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Newspaper Page Text
ed a building that wa given up
to the exclusive use of doctors,
musicians and artists. He watch
ed her enter an elevator, and it
chanced that another went up im
mediately after the one in which
she was a passenger. He stepped
out on the tenth floor and caught
a glimpse of his wife going down
a long hall. He hurried after her.
His tread was cat-like. Tragedy
was written upon his counte
nance. He had got almost within
reach of her when she paused at a
door and, without knocking,
.turned the knob. In an instant
he had gripped her arm. On the
door was printed the name of the
man to whom she had been en
gaged when he, Francis Bonner,
had met her.
As she turned and looked into
his face a terrible fear fell upon
her. She tried to cry out, but
coiild utter no sound.
"Evelyn," he hissed, "what
does this mean!"
Then, without waiting for her
to reply, he opened the door and
thrust her in the studio, saying: .
"By heaven, I'll have ven
geance here and now. You shall
both answer to me !"
By a quick movement his wife
succeeded in wrenching herself
free. As she rushed across the
room he followed her. Then he
paused suddenly. On an easel in
front of him was a life-size paint
ing of himself and on another, be
side it was a half-finished portrait
of his wife.
"You see," she said, when he
turned with a look of inquiry to
ward her, "I was having them
done so that I could give them to
you for a Christmas present. jMr.
Harding had to do you from
photographs, but he thought it
would be best for me to pose for .
mine, as long as I could do so as
well as not." . .
, Francis Bonner took his wife in
his arms and triumphantly reaf
firmed his belief that any man
who permitted himself to be driv
en by a woman to jealousy ought
to be shut up as an incurable im
becile. (Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
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