The Wheel of Life

went to bed. That was only six hours ago, and yet she felt now that her unhappiness and the object of it, which was her husband, were of l

fully at her maid, who, having drawn back the curtains at the window, stood now regarding her

e which produced an effect of mournful brightness rather than of an

w, following the lines of her charming figure beneath the satin coverlet, she found herself wondering, not without resentment, why the possession of a beauty so conspicuous should afford her only a slight and temporary satisfaction. Last week a woman whom she knew had had her nose broken in an automobile ac

blow, was to be as happy in the actual condition as she had told herself that she might be when as yet the actual was only the ideal. Why, for instance, when she had been wretched with but one man on the box, should the addition of a second livery fail to produce in her the contentment of which she had often dreamed while she disconsolately regarded a single pair of shoulders? That happiness did not masquerade in livery she had learned since she had triumphantly married the richest man

gue beautiful verse that nobody ever read. Laura filled as little part in what she called "the world" as Gramercy Park occupied in modern progress, yet it was not without a faint impulse of envy that Gerty recalled now the grave old house mantled in brown creepers and the cheerful firelit room in which Laura lived. The peace which she had missed in the thought of her husband came back to her with the first recollection of her friend, and her hard b

ed by a careless nurse to a strange German school; and she felt again the agony of curiosity with which, after the first blank wonder was over, she had stared at the children who hung whispering together in the centre of the room. As she looked a panic terror

for you." Then she had kissed her and brought her to the stove and knelt down on the floor to take off her wet slippers. To this day Gerty had

t the door of her husband's dressing-room opened and he came

lothes with a comfortable shake, "there's a chap from the country Pierce has sent to me with a letter and I'll be

oyance on his handsome, good-humored face. Then, having made a satisfactory choice of dishes, his features recovered their usual look of genial contentment, and he felt carelessly in his pocket for the letter which he presently produced and laid on Gerty's pi

ffee while she looked up at him with the candid cynicism which lent

sh you smell of soap," she observed as an indignant prot

," returned Perry, with his loud though pleasan

nt piece of architecture which she had been recommended to admire and to which she was patiently trying in vain to

s more than I can un

n move feebly in his face, while he pulled at his short fair moustache with a characteristic mas

pretty late," he said, as if evolving the explanation for which

lightning around his massive bulk. "Then we may pres

uckle. "Do you really mean you think he

demanded, with the utter disillusion of knowledge

till she sang over here three years ago. There was nothing in it except that he liked to be seen with a celebrity-most men do. But, my dear girl," he concluded in a kin

inutes, during which interval Gerty contin

y who is voiceless," she retorted coolly. "I m

the letter lying on Gerty's pillow a filip from his large pink

ly through from start to finish, the little ripple of sc

NS N

County,

ber 2

that aspersion-but since the shortest road to success seems to be by circumvention, it has occurred to me tha

ten a play worthy to stand beside Hamlet-but, though she is a charming lady, I'm hardly convinced by her opinion. The fact remains, however, that he is going to New York to become a playwright, and that he has two idols in the market place which, I fancy, you may be predestined to see demolished. He is simply off his head to meet Roger Adams, the editor of The-something or other I never heard of-and-

m I haven't seen since I had the

rs

LY PI

ke into a laugh and carelessly threw t

somebody has read Laura

enquired Perry. "God knows I don't go in for lit

I guess," commented Ger

too concerned to resent her lack of sympathy, "but

unted on to stay away. Do you know," she resumed after a moment's thought, "that, though he's pr

his sudden change gave him an almost brutal look. "

struck pleasan

h I married you?" she asked. "It was, after

nded his broad chest. "Well, I'm big enough," he answered

necktie in place, twisted the short ends of his mousta

seedy and lose your looks,"

orning slipped away, the luncheon hour came and went, and it was not until the afternoon that she gathered energy to dress herself and begin anew the inevitable and agonising pursuit of pleasure. The temptation of th

e turned eagerly, with outstretched hand, to a man who

old," she said, with a sweetness in which there

n a quick muscular grasp which had in it something of the ner

ular features, and brought out the genial irony in his expressive light gray eyes. "If I'd gone to Europe to forget you it wo

accustomed to describe as masculine. He was not tall, and yet he gave an impression of bigness; away from him one invariably thought of him as of unusual proportions, but, standing by his side, he was found to be hardly above the ordinary height. The development of his closely knit figure, the splendid breadth of his chest and shoulders, the slight projection of his heavy brows and the almost

which to date a passion, and she remembered now that ten years ago Kemper had secured a divorce from his wife in some Western court. There had been no particular scandal, no damning charges on either side; and a club wit had remarked at the time that the only possible ground for a separation was the fact that Mrs. Kemper had grown jealous of her husband's after-dinner cigar. Since then other and varied rumours had reached Gerty's ears, until finally there had b

fast as an automobile,"

as dangerous," h

asant humour in his ey

ettled herself under her fur rugs she made a cordial inviting gesture. "Come in with me and I'll take yo

augh Kemper held up

as a slightly foreign affectation. "The lady may be a f

h a nod of smiling irony, and then, as her carriage started, he t

, was Gerty's mood that, after leaving her carriage, she stood hesitating from indecision upon the sidewalk. The few bared trees in the snow, the solemn, almost ghostly, quiet of the quaint old houses and the deserted streets, in which a flock of sparrows quarrelled under the faint sunshine, produced in her an odd and almost mysterious sense of unreality-as if the place, herself, the waiting carriage, and Laura buried away in the

it was a minute before he could summon voice to introdu

. Trent," he said at last, "but I'm willing to

his attractions. Then, when he was quite at ease again, she turned to speak to Roger Adams, for whom, in spite, as she laug

sual glance, and not even the shooting light from the keen gray eyes, grown a little wistful from the emotional repression of the man's life, could account for the cordial appeal that spoke through so unimposing a figure. As much of his personal history as Gerty knew seemed to her peculiarly devoid

he said now to Adams with an almost unconscious abandonment of h

alse," was Adams' answer. "He's welcome to the lite

e his blue eyes ran entirely to sparkles.

ed Gerty reassuringly, "there's n

said Perry gravely, "so

erty placing her gloved hand on his ar

d. "I met Arnold Kemper as I left the house, and when I asked h

nge of rheumatism?" s

her reprimand by a light stroke on Perry's sleeve. "He a

my words and eat 'e

head of a woman, framed in brown creepers, appeared there for an instant, and then, almost before Trent had caught a glimpse of the small dark eager figure, melted again into the warm firelight of

to Trent and from Trent to Adams. To the younger man, full of his enthusiasm and his ignorance, the physical details of her appearance seemed suddenly of no larger significance than the pale bronze gown she wore or the old coffee-

to the pleasant firelit room, where a white haired old gentl

t I could 'feel' you coming," said Laura w

l surmise it," returned Mr. Wilberforce, as he

be counted on," said Gerty, "for I have sacrificed fo

Adams in his voice of quiet humor. In the midst of her flippan

effect on you?" she asked with curiosity

persisted Adams gayly, "though I'm perfect

nst her will. "Wasn't there a little novel once by an Arnold Kemper-a sligh

s in racing motors. I asked Funsten, who does our literary notices, if there was any chance for him ag

," said Gerty, "they're so much bigge

een years," remarked Adams,

ose, for somehow he himself is great even if his career isn't-and, after all," she con

if the description of Kemper had failed to interest her, s