, 1920-01-08
A WRIT
OF REPLEVIN
By MAX HART
(Copyright.)

wheeled bicycle running on pneumatic
tires which the family refused you,
until life seemed drab and useless /;
there was the seventy horsepower tour
ing car, with its French driver; or per-
haps it was ii country home on a Maine
hill, a diamond sunburst, a clockwork
first suit of evening clothes, a Daghis-
tan rug, new heels on your old shoes,
a check from responsible sources, the
encouraging smile of a strange woman
whom you had discreetly admired,
the new crystal in your injured watch
it might simmer on indefinitely.
This is the point, and it permits of
no ~dissension, it allows no argument. it
is unto itself an all-incontrovertible
fact: That which we have, we are
quietly pleased with. when it Is good /;
but the keen and biting edge of our APP
probation becomes dulled from the
first m of possessiOn-the wire
fine edge of the joyous, shocking thrill
of novelty slides rapidly away, despite
best efforts to hold it, and some of
us become numb-very numb.
The "this-suits-me-fine'' of the second
day loses one-half a tone, and there
can be no better way of illustrating
than to wander idly into the home of
MI. James Brainard, on Morningside
Park.
Mrs. Brainard-Aline, of course-is
sitting on a green couch In the morn
ing-room. Her eyes are fastened upon
a naphtha launch hat scurries along
the surface of the Hudson a mile away.
1t is a delightfully."- busy launch, and
for a long time Mrs. Brainard watches
it circle and line, until the water-spout
on the building next door blots it out.
Around her is wealth-profuse, un-
restrained wealth, and the culture that
follows it. There are servants at the
end of each thin bell-wire. The floors
are inch deep with expensive rugs.
Paintings fill the bare spaces, and bits
Of statuary are scattered through the
larger rooms.
Wherever she looks, Mrs. Brainard
sees possessions-those things that she
owns, she and Jim Brainard, who, at
the movent of our impertinence, is puz-
zling over a legal problem in Broad
street.
James is very rich. very successful,
very much sought after, and very close
to the ragged edge of a smash-up, no
financial, not moral. not domestic, not
romantic-just a plain smash-up, for
which no defining expression is yet
within the language.
And now to draw back the curtain.
Aline and James married In Dubuque,
Iowa, and came to New York city on
the first two hundred dollars. For u
long time after their arrival, James
operated upon a ieeting basis, without
office, without practice. and frequently
without food.
He did little tasks around police
courts, and Aline was captain and gen.
eral manager of the little apartment
OF East Ninety-third street. which
cleavered away from their tiny sink
ing-fund the sum of sixteen dollars per
month. 1t was a genuine sinking-fund,
living strictly to it's name.
On East Ninety-third street the land
lords run to furnished flats, and the
Brainards occupied one. 1t was small
pNyoiu ihC JohCo III III pupCios
Aline promptly discovered how it
should be used, even if it were intended
for something else; and, as the ring
hung almost beside the door leading
into the hall, it was her thoughtful
custom to greet James upon his return
from downtown with a wifely kiss,
which she delivered thu ough the leather
ring.
Not a bit of sense to it, of course
but Aline liked it, and the ring just
covered her eyes. So. sometimes, Jim
couldn't tell that she had been crying.
When the little launch drifted out of
her sight the little fiat drifted in, and
for a long time she sat In silence, re-
calling one familiar object after an
other, and wondering what had hap
pened to her and to Jim In the years
that had crept between.
Not so very many years, she unused.
He was a bit younger then, to be sure.
So was she.
But in those happy, poverty-stricken
months, life had held something for
each of them that it no longer pos
sessed. At least. IL It still held it for
her, In a measure, 1t seemed o to for
Jim.
1t was appreciation, she decided. OF
course. Jim was comparatively happy.
He realized that his life was flowing in
smooth waters. He was pleased with
his beautiful home and with his wife,
but always in a dull, inert way.
He had somehow reached tomorrow,
and had found it commonplace and,
worst of all, he vas drifting away from
Aline; not through desire of his and
not because lie was weary of having
her, but because something inside him
was becoming atrophied. The world
was getting Jim, and Aline was losing
him.
"And l can remember" she said
oIOra afho time tho .NInnohAr- aoroa