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Newspaper Page Text
CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
I AM GROWING FOND OF ELEANOR FAIRLOW
(Copyright, 1915, by the Newspaper Enterprise Association.)
I sometimes wonder, little book, if
every one is as dependent upon psy
chological conditions as I. I get so
mixed up when I try to figure this life
out on a material basis entirely.
I know that physically I am per
fectly well. I have no aches nor
pains, and yet I have no inclination to
read. I cannot sew, for all the reason
that my sewing is nil. As for eating,
I do not care what they give me, food
is tasteless in my mouth.
I think, little book, you are the only
thing which holds any interest for
me. The habit of long years of stand
ing off in one corner and reviewing
myself, my actions and the actions
of those about me, of regarding my
own speeches and the speech of those
who give me the benefit of their
thoughts is too well formed to be
lightly given up.
Last night Dick again asked me if
I did not love him any more. Since
I have grown less demonstrative, less'
talkative, he "has grown more so.
Poor old Dick, I do not think he is to
blame because he cannot take the
loss of our baby as hard as I do.
For me the whole world is a place
where I eat and sleep and that is all.
I want to feel, little book, I want to
be interested in things again, but
some way I can't.
I think perhaps if they would let
me go back to my own little apart
ments I would be able to get back to
earth again. I said this to Eleanor
Pairlow this morning, when she came
in to sit with me while the nurse
was out for her walk.
My nurse is a fussy person who
gets on my nerves so that at times I
want to scream. I don't see why I
need a trained nurse all to myself.
I am going to ask Dick to see if I
cannot dismiss her and have Eleanor
detailed to give me the necessary
I think I am growing fond of Elea
nor Pairlow. At least, with the ex
ception of Aunt Mary she annoys me
least with stupid questions about how
I feel and advice upon "getting a hold
on yourself" and being "brave."
Eleanor, yesterday, after I came
back from the ride, came in and
rubbed my head lightly until I fell
asleep. While she was doing it she
did not ask me if I had had a nice
ride. Neither did she tell me I was
looking better or worse for it In
stead, she quietly took off my hat
and wraps, and as I wearily dropped
on the bed, wet her fingers in toilet
water and began to rub my head
without the explamation of poor
dearie" or "sweet lamb" with which
my nurse expresses her sympathy.
When I awakened Eleanor was still
sitting beside me. I did not open my
eyes fully at first, but studied her
face through my half-closed lids.
,. Eleanor Fairlow's face, when she
thinks no one is look at her, is the
saddest I have ever seen. She sat
there with a tense look that was not
that of despair so much as that of
absolute lack of hope. I pitied her,
little book, for she seemed more sor
row stricken than even L I moved
slightly and immediately the look had
fled and she bent over me with her
usual smile. "I am going to get your
dinner now," she said.
"Have I slept so long?" I askea,
feeling particularly rested and com
fortable. "About four hours. I have been
on duty and back again to see you.
Dick has been here, also Aunt Mary,
and you have had telephone callers
"Dick, I want to go home," I said
as soon as he came in again. Dick
looked surprised and happy. "I want
to go home and I want, if possible, to
take Eleanor Fairlow with me if I
need a nurse."
"I am afraid we can't, Margie. You