Evening star., 1927-10-23

FLORENCE ELDRIDGE married
l. an ideal, but after years she
became convinced that Elmer
i was really nothing of the sort.
He was, she told herself. walk
ing, sitting, working. eating and In
frequently thinking habit. Nothing
more.
Except for the fact that he some
times wore a blue shirt instead or
white one, and on saturdays had his
shoes shined and on Mondays didn't.
Elmer was as uncha hangeable day after
day as the framed photograph OF him
that stood on top of the piano.
During all those years he had
never even allowed her to change his
breakfast menu. Grapefruit, bacon
and eggs. buttered toast and coffee,
Goodness, she was sick of it! But
Elmer. He still dev oured his eggs as
il they were some novel delicacy. And
invariably-she couldn't recall an ex-
ception-he managed to get some of
the grapefruit juice into his eye.
Whereupon he always rubbed the
sprayed optic with the back of his left
hand. She just couldn't get him to
use his napkin, any more than she
could prevent him from tipping back
ward in his chair, putting his feet on
the piano stool, sprinkling the dinner
plates with cigarette ashes, wearing ties
until they became disgracefully rag
ged, Forgetting to turn out the light in
the bathroom, telling the same stories
over and over again. and using her
best china to feed the dog. He was as
he was and--but she was terribly tired
of ii all.
Sitting across from him at the
breakfast table, she watched him dip
his toast into the yolk of the egg
another annoying habit she hadn't
been able to break him of-and frown-
ed. She wondered again why she
had been so foolish as to marry him.
Why hadn't she been able to foresee
that it would be like this? But no.
Even during the first two years she
hadn't realized it. She had thought 1t
was all so wonderful. But now-now
she knew that it was just tedious and
boresome, a sluggish routine OF trivial
irritations, eventless days.
Fortunately. she told herself as she
munched daintily at her own slice or
toast, it wasn't yet too late. She was
only 80, and she didn't look that old.
With a good mud-pack and her hair
narcelled, she'd pass easily for 20.
And she was pretty. Even Elmer,
If she could ever get him to notice her
long enough, would have to admit
that. There was still time to have
some fun, enjoy life in her own way.
without Elmer always around to put
a damper on things by ensconcing
himself in the big chair before the
fireplace right after supper and refus-
ing to do anything but read the paper
and toast his toes the rest Of the
evening.
X y
FLORENCE had been spending the
better part of her waking hours for
the past two months reaching deci'
sion. Now that she had reached it,
she was just thinking it over while
finishing what she was convinced was
to be her last-her very, very last
breakfast with this tall, broad-shoul-
dered, serious-faced repository of
habits who was her husband. In
few minutes he'd be out of the house
and in a few hours she would be
forever. The blood raced in her veins
as she thought about it. For the first
time i'm years, she actually had some
thing to be excited over!
Draining his coffee cup, Elmer stood
up. He took three quick strides
around the table. bent over and kissed
her. then four strides to the door.
She watched him with q slightly
amused smile. So many times she
had counted those strides. They never
varied. Hat In hand. he turned.