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PAGE 6

The Journalist’s Story
by [?]

Instinctively he must have remembered the cotton mill from which he took her. A man rarely understands a woman’s faculty for forgetting–that is to say, no man of his class does.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit selfish of you,” she went on, “to object to my earning nearly three times what you can–and so easily–and prettily?”

“I wanted you to be happy with what I could give you.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not. No use to fib about it! It is too late. Your notions are so queer.”

“I suppose it is queer to love one woman–and to love her so that laboring for her is happiness! I suppose you do find me a queer chap, because I am not willing that my wife–flesh of my flesh–should flaunt herself, half dressed, to excite the admiration of other men–all for fifty dollars a week!”

“See here, Zeke, you are making too much of this! If it is the separation you can’t stand–why come, too! I’ll soon enough be getting my hundred a week, and more. That is enough for both of us. You can be with me, if that is what you mind!”

“If that is what I mind? You know better than that! Am I such a cur that you think, if there were no other reason, I’d pose before the world as the husband of a woman who owes nothing to him–as if I were–“

She interrupted him sharply.

“What odds does it make–tell me that–which of us earns the money? To have it is the only important thing!”

The man straightened up–and squared his broad shoulders. A strange change came over him.

He laid his heavy hand on her shoulder, and, for the first time, he spoke with a disregard for self-control, although he did not raise his voice.

“Look at me, Dora, and be sure I mean what I say. Leave me to-day, and don’t you ever come back to me. It may kill me to live without you. Well, better that than–than the other! I married you to live with you–not merely to have you! I’ve been a faithful husband to you! I shall remain that while I live. I never denied you anything I could get for you! But this I will not put up with! I thought you loved me–even if you were sometimes vain, and now and then cruel. If you’re ill–if you disappoint yourself, I’ll be ready to take care of you–as I promised. But don’t never dare to come back to me otherwise! Unless you’re in want and homeless, unless you can’t live, but by the labor of my hands, I’ll never sleep under the same roof with you again. Never!”

“What nonsense, Zeke! Of course I’ll come back! You won’t turn me away! I only want to see a little of the world, to get a few of the things you can’t give me–no blame to you, either!”

He did not seem to hear her.

Almost as if speaking to himself, he went on: “I’ve feared for some time you didn’t love me. I didn’t want to believe it. I was a coward. I shut my eyes. I took what you gave me–I daren’t think of this–which has come to me! I dared not! God punishes idolatry! He has punished mine. Be sure you’re not making a mistake, Dora! There may be other men will admire you, my girl–will any of them love you as I do? There’s never a minute I’m not conscious of you, sleeping or waking. Think again, Dora, before you leave me!”

“I can’t, Zeke. I’ve signed a contract. I couldn’t reconsider if I wanted to. It’s just seven minutes to train time. Kiss me–there’s a dear lad–and don’t row me any more!”

She raised herself on tip toes and approached her red lips to his face–lips of an intense color to go with the marked pallor of the rest of the face, and which surely were never offered to him in vain before–but he was beyond their seduction at last.