Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1931-02-19

sons.
Her eyes found Latham's. They were
dark and curiously melancholy. He said
abruptly:
MY God, what loneliness! Ever
known what it is to be lonely, Sandra,
since our breakup?"
Flinching, she murmured:
DON'T"
He looked genuinely surprised.
Does it hurt you to talk about it?
1 don't know. A cigaret?" Holding a
lighter towards her, he added: by
the way, what inspired the dear old
lady to commit the stupendous gate
of asking us here t~ogether?'
Il don't believe she ever knew about
you, and if she did, her old memory
has lost the name years ago. After
all, we we're married In New York,
rather quietly, and the whole thing
her lips curved, not mirthfully-"must
have been over before anyone realized
it."
Eyes. I suppose SO. What did you
do-after the divorce?"
Travel"
"And then you met Mitchell. I'm
sorry about Mitchell, Sandra."
HE died of blood poisoning in Java
his business was out there. Just a
blister from a new riding boot that
hadn't been softened properly. and he
was dead in three days. 1t seemed so
funny"
How long were you married."
"A little over two years."
He stared hard into the crumbling
heart of the fire.
Children"
mo"
Together they listened to the silence
of the house. The old woman sighed
and mumbled something in her sleep,
tasting her lips as though a bitter
flavor chung to them.
And now? What are you doing
now, Sandra?"
She tried to make her eyes express
sionless, her voice light and assured.
"Oh, I'm back in London again.
Rather a nice little fiat, a lot of anus
ing friends. The new books. A good
deal of music and first nights" He
was silent, and she cried d~efensively:
Just the sort of life I've always
planned for myself"
Including the loneliness?" he asked
somberly.
She did not answer. He came yer
and sat down on the arm of her chair,
SO that she noticed with a queer pang
the busting of gray in the dark hair
at his temples. Yes. Glen had
changed. Perhaps his cruel, observant
eyes were busy noting the changes in
her? She stiffened, drawing away
from contact with his arm, and heard
him ask in a low voice:
why did we end it, Sandra?"
"It's no use going over that now"
You're wrong. I've always wished
that I could discuss it with you, quietly
and sensibly, after all the fuss and
shouting died down. If we'd done it
then there needn't have been a di-
vorce."
ooh, I don't know. I was so sick,
SO ashamed! You and that-little bit
of NONSENSE! You were the one who
ought to have felt cheap, I suppose,
but I felt cheap for you, Glen"
She stood up abruptly to rid herself
of a trapped feeling; a sensation OF
horror at finding the orderly plan of
her life invaded by these violent emo
tons again. What had he said before
dinner? Just like old times!" Yes,
she felt herself back again in n OF
those sorid quarrels with Glen, her
voice shaking, her face burning with
resentment. All the years of learning
self-control had been In vain. For the
second time that night she thought of
the lamplight, the drawn curtains Of
her little fiat, this time with longing.
The home of the fa%stidious, civilized
Mrs. Mitchell. Not this stranger whose
body was being wracked with rage and
jealousy.
He had risen, too. They stood fac
ing each other, their faces red In the
freight. He repeated slowly:
Little bit of nonsense-you're right.
Just that. just as important as that.
1 suppose you can't see that it had
nothing to do with my love for your"
"It doesn't matter" she said coldly.
Nothing matters now"
4OuAC unhappy, odllOAd.
mo" She was trembling. Looking
at the sleeping old woman, she muir
INJURED:
You'll wake her"
Directly / saw your face I knew
that. But since we've come back into
this oom I've found that you still
love me. Am I right?"
mol" she said violently. mol I
despise you'll"
He put his hands on her shoulders,
and suddenly she was quiet, relaxed,
expectant. The room was still as death.
Another sigh came from Mrs. Bride;
a deeper, creaking sigh seemed to echo
it from the house, and q burning coal
caved in with showers OF flying sparks.
Then that waiting, aware silence again.
Listen to the loneliness of the house,
Sandra! The kind that eats into ones
life and rots it. Loneliness for love.
Loneliness for sons. Your loneliness
and mine, Sandra,"