The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1923-04-08

sometimes filled with remorse and regrets.
Against all the glittering glare of her
own sparkling jewels and the soft feeling
of the furs which nestled about her neck,
there was the background of her early
teachings from those gentle Sisters at the
Holy Name School. And there was the
look in her dear old mothers eyes which
distressed Dorothy when she tried to
jauntily explain away her abundant evil
dences of prosperity.
"Why, it's all right, mother DEAR" the
girl would say with affected ease. sYou
know how people can be lucky in business
and what lots of money is made in dress
making shops; and I had the good luck to
get half interest in my place and it is
paying me well" 80
A guilty conscience is a very unpleas-
ant companion. Eating and drinking and
dancing at the cabarets her mind was oc-
cupied And when her admiring friend,
"Mr. Marshall" came. to visit her she was
soothed and pleased by her admirers pet
ting and batteries. And when the man
she really loved, Guimares, dropped in to
see her, she had really happy hour.
But in between these times, and espec-
tally in the hours when she was alone with
herself and her conscience, Dorothy was
unhappy. She had sense enough to know
that what the Sisters had told her was
true. She realized that she was an out
cast She had read in the papers of the
fate of other butterflies of Broadway. and
she knew that her future was dark.
1t is not easy to live life of constant
deceit. Dorothy was required to exert her
resourcefulness to hide her Porto Rican
lover from the knowledge of "Mr. Mar
SHALL" her benefactor. She was engaged
night after night, when "Mr. Marshall"
was not in town, in the cold-blooded game
of gold digging. She was matching her
wits against the designs of men who were
bargaining for her favors. There were
complications, jealousies, suspicious, false
hoods to be refuted and new falsehoods
to be invented-what life!
And as Dorothy, in the hours of her
own lonesome solitude, looked at the rings
on her fingers, fondled the necklace
around her neck and gazed at the furs in
her wardrobe-she realized that the price
she had paid for these things was too
much.
But there seemed to be no recourse, no
alternative. She had plunged into the
whirl of wickedness and there was no
turning back. If she dismissed "Mr. Mar
shall" and the fountain of jewels and
money was dried up, then Dorothy must
go to work. She looked about her warm
" furnished apartment, realized that she
had come to an existence which would not
be happy without maid 10 wait on hef,
and the thought of going back to work and
returning to the atmosphere of her mothers
tenement apartment was intolerable.
So they found her dead amidst the
luxuries she loved, stretched across her
bed, gorgeous affair in gold and cream
enamel. Her sheets were of fine linen
and some of her pillows of rare old
filet lace.
And in her death she was deserted by
all her gay companions. Not one of
her noisy friends followed the hearse
which drove off quickly to avoid whatever
morbid crowd that might gather, even
though the day of the funeral had been
incorrectly announced, for the purpose of
avoiding them.
Nor did those few friends bother them
selves to send any flowers. On the casket
were two modest little wreaths, purchased
by Dorothy's mother and brother John
and magnificent six-fOot sweep of Easter
lilies which came to the house from an
unknown florist; but there was no card.
to identify this mourner.
Two automobiles followed the remains
to the cemetery. It was the last act in
the swiftly moving drama of the Broad
way Butterfy's" career. 1t was true, as
those two gentle sisters whispered:
t'The wages of sin is deathW