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Newspaper Page Text
THE CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
A MAN'S "FORGETTERY"
Last night, when Dick and I were
whirling through the brilliantly light
ed streets, Love looked triumphantly
at the life of sordid business and pro
claimed itself immortal this morn
ing Love is fainting and gasping on
the way. I am almost longing for my
old quiet my old independence. I am
afraid I take things too seriously,
and, yet, I sometimes think that my
very love for Dick and his for me
makes both of us more sensitive to
Lovers' nerves have been aptly
compared to strings of a wind harp.
If you leave the strings of such an
instrument in a state of very loose
tension, they resemble the nerves of
ordinary mortals not in love, for it
takes a very strong breeze to elicit a
sound from them. But raise them to
a higher tension as are strung the
nerves of those greatly in love and
the faintest breath will set in unison
all the harmonies or send sounds
jangling through the air which will
hurt the very soul.
Keats has said: " 'Tis the pest of
Love that fairest joys bring most un
rest." I think most of my unrest is be
cause I am not able to separate the
raptures of love from the annoyances
of every day. Dick can do this; he
can put his love away till-he wants it,
but mine is always on parade to be
jostled and hurt by the rabble of self
analysis and worry.
Men have such good "forgetter
ies." They are able to put out of their
lives anything which annoys them.
Dick was awfully angry at his
mother tfiis morning, but by tonight
he will have forgotten all about it
and he won't think of it again 'till
he pays the bill she has charged to
He has also apparently forgotten
ed between him and Eleanor Fairlow.
I could see that by the frank and
impersonal way he talked about her.
I shall be glad to see them togeth
er; then he surely will have to re
member, for she is very beautiful and
very apealing to any man.
I am very glad that I never sub
scribed to that old heresy that a man
or woman- can only love once.
I believe if every woman was hon
esf. she would never say that only one
love could come into her life. I don't
think men think very much about it.
They fall in love, as Dick did with
me, and, overwhelmed with a mad
desire for possession, they make all
sorts of wonderful protestations, and
then, perhaps, they fall out only to
go through the same emotional stress
with some other woman.
I really think if Eleanor Fairlow
and I could get together and com
pare notes, we would probably find
that Dick had said the same things
to both of us.
Of course, I believe that Dick
meant it when he told me he loved
me, but I also know, after seeing
Eleanor Fairlow, that I must do my
part toward keeping him in love with
Can I do this?
I am no better looking and I am
sure she is clever. Are Dick and I
near enough in accord to make him
want me always?
Can I make myself a habit befbre
I lose out as a desire?
Have lovers ever been partners in
the true sense of the word?
Will the little encroachments
which the sordid business of living
makes daily upon husband and wife
hurt Love and drive him away?
I cannot answer any one of these
questions yet, but I know that as
soon as possible Dick and I must get
away by ourselves and work out our
(To Be Continued)
all the love passages that have pass-1