The Washington herald., 1920-03-06

rested quietly in my room be-
fore dinner-hour. For / felt tired
And there are times when we all
long for solitude.
Alice's mAid-a kindly Irish girl
lowered about me for a moment.
1onged for her to go. Was there
anything that 1 needed? she in
Quired solicitously.
She insisted on removing the hair
pins from my thick. curly tresses,
and brushing out my hair.
Madame is quite beautiful" she
said with the French accent Alice
has taught her to assume. She
Wrapped my blue kimono about me.
and insisted that 1 lie down on the
bed II shall return in half an hour.
and prepare the bath for madame"
she added smiling amiably.
She switched on a shaded electric
light beside me. Madame might like
to read. perhaps.
] nodded.
Pass me down that book, please.
I pointed to one of the latest novels
on q shelf close to my bed. Thank
you" dismissed her.
With careless fingers 1 turned to
the pages of the book. My thoughts
were on Alice. and her foolishness
And then printed para
graph caught my eye.
women today are increasingly
fond of playing with fire. of going
as near the danger-line as possible,
80 long as they do not cross it, of
dancing on the edge of the precipice
without falling over"
That gave one furiously to
think" as the French say!
/ read the paragraph again. 1t
seemed an echo of my own thoughts.
Love of excitement Love of
change! Restlessness! Those things
formed the keynote of the modern
woman.
But-was she happier? 1 won
dered.
At heart / do believe / am old
fashioned. 1 believe in wIfehood,
motherhood and home. This perpet-
ual chasing of false gods-this end
less social game-it wearies me.
Few people really know the truth
about us women. We pretend-pre-
tend
I think there is an instinct in all
: of us to camoufiage. We don't want
the world to fathom us. We like to
appear mysterious. misunderstood.
But so many of us are just takers,
] twisted round into a more COM
Portable position, stuck an extra pill
4 low behind my fluffy head, and gave
the book a more interested perusal.
Women are disloyal to other
! women whenever il becomes a ques-
tion of men," read.
I flung the book down, irritated.
dislike that horribly superior say
ing. A man had written that, 1 was
! assured. A complacent, SNUG, su-
perior man!
Glancing at the name below the
title. 1 was satisfied. Yes. this ag-
gravating piece of sentiment had
been perpetrated by a man!
But-a grain of truth lay in his
fwords-although I hated him. For
thoughts of Alice surged through
my consciousness. Alice-always
predatory in her instincts-would
sacrifice her own best woman
. friend. il the stake were some stupid
meaningless Irritation with a man!
Oh. well. we weren't all like Alice
and thank heaven for it.
Helene St Aubyns-was a dir
sferent type. Not that 1 disliked or
despised men-noi But-apart from
Jim-they couldn't rouse emotion In
me. I'd grown weary of their fat
tery-their unoriginal methods of
: attack
Why couldn't women be plain
friends with men, without all this
hectic bother? Wasn't friendship
something very precious. very beau
: tiful? I was capable of friendship.
Jim had often told me so.
The best little pal a fellow ever
had" he'd often said.
reiterated Jim's words. Yes, 1 could
be a pail
Then my wandering eye caught a
new sentence in this irritating nov
ell:
There is no such thing as Pla-
tonic friendship between red-bIood-
ed men and women. 1t is Lessor
more"
= made little, angry face. This