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I +^—i ■ 111— \ Matrimonial Adventures Marriage for One BY Theodore Dreiser Author of “Sister Cirri*.” "Jennie Oethnrdt.” 'The Financier,” “A Tmvoler «t Forty." “The Titan.'* “The Qcnl ot,” *A Hnoiier Holi day,” Twelve t*en,“ etc. Copy right bv ’Jaitol Feature Syndicate l THEODORE DREISER j | •- l ? Our Englk h n«: :M>or, the ccle- f I bra loti novel ‘t Aivoid Bonnet. eon- j • (tlriiirs 'l iii'vt'ort If t i”n' a leading ^ f repres lUeter*' American novelist. • t Mr l>i>.ust*i a work is known in r J Other countries Ins liuoks Live • • been ti«nrlat«il into both French ? • uii'l German • f Titeie is perhaps no author In » | the United S' it about whom su-l. ? , curiosity is ••.\prc svd as Tiieo'loru J • Dielaer Hi? I', rut book. “Sinter i • Carrie.'1 iicfun v tvu li« wan re- « j porting in a ••••stern newspaper. . j brougi t fv*rtli tip kiwi of sneer jus * • arnl discussion that li ive bi-romc J ? continuous with his 4iii’it«ling « T novels. • * ; it mult with • '• in arrcstlnir ? • terms. II plctur- > i • “I i> in a ii»v- ? ' - ♦ cr-to lic-Co* gntl -a mnim r, ami ill's . f Is tir t : mil »anl i'l his In'- • J nor.:. :■'•»* work it is Mr. l>r-- • r * • rays: ‘'i'»u not a hettr.it N >r ? 1 ? niyst* rluii-. I.’ut von i.nn.v 'hero i J an- >i !• of p-;i;le Hurt rig •: » ; writing — a ,..rt of (>• Ti • v f • (lock. Want lo know liou you «lo ' t It. Want to See \ »u 1.1 it It ai. ^ ! f tithes up time, i' lends non -re • I Let people | • • means invitations. Soc-ety is n * t busim-sa in Itself I a'l ma age * f It an«i do my work, too." , • With all Ids traits rlpiiotm from • • f»:e terrible things of life, Theodore * • Dreiser Is an id. ai m III is gbt ? | • is anr’ginv. Hi t .simi f;;r-:«sck- J ; f Ing. The story u Ji follows, writ- • I • ten fi.r file Star A'Uho! Series of • I . Matrimonial Ad\ ••■JtupT, cm • a * ? new and appealing picture of “.ViAr- . • riage—f<*r (ini'." • ! ! MARY sSTKWART CUTTING. Jit. ‘ • V*^ • ■•*■• • *• •- •••♦*•#• % • • ••-••- • • • •••-•*••■•-•-••«,•/ Whenever f tli Ilk Ime ni!i| »i»mj riflge I think of Wrny. That clerkly figure. That ilerkiy mind. !!<• was among those 1 met dating my lir.-t ' years in New York. i.ih<- m. ■. of 1 the millions seeking to lunke their way, he was busy ; boitt itls alVairs. and. fortunately. v itii the limitations * of tite average trc a he had l! ■ : ml., tiofis of tl.e u\..'ra;e mail. Me was I connected with one of those ( ouiteer eitd agencies wId ’ll inquire ii m the standing of business men and repi rt their lindiligs, for a price, to other hitsinoss men. lie was interested iti his work and seemed satislled ih.it in time le‘ was certain to arhieve what whs pe: Imps a fair c::.;;gh ambition: managership of siane branch of the great concern he was connected with and which might have paid him so much as five or six thousand a year. The tiling about him that Interested j me, apart from a genial and pleasing distiosith :t, was that with all this w ealth of .opportunity before him for studying the human mind, its re source-. and resourcefulness, its inhi bitions tind liberations, its humor, tragedy and general shiftiness and changefnlness, he concerned himself j chiefly with the hare facts of the dif- | ferent enterprises whose character he was supposed to investigate. Were they solvent? Could and did they pay their hills? What was their capital ( stock? How much cash did they have • >n hand? '. . . Such was the nature of the data he needed, and to this, 1 largely, to* confined himself. Nevertheless, he was nt times amused or astonished or made angry I or self-righteous by the tricks, the se eretivenc'S, the errors and downright meanness of spirit of so many he came in contact with. As for himself, he ’ had the feeling that be >vas a person of no little rhara.-ior, that he was holiest, straightforward, uot ns lira- i lteii or worthless as souie of those others. Ou this s>ore, as (»n some 1 others, he was eonvineed that he 1 would succeed. If si man did sis he f should ilo. If he were industrious and 1 honest and courteous and si few more of those many things we all know we ought to he, he was hound t > get along better than those who did not. What: an honest, industrious, careful, emir toons man not do better than tlm-e who are none of those thing-? What nonsense. It must he so. Of course there were accidents and m. Uin-s-. and men here and there stole from one another, ns he raw well illustrated In his own labors; and bank- failed. An<l there were trusts and e •Mhina. thrns being formed even then whi.-h did not seem to be entirely In tune with the Interests of the average man. put even so—all things considered— If the average man followed tint above rules he was sure to fare better than the other fellow. There was such a thing as art>roximate justice. Good drd prevail. In the main, and me wicked v ore punished. As for love and mart- go. he held definite views about these ;*No. Not that he was unduly narrow or in clined to censure those who.se live lmd not worked out as well as he hoped his own would, but the.v w; * a tine line of tart somewhere In this matter of marriage which led to >m cess also, quite ns the *j' es> out lined above led. or should o' L to suc cess in matters more maieri il or prac ti-'al. One had t * utitlorstan l a litti* V fcr.u,*. uopi about wom^o. flau -.*> be sure that when one went a-court ing one selected a woman of sense as well as charm, one who can* of gisid stock ami hence would be po^eessed of good taste and goad principles. She need not be rich; ahe might oven be poor. So many women were design ing. or at least light and flighty; they could not help a serions man to suc ceed if they would. Everywhere, of course, was the worthy girl whom it was an honor to marry, and it was one of these lie was going to choose. Hut even with one such It was neces sary to exercise care; she might be too narrow and conventional. In the course of time, having be come secretary to a certain somebody. > he encountered in his own office a girl • who seemed to embody nearly all of the virtues and qualities which lie thought necessary. She was the daugh ter of very modestly circumstanced parents who dwelt in the nearby sub urb or -. and a very capable ste- , nographer. She was really pretty but not very well informed, a girl who ap pcared to he practical and sensible, but still in leash to'the tenets and in structions of her home, her church and her family circle, three worlds ( which were as fixed and definite and worthy as tlie most enthusiastic of those who seek to maintain the order Hnd virtue of the world could have wished. For Instance, she was op posed to the theater, dancing, night dining or visiting m the city, ns well as unything that in her religious world might he construed as desecra tion of the Suhhath. I recall him de scribing her narrow “ns yet" but lo lloped to make her more liberal in time, lie told me that he had been unable to win Iter to so simple an out- • ing on the Sabbath as rowing on the little river near her home, that never would she stay downtown to dinner, i As for the theater—it could not even be mentioned. She could not and would not dance, anil looked upon j such inclinations in him as not only i worldly but loo c and sinful. Al- j though he prided himself "U being a liberal and even a radical, to her lie pretended a prhfrvm" indifference to i such depart tires from conventions. He thought her too tin** rod intelligent a girl t<> stick t<> such notions, and was doing Ids l»c-t to intiuenco and en lighten Iter. By slow d< gives (It** was about tlte husinivs of courting Iter two *>r three years! lie was able to bring j Iter to the place where site would stay ) downtown f"t* dinner on a weekday, ; and occasionally would attend n sa- | cr**d nr musical concert on a Sunday night. Also, which lie considered a j great triumph, he induced her to read | certain books, espo'dally bits of ids- | fury and philosophy wliicli he thought ^ iileiral and* whicli no doubt generated some thin wisps of doubt i:i her own mind. With their marriage ratne a new form of life for both of them, but more especially for her. They tool, n , small apartment in New York, and it | was n<*t long before she joined a lit- ! entry club that was being formed in ' their vicinity, where she met two re-t- j less, pushing, seeking women for ! whom lie did not care—.a Mrs. l>ra!;e j and a Mrs. Mtmsliaw, both *>f whom 1 lie insisted could I*ft of no value to , anyone. But Bess;.' liked them and . spent a great deal of time with them. I visited them at rlielr small apart ment about this time, and found that ! she was proving a very apt pupil in tlte realm to which lie had introduced her. It was plain that she Imd been emancipated from Iter old notions as to the sinfulness of the stage, as well ns reading and living in general. Wray had proved to be the Prince Charming who luid entered the secret garden and waked tlte sleeping prin cess to a world such ns she had never dreamed of. Whenever he met me after this lie would confide the growing nature of Ills doubts and perplexities. Bessie was no more like Hie girl he had met in his office than h** was like the boy he had been at ten years of age. Sin* was becoming more aggressive, more inquisitive, more self-centered, more argumentative all the lime, more this. more that. She ui<1 m>r like the same plays he liked; he wanted a play that was light and amusing, and she w ant ed one with some serious moral or In tellectual twist to it. She read only serious books now and was interested in lectures, whereas lie, as be now confessed, was more or less bored by serious books. Site liked music, or was pretending that she did. grand opera, recitals and that sort of thing, whereas grand opera bored him. And yet if he would not accompany her she would go with one, or both of those women he was beginning to detesr. They seemed to have m> household duties stud could Cottle and go as they chose. It was they who were aiding and abetting her In all these tiling' and s'irrlng l:er up to go and do and be. What was he to do? No good •■"tiM conte if tilings went on a* they were now going. The; were beginning to quarrel, and more than once lately she ’ ad threatened to leave him and ■ ’ • * r hers.'if, as he well knew she could. In a*' 'p two months after fids Wrnv came to see me, and In q very , distrait state of mind. After vainly ! attemp: eg t > discus* casual things casually b*> c.*>ed that lit *sie hud, left hiii’. She had t.ik"ii a room some 1 where, had gone bio-U t'o work, and world mu accept any money from him. Although he met her ocensh nally iu the subway she would have m>ihing to do with him. And would I hoii^ve if? She w ac'-vstng him of being narrow and ignorant and stubborn: And only three or four years before she had thought hn was all w; ng be - dav I Could ouch be? And 4' . ■ •r• I stil! he loved her; lie couldn’t help It. He recalled how sweet and Innocent and strange she had been when he ! first met her, how much she respected j her parents’ wishes, and now see. “I j wish to Cod," he suddenly exclaimed, : “that I hadn't been in such a burry to change her. She was all right then. If I had only known it. She wasn’t in- I torested in these d—d new-fangled things, and I wasn’t satisfied until she was. And now see! She leaves me and says I’m narrow and trying to hold her back intellectually.” I shook my head. Of what value was advice in the face of such a situ- j atlon as this, especially from one who j was satisfied that the mysteries of | temperament were not to he unrav- ' elcd or adjusted save hy nature? : Nevertheless, being appealed to, I ven- j ttired a silly suggestion, borrowed [ from another. He had said that if he ; could only win her hack he would he j willing to modify the pointless opposi tion and contention that had driven her away. She might go her intellec tual way as she chose, if she would only come hack. . . . Seeing him so tractable and so very wishful, T suggested a thing anoilier had done in n related situation. He was to win her hack by offering ber stick terms as she would accept, and then, in order to bind her to him. he was to induce her to have a child. That would cap ture her sympathy and at the same time Insinuate an image of himself into her affectionate consideration. Those who had children rarely sepa rated—or so I said. The thought Interested him at once. It satisfied his practical and elerl lv soul. lie left t»e hopefully and 1 saw nothing more of him for several j months, when lie came to report that t ail v.as well with him ouce more. In | order to seal the new pact be bad taken u larger apartment in a more engaging part of the city. Bessie was going on with her club life, and he was not opposing ber. And then with in the year came a child, and for the next two years all those simple, homey and seomin-ly binding and re straining tilings which go with the rearing and protection of a young life. But, as I was soon to learn, even during that period all was not as smooth as might he. One day in Wray's absence Bessie remarked that, delightful ns it was to have a child of lier own, she could see herself as little more than niilk-cow with a calf, bound to its service until it should he able to look after itself. She spoke of what a chain and a weight a child was to one who had ambitions beyond those of motherhood. But Wray, clerkly soul that lie was, was all hut lost in rupture. There was a small park nearby, and here lie was to he found trundling this infant in a hand some baby carriage whenever his du ties would permit. He liked to specu late on the charm and innocence of babyhood and was amused by a hun dred things he laid never noticed in the children of others. Already lie was planning for littie Marie's future. It was hard for children to he cooped np In the city. If lie could win Bes sie to the idea, they would move to ' some .suburban town. They wore prospering now and j could engage a nursemaid, so Mrs. | Wray resumed her intellectual pur- j suits. It was ea«.v to see that, re- j spect Wray us she might ns an affeo- J tlonate and methodical man, sbe could > not love him, and that because of the gup that lies between those who think or dream a little and those who aspire and dream much. They were two dif fering rates of motion, flowing side by side for the time being only, lie the slower, she the quicker. Observing them together one could see .how proud lie was of lo-r and his relation ship to her, how he felt that he had captured a priz • regardless of the conditions 1>\ which it was retained, while she held him rather lightly in her thoughts or tier moods. Having won her back he now sought to hind her to him in any wav that lie might, while she wished onlv to he free. For nun oam.* mii* pm.i:;i'u inm ui"so him ac tivities which had so troubled liiru. , and now in addition to himself tiio child was being l'ogleoted, or so lie thouglit. 'l'lie arrival of Marie limi not influenced bee in that respect. And wlmt was more nnd worse, she had now taken to reading Freud nnd Kraft-Kbhing ami allied thinkers and authorities, men and works lie con- j sidered shameful even though scarce- * ly grasped by him. On<v lie said to me: “Do you know of a writer of | the name of I’ierre 1 oti?” “Yes,” I replied. “1 know ids works, j What about it?” “What do you think of him?” “Why, 1 respect him very much, What about him?” “Oh, I know, from an intellectual point of view, as a tine writer, maybe. Hut what do you think of his views of life—of Ids hook> as P. to he read by the mother of a little girl?” “Wray.” 1 "I can’t enter upon ! a discussion of any man's works upon purely moral grounds, lie might be good for s uiie mothers arid evil for others. That is as you will. Those who are to he injured by a picture of lire must I o injured, mid those who are to h benefited will he benefited. I can’t d - u>s either books or life in that way. I see hooks as truthful representations <>f life in some form, nothing more. And It would he un fair to anyone vvlm stood in intel lectual need to he restrained from that v.Uieh might prove of advantage to him. 1 speak only for myself, how ever.” It was not long after that, six months or less, tha; 1 heard there had , been a new quarrel which resulted in J Bessie's leaving him “nee more, and J with her. which perhaps was illegal cr unfair, she had ful.es the cade, cf * - ['< Which he was so fond. Not hearing <j directly from him as to this, I called i upon him nfter a time and found him !2 living in the same large apartment " they had, taken. Apart from a ( solemnity and a reserve which sprang | from a Wounded and disgruntled spirit, he pretended an indifference ^ and u satisfaction with his present I state which did not square with his | past love for her. Site had gone, yes, | and with another man. He was sure of that, although he did not know who I the man was. It was all due to one | of those two women about whom he d had told me before, that Mrs. Drake. . She had Interested Hessie in things " which did not and could not interest \i him. They were nil alike, those peo- | pie—crazy and notional and insincere. - After a time In* added that he had ^ been to see her parents. I could not ( guess why, unless it was because lie 4 was lonely and still very much in love | and thought they might help Mm to understand the troublesome problem * that was .before him. | There was no other word from him 4 for much over a year, during which * time bi> continued to ;ive in the apart- " ment they had occupied together, lie ( had retained his position with the | agency and was now manager of a | department. One rainy November ^ night he came to see me, and seated ? himself before my fire. He looked £ .well enough, quite the careful person / Who takes care of his clot lies, but thinner, more tense and restless. He i said lie was doing very well and was / thinking of taking a long vacation to ^ visit some friends in the West. (He had heard that Bessie liacF gone toil California.) Then of a sudden, noting \ that 1 studied him arid wondered, he;/ grew restless and dually got up to look at n shelf of books. Suddenly lie x wheeled and faced me, exclaiming: “I j can't stand it. That's what’s the m:it- ^ ter. I’ve tried and tried. I thought * that the child would make things * work out till right, but it didn't. She ( didn’t want children and never for- 4 gave me for persuading lier t•« linvej^ Marie. And 1hat literary craze—but “ that was my fniut. I w.\< tn • <»n«* tnnt % encouraged her to rend and go to the ^ theaters. I used to fell her she * wasn’t up-to-date, that slit* might to wake up and fini 1 out what was going on In the world, that she ought to get f '■ut with intelligent people. . . . g But if wasn’t that, either. If she had * been the right sort of woman she.'J eouldn’t have done its she has done." lie paused and elenehed Ills hands $ nervously, as though ho were de- * nouneing her to lit r face instead of to me. “Now, Wray," T interposed, "how $ useless to say tliat. which of us is ^ as lie ought to he? Why will you talk t so?" “But let me tell you what she did." 1 lie went on fiercely. “You haven’t an { idea of what I've been through, not an g idea. She tried to poison me once—" , and here followed a sad recital of the twists and turns and desperation of ( one who wished to la* free. “And site was in love with another man. only I could never find out who he was’ 5 And lie gave me details of certain jj mysterious goings to and fro, of so- | cref pursuits on his part, of a I ns and evidences and moods and quar rels which pointed all t<><> plainly to a breach that could never he healed. “And what is more, she tortured me. You'll never know—you couldn't. But I loved her. And I love her now.” Once more the tensely gripped lingers, the white face, the flash of haunted eyes. “Once I followed her to a res taurant when she said she was going to visit a friend, end she met a man. 1 followed them when they came out, and when they were getting into a cab j I told them both what 1 thought of them. 1 threatened to kill them, and then lie went away when sin* told ldm ! to go. When we got home T couldn’t do anything with her. All she would .. r .it.,. •. ill— *1,„ I she was doing I could let her go. She wanted me !<> give her u divorce. And I couldn’t let her go. oven if I had wanted to. I loved her too much. Why, she would sit and rend and ignore me for days—days, without! ever a word.” “1'es." I said, "but the folly of It j nil. The uselessness, the hopeless-1 ness.” “Oh, I know, hut I couldn't help it. I was crazy about her. The more she disliked tue. the more I loved I er. I have walked the streets for hours, whole days at a_ time, because I couldn't eat or sleep. And all 1 could do was think, think, think. An l that Is about all I do now, really. 1 have never been myself since she left. Tt's almost as had right now as it was two vr: s ago. 1 live in the old apart ment, yes. But why? Because I think site might cone hack to me. I wait and wait. I know it's foolish, hut still 1 wait. Why? Cod only knows. Oh,” he sigl id. “it's throe years n<>w —three years.” lie paused and gazed at me, and I at him, shaken by a fact that was without solution by anyone. I won- ' ilered where site was, whether she ever thought of him even, whether she was happy in her new freedom. And then, without more ado, he slipped on his raincoat, look his um brella and marched nut Into the rain j again, to walk and think, I pre sume. And I. closing tlie door, studied the walls, wonderlngly. The d'- pair, the j nssion. the rage, the hopeless ness. tiie love. "Truly,” I thought, "this is love—for one at least. And tills Is marriage—for one at least, lie Is spiritually wedded to that woman, who despises him. And she may he spiritually wedded to another, who may despise her. But love and mar riage, for one at least. T have seen k-'re in this room, and with mine own ej28." i *• INGOMAR THEATRE i , < ( 2 DAYS—TUESDAY—WEDNESDAY—2 DAYS , } i; , -i i 1 »» : .' ‘ ; « • • J <$ I, | Ramsay Morris’ Great Play \« I “The Ninety and Nine” [ WFIH COLLEEN MOORE AND WARNER BAXTER » - ■ : I *-----*- ^ J | See the big scenes in the Tavern, the debutante ball, the barn dance, Toms escape ^ | from Blake’s, the death of Hud, the thrilling ride from Cleves to Marlow, miles oi < ft • Jj forest fire, the chase ami escape of Tom in a locomotive. ? * THE BIG THRILL PICTURE OF THE AGE! •. ' f P & $ _ _ _ •••••••••••••* If You Want tc Buy or Sell Use the ; Gazette Want Ad Page * The Sultan of Turkey abdicated and left dozens of wives un provided for. The new officials endeavored to dispose of them through the American newspapers! We can’t promise such results from our Want Ads—but if you have anything else you wish to buy, sell or exchange, they 11 surely help you accomplish it. Call Us—We’li Send For Them , I THE ALEXANDRIA GAZETTE Phones 7 and 620 * V