Newspaper Page Text
CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
JUST TO YOU, MY LITTLE BOOK
(Copyright, 1914, by the Newspaper Enterprise Association)
The new dances are regular
romps, but there is a lot of condem
nation of them from people who suf
fer from chronic moral appendicitis.
Such people would do well to have
the narrow little conscience they
have developed cut out.
The word conscience means too
much in the lives of many people.
Conscience is, not an inborn quahty
which tells right from wrong, bul;
a consequence of education and en
vironment. The Turks in a holy war
satisfy their conscience by torturing
and killing women and little chil
dren, because they have been edu
cated in this righteous (?) endeavor
to promote the crescent.
I'm very glad, little book, to have
you, in which I can voice own opin
ions. It crystalizes them, but some
times I find when they are written
down I .have to smile at the thought
of what almost any one of my friends
would say could she read them.
. They would universally call me a
self-centered, self-righteouB wom
an, and yet, little book, every one
of these women have more or less
of these thoughts, only they keep
them to themselves and wear the
complacent smiles of the cat who ate
the canary. Maybe they also have
a little boo"k to which they confide.
When I started you, little book, at
my dear mother's request, in my far
away little girl days, I did not know
you were going to be my great safety
valve that to you I would be able
to express the things I thought with
out being misunderstood,
It is only lack of understanding
lack of knowledge, after all, that
makes sinners of saints.
Some of us will never learn, I am
afraid, but I must say that you, little
book, have helped me to develop a
broader outlook upon existence than
anything else that has come into my
Perhaps this is because I can talk
freely to you. I would never dare to
express, even to Dick, -some of the
opinions I have told to you and yet
I get intimations here and there
from all my women acquaintances
about these same questions more or
less. Sometimes we will all speak
with sincerity and understanding.
Won't it be fine, little book.
Here was Kitty, positively crazy
with the lights, music and gayety. I
hope she was not "fey," as the
Scotch call it, which means the gay
ety and joy that precedes a catastro
phe. Kitty Malram (I shall always
call her Kitty Malram, I guess) is a
good woman, and if Herbert only
would try to understand her she
would be an ideal wife for him. If
I he would let her infuse him with
some of her light spirits, some of her
love of the joy, and laughter of life,
I he could also make her see more of
tne good sue mignt do and accept
more of life's responsibilities.
It's a terrible thing, little book,
when all that a woman can say about
her husband is that he is so very,
very good that he drives her crazy,
and this Is what Kitty confided to me
Conspicuous "goodness" has al
ways been as great a target as con
spicuous "badness." We're apt to
hate one as we do the other.
It will be unfortunate if Herbert
does not wake up to the idea that
Kitty still thrills and her feet tingle
when she hears the music of the
dance, and that probably while her
heart beats quicker when she hears
his step, it slows down noticeably
when he greets her with the sordid
story of the wrongs of Susie of the
slums instead of a kiss.
I know it was the joyousness and
vivaciousness of Kitty that appealed
to him, and, if she loses it, he, like
many other husbands who marry a
y jjforftt. &.