White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1932-06-09
gram attracted him. Vaguely, he rec


quite ready to face as yet. Jake's
great adventure imposed no respon-
sibilities upon him, exacted no de-
cisions, gave him the spectators role
Well, he'd earned it, hadn't he?
He felt a little frightened at first
at tho prospect of meeting people of
so strange sort as Jake's friends
would be, doubtful If he'd know what
to say to them.
He thought. at least, that fright was
what he felt, but he decided, when he
sat down, after an admirable cocktail,
to the excellent dinner which was
served to the two Of them in Jake's
ROOM that it had been merely hunger.
He couldn't remember how long it had
been since he'd eaten a square meal.
Breakfast that morning when he'd
planned, under pretext of meeting
Edith's train, making that last appeal
to Bert Willard-that couldn't have
been this morning, could it? 1t seemed
a week away.
Lord, what day it had been! Well,
yet There was still the wedding
The marriage ceremony didn't take
long. 1t was little startling to re-
fleet how quickly momentous act of
that sort could be accomplished. But
there was supper afterward that he
couldn't without discourtesy evade.
He found himself liking the people,
too. They weren't at all what he'd
always thought of as his sort-his and
Julia's-but they were surprisingly
easy to talk to. The bride wasn't
what he'd expected; not hard-boiled
bit She was rather helpless and visit
full and Edward became almost ro-
mantle about her.
The supper was good, too, and there
was champagne as a background for
it. Edward hadn't tasted champagne,
in years, and he was surprised to dis
cover how we'll he liked the modest
glass or two he INDUCED it. 1t proved
to be exactly what he wanted.
He didn't stay the party out. 1t
came over him, suddenly, that it must
be getting late; time for humdrum
suburbanite like himself to be going
home. But the pleasant afterglow of
the evenings good fellowship hadn't
left him when he found himself sitting
in the elevated train, bound for Lake
side.
He was under no illusion as to what
awaited him there. He could see the
look in Julia's face, the last before
she'd turned away and rushed upstairs
to her room. She'd have looked just
about like that if he'd struck her
beaten her. That was what it came
to, practically.
What in the world had made him
run amuck like that? Even if all the
charges he'd hurled at her had been
true-and he wasn't sure, now, that
they weren't-why had he been so
frantic as to make them?
1t wasn't for that that he'd gone
home to lunch. He'd been stung, hui
inflated, by Bert Wizards refusal
or rather by the terms upon which
Bert had offered to help him. ebert
had been absolutely right, of course.
He'd shown himself a true friend. He,
as we'll as Julia, had an apology COM
ing to him before accounts were
squared.) But he'd gone home to Julia
to get from her the help Bert had
denied him; to get her to consent to
his putting mortgage on the house.
And she'd told him she would.
And the next thing he knew
he'd found himself indulg;ng in
the civilized husbands equivalent for
beating her up! He'd even dragged
in that shabby puerile affair of his
with Ruth Ingraham. No wonder
she'd asked him why he had wanted
to rake that up. now!
Why had he raked It up? 1t was
months since he'd thought about Ruth.
She'd gone as completely out Of his
existence as the girls he'd known in
college She could never have been
very real to him. 1t must have been
an idea, mostly; an obsessing idea,
sure enough. The hours he'd spent
thinking about her! Well no, not
about her so much; about his. atti-
tude toward her and Julia's attitude
toward him. He'd felt so noble about
it and she wouldn't let him get away
with it.
Under the impact of an idea he sat
up little. That was exactly what
he'd been accusing Julia of, today. OF
banking her grievances in saving &C
count, drawing interest on them, meas
uring her own virtue in terms Of
them. Wasn't that what he himself
had been doing all along?
He could see now what had been
the matter with him. 1t came down
to one thing-his cowardice. He had
always been afraid something.
His horror of selling was only
symptom Of it, Of course. He had
hated doing anything that put him in
position OF asking something that
might be refused 1t humiliated him,
made him feel low-down, guilty. And
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