Vashon Island news-record. [volume] (Vashon, Wash.) 1919-1954, 1922-07-07

was almost ready to slip up to him,
land tell him she was sorry, and
that she guessed she would stay
home, but he was nowhere TO be
seen. So she slipped quietly out,
and started for home.
After she had gone, Edwin
came in and sat down again. lie
was glad she had gone, for he
wanted to be alone. 1t seemed
to him that he would go mad.
All he could think of was the
scene in the doctors Office that
afternoon. He had gone there a
young man, full Of the JOY Of liv-
ing; he had come away an old
man relegated to the discard. Lep-
rocy No, it couldn't be true.
Where could he get that. Surely
the doctor at Butte would tell him
it was all a hideous mistake.
He had never been religious
man. He had laughingly said
that it would be time enough to
get religion when he had all the
pleasures Of life. Now he wished
lie We're better acquainted with
God, so that he might pray. But
what was the use? If he had lep-
Irosy-but he couldn't have!
Still if he did, he supposed he
would have to go Off somewhere.
lie wondered where. Just for a
moment he wondered whether
Marjorie would go too. Then he
was ashamed OF himself for think
ling OF it. He wouldn't let her
go. Dear child it would knll her.
That carefree little soul who low
ed company, would never stand
the confinement. He lay down
and tried to sleep, but it was no
use. Wild fancies filed his brain,
and at length he reused himself
to catch the train, completely
worn out.
The next day Marjorie came
home very much disguised with
herself. She fused around a
little, and wondered a great deal
why Edwin had gone, and seemed
so unwilling to tell her what it
was all about. But the longer
She thought, the more she felt
that if there had been a quarrel,
it was her fault. Sometimes she
was in rather a blue mood, she
thought what a terribly useless
person she was. But after all, she
consoled herself, it was not
really her fault. At home she
had never had any responsibility
and her husband treated her as
a child, and gloried in her love
for pretty things and society
There had never been any occa-
sion for her to be other than frlv-
olous.
eyes, Mr.. Weeks, [ am afraid
| will have to confirm the opinion
Of your home doctor. 1t Is the
leprosy."
Until he heard the doctor say
that, Edwin had not realized how
much he had led himself to be-
licve that surely Doctor Hunt
must have been wrong. But now
he knew. He must so home and
tell Marjorie. She would prob
ably help him pack to go away.
Still she might be unwilling to be
with him at all. There might be
danger.
Somehow he managed to while
away the time. Somehow he got
off the train, and walked home.
1t was evening, and he saw a
light. He wondered if there was
company. lie stumbled up the
steps.
Marjorie heard his step, ran to
the door, and when he opened it,
she started to put her arms about
him, but he motioned her away,
Thinking that he was still angry
at her she cried, ooh, Edwin, |
am so sorry l was so horrid.
Please be nice to me, for nothing
else really matters, if you love
me-"
"Do you really mean that,
Marge?" 1t seemed an effort for
him to talk.
His voice sounded so strange,
and he looked so haggard, that
she answered, rather frightened,
"Of course, but what's the mat
ter. You look as if you had done
something terrible and were
afraid.
81 wish that was all. Girl, I'm
going to leave YOU"