White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1923-04-20

I John Emerson thought many things.
II she did not really care for him
why had she asked him such Ques-
itn? This was the life he had always
wanted to lead. Here he was, real,
live human being, romance within his
grasp. Love, he felt, was there, too.
The quick, pulsating events OF the
day, the strange, weird sensations Of
the night. Life! Life all about!
What a girl. How beautiful! How
sympathetic! The theaters! HOW he
loved to sit beside her. This was
what he wanted. A little brightness.
A fling at youth again He was
supremely happy.
1 These thoughts filled his mind even
as he turned the corner Of Forty-third
street and neared the Biltmore. They
were still flaming, when he reclined
in an easy chair and heard the tinkle
of his telephone.
| "Mees Glira, eet ees," the valet an
nounced.
And when John took his telephone
he heard again the voice Of the won
derful girl.
gAll right" he said at last, "at
the races tomorrow. 1 can't think Of
anything I'd rather do than go along
With you. Surely, I'll be with you.
Goodnight"
But as he uttered the last word his
glance fell upon picture Of a wist-
ful-eyed woman of thirty-eight set in
a small frame on table across the
room.
"Mary!" he gasped, in hoarse
whisper. He sat there long, gazing
in the picture. AS his eyes rested
on her own he seemed to see In them
yelling tears, questions, fear. Not
once could he find resentment, al
| though he searched with all his might
for this. Finally he dropped his gaze.
Then his hands went to his forehead,
and he sat there more than an hour,
thinking over all the strange hap
penings of his visit in New York, of
Gloria and of Mary.
After a while he Strengthened,
looked solemnly into the picture and
said in tones so audible that the valet
came peeping from behind the door
way.
'Oh, Mary, my dear-just one
more day. Just tomorrow at the
races, and then I'll come home"
The following day the sun shone
brightly, and as John and Gloria
took their places in the great grand
stand surrounded by the elegance
which New York alone can supply to
the sport of kings all the world
seemed gay.
AS the aprancing, restless horses
took their places at the post, roars
of applause went up from the throngs,
and Gloria, in her excitement, tugged
away at her escorts arm until John
Emerson felt he would be forced to
respond. He did not know how he
would do it, He only turned to her
and said:
Gloria, you are wonderful"
/ She seemed not to hear him, and
he again took up his glasses, the
while turning about to have a view
of the great crowd. Not more than
twenty feet away from him. he be-
held an interesting scene. An elderly
couple sat there. AS the getaway
approached, he saw the little old man
rise excitely from his seat and emit
one great hurrah for his chosen horse.
AS he did this his wife chasrined,
embarrassed, reached up and caught
her husbands coat, dragged him
| back into his chair. John saw by
the look on the faces Of the two
that wife was scolding husband.
There were John and Mary again,
he thought. The husband filled with
the desire to see life and appreciate
it; the wife bent upon destroying
every illusion, every hope, every spark
of real enjoyment which might come
his way He resented this. He want
ed to tell her so. He pitied the poor
little old man who had been 80
rudely suppressed.
Turning now to Gloria John saw
her rise like frail, wonderful bird,
stretch her arms wide and cry out In
her enthusiasm as the riders raced
for the last plunge across the wire.
tits great to see you enjoy your
SELF" he whispered at the end of the
races as they made their way through
| the crowds to Johns automobile
wonderful to have imagination and