The Meridian times. (Meridian, Idaho) 1909-1938, 1919-03-28

had returned. Each time her -tele-
phone rang, it was his voice she .ex-
pected to hear. She began to read
meaning into his silence. She could
think of nothing else than the strange
coincidence that had brought their
lives again close. Or was it coinci-
dence? That idea sent her thoughts
far afield.
She was thinking too much of him,
for peace of mind, those days of wait
ing, but the return of the old lover
had made a wonderful break in her
life. Her eyes were brighter; her
smile was less forced She spent most
of her days at the sewing machine. A
lot of lace was whipped onto lingerie
frocks of pale colors. She was dis
ciple of an Eastern esthete. women
he had said. SHOULD buy lace, not by
the yard, but by the mile"
As her fingers worked among the
laces and soft mulls, her mind roved
down avenues that should have been
closed to her, wife. She would have
protested, had anyone accused her of
infidelity in those days, yet day by day,
she was straying farther from her hus-
bands side. She convinced herself
that Toms gibes and ill-humor were
getting harder to endure.
1t was inevitable that the woman Of
harem training should reliye the Law
renee days. The enmity of those two
men, both her lovers, was pregnant
with romantic suggestion. The drama
of desert and river centered now in the
story of Gerry Hardin Richard, who
had never married. The deduction,
once unveiled, lost all its shyness. And
every one saw that he disliked her hus-
bandI
She knew now that she had never
loved Tom. She had turned to him in
those days of pride when Richards
anger stiIl held him aloof. How many
times had she gone over those unreal
hours Who could have known that
his anger would last? That hour in
the honeysuckles his kisses None of
Hardin's rougher kisses had swept her
memory of her exquisite delight-de-
lirious as was her JOY, there was room
for triumph. She had seen herself
clear Of the noisy boarding house. Her
self, Gerty Holmes, the wife of a pro-
fessor; able to have the things she
craved, to have them openly no longer
having to scheme for them.
1t was through Richards eyes that
she had seen the shortcomings of the
college boarding house. She had ac-
quired keen consciousness of those
quizzical eyes. When they had isolated
her, at last, appealing to her sympa-
thy or amusement, separating her
from all those boisterous students, her
dream of bliss had begun.
In those days, she had seen Hardin
through the eyes of the young instrue-
tor, younger by several years than his
pupil. Her thud of disappointed anger,
of dislike, when the face of Hartlin
peered through the leafy screenl To
have waited, prayed for that moment,
and to have it spoiled like that There
had been days when she had wept be-
cause she had not shown her anger
How could she know that everything
would end there; end. just beginning
Her clearinghouse training had
taught her to be civil. 1t was still
vivid to her, her anxiety, her tremu-
lousness-with Hardin talking forever
of play he had just seen; Richard
growing sitter, angrier, refusing to
look at those lips still warm with his
kiSsesi
And the next day, still angry with
her. All, the puzzled desolation of
those weeks before she had salved her
hurt; with pride, and then with love
Those days of misery before she could
convince herself that she had been in
love with love, not with her fleeing
loverl Hardin was there, eager to be
noticed. That affair. she could see
now, had lacked finesse.
Richard had certainly loved her, or
why had he never married? Why had
he left so abruptly his boarding house
in midterm? Doesn't jealousy confess
love? Some day. he would tell her;
what a hideous mistake hers had
beenl She ought not to have rushed
into that marriage. She knew now it
had always been the other. But life
was not finished, yet
The date set for her summer
''widowhood" had come. but she lin
gered. Various reasons. splendid and