Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1926-08-08

papers. You will be perfectly free
afterward. l am going away alone
this afternOon-tO die as comfortably
as possible in California. The only
difference to you will be that you will
have an income OF ten thousand dol
lars year for the rest Of your life"
SADIE NEWTON pulled herself back
- farther on the seat of that chair.
Gee" she said
Miss Newton-without this money
what prospects does the future hold
for you?"
Sadie didn't answer him. He inter
preted her silence to suit himself
None" he said triumphantly. Il
know it. Miss Newton, have always
been interested in the future Of girls
like woodworking girls with no par
ticular talent or line. II you work
hard. stay honest, you may by middle
age have saved enough to keep from
starvation in your old age. But you've
got nothing out Of life that way ex-
cept hard work and honesty and food
and shelter when you're old. II you
don't stay honest, Heaven help you.
You may with reasonable looks. as
another possibility. attract man
enough for him to want to marry you.
But your chances there are practically
limited to men of your own abilities.
No prospects there but harder work
than ever and old age coming on
faster and usually unprovided for. To
me you are the most hopeless people
in the world-you-girls like you. Miss
Newton, il I've made true observa-
tons, you're not the kind to senti.
mentalize over this. Just think Of
yourself on the list Of my endowed
charities and think OF ten thousand
year"
Sadie's lips curled and her eyes were
glittering bright.
Ten thousand a year" she said
hoarsely. is more than / could make
with career Of crime. What do you
Think"
The scornful smile cut more deeply
into the sick mans face as he looked
up at his doctor in contemptuous vic
tory. as much as to say, Didn't tell
you?"
At high noon--so the society column
would have put it-Mrs. Clement
Wythe, looking still just like Sadie
Newton and feeling like nothing at
all. walked out Of the Chase Hotel
mustered.
fTaxi?" said the door1nan.
mo" cried Sadie. go way
He had said she was TO go-how,
when and where she pleased. Her
husband? No. Long ago, when she
was Sadie Newton of the tobacco
stand. she had dreamed about him,
a shadowy, romantic figure with dark
hollow eyes. He'd been nearer then
in unreality than he ever could be
now Every word she'd heard him
speak in the last two hours. every bit
OF paper signed up there had put him
farther away.
Your kind" he had said and smiled
and sneered. When he had looked at
her in that old lobby, he hadn't been
struck by her auburn curls or her big
eyes or her sunny smile. He'd made
observations, he said. No brains, on;
reasonably good looks. no prospects.
no feelings. He'd never have looked
at her at all If he hadn't been going
to die and had this crazy scheme in
his head. To give a girl-her kind
$4,000 a year and throw her out the
door and see how she'd act. She'd
show him. She'd-but was that what
she looked like TO people of real class?
Sadie. who was so fine within?
In the deep green park across the
way she found a solitary stone bench
beside dribbling fountain. But
gradually. away from confusion of
sights and sounds. she felt her tumuit
within subside into q resentment. dull.
throbbing, but easier to be borne.