The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1925-10-12
By Beatrice Burton
CHAPTER XLVI

1.-THE next morning Gloria was
awakened by loud knock
ing on the door of her room.
"Ye-es," she called in a thick,
sleepy voice. She had been dream
ing that she was still in the lonely
hotel room in New York.
Then she heard Dicks voice:
Better get up, Glory" he was
saying. There's no Rangild to
bring your breakfast this morning,
you know"
Gloria didn't answer at once. The
door was not locked. Why didn't
Dick come in to say Hello" to
her?
Oh. all right, she made up her
mind suddenly, if he wanted to keep
her at arms length, she'd help him
out!
Thanks, I'll get up when I feel
like it," she said. But the old snap
and spirit had gone out Of her voice.
There was silence for a few sec
onds, then the soft pad-pad Of Dicks
feet going down the stairs.
Before he had reached the bot
tom Gloria was out of bed on her
bare feet.
Dick looked up in surprise as she
ran down into the hall.
II think you might have been
sport and made some coffee for me"
she said to him.
do your" Dick asked politely.
n 6ic voice.
He picked up his brief case from
the table in the living room.
Eyes, I do" Gloria cried. II
think it's mean of you to treat me
like a red-headed stepchild when
I've come back and told you I'm
sorry. Do you know you haven't
spoken a kind word to me since the
night I showed you Stan Wayburn's
letter.. II suppose you never had
a letter from a woman in your life!
I suppose you never did anything
you're ashamed Of! You're so darned
pure!'
Woman-like she seized upon the
half-forgotten letter incident as
peg to hang all her discomfort upon,
now.
Dick didn't answer. He crossed
the room to his old writing desk.
the only bit of furniture that he
had brought with him from his old
home.
E took from it bundle of let
III tiers and photographs, and
tossed them down on the
table without a word. There was
a queer cold smile on his face.
as he went out.
The front door banged. In the
stiffness that settled down over the
house, Gloria could almost hear her
heart beating.
Did Dick mean that she was to
look at the letters? Was there an
answer to her question in them?
Was that what the smile on Dicks
face had meant?
She picked them up. and loosed the
rubber bands that held them to-
gether.
The letter that lay on the top Of
the pile was the one she read first.
1t was written in blue ink on dull
blue paper, and it smelled family
of violets.
"Dick, dearest" it said, Il am sick
Of tearing up the letters that I write
to you. I am tired Of pretending
and so am going to tell the truth
to you. I love you. Dick, I love
you. It is hard for me to write this
letter. .Lucie."
'Lucie" had not found it so hard
to write the half dozen letters that
followed, it seemed. Some Of them
were ten pages long. And all of
them were signed with Love and
kisses from Lucie." That seemed to
be her stock phrase.
Under "Lucie's" love notes was an.
other package Of letters. These were
all from a woman who signed her
self "Roxie.' Roxie's letters were
passionate, to say the least.
"She must have been reading Ell.
nor Glyn,'' said Gloria to herself,
with amusement. To think Of good
old Dick having love affair with a
woman like Roxie!. Gloria giggled
inwardly.
But her laughter died when she
came to the photographs that had
been tied up with the letters.
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