Gilpin observer., 1919-05-22
? CHAPTER Vli-continued.

-5-
The windstorm the previous week
had made sickening devastation Of
1er labors. The morning-glories alone
we're scatheless. pink oleander
arooped many broken branches from
which miracles Of perfect flowers were
unfolding. The. prettiest blossom to
Hardin was the gardener herself. She
vas vivid from eager toll. Hardin
ooked at 'approbatively. He liked
aer khaki suit, simple as a uniform,
with its flowing black tie and leather
oelt. She looked more like herself to-
lay. She had bleached out, in Tucson.
She had been letting herself get too
tanned, running around without hats.
Sunburn paled the value of those
splendid eyes of hers- He could always
ease her by llkeniny them to topazes.
His eyes ran over the pink and pur-
pie lines of cord. trained vines which
neds doral screVns for her tent. Free
II the s.ringp overhead, they rioted
over the ran'ada, the second roof, of
living bOugts. lie acknowledged their
beauty. They gave grace to bare ne
,essity; they denied the painting,
thirsty desert just beyond.
He remembered his own ramada.
Gerty had hated it, had complained of
Il so bitterly when she came home
from New York that he had had it
pulled down and replaced by V roof
Of pine boards. glaring and ugly. Gerty
was satisfied. for 1t was clean; she no
longer felt that she lived In a squaw
house. Let the Indians have ramadas !;
here was no earthly reason she should.
He had urged that the desert dwellers
had valuable hints to give them. But
what was remada to him, or anything
else? Hardin turned to leave.
She did not want him to go so soon
She pointed out a new vine to him.
She had brought 1t from Tucson;
"Kudzu," they called 1t; Japanese
vine. And there was another broken
-ose, quite beyond the help of stripped
aandkerchiefs and mesquit splints.
He followed her around the tent, her
prattie falling from his grim mood. He
was not thinking OF her flowers except
as a mocking parallel. The desert
storm had made havoc of his garden
"a sorry botch of his life. He and
tnnes had been trying TO make gar
den out of desert; the desert had
aouted them. II was not his fault.
Something had happened; something
quite beyond his power. Luck was
turning against him.
lnnes. why, she was playing as with
toy. 1t was the natural instinct of a
woman TO make things pretty around
her. But he had sacrificed his youth,
his chances. His domestic life, too
ee stould never have carried II dainty
ittl~ woman like Gerty into the des-
srt He had never reproached her for
.eavihg him. even last time when he
thought II was for good. The word
burned his wound. Whose good? His
'r Gertys? Somehow, though they
wrangled, he always knew 1t would
turn out all right; life would run
tmoothly when they left the desert.
But things were getting worse; his
mouth puckered over some recollec-
ions. Yet he loved Gerty; he couldn't
picture life without her. He decided
that IL was because there had never
been anyone else. Most fellows had
mad sweethearts before they married
he had not. nor mistress when she
ieft him, though God knows, II would
have been easy enough. His mouth
.ell into sardonic lines. Those half.
breed women! No one, even when q
divorce had hung over him. oh, he
knew what their friends made of each
pf Gerty's heightened flights; he knew
But that had been spared him. tina,
vulgar grisly spectacle of modern life
when two people who have been lover.
1rag the carcass OF their love over tn,
trimy floor OF curious gaping court
De shuddered. Gerty loved him. Else
why had she come back to him? VIII,
had she not kept her threat when b,
refused to abandon his desert projec
and turn his abilities into NOR,
profitable dedication? He could Sc,
her face as she stared flushing up Int
his that nipping cold day when he hat
run into her on Broadway. He remem
besed her coquetry when she suggest
I'd that there wns plenty of room II
tef apartment! His wife! She spok,
Y seeing his pictures in the papers
re had grown 20 be n great manw
That Disasat meeting. the week fol