The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1923-11-14
out the Nation.

- SCCPt1Cdl ABOUT everything do
and say and think, We haven't
much on which to build the sort
Of partnership a successful mar.
rage must be.
Its bad enough for US to dfsa-
gree about all our mutual inter-
est. But when we can't meet on
a question that Is external and
doesn't require US to defend our
personality and feelings, then
we've come to point where We
are at swords points.
AS Saturday approached. and
Jim became more and more cold.
and distant. ! began to feel that
II we did go to DreamwoId to-
gether for the weekend we would
undoubtedly return separately.
! felt that the whole drift OF
events is toward the conclusion
on which Virginia had been in
sisting. She considers our happ-
ness possible only il we live our
lives apart. And though / can't
see any business in life for me
without Jim. / have come to real
ize there isn't much happiness
for me with Jim either. And
there is the possibility I must
face even il finch every time
try to school myself to see ii.
It is this:
Perhaps Jim can b happy
apart from me. Certainly with
me he il morose. bitter and utter
~ disseminated.
We had less and less OF speech
as the week drew toward It's end.
! didn't get more than q glimpse
Of Jim at night. And he took
breakfast In silence which I
couldn't break. All he'd say to
me was the curtest Of good morn
ings. was both angry and
Inundated, and IL I hadn't been
50 busy on the Shipping corpora
ton work, wonder how / could
have stood It. ~
Every evening was given over
to the job. Mrs. Thurslow's dim
ner was postponed until the fol-
lowing week. i was very glad
Of this, because couldn't trugt
myself to the joys Of . social
evening. while instinct carried
me along through the hardest
kind of gruelling work.
On Saturday morning at the
breakfast table 1 found myself
forced to invite a snub from Jim.
I had to know whether or not
we were starting for Dreamwold
that afternoon, and I could see
that Jim hadn't the slightest in-
tention Of breaking his silence to
give me the information. So,
after making effort upon effort
to get the words out, stam-
mered In a sort OF stage-fright
I hated myself for feeling:
'This is the day we're booked
for Dreamwold. Jim. Are we go
ing?''
Don't you think I'd have. told
you il our plans were changed?"
Jim replied icily.
There was no reply possible,
SO I sat in silence for a willis,
holding back the tears and swal.
lowing scalding coffee automaIi-
calIy and In the hope it would
brace me up a bit. Finally, /
ventured again:
"Have you decided what train
to take?"
III look it up and telephone
your Office
I'D like to know now" I said
gently, loathing the cowed effect
Of my own tone.
Jim didn't deign to reply. He
crumpled his paper ,viciously, got
up and limped from the room Ia
the same impenetrable silence
in which he'd wrapped himself
ever since the day of Mabel's
call at the office. When he was
gone forced myself to think Z
something outside my own i'm
mediate concerts.
Mabel hadn't been heard from
since her visit to my office.
have no idea where to reach her,
nor do I know whether or not
Jim has seen her. I can't do any,
thing about hunting her up, for
her last words on departing were
that she'd see me the next day.
Why she hasn't made good and
has failed to telephone, / can't
guess.
All thought of a loan from her
seemed lost. decided that on
my return from Dreamwold I'd
have to pawn my jewels without
further delay.
Life has never been more drab
and discouraging than when I sat
in my diWng-room waiting for Jim
to return and announce the train
he intended taking to Dreamwold.
Presently my maid came into
the room and said in frightened
tone:
GsNEr TJorriSnn saws he'll meat