Alma record. (Alma, Mich.) 1878-1928, 1921-02-24
A WRIT
OF REPLEVIN
BY MAX HART
<Copyright)

point-lace and sash made from the
wing of an angel; there was the two
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 il was a country home on a Maine
hill, diamond sunburSt, clockwork
horse In pale pink with a stiff tail-a
first suit of evening clothes, a Daghis-
tan rug, new heels on your old shoes,
check from responsible sources, the
encouraging smile of a strange woman
whom you had discreetly admired,
the new crystal in your injured watch
1T might simmer on indefinitely.
This is the point, and it permits of
no disSension, it allows no argument ii
is unto itself an all-incontrovertible
fact: That which we have, we are
quietly pleased with, when 1t is good
but the keen and biting edge OF our ap-
probation becomes dulled from the
first moment Of possession-the wire.
fine edge Of the joyous, shocking thrill
of novelty slides rapidly away, despite
our best efforts TO hold ii, 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
Mr.. James Brainard, on Mornngside
Park.
Mrs. +. inard-Aline, OF course-is
sitting on a green couch in the morn.
ing-room. Her eyes are fastened upon
a naphtha launch that scurries along
the surface of the Hudson mile away
1t is delightfully."- busy launch, and
for long time Mrs. Brainard watches
it circle and line, until the water-spout
on the building next door blots il out
Around her is wealth-profuse, I'M
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 moyent Of our impertnence, is puz
zlng over a legal problem in Broad
street.
James IS very rich, very successful
very much sought after, and very close
10 the ragged edge Of smash-up, not
financial, not moral not domestic, not
romantic-just 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
long time after their arrival, James
operated upon fleeing basis, without
office, without practice. and frequently
without food.
He did little tasks around police
courts, and Allne was captain and gen
eral manager of the little apartment
on 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 its name.
On East Ninety-third street the land
lords run to furnished flats. and the
Brainards occupied one. 1t was small
beyond the jokes in comic papers.
Aline promptly discovered how II
should be used, even if it were intended
for something else; and, as. the ring
-.
into the hall, il was her thoughtful
custom 10 greet James upon his return
from downtown with a wifely kiss,
which she delivered through the leather
ring.
Not bit of sense 60 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 flat 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 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, if it still held It for
her, in a measure, 1t seemed not 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 duh, inert way.
He had somehow reached tomorrow,
and had found it commonplace and,
worst of all, he was drifting away from
Aline; not through desire of his and
not because he was weary of having
her, but because something inside him
was becoming atrophied. The world
was getting Jim, and Aline was losing
him.
"And I can remember" she said
aloud. "the time the plumbers came
and piped our first fiat and put in the
gas jets to replace the oil lamp. Jim