The Washington times., 1925-04-13
By EIenOre Meherin.
The Biggest and Best Story OF
Her Career.


The Biggest and Best Story OF
Her Career.
MORA. saw herself going away
IN taking Sonny with her. A sud
den image of Dane seeking the
child. fIinging out shocked, be-
reayed arms and calling them back
this stricken image OF him as
sailed her. Take the boy-run away
with hin-shut him off from the
father he adored? Had she such
a right? What would Sonny think
when the day came that he could
understand: that he could quietly
demand: Where is my father,
want himr' She remembered
her own childish hunger for a
father: remembered her wondering
nifty when she first came upon the
handsome, reckless portrait of
Will Meadows.
Oh, no-she didn't want her son
to know that aching want! Tears
crowded under her frightened lids.
The terror Of her thoug hi is
crushed her. Go away and leave
Dane? Turn her back on this
cherished home? Leave HIM for
ever? Never to look on that
brown, shapely head again: never
meet those dark, tender eyes that
had grinned at her-teased her
and loved her better than ten
years now?
She murmured: "I couldn't"
and she thought how easy and
blessed it would be to die.
Love Lives.
1t was January-nearly three
weeks since the evening she saw
him driving away with Natalie at
his side; since the blasting hour
when he had callously lied to her
and she had said to herself that
her love was dead.
She knew now that 1t wasn't
dead-that it would never die
that in the thought Of losing him
he was more dear than he had
ever been. She never looked at
his cleancut face, with the kind
ling warmth and sparkle of youth
about it, without melting rush
Of tears to her throat.
She asked frantically of her
thought: why Gid lose him?
Oh, God--I wonder what should
have donel What should I do
now? There must be a way
surely some way!"
At first she was certain that he
loved Natalie. The strain of this
fear and her own silence bowed
her in appalling melancholy. A
dozen times she decided to say:
Dane can't stand this any
longer. Let us be truthful. II
you want freedom, say SOP
But she pic tured him with
shamed, lowered face answering:
"I'm sorry-sorry. Let me go
yes, you must let me go!' And
she knew that she would never
have the courage or the hardness
to take gamely this farewell.
Better-better a thousand times
this anguish of doubt and torment
than the certainty that he was
lost. Yes-better be one Of those
women who close their eyes, re-
fusing to see the growing shadow.
Better that and keep him!
She grew distant and quiet
under this laboring oppression.
When he was late or phoned that
he couldn't come for dinner she
said only: 'Oh, all right" She
hadn't the spirit to ask him any
questions.
But sometimes when he kissed
her good-by and she stood quiet
and unrespOnsive, he would give
her hurt, mystified look and turn
away sharply. Then she would
feel her heart breaking
Then she would think with des-
perate pain and joy: "Oh, he
cares! He cares a Hitler
Deep Sleep.
And again, as on this Sunday
morning, when he lifted the boy
to his shoulder, when he shook
back his head with a bonny,
protesting laugh because Sonny's
small, vigorous fingers clutched
a little too nightly in his hair
when she saw him light hearted
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