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Newspaper Page Text
"I am sorry," he wrote, "that
you have taken this step, that you
have done what I advised you
not to do. I am sorry you could
not see things my way. If ever
there is anything I can do to help
you, you alone, let me know. I
shall j do it gladly. I shall do
.nothing to help HIM."
That is the letter of a man. It
is the letter of a mati who, having
been grievously wronged, still
loved greatly enough to forgive.
And it is the letter of a man who
could hate, and did hate, the
MAN who had done him wrong.
That letter must have been as
ashes in the mo'uth of the wo
man. For even then she knew
she had made a mistake; knew
sjie did not love Fred Noble;
knew she loved only her husband ;
and knew that it was too late.
The day before she was married
to Noble " to meet the conven
tions," she said to a friend:
"I do not want to marry Fred.
I do not love him. I know that
now, But I am afraid that if I
do not marry him, he will com
"And anyway, it is too late to
.do otherwise. All the world
knows I eloped with him. All the
world knows how I wronged my
husband. I cannot go back to
him, although he is the man I
Walter Suydam was the only
other mourner besides the sor
rowing mother at that pathetic
grave in Philadelphia.
Who is at fault?
Was he lost in the glamour of
his own memory? Did the mere
fact that he had surrounded her
with every luxury, make Walter
Suydam forget that his wife was,
after all, just a woman, longing to
Did it make him forget to tell
her of his love so that she imag
ined it had grown cold?
Is Walter Suydam today re
proaching himself for the things
he did not do, for the kindnesses
he did not show, for the remem
brances he did not "make plain?
Before her death, Mrs. Suydam
knew she had made a mistake,
that she had given up her honor
for a man she did not love, and,
left behind the man she did love,
and whom it was her right to
love. But did she know why she
had done it?
Hardlv. If she had known that
she would not have chosen that
lonely, loveless death.
But she saw no vTay out, save
only death. And so she planned
the death, and telephoned to the
janitor of the flat to remove the
little puppies, and returned there
in the lonely night to meet the
man for whom she had given up
all things, and whom she did not
love, and, go from his arms to face
There is something infinitely
pathetic in that wail of "T have
learned that the wages of sin is
death," followed by the death in
the flat that a jeering world had
come to call "affinity flat."
There is something pathetic
in the loving kindness that ar
ranged for the removal nf pup
pies, that they, too, might not