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Newspaper Page Text
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she spoke her voice had a vibrant,
compelling ring, and was as pleas
ant to hear as her face seemed good
' to see. ,
Well, he seemed now booked to see
it through. A humorous twist came
into his face, for whatever else he
had lost, he still kept much of the
humor of Gerald Trask. It certainly
was at least an unusual experience.
They stood up to sing and a beauti
fully dressed lady offered him the
other half -of her hymn book. He
pretended at first not to see it, but
when Bhe puBhed it nearer he de
clined as politely as possible. Not for
worlds would hehave allowed that
black-rimmed thumb nail to appear
side by side with the dainty white
kid covered one. This of course was
Gerald Track bobbing up again. It
had been some time since he had
even thought about his finger nails.
He wondered now why they had let
him come in. He had passed the big
churches and seen the well-dressed
people pouring in and speculated in
a droll way as to what might happen
' if he had gone up the aisle and'
dropped into a pew. But he had never
tried it- .And these people had liter
ally dragged him in and didn't seem
to take any notice of his clothes.
Well, it was all a part of the queer
"Why will you stay a stranger to
yourself? Why don't you begin to
know who you are?"
The speaker's words arrested his
attention. It seemed as though she
were talking direotly to him.
" 'Know ye not ye are gods?' As
long as you keep on, like the Prod
igal, eating husks, you will never
know. Arise and go to your Father.
He is willing to give you all you can
possibly need or want But you
must go to him. You must claim
Much more she said that seemed
to thrill and light up dark corners in
the man's consciousness. After the
others were nearly all gonOe went
up to her. "May I when yeu have 1
more time speak to you?" he
"Why, yes," she said pleasantly.
"Can you come " She was about to
name an hour the next day, when
something in the man's face arrested
her. "Right now?" she added. "But
wait! Have you had any "breakfast?"
It was a new sensation for him to
be ashamed to admit he had not But
witn this woman it must be the
truth. So he told her. At once she
took him to the dining room and
asked another fady to see that he had
a lunch, and then to come to her.
After hiB meal he was taken to an
upper room handsomely furnished
like a combination study and library. "
" Does it seem to you?" he asked,
"that what you have said this morn
ing is true?"
"I am sure," she said. "I have
proved it If I had not I wouldn't
dare to speak."
"I think I am not the same man I
was when I came in. It's strange,
you know I don't want to be the
Then she drew from him some
thing of his early life; He had left
the high school with great hopes of
literary success. His father had died
when he was a small lad and hia
mother could not afford to send him
to college. Routine work at a desk
or counter simply drove him mad.
He "was borji a dreamer, and he
meant to put his dreams on paper
and live by them. But the stories
and poems he wrote came back to
him. He did not study the popular
taste with a practical eye. He would
not make concessions, he was not
pliable to the general. His relatives
one,ajid all united in giving him ad
vice, which was to stop frittering
away his time and go to work. "In
the sweat of thy face shalt. thou eat
bread.'1 But as Ruskin adds: It was
not written, "In the breaking of they
heart." His mother had encouraged
him, but when she died and to bitter
discouragement was added dire pov
erty, one day he tried to end it all,