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Newspaper Page Text
FAITH OF WOMEN
By Albert Reeve
(Copyright, 1916, W. G. Chapman.)
"Do you know why I like you, Miss
Gray?" inquired Doris Dinsmere,
seating herself in her friend's com
fortable chair. "It's because you're
"That's a mixed sort of compli
ment," answered Elizabeth Gray,
laughing. "I think I know what you
"I mean you're the sort of person
to come to for advice," said Doris,
patting her friend's hand coaxingly.
Elizabeth Gray and Doris Dins
mere had been school friends. Five
years afterward they had met in New
York, where Doris was studying art,
at the expense of her well-to-do par
ents, while Elizabeth lived in a tiny
flat and worked as a stenographer.
Miss Gray was the sort of a wom
an who would never be quite beauti
ful, as Doris was, but there was more
In her head than had passed through
Doris' flighty one in all her life.
"You are in love again," said Miss
Doris nodded. "To Charlie Ross,"
she answered. "We're engaged."
Elizabeth was unable to repress a
little sense of pain. It was she who
had introduced Charlie to Doris.
Charlie had been quickly infatuated
with the empty-headed little girl,
who represented all that was sacred
in his eyes. She thought with a pang
how much he had begun to mean to
her before he met Doris and ceased
coming to her apartment They had
discussed things together; he had
told her everything that was in his
life, all his ideals. And he had been
thrown off his balance by Doris, who
had nothing but beauty and vivacity.
She knew Doris would never make a
good wife for Charlie. And the pity
was that she could do nothing. Time
must teach them.
"This is what I want you to do,"
said Dons. He writes the mostl
beautiful love letters. And I I don't
know how to answer them."
"Just be natural, dear," said the
older woman. "Don't try to say what
you don't mean. Charlie -will come
"But you don't understand," said
Doris plaintively. "He thinks I am
all sorts of things I am not. He
thinks I am clever and and all that.
Elizabeth" she used the word when
"Just Be Natural, Dear."
she meant to coax "won't you write
me a love letter to Charlie?"
"My dear child," faltered Miss
"Oh, you must," pleaded Doris.
"Or else I shall lose him. You don't
know how much he means to me,
and all he thinks me which I am not.
Please, please, Elizabeth."
"But he will know it is not you
speaking in the letter, my dear," pro
tested Eliabzeth Gray.
"Please," repeated Doris, sobbing.
Doris was very winning when she
meant to be. And so her friend ca-