Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1921-08-09
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CHAPTER XXXIX
DrurT. a TTnHTi
I4ZEl DEYO BA7CHEZOR
- czLIoL Ne EaEER ~

when she was raced with 1aCtS. L
don't know whather you're right or
haps you are. but L want to think
things over before say any
thing"
sometimes when one is facing a
problem of some kind, another per-
sons opinion will help" Carol said
gravely.
Jean rose to her feet. "Thanl1
you," she said quite simply, Il felt
that I could trust you"
Carol took Jean to the door Of the
apartment. Something about this girl
fascinated her. She was so entirely
lovable, such a mixture of pride and
breeding, and apparently so intoler-
ant Carol was a shrewd judge of
women, she knew sincerity and val
ued it as something rare, but Jean
was complex. In some ways she was
simple and easy to read, in others
she was subtle, her reserve making
a barrier against intimacy. Carol
knew that it was an uncommon thing
for Jean to confide in any one and
she appreciated this confidence. She
believed, too. that Jean had been
swept off her feet by the man who
had married her.
AS she went back into her studio
and poured herself another cup of
tea she was wondering what type of
man this Mark Brand was.
It'll wager he's. pretty fine" she
said to herself. He's probably a
diamond in the rough, a domineering
type of man entirely unconscious of
the Importance of little things. Jean
has been brought up to thing that
superficial culture is the most i'm
portant thing in the world, but she's
no lightweight, she's a woman capa-
BILE of big emotions, big feelings
only she isn't aware of it yet. Any
woman who can hate like that can
love just as hard. What a capacity
for happiness or misery is buried
in nature like hers"
Jean went directly home from Car
OILS and found the apartment empty.
She went into her own room, heI
thoughts in turmoil, and prepared
to face the truth as it was revealed
of herself hating Mark for so long
that the possibility of actually feel
ing anything else had never occurred
to her. Now she trembled and her
cheeks famed as she faced another
possibility. If it weren't hate she
felt, what was this terrible gripping
emotion that swept over her at the
memory of her husband? The things
she remembered about him filled her
with shame. The close, insistent
clasp Of his arms as he had held her
against him that night, the fierce
ness of his kisses, the beat Of his
heart that seemed to shake his body
and yet his unutterable tenderness
in the midst of his emotion swept
over her with a poignance that was
almost unbearable. She buried hel
face in the pillows and shamelessly
tried to bring back everything about
him that she could remember. She
had thought Of him as rough anG
crude and lacking in fineness; he had
taught her to hate him. and yet he
had called forth something in hel
that she hadn't known she possessed
something primitive, something that
responded to him in spite of every.
thing she could do to prevent it.
Even now she wanted to hate him
but at last she faced the truth and
knew herself for what she was. She
clutched at the pillows and sobbeC
at her defeat, for surely now Mark
Brand had his revenge!
CKAPTER XII
Long, Long Thoughts
y FAN did not know what to do
with her strange new knowledge.
1t. made life at Cicely's almost
~ unbearable, and the ceaseless
round of dizzy engagements were
more tiresome than ever in conse-
quence. In spite Of this strange new
feeling in her heart, in spite of the
impulse to do just one thing, rush
to Mark with the truth, jeans pride
held her back. She could never go
to Mark as he had said she must,
and admit what was in her heart,
and yet she shamelessly toyed with
the idea. How wonderful it would
be to do just that. She would close
her eyes and imagine that she heard
the deep notes Of his voice. Surely
no other man spoke as Mark did.
She could have laughed at herself
for fool when she remembered how
she had shrunk away from the tones
of his voice, how she had only to
hear his voice calling out some Or
der, to shudder with distaste, and
now he still had the power to make
her tremble, but how different it
was.
II think I must be, mad" Jean
would tell herself over and over.
How could I live with myself so
long and not know myself at all! It's
absurd, it isn't done these days"
But the fact remained, nevertheless,
and she was still the same Jean, the
same and not the same, and her life
became round Of torturing
thoughts.
Marks letters to her were very
1nfrequent. One arrived the day aft
er her talk with Carol. She saw it
lying by her plate when she went in
to breakfast and her heart leaped
while her mouth felt dry and her
eyes blurred. She wanted to snatch
it up and tear it open, but she forced
herself to an outward composure, as
she carefully slit the envelope and
drew out the nclosure. There was
the check as usual, and just a few
curt lines. She read them over and
over until she knew them by heart,
and then for the first time a terri
Die thought occurred to her. 1t per-
sisted through the day. Now she
knew that she never could go to
him with the truth. Even if her
pride permitted such thing, she
could never do it. For how could
she suppose that Mark still cared
for her? She had been away from
him now for weeks, no doubt he
was glad of it and of course there
was no doubt that he had had a
change of heart. She Rugged to her
breast the memory Of his last words
to her.
II will always love you. If you
find at any time that you want me,
that you need me for any reason,
then you must come to me yourself"
He had said that and she had
laughed, hard, mirthless laugh CAL
culated to hurt. She would as soon
the earth would suddenly fall in and
crush her. The idea of ever going to
him humb1y was enough in itself to
make her laugh at the idea, but the
idea or ever telling him that she
cared was funnier still. All she had
wanted was to get away from him,
to have her freedom. Now she would
have counted it blessed freedom to
have him take her in his arms.
L won't give way to it. I'll crush
it out" she said to herself deter
mlnedly. II won't allow myself to