Evening star., 1922-10-22
BY COURTNEY RILEY COOPER
In The Stars American Fiction
Series on Marriage.

me, that you'd stay by a silly bargain
like that John"-she looked at
him quickly-''during the time we've
been married. have you really bee,
happy?'
"I?" He paused. His lips pressed
tight for an instant. Then: 'If you
want the frank TRUTH haven't"
"Why?"
"Why?"
Again pause. Then:
"Oh, never mind"
But L want to know. Is il for the
same reason that haven't been hap
py-because everything has been just
the same. just the regular monotony
Of sugar, sugar. sugar all the time
and never a bit of bitter sweet? is
that the reason. John? And I have
been unhappy, John. I've known
every minute what you We're going IN.
do. / knew the minute you were go
! ing to leave home, the minute you
would telephone me. the minute you'd
get here at night, and what you'd talh
about at the dinner table. ] knew 10
dot what you'd do and say and how
you'd act. And, John-a woman may
say she wants that, but she doesnj.
She wants q husband who'll be good
to her most of the time, but who now
and then-well, who won't We cant
be superhuman, John. 1t isn't in Us
You've been on time TO dinner for ten
years. ! haven't even had the e1cit.-
ment of scolding you for being lat"
L" Then, as if with an inspire
tion, she looked at him. John, dia
you ever notice how an electrical
storm clears the air, And how sultrN
it has been beforehand? We've ner"i
even had the chance to know ho~
beautiful things can be after the
clouds have gone. We've had nothing
but sunshine-until it's blinded Us
and we haven't been able to see an!
thing"
THEN she halted-suddenly beam
i ing. A light. of understandings
had come into the eyes of John Car
rington. The tired expression faded
to give way to one which Medailae
had not seen in years. Slowly hS
Z
form of his wife. He kissed her
slowly, as one who tastes long AT
sweet he is loath to leave.
Ten years seemed to have rolled
away-ten drab, uneventful years
which now bore no more importance
In retrospect than the fatness OF
monotonous plains. A soft hand
+, &c nln nd
there.
We've just been driftwood, John
He nodded and kissed her again
Then, like a streak, he turned from
her and bounded up the stairs. Won
oering, she heard him fumbling aboui
in an upper room. banging at dra"
ers and uttering strange things undeI
his breath A grunt. Another. Loud
er. Then:
"Medaine," came in believing tones
yet ones which seemed strangely
fraught with happiness. where IA
thunder are my pongee shirts?'
In the room below, Medaine smiled
the smile of a woman who has
fought and won. She knew In
stinctively that it was not the shirts
which John wanted-that he merely
was yielding to a thing he had put
behind him for years, hurryinG to
that which he had lonGed to do for
time interminable. yet a thing de-
MED him through the repression of a
system which now, happily, was
system no longer. For they were on
a different basis, truer basis-that
of plain, honest naturalness, where
real love could thrive in both the
sunshine of ineffable happiness and
the cultivating storms of normal dis
agreements. She whirled toward the
stairs, and called upward snappily-
yet with a CLINT of merriment in hei
eyes:
Right where they've always been,
came her explosive announcement
right in the third drawer of the
chiffrobe, if you'll only take the tim
to look for them
Five minutes later. caller stepped
on the veranda of the Carrington
home 1t was inevitable that he
should glance through the window.
to see within the living room two
persons sitting before a driftwood
blaze, hands together, arms about
each others shoulders, two radiant
sweethearts watching the fiickering
of the flames. The caller sighed. in
| envy. eslS
They've got the system" he an
nounced to himself. as he rang the
bell; "happiest darned couple in
town.
Copyright 1922. All rights reservedD