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CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
WHAT IS THE UNPARDONABLE SIN?
"No, Pat, I don't believe at this
time I can give up the secrets of my
little book. The experiences, are still
so new, the tragedies are still un-
softened by time, and the joys are
still without the perspective that
memory will give.
"Some day when life has resolved
itself into the quiet waiting of the
twilight hour I may do it, but you
see, my friend, although I am lying
here apparently out of it all I am still
living it My poor body is inert, but
my mind, my senses, my emotions,
my nerves, still tingle at the slight
est contact with other minds, other
emotions, other actions, other words.
I am still the old Margie Waverly,
with all the old longings for happi
ness and I probably will go on stum
bling in search of it until I don't want
it any more and then' perhaps out
of very perverseness Fate will fling
it to me."
Pat looked at me in silence a min
ute and then said, "Margie, why
don't you write something else. I
wish you would put some of those
theories of yours into a story. I
think it would be intensely interest
ing." "I don't know, Pat I don't know.
Perhaps when I began to write for
the people to read I might begin to
think of the reader and that would
be disastrous, you know.
"It would be like flattering an ugly
woman because you knew she liked
to hear it However, Pat, I don't mind
telling you that I have a true story
of a girl friend of mine which I may
write by and by, and if I do you may
publish it if you wish."
"Won't you begin it right away?"
asked Pat eagerly.
"I am going to wait until Mollie
gets back. She says she has a plan
for some work in which she wants
my help. I am going to see if I can
do both or if I will have to choose
which I would rather do. I must
work at something, Pat. and without
being able to stand upright it almost
seems as though writing were the
only thing I could do."
Just then Alice came into the room
and I introduced her to Pat "Alice,"
I said, "this is one of my dearest
friends, Mr. Pat Sullivan.
"Pat, I want you to know the splen
did sympathetic companion and a
tireless worker, who makes my lot
at least endurable."
Someway, little book, I was glad
that Alice was so pretty as I saw the
honest admiration in Pat's eyes.
I wonder why it is that no one can
introduce an unmarried man to an
unattached woman without the idea
of a romance popping into one's
I expect, little book, that the "uncu
guid," as Bobby Burns called them,
would simply be speechless with hor
ror if by any possibility Pat should
fall in love with Alice and she should
return that love, and yet to you I will
confide something especially as I
do not expect to let any one read it
but you at least for a long time. I
know few better, more honorable
or moral women than Alice. She is
quite good enough to marry any man
I have ever known.
You, little book, know that I have
no use for a double standard of good
ness and because either a man or a
woman succumbs to any temptation
once is no reason why either should
not regain morality and "be perfect
ly good" again.
You remember when I told Dick
that if the time came when I should
love a man better than I did him 1
would go to him? Well, I believe that
thought at least comes to every
woman whose husband is untrue to
her. It is perfectly human and nat
ural if you are hurt to want to hurt
back and yet it is very probable that '
if this little book was published, I,
Margie Waverly, would come in for