Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1920-12-02

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probity had been able to live SO
that she had nothing to hide; Adele,
who talked of her affairs" with per-
feet frankness, because she had done
nothing of which she was ashamed,
Adele sketched in jumpy sort of
her dissatisfaction with life in the
country, her disagreement with her
mother because of it. She said little
of the first few months after she
game to New York. But Helen could
read between the lines and admired
little money, no friends-and false
idea of her own ability. Yet she
had come through clean.
Back of the sordidness of Adele's
story had been something else. The
sturdy goodness, the unquestioned
morality of her farming ancestors.
Church, Sabbath school, the minister,
told is. 1t had been inbred in her
very existence that to disobey the
Ten Commandments was to sin be-
yond all forgiveness
"She has learned life without be-
ing herself despoiled," Helen said
bitterly, after Adele had left her.
"She has nothing to regret" A med
itative look crept into Helen's eyes,
look that was both hungry and
hard.
It was this look Of hunger about
her mouth, in her eyes, that Lansing
had caught and that had puzzled him.
She was still young. yet her strange
ly unsatisfied eyes gave her touch
of even greater maturity than be-
had also an air of disdain. He had
noted it especially when some man
was being discussed. 1t was as if
she believed nothing fine could
emanate from the sex.
Adele also had noted the look and
she, too had been curious. But part
of her religion, as she. told Helen,
was minding her own business and
expecting other people to mind theirs.
So she said nothing.
Helen was not successful with her
next story. 1t came back promptly
with note from the editor, asking
her to make certain changes, then
try him again.
Her surprise was perhaps greater
than her disappointment, although her
money was again getting low. But
her belief that the world owed her
a living was not disturbed, SO she
threw tht story aside impatiently,
saying to Adele:
81 hate to change it! I hate to do
my work over. am interested at
first, but when I attempt to follow
suggestions invariably make mess
of things"
Don't change it, then. Send it to
some one else"
81 will"
In day or two Helen received a
letter from the editor of the popular
magazine to whom she had sent the
story.
"Will you please call at your earli-
est convenience"
Wondering, Helen complied.
your story interested me great ly.
are Californian. are you not?"
At have been in California"
The last thing in the world Helen
wanted to do was to talk Of Cali
fornia. The editor sensed it, but, as
he was an enthusiast about the state,
he continued to talk OF les beauties.
Finally he said:
mo one but one familiar with
California could have written this
story" He went on then and pointed
out passages she had not realized
told so plainly her familiarity with
the country and the habits and GUS
toms of it's people. IF you will re-
write the passages I have marked,
leaving the rest of the story as 1t
is, shall be glad to take it." he
told her, then asked her address,
Could he have seen Helen when she
reached her room he would have
been amazed She took the manu-.
script from it's envelope, tore it into
tiny bits. Then she burned the frag-
ments.
Il must be careful! Some one
might have read that story and
known. They might have found me-"
she muttered, as she watched the
blaze.
Then she sat down and commenced
another story, an imaginative yarn
for days. When she tired she wrote
the kind editor note.
1T have had an accident with the
story, SO cannot return it to you, as
1 kept no copy" was all she said.
But Mortimer Kellogg, the young,
been interested in Helen-in her
beauty as we'll as in her work. He
had her address He would avail him
self of it to call upon her.
she has lived" he had unused after
she left his office. THAT woman has
a story. It is in her eyes"
Then and there he had determined
to follow up the acquaintance. He
was a bachelor, alone in New York.
She called herself Miss"
Chapter XII.
a DELE and Helen were slipping
N tea in Helen's apartment:
n Adele remarked, apropos of
nothing:
There's no use being friends with
a married man, because 1t can -
to anything. I'd hate to take an
other woman's leavings, and that's
what it amounts to if you get him
at all-it is simply because the. other
woman, his wife, is through
Helen came up from the depths.
"It all sounds terribly risque and
well, complicated. l take 1t you
have at some time known married
man."
Il have, several" Adele replied in
her downright way. Good, bad, and
indifferent, But there was one",17
There always is-isn't therc?"
Helen asked.
"Yes-I guess So" Her blue eyes
clouded, then smiled at Helen. He
was from California" An almost i'm,
evidently unnoticed. "He was, ter
ribly Hooking. He and his wife
hadn't hit it off very well, weren't
congen1al-same old stuff, you know.
He was dreadfully keen for me. l
mean he pretended to be; Perhaps
was tied to one woman. That was
enough for me. l never believed in
partnerships, anyway"
How long have you known him?"
Helen made her question careless be-
cause of the smile that accompanied
1t.
"I met him three years ago. He
was in New York for about six
Five Of the six he chased
me. I don't know what he did
the rest Of his time. told him there
was nothing doing, although he pre-
tended if I would encourage him he
would get divorce from the woman
who didn't understand him. Say,
Helen, why in heavens name don't
men think up something new? If l
were man I'd tell women something
even if 1 had to say she un-
derstood me too we'll. What will you
bet that isn't the trouble, anyway?
Some women are pretty clever, you