in my life ]
felt a delicious sort of thrill as
that satiny little body was press
ed against mine. ! held him ur
close to my face and covered his
darling body with its rose leaf
skin with kisses.
One of his irresponsible hands