longed to plunge into it, to live in a
world of men.
Doris perceived the alteration in
her husband's moods. He was never
unkind to her, but he was often
mooldy and abstracted, She dreaded
the time when the ship would arrive
With all her love she knew she
could not hold him. And she knew
herself utterly unfitted to cope with
the world outside. Besides, if he
went, she knew that it would be to
forget his memories there. If she
went with him it would be but to drag
him down. She thought of all this in
those lonely night watches, when she
would lie awake and hear him breath
ing at her side. And he, pretending
to sleep, too, revolved his bitter me
mories. Strangely enough, a passion for
Dora had reawakened in him. It was
a sentimental memory, but it grip
ped him hard. He knew her to be
unfaithful and yet he cared.
But he had decided nothing when
the ship came.
He had grown half ashamed to meet
the faces of the foreign sailors, but
they saw in him nothing but a Pit
cairn Islander. His clothes had long
since gone to rags, and, wearing the
garments of native fiber, he looked
and spoke like one of the inhabitants.
Doris watched him with sinking
heart all day. At last he went out, and
then, weeping, she fled into the
woods. If he wanted to go, there
should be no grief at parting, no
struggle on her part to retain him.
The sight of the crew, the air of
civilization about the trim ship, in
fected Jack like wine. He stood upon
the tiny wharf, gazing at hep.
Somebody had thrown down an old
newspaper. Jack picked it up. It was
the society section of a New York
publication. Holding it in his hand
mechanically, he went aboard.
"Ship another hand, sir?" he asked
the captain, and told him .his story.
The captain listened, at first in
credulously. Then his heart went out
to the poor devil of a shipwrecked
"Yes. Come aboard by eight," he
Jack Barrett went back along the
sands to the point, from which he
could see his home. His heart was
doubly torn within him. He groaned
in travail of spirit. He opened the
Under a two-column heading was
the account of Dora's marriage. She
had married a man he knew a mil
lionaire, one of a shallow, worthless
set The list of presents was long.
There were a diamond tiara, a dia
mod sunburst, the "famous black
pearls" that her father had acquired
from a bankrupt duke at auction. The
man's heart sickened as he read. He
did not think of Dora, but of the false
ness of the life from which he had
fled. And a sudden illumination came
He fell upon his knees and prayed
for enlightenment And when he
arose he knew that choice coincided
Slowly he turned his footsteps
Upon her knees in the hut a woman
prayed likewise. Hearing a step, she
rose. She ran to her husband with
incredulous joy. Standing thus, in
each other's arms, they saw the ship,
a little twinkling, distant patch upon
"Dear," she sobbed, "I can tell you
something now." And she whispered
her woman's secret into his ear.
Upon Jack Barrett's face was im
measurable content as he kissed her.
Walska, famous Polish prima don
na, frankly says she would take a
husband, but he must be her slave,
and has broken her engagement to
Lowel Palmer of Brooklyn because
he won't slave Bully for i Walska!
Telling a fellow why you want to
many him is a glorious new stunt
at least with, prima donnas,
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