The Seattle star. [volume] (Seattle, Wash.) 1899-1947, 1919-07-23
CHAPTER XVII.
In Which There Is Further Clash

One can only suffer so much.
Poignant feeling brings its own an
aesthetic. When Stella T'yfc fell into
troubled sleep that night, the storm
OF her emotions had beaten her sore
ly. Morning brought its physical re-
action. She could see things clearly
and calmly enough TO perceive that
her love for Monohan was fraught
with factors that must be taken into
account. All the world loves a lover.
but her world did not love lovers who
kicked over the conventional traces.
She had made niche for herself.
There were ties she could not break
lightly. and she was not thinking
of herself alone when she considered
that, but OF her husband and Jack
Junior, Of Linda Abbey and Charlie
Benton. of each and every individual
whose life touched more or less di-
rectly upon her own.
She had always known what a
woman should do In such case. what
she had been taught woman should
do: grin. as Monohan had said. and
take her medicine. For her there
was no alternative. Fyfe had made
that clear. But her heart cried out
In rebellion against the necessity. To
her. trying TO think logically. the
most grievous phase OF the doing was
the fact that nothing could ever be
the same again. She could go on.
Oh. yes. She could dam up the we'll
spring OF her impulses. walk stead.
fast along the accustomed ways. But
those ways would not be the old ones.
There would always be the skeleton
at the feast She would know IL
was there. and Jack Fyfe would
know. and she dreaded the fruits OF
that knowledge. the bitterness and
smothered resentment II would breed.
But It had to be. AS she saw 1t.
there was no choice.
She came down to breakfast calm
ly enough. II was nothing that
could be altered by heroics, by tears
and wailings. Not that she was
much given TO either. She had not
whined when her brother made
things so hard for her that any
refuge seemed alluring by compari-
son. Curiously enough. she did not
blame her brother now; neither did
she blame Jack Fyfe.
| She told herself that in first seek
ing the line OF least resistance she
had manifested weakness. that since
her present problem was indirectly
the outgrowth of that original weak.
ness. she would be weak no more.
SO she tried 10 meet her husband as
IL nothing had happened, in which
she succeeded outwardly very well
indeed, since Byfe himself chose 10
ignore any change in their mutual
attitude.
She busted herself about the house
that forenoon. seeking deliberately a
multitude of little tasks to occupy
her hands and her mind.
| But when lunch was over. she was
at the end OF her resources. Jack
Junior settled In his crib for n nap.
Fyfe went away to that area back Of
the camp where arose the crash OF
falling trees and the labored putting
OF donkey engines. She could hear
faint and far the voices OF the falling
gangs that cried: 'Tim-ber.rr-r."
She could see on the bank, a little
beyond the clubhouse and cook
shack, the big reader spooling up the
cable that brought string after string
of logs down to the lake. Rain or
sun, happiness or sorrow, the work
went on. She found IL in her heart
to envy the sturdy loggers. They
could forget their troubles in the
strain of action. Keyed as she was
to that high pitch. that sense of their
unremitting activity, the ravaging of
the forest which produced the re
sources for which she had sold her
self irritated her. She was very
bitter when she thought that.
She longed for some secluded place
to sit and think or try to stop think.
ing. And, without fully realizing the
direction she took, she walked down
past the camp. crossed the skid-road.
stepping lightly over main line and
hanback, at the donkey engineers
warning, and went along the lake
shore.
A path wound thru the belt of
brush and hardwood that fringed the
lake. Not until she had followed this
up on the neck Of a little promon-
tory south of the bay, did she remem
Der with shock that she was APP
preaching the place where Monohan
had begged her to meet him. She
looked at her watch. thirty.