{ title: 'South New Berlin bee. (South New Berlin, Chenango County, N.Y.) 1897-1965, March 29, 1919, Page 3, Image 3', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061740/1919-03-29/ed-1/seq-3/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061740/1919-03-29/ed-1/seq-3.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061740/1919-03-29/ed-1/seq-3/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061740/1919-03-29/ed-1/seq-3/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
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. V ' SOUTH NEW BERLIN BEE. •■1 The Thirteenth Commandment By RUPERT HUGHES Copyright by Harper & Brothers CHAPTER XIX—Continued. *~13— “Wbat they used to call the de cent thing we call indecent. You said yourself that marriage without love was horrible. And it is; it’s all quar rel and nagging and deceit. If people are faithful to each other morally they seem to quarrel all the more. Long ago I vowed Td never marry, and I don’t intend to. I don’t want to marry you. But I want your life.” ‘‘Mr. Duane! Really, this is out rageous.” “No, it isn’t ! Hush and listen, honey—^MIss Klii—Daphne—^whatever you’ll let me call you. I told you I was stark, starving, crazy mad about you. When I think of you looking for She Was More Afraid of Him Now Than Ever. work, living in that awful spare room of those awful Chivvises—when I think of you going from place to place at the mercy of such men as you’re sure to meet—^when I think of you waiting for poor Wimburn to get out of the poorhouse,. I want to grab you in my arms and run away, with you. It breaks my heart to see you in dis tress and anxiety; for I want you to have everything beautiful and cheer ful In the world. And I can get it all for you. Let me! Let me love you and try to make you happy, won’t you?” He had crowded nearer and he held her fast against the door of the car. His right hand clung to hers; his left slid down to her waist. He drew her toward him, staring up beseech ingly. He laid his cheek against her left side like a child, the big man pleading to the little woman for mercy. She felt sorry for him and for her self. She regretted that cruelty was her one unmistakable duty. She had no right to be kind, and charity would be a sin. She wrung her hands free from his with slow persuasion and shook her head pityingly. He accepted the decision with a nod, but before she could escape from his arm she felt that he pressed his lips against her just above her heart. It was as if he had softly driven a nail into it. Tears flamed to her eyelids and fell on his hands as he carried them to his bent brow. He crossed them on the wheel and hid his face In them, groaning. “Daphne I Daphne!” She was more afraid of him now than ever. All the splendors he could promise her were nothing to that prof fer of his longing. While she waited in a battle of im pulses, ho rogainoa soif-eontroi with self-contempt, in a general clench of resolution. “I apologize,” he mumbled. *‘I’m a fool to think that you could love me.” CHAPTER XX. Duane did not speak till miles and miles of black road had run backward beneath their wheels. Then he grumbled, “What a fool I was to dream of such a thing!” More miles went under before her curiosity led her to say, faintly, “What were you dreaming of?” He laughed, and did not answer for another while. Then he laughed ‘*Do you really want to know?” “I think so.” “Well, you couldn’t hate me any more than you do, so I’ll tell you. I said to myself that I would never be the slave of any woman. “It's not that I am stingy about my money, not that I wouldn’t take the greatest pleasure in pauperizing my self for the woman I loved, but that . I Xiuit. ..to. take, my.- gifts .as .gifts,, not as a tax or a salary. Some of these women think they are doing a man a tremendous favor by letting him support them. That doesn’t get me a little bit. I believe a man does > woman 5^'«st as much honor as she does him, and sacrifices a blamed sight more. He gives up his freedom, and if she gives up hers she’s only giving tip something she doesn’t know how to use anyway.” Daphne had rarely found a man who would talk to her with Duane’s frankness, and if there Is anything that interests a woman more than an other it is to hear womankind an alyzed, even satirized. She was eager for more vinegar. “You won’t be shocked and angry?” he asked. “1 don’t think so.” \ “You don’t know how pleasant It is to talk life and love to a woman who doesn’t rear up and feel insulted at everything. At first you gave me a couple of how-dare-you’s, but they don’t count. And if you do hate me a little more, why, so much the better. When I thought you had broken with Wimbum I said to myself, ‘She’s the one girl in the world for me. I’m go ing to ask her to marry me.’ But I was afraid to, for I was afraid of mar riage. And then—^I— Well, I’d better not— Yes, I will. I said, ‘She be lieves that men and women are equal and have equal rights, and she’s go ing to get out and hustle for herself, like a little man. Maybe she could learn to love me well enough to go into a partnership of hearts.’ That’s what I said to myself. You mustn’t think it’s because I don’t want to cleave to one woman; it’s because I do. But I hate handcuffs. Do you see? And now you know what I was dreaming of. What do you think of it?” The answer to his long oration was complete silence. Duane waited for his answer, and, not getting it, laughed harshly; “Well, that’s that. The next number on our program will be a bal lad entitled ‘I Never Dream but I Bump My Head.’ Go on! Marry Clay Wimburn on nothing a year and live miserably ever after.” She said nothing to this, either. Duane was in a wretched state of baf flement. He put the car to its paces, and it ripped through space at fifty miles an hour. Daphne had a new terror added to the load of her nerves. The car went bounding up a steep incline toward the swerve of a head land cut in rigid silhouette by the far- reaching searchlight of a car ap proaching from the other direction. Duane kept well to the outside of the road, but just as he met the other motor and winced In the dazzle of its lamps, a third car trying to pass it on the curve hurtled into the narrow space with a blaze like lightning sear ing the eyes. There was a yelling and hooting of horns and a sense of dis aster. Daphne bent her head and prayed for life, but without faith. Duane, half-blinded, swung his front wheels off the road and grazed a wall. The rear wheels were not quick enough. The other car smote them, crumpling the mudguard and slicing off the rear lamp. Daphne was thrown this way and that, and it seemed that her spine must have snapped in a dozen places. When she opened her eyes again the car was standing still. Duane turned to her with terrified questions, and his hands visited her face and her arms and shoulders. He held her hands fast and peered into her eyes while she promised him that she was not dead. The car that had bested his did not return, but the other did, offering help from a safe distance till its Identity was established. In the light of its lamp Duane got down and examined his own car. Besides the damages in the rear, it had sustained a complete fracture of the front axle, a twisted fender, and a shattered headlight. The driver of the other car came up and joined the coroner’s inauesL He stared at Duane, and cried in the tone of an English aristocrat, “Goh- bless m y soul, ain’t you Tom Duane?” Duane, blinking in the light, peered at him and said: “Yop! I can’t see you, but the voice would be Weth- erell’s.” “Right-o; it’s me. Oh, pardon me, you’re not alone. Nobody hurt, I hope and pray.” “No, but we’re pretty far from home and country.” “I see! Hum-m! Pity I couldn’t get the number of the swine that hit you. I rather fancy I’ll have to give you a lift—^what? I was out on a tangaroo hunt, but that will wait~if you don’t mind trusting yourself to bad com pany.” Duane lowered his voice anxiously. “Is it very bad?” Wetherell put the mute on his voice. “As good as yours. I’ll wager. But let’s not go into family history. Come along and we’ll take you to the next neutral port. That would be— “Yonkers.” “Oh, yes. I fan c y th o s e were the Yonkers w e cam e through a fe w m iles hael^ ^ -Well, '-come <alongi’^ . Duane was embarrassed,, but he could do nothing except take Weth erell to his car and introduce him to Daphne. “Miss Kip,” he said, “I’ve got to present Mr. Wetherell. He wants us to ride with him as far as Yonkers. We'll get another car there.” Wetherell came close and said: “Did he say Mrs. Kip? I can’t see you, but I hope you are the fascinat ing Mrs. Kip I met at Newport. Have you forgotten me so soon?” “I am Miss Kip,” said Daphne. “Oh, so sorry! I don’t mean that, either. But my Mrs. Kip was a siren —Leila was her first name. I called her De-leila, you see. And she called me Samson. She was a—’’ “She Is my brother’s wife,” said Daphne. “Oh, you don’t tell me!” Wetherell gulped,' and his abrupt silence was full of startling implications that alarmed Daphne, angered Duane, and threw Wetherell into confusion. Duane helped Daphne to alight from the derelict and transferred her to the other car, where Wetherell intro duced them to a mass of shadow whose name, “Mrs. Bettany,” meant nothing to Daphne and everything to Duane. Duane arranged to have a wrecking crew sent out to his roadster, and chartered a touring car and a chauf feur for the trip into New York. He sat back with Daphne and mur mured prayers for forgiveness be cause of the dangers he had carried her into and for the things he had said. Daphne’s nerves had been overworked. She had been rushed from adventure to adventure of soul and body. She had been invited to enter a career of gorgeous sin, and she had been swept along the edge of a fearful disaster. Mrs. Chiwls met Daphne at the door. Her recent affection had turned again to scorn, and she glowered at Daphne, who crept to her room in hopeless acceptance of the role of ad venturess. Tired as she was she could not sleep. The clangor of the morning called her to the window. A gray day broke on a weary town. The prob lem of debt and food and new clothes dawned again. Everything was gray before her. Wisdom whispered her to take Duane at his word and try ^he t great adventure. How could it bring her to worse confusion than she found about her now? And then the morn ing mail arrived and brought her a large envelope addressed in a strange hand. She opened it and took from it a sheaf of photographs. Her father’s image a dozen times repeated lay before her. The un touched proofs omitted never a line, never a wrinkle. One of the pictures looked straight at her. She recalled that once she had stood back of the photographer and her father had caught her eye and smiled just as the bulb was pressed. She made him smile like that. What would his expression be when he learned that she had “listened to rea son,” ceased to be his daughter, and become Tom Duane’s— She shuddered back from the word and the thought. She forgot both In the joy of reunion with her father. All the philosophies and wisdoms and luxuries were answered by the logic of that smile. She lifted his pictured lips to hers with filial eagerness and her tears pattered ruinously on the proof. She Tired as She Was, She Could Not Sleep. was satisfied to b.e what tSe jeweler in Cleveland had called her to Clay Wimbum—“old Wes Kip’s girl.” Suddenly she remembered Weth erell and his massages to Leila. She felt so renewedly virtuous herself that it seemed her duty to go down and re buke Leila for her apparent philan dering at Newport. She was also cn-. rious to see how guilty Leila would receive the news that Wetherell had asked for her. But she found Bayard at home for lujKheon and she was neither mad nor mean enough to confuse Leila before him. And t h is w a s rather for h is sake than Leila’s. Leila was just informing Bayard that the butcher hkd delivered the morning’s order no farther than the freight elevator, and instructed his boy to send the meat up only after the money came down. Bayard had no money and the cha grin of his situation was bitter. He snarled at Leila: “Tell the cub to take the meat back and eat it himself. Then I’ll go over and butcher the butcher.” Leila dismissed the boy with a faint-hearted show of indignation. Then she came back and said, “And now we have no meat to eat.” Bayard was reduced to philosophy, the last resort of the desperate: “Well, the vegetarians say we ought never to eat meat, anyway. We’re poor, but, my Lord! we’re in grand company. Look at this cartoon of Cesare’s in the Sun—^Father Knicker bocker turning his pockets inside out and not a penny in them. New York city has to borrow money on short- time notes at high interest to pay its own current bills.' “Look at Europe. All the countries over there were stumbling along un- *der such debt that they wondered how they could meet the interest on the next pay day. And now they are mortgaging their great-grandsons’ property to pay for shooting their sons. “It’s the old Thirteenth Command ment that we’ve all been smashing to flinders. And, my God! what a punishment we’re alL getting! And it’s only beginning.” They sat down to a pitiful meal— meatless, maidless, mirthless—^hardly more than the raw turnips and cold water of Colonel Sellers. Leila fetched what victual there was. After the meal Bayard shrugged into his overcoat and left without kissing his wife or his sister goodby. Daphne and Leila went out to the kitchen, set the dishes in the pan, and the pan under the faucet. Leila turned on the hot water. Daphne was glad to be at work. “There’s one good thing about a small meal,” she chirped, “it makes less dishes to wash.” Then, with as much trepidation as if she had been the accused instead of the accuser she faltered: “Oh, say, Leila, do you re member a man named Wetherell?” Leila dropped a plate. She said it was hot. But other plates had been hot. “Wetherell? Wetherell?” she pon dered, aloud, with an unconvincing uncertainty. “I believe I do remem ber meeting somebody of that name. English, wasn’t he?” “Very.” “Oh, yes. He was • at Newport, I think. Why?” “Oh, nothing. I met him last night and he thought I was you.” “How could he?” Leila gasped. “We don’t look the least alike.” “It was in the dark.” “In the dark! Good heavens! Where?” Already Leila had gained the weath er gauge. Daphne had to confess her outing with Duane, the crash of the collision and the return to Yonkers in Wetherell’s car. Leila took advan tage of the situation to interpolate: “Good heavensj How could you? You of ali people! And with Tom Duane! What would Clay think?” Daphne knew that she had no right to reproach Leila for having known Wetherell in Newport. She had no right even to suspect that Leila had overstepped any of the bounds of pro priety. And still she was not con vinced of Leila’s innocence. She was merely silenced. CHAPTER XXI. The next day her fears of Wetherell and of Leila were rekindled, She went down to ask Eayard to help her trace Clay. Bayard was out and Leila was on the point of leaving. She was dressed in her killingest frock and hat and generally accoutered for con quest. “Aren’t we grand!” Daphne cried. “You look like a million dollars. Where are you off to?” “Going for a little spin.” “Who with?” Leila hesitated a moment, then answered, with a challenging defi ance: “With Mr. Wetherell. Any ob jection?” Daphne disapproved and felt afraid; but when Bayard came in unexpect edly early and asked for Leila Daphne lied inevitably and said she did not know where she was. She tried to be casual about it, but Bayard caught fire at once. He was already in a state of tindery irri tability, and Daphne’s efforts to re assure him as to Leila’s innocence of any guile only angered him the more. He Kept leaning out of the window and staring down into the street. Fi nally, espying Leila in Wetfaerell’s car- whent'-iit -approa<aied^ -the* apart-;, ment house, he dashed to the elevator and met the two at the curb. When Leila got out she was startled to see him standing at her elbow. There was nothing for her to do but make the introductions. “Oh, it’s you, dear!” she fluttered, “I want you to meet Mr. Wetherell. Mr. Wetherell. my husband.” “Ah, really!” Wetherell exclaimed, trying to conceal his uneasiness. “This is a bit of luck! I’ve heard so much about you! Your wife does nothing but sing your praises,” “Won’t you come up?” said Bayard ominously. “Er—thanks—no, not today. Tm a trifle late to an—er—appointment.” “Then I’ll have a word with you here,” said Bayard. “Run along, Leila; I’ll join you in a minute.” He said it pleasantly, but Leila was terrified. The spectacle of rival bucks locking horns in her dispute is not al- •si “Had You Heard That Your Country Was at War?’» together enjoyable to a civilized doe. Leila went into the vestibule and watched through the glass door, ex pecting a combat. She could not hear Bayard saying: “Mr. Wetherell, I’d thank you to pay your attentions elsewhere.” “What’s that?” Wetherell gasped at the abrupt attack. “Your attentions to Mrs. Kip are very distasteful to me.” “My dear fellow, I hope you don’t imagine for one moment that— Why, yonr wife is the finest little girl in the world!” “That’s for me to say, not you!” “My word! this is amazing!” “It is, indeed. It will be more than that if you come around again. Had you heard that your country was at war?” “I had.” “Well, a big, strapping fellow like you ought to be over there fighting for his country instead of looking for trouble here.” Wetherell’s panic at the domestic situation was forgotten in the attack on his patriotism. He drew himself up with an unconsciously military au tomatism and said, “I fancy I’m doing as much service here as I could do over there.” “More, perhaps,” Bayard sneered, with contemptuous irony. “But that’s your business, not mine. Mrs. Kip Is my business and I don’t intend to have her subjected to your—^your atten tions. I’m trying to be neutral, but by— Well, I’ve warned you. Good day!” Bayard joine/1 Leila in the vestibule and they went up in the elevator to gether. She waited till they were in their own apartment before she de manded an account of the conversa- He told her in a rage and she flew in to another. She divided her w r a th between Bayard and D a p h n e . There was enough for both. Daphne tried to escape, but, being cornered, pro ceeded to fight back, whereupon Leila denounced her to Bayard and told of her rid e w ith Duane. It was a right good fight and getting well beyond tlie bounds of discretion when the telephone announced that Clay Wimburn was calling. Nobody imaginable would have been welcome in that battlefield, but Clay seemed peculiarly ill timed. Bayard went to the telephone and called down: “Tell him we’re out.” “Yes, sir.” Evidently the telephone was taken from the hallman’s hand, for Clay’s voice roared in Bayard’s ear: “I hear you, yon old villain. I know you’re in, and I’m coming up. It’s a matter of life and death. I’m on my way up now.” It seemed deeenter th a t L e ila and B a p h n e should disappear, sin c e B a y ard had said th a t th e y w e r e all out. T h e women retreated to L e ila’s room as a good coign of audition. ' \ • -(TO -BE^ CONTINUED.) ' ' j Have Much the Same Thought.'^ A Itexury is something we are apt to think our neighbors cannot afford, and our neighbors are apt to thinie we cannot afford themselyea. You Are Safe a when you take Father John’s Medicine for your cold because it is free from morphine, chloroform, codeine, her oin, or other dangerous drugs. Take it Today. Never forget the high cost of wor rying. 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