Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1919-06-03

"Why don't you dress your hair like
Ann'sT asked Glenn several days later
as he sat at dinner alone with his wife.
She laughed aside the demand at
the time. but In the privacy Of her
rooms that night she STOOD before her
tall mirror and faced herself and her
problem bravely.
She was only year or two older
than Ann, and she looked ten.
She took the pins from her hair
and shook the loose strands over her
shoulders. Once heavy waves had
hung below her waist. Glenn had been
proud Of II then.
As she stood before the glass now
she tried. with patient fingers, to twist
the despised coils into a fashionable
coifture.
ut all went" she mused, before
little Mary came. I would have given
the flesh from my bones to have kept
the poor little thing alive. Some sacri-
fees seem to be in vain. But, Of course,
they aren't really"
Her efforts were finally rewarded
by rather imposing achievement. But
she shook her head dubiously.
She braided her hair into tight lit
tie pig-tails, locked her door, and cried
herself to sleep.
In the meantime, Ann, aside from
the fact that her task was daily be-
coming more dlstasteful and irksome,
was having a very good time.
Tom DeWitte, one Of the older
bachelors, was markedly devoted, and
Marian would have rejoiced In this
turn Of AIMS affairs had 1t not brought
another and serious turn in her own.
Tom and Glenn had always been
good friends, but after the frequency
Of Toms visits to Ann began to be
noticeable, Glenn's cordiality ceased.
When he came home one evening
and found Tom dining informally at
his table he became distantly polite,
almost to the limit of rudeness. Mar
ian saw the change, and panic swayed
her.
The evening of the dinner Ann and
DeWitte drove to the theater. Left to
themselves, Glenn and Marian faced
one another in dumb misery.
"Play and sing for me-" rasped
Glenn. Marian went to the piano obe-
diently, but her hands trembled and
her voice shook.
" cannot, Glenn-indeed, I cannot"
she pleaded.
"It is too bad" he sneered, 1.-THE
others are not here"
1T Is. Indeed, am sorry" she ac-
knowledged, holding her hands tightly
together lest their trembling betray
her agitation.
"Go-go to your rooml" thundered
her husband.
"How he hates mellow he hates
mel" she kept repeating to herself up
the interminable stairway.
He followed her almost Immediately.
1--WE may as well have an under
standing at once" he said wearily.
"You must refuse this man. DeWitte
the house, or I cannot answer for my
treatment Of him."
"I'm sorry, Glenn-sorry for you.
It's all my fault. But I cannot turn
him away"
"You must" he blazed. "What do !
care for your sorrow7 Do you think
will let this man stand in my way?"
"But think Of Ann. She has her
right to happiness" she pleaded.
Marian, you are no child. You
have been married six years. You are
either unsophisticated or devilishly
cunning"
"Glenn, our happiness Is in ruins.
But let US be man enough and woman
enough to think of them. If Ann cares
for him, and he cares for Ann"
"For Ann, for Ann" he laughed
harshly-"do you suppose man of
DeWitte's type would give second
look or thought to scrawny, white
immature little thing like Ann, In the
presence of a splendid, brilliant, beau
tiful-"
Marian sprang forward and searched
the angry eyes of him. In their depths
she saw the sincerity of boy, the
passion of a man-but beneath them
both she saw the certainty. Her plump
arms tightened about his neck and she
covered his face with her kisses.
you're queer woman" said
Glenn, stroking her smooth, dull hair
with tenderness that belied the gruff-
ness Of his speech. "Here for weeks
l have been trying to be good to you
and to your pretty little friend, and
you have been cold as stone. And
now, when talk to you like drunken
cad"
She fumbled up across his lips and
pulled his nose until 1t was red and
unlovely.
"You've tried to be good to me-"
she Knocked. "Let me tell you, foolish
one, 1t doesn't matter in the least
whether a man Is good to his wife or
not"
Which cryptic remark she did not
expect him to understand. Not that |
II matterei. Nothing mattered but the |
certainty.