THE CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
WHAT SHALL I DO?
I shall 'always associate a New
York Fifth avenue bus with one of
the unhappiest days of my life.
After Dick slammed the door at
the Waldorf I did not realize that
there was anything more to be said.
I felt that not only marriage, but my
whole life wjas a failure.
I am not a crying woman, but I
threw myself on the sofa and must
have sobbed myself into a troubled
sleep, from which I was awakened
by the telephone ringing. I went to
answer it and a young woman said:
"Mr. Waverly wishes me to say
that he is detained downtown on
business and suggests that, after you
have your luncheon, you go on a
tour of the shops."
After I hung up the receiver I
found it was one o'clock. I had no
desire for ariything to eat. My head
was splitting with pain, so I decided
I would take the Fifth avenue bus up
to the Metropolitan Art Museum.
I slipped into one of my pretty new
frocks. It was a dull green coat and
a black and white plaid skirt. My
black velvet hat was becoming, but
I could not help but nptlce that all
radiance was gone from my face. I
looked gray and cold and when the
warmth has gone from a red-haired
woman's skin she is always ugly.
I hailed the tus and climbed to the
top. It was a glorious da'y and the
whole avenue was filled with gayly
dressed women, distinguished-looking
men in stunning motors or on
foot, while the sun seemed to be
pouring filtered gold over everything.
Right in front of me sat a couple
of young girls, and evMently one of
them had just become engaged, as
she was showing a beautiful ring to
"I am the happiest girl in all the
world and I would .not change places
"with the richest or most famous wo
man on earth,"' she excla'iined. ;
The words hit me in the face like
a blow, for how often had I said that
during my brief engagement and
now if I hadn't laughed I believe J
should have screamed. Here I was
taking part of my wedding tour
alone pn the top of a Fifth avenue
bus, with absolutely no knowledge
as to the whereabouts of my husband
and an almost certainty that he was
very angry with me.
When we reached the museum I
felt that I simply could not shut my
self indoors and certainly the affairs
of life were looming bigger than those
of art on my horizon at that moment.
I stayed on the bus and rode down
to Washington square and there I
alighted and sat down in the quaint
I just couldn't see any way out. I
tried to think what I would, say when
Dick came back; how I would greet
Was it bast to ignore the morn
ing's misunderstanding or should I
try to have the thing threshed out.
Before this I had always been able
to form some plan of procedure when
I ran against a snag, but I had al
ready learned that Dick -would not
listen to any of my explanations. He
expected to do as he thought best,
regardless of my ideas or feelings.
I could readily understand that he
was right about buying the stock,
but I after all these years of inde
pendence could not be dependent
upon the man I loved.
Already this "belonging" has been
proved a fallacy. I have found out I
am human just as Dick is human.
As the bus drew up at the 38th
street corner I began to tremble, and
when I reached my room at the Wal
dorf I think I only experienced relief
that Dick was not there.
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
A Berlin specialist says knitting In,
bed is ail excellent nerve tonic. -
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