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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, June 08, 1914, NOON EDITION, Image 18',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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A CLEAN SLATE
By Selina Elizabeth Higgins
"A cleanslate, Mr. Boyden," pro
claimed Warren- Bliss with a great
sigh of satisfaction and relief. "I be
gin life all over again."
"You are a fool!" growled Samuel
"I hope Cleora does not share in
the same sentiment," observed Bliss,
"She will when she knows the de
tails!" stormed Boyden. "Why, what
The Mask Was Down Now.
sense or reason was there in your
shouldering the Evans claims. That
$15,000 was charged as a debt due
the company, not you. It's a shame,
an outrage ! That was your individu
al money, and it would have set you
and agora up, ath,qusekeenins, ft
would have furnished capital to start
up again, and now "
Mr. Boyden choked up at a mem
ory of the fearful blunder Bliss had
committed in being honest and prov
ing the true man,
"I did just what was right," re
plied Bliss very quietly, but with im
placable conviction. "When I sold
my best friend, Ross Evans, $15,000
worth of material to build the dam at
Moreton, I knew it was a risk. I
could not consent to charge the com
pany for a line of credit that might
not be met. I guaranteed the bill.
The dam was a failure. The money
is gone. I paid it That ends it
paid dollar for dollar, and it's a clean
slate and a clean heart, and I'm glad
I could do it!"
"Humbug!" snorted old Boyden.
"Sentiment!" spoke up a new
voice, and Warren Bliss stood fairly
electrified as the woman to whom he
was engaged appeared at the door of
the room. The mask was down now.
It was the cruel contempt in that
dark siren face that told Bliss that he
had escaped a precipice.
"You will understand, I think," she
said frigidly, extending their engage
ment ring. "Since you think more of
others in divesting yourself of your
means than of me, you show your
"Cleora! Cleora!" cried Bliss
poignantly, hurt to the soul, but she
turned from him. There was no sym
pathy in the malignant face of John
Boyden. The young man sighed.
Then with a bow he silently left the
It seemed as if amid that terrible
blow to his pride, his hopes, his loy
alty he was crushed, blinded, stunned.
He was sick at heart. He could not
yet face the world. Bliss turned at
the doorway and struck out, not .for
the public street, but to reach the
quiet, shady lane at the side of the
garden reach. He wished to be alone,
to think, to recover from the rude
shock that had revealed Cleora Bpy