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Newspaper Page Text
CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
WHEN DUTY AND DESIRE CLASH!
I don't know whether I told you or
not, little hook, that I always take
my mail out to the end of the steel
pier, where I go every mbrning for at
least two hours. You see I am de
termined to get all the good I can out
of this outdoor life.
As I read Mary's letter I loked out
where the beautiful Lady Salvia was
floating at anchor. I could not help
wishing that Dick loved the-water
as I do.
I hate winter I hate snow and ice
I seem to freeze up. I wish I could
always go to a warmer climate at
the first approach of cold weather.
I love tropical flowers, I love their
heavy scent, I love the palm trees.
Slowly the description of Mary's
new home began to unroll before my
eyes a picture of eternal sunshine,
eternal fragrance, eternal warmth.
I must have two distinct natures,
little book, one which is always bid
ding me go and do, and one that is
always whispering of the great joy
that can come from rest in the prop
er surroundings. One of my natures
is austere and strong. Its will is not
to be denied. It is always singing the
old Sunday school song, "Work for
the Night Is Coming."
My other nature is a sensuous,
poetical one that makes beauty its
pagaD god. It is the spirit of the lo
tus eater and dreamer of dreams.
Puritan and pagan are continually
fighting. I am torn between a sense
of duty to others and the thing I
want to do myself.
You see, little book, here I am qver
30, and I really have never known
the real joy of living. All my life has
been bound up in doing something
for some one else or just existing
under great physical ills.
Little book, I know if you are ever
given to the world many people will
say that I have no reason to be un
happy, that I have had more than
my share of the things that make
people happy. Happiness is a state
of mind, little book, and it doesn't
depend on money or material things.
I am growing happier at least since
that morning when I tried to end it
all. I seem to have been born again
I am reveling in my returning
health. I don't seem to care as long
as the sun shines.
All my emotions seem to be asleep.
I have no inclination for introspec
tion or retrospection. Even to you,
little book, I simply tell my thoughts
I do not ask why any more I am
just living from day to day. I was
thinking all this after I had read
Mary's letter and before I opened
Donna's, when Malcolm Stuart
I sometimes think he is one of the
handsomest men I ever saw with
his brown eyes at which his smile be
gins before it reaches his mouth. His
mouth is his one bad feature the
lips are much too thin. At times he
looks almost cruel when those bril
liantly red lips come together like a
I wonder if he can be cruel. I have
seen him when he was somewhat
arrogant and I have known hito to be
a greater creature of moods even
than Chad and yet to me he has
only shown one side of himself, and
that is simply wonderful. More than
any one else I have known has he un
derstood my slightest temperamental
He is almost feminine in his quick
intuition and yet his brain is whol
ly masculine and works with man's
cool logic. Many women must have
loved him. I wonder if he has ever
loved any one but that foolish little
wife of long ago.
Malcolm Stuart, you are very in
teresting because you cannot be eas
(To Be Continued.)
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