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Show ASHES By -ckwt 1 WOciicN canny way of arrang- j CTy Inp; themselves into t9 CJ deranged combina- iTv, tlons. It Is a sort of W V5 self - made architcc- tr-R lS' llUo ,v,1,c'1 clr" c u m st a n c e , geog raphy, topography, priority of settlement, relative value of frontage and disassocl- ated convenience all are factors. Dut congrulty seldom gets an Inning,' and while It counts In the result, is never reckoned in the formation. .' The complicated and verbose state- rnent above may not be as intelligible as ".: what Is to follow. It is a deduction a deduction of unquestionable soundness but perhaps dense significance to establish estab-lish a foundation for a statement -which la simple, as all palpable truths are. In Chicago the county jail and a certain cer-tain prominent studio building stand very near to one another. The Jail was placed there because the owner of the ground had a chance to sell it to the public for more thousands than ho could have gotten from a private purchaser, pur-chaser, no doubt; the studio building was erected on the lots a brief walk oft because the owner of the lots thought he could get a larger total of rentals from twenty-tour studios than from twelve f. flats, no doubt. However, the two structures, out of all harmony, can bo soon within the focus of a single camera in a single shot. Therefore this story is quite logical. 1'roxlmity may make any manifestation logical. In the county jail, doing a year for grand larceny, reposed the corpus of a certain young city-bred man, a product of tlie big town, a byproduct of Its civilization. civ-ilization. To make him realistic we should give him a forbidding nickname, for thieves are not thieves within column-rules unless they have "monickers." So we may call him "Sanfran Freddie," which will fit, . for "Sanfran" is the thieves- handle for San Francisco (not "Frisco," which Is a railroader's contraction), contrac-tion), and because a crook from the Pacific Pa-cific coast Is, somehow, Invested with more "class" than one from anywhere except New York. Every thief has a true love.. An honest hon-est man may not have a friend in the world except his minister and his pocket-book. pocket-book. But a thief always has a -woman who will die for him If need be. That is the law. Let us be law-abiding. So, visiting Freddie patiently, devotedly, devot-edly, constantly on every weekly visiting visit-ing day, was his girl. Certain authors, to take an ungentlemanly advantage of the censor and the blue pencil manuscript manu-script reader, marry the thieves to their true loves either before or during the action. But we will take our chances and refer to Fannie Summers frankly as Freddie's "girl," leaving the hereinafter details to fix their relations. Freddie would call her his "woman." That sounds sinister and would prejudice the hereinafter details hereinbefore. So we will stand on "girl." Fannie was pretty. In truth, not all the girls who visit prisoners are pretty. But Fannie was. I have seen her myself and can testify. She had lithe young ways, lightish hair tinged with auburn strains, a complexion that was more honest than her means of livelihood (she picked pockets, I think), and fine, gray eyes. Freddie's incarceration was a circumstance circum-stance that had not ljeen entirely surprising. sur-prising. He and Fannie had known that an untoward combination of facts might land him in that unpretty and Inconvenient Incon-venient building at any time, as long as he snatched purses for sustenance. Fannie Fan-nie herself was not exempt from such a sorrowful possibility, though she was accredited a "slick worker," and she seldom sel-dom took unnecessary chances. In stealing, it may be dropped here, women are. as they aro in honest pursuits, less reckless and more cunning than men. Fannie and Freddie had often discussed dis-cussed just such a possibility as was now a condition. And they had promised, prom-ised, back and forth, loyalty and weekly visits when the law should put them asunder. And Fnnnie was carrying out ber end of the agreement in full to the best of my knowledge and belief. On the very first visiting day. as she was entering the front door of the bas-tile. bas-tile. Don Gavlord saw her. Don was an artist and. strangely, prosperous at It. He drew thinsrs for advertisements, I believe. be-lieve. He had a studio in that other building near by. He was reasonably artistic, altogether a fine chap, and neither a dreamer nor a "long hair." He had a bank account and had never been in Paris. It so happened that Don caught just the prettiest slant of Fannie's jaw, and It stopped him. Having a seoso of the artistic, which ever, a commercial sketch-er sketch-er must possess, he was heavily impressed. im-pressed. He went on to the studio, and drawing a poster gill to illustrate a label for a new soap he felt himself picturing from his fleeting memory the features of Fannie. Presently ho went to lunch in the little lit-tle beanery near the studio. That made it also near the jail. So Fannie, her visit over, chanced, too, to drop in there. Don's heart jumped. He walked to where she sat, took out a card and laid It before her. She read it. glanced quizzically quiz-zically up at him and said: "Well what about it?" "You will see," said he, "that I am an artist." "So am I," said she. "Only my line's different." "Whatever that may be," he observed, "1 want to ask you a little favor. I saw you this morning, and your face stuck In my head. So I started drawing a girl and I tried to remember your face. Would you come to my studio after luncheon and let me finish my sketch with you as a model? I would be glad to pay the usual rates." "It's old stuff," said she. "But I'll go. Nothing makes me sick." He tried to reassure her that his intentions in-tentions were strictly and absolutely artistic ar-tistic and legitimate. To which she said It didn't make much difference whether they were or not. She'd pose. And if he tried any funny business she'd laugh in his face she was no timorous child ("leary squab"). He paid her check and led her to his studio. She took off her hat, let down her ample hair, and sat still while he erased most of his sketch and finished It anew. Then he thanked her and paid her a dollar. She took it. "Will you come again?" he asked. "Any time you say for a dollar," said she. So he made an appointment and promised prom-ised to pay her 2 to pose a full figure clothed, of course. AND she came and she posed and he paid her and she went away after arranging to come again. She told him what had brought her to that part of town. Don was properly shocked. But he was shocked into something some-thing which might not otherwise have come about. He was fascinated by the girl, in the first place. But now he was in love. It was too romantic this pretty thing to be the sweetheart of a crook and herself a little rascal! He argued philosophy, ethics and practical morality with her. He never "got fresh." but he let out to her that he was hard hit. At this she smiled win-somely win-somely and told him to take a tumble t.i himself he didn't mean it. Gavlord spoke vehemently and emphatically he certainly did mean it. Just how far he meant It and what I yOU was raised to divide women in two classes. And I'm in the other class. You think you'd for- get. But I know you couldn't." Freddie's sweetheart. e ne! 1111 he would do to express it he did not state' outright for some time, during which there were numerous visits. Then one afternoon when he had sketched her bare shoulder for two -hours into the dimness of the twilight, which made him reluctantly lay down his paraphernalia, he heaved a big sigh, crossed to the bench on which she was sitting for the pose, and snatched her hand. "Go easy," she warned. He gripped her hand harder. " "Fannie," he breathed, "I love you." "I thought this was on the way," said she. "Let go my flipper. Mamma is calling call-ing baby." "Don't," said he. "I'm serious. And I want you to be, too. I want you to be my wife." "Behave," said she with a little hard laugh. "Do you sniff it, or shoot it in your arm?" "You don't understand. I love you. I know all about you what you've told me and wrhat I've thought and seen, and what I've worried out through many a waking night when your smile and your form and your eyes called and taunted and hypnotized me. It didn't seem possible pos-sible to me either. But I know that it is true. I love you honestly and sacredly. sacred-ly. I haven't very much, but what I have will support you nicely. I want you to marry me. Will you?" The girl's smi'c softened. Then It faded out. She sat for a few moments with her chin resting on her free hand, looking out into air, thinking. Then she turned to him. "That's mighty sweet o' you," she said. Ho leaned down eagerly. "The answer then is " "Nix!" "What? You " "Sit down," said she forcefully, drawing draw-ing him beside her. "T said this was pretty fine o' you, and so it is. I believe you everything you say. You're an ace. You're the first square fellow what ever put anything like this up to me. That's why I'm gonna be square with you. too. ' "Across the street from around the corner is a big gray buildin' with a lot o' furnished rooms in it, where they like boarders so much they send guys out in uniform to bring 'em in. In one o' them modern apartments sits a party registered regis-tered as 'Sanfran Freddie.' He's got a lease what's got about a week more to run. He aln' gonna renew it, bein dissatisfied dis-satisfied with the accommodations. "When he comes outta there he ex-pec's ex-pec's to see yours little truly waitin' to slip him this paw that you're crushin' right now. lie's got a right to expec' it. I promised it to. him. "Now, he's a extremely undesirable citizen. But he ain' never been so awful wrong with me. Him and me we got a little understanding that we'll be honest with each other. We ain't honest with nobody else. Everybody is got a flicker of honesty somewheres. We save it for each other. "Well, as I remarked, he'll be lookln' for me to be there and waitin'." "But you " j "But I'll be there and waitin'. "You see, I ain' gonna have no mistaken mis-taken idees about who he is or. what's in his heart. I know he's crooked. I can't say I like him for that, but I like him anyway. I like him, and that lets me out. "He likes me, too. He knows me pretty good. He knows where I come from and where I'll likely go to. He don' like me no better for bein' what I am, but he likes me anyway. And that lets him in. "Now, I've tried them things and I know. "I never tried hookln' up with a straight mark like you excuse me, I don't mean no harm by callin' you that, but, where I travel, anybody what's decent de-cent Is called a 'mark.' And I don' know how it would turn out." "Why, my dear child I'd " "Sure, you would. "But, you see, you was raised to divide di-vide women in two classes. And I'm in the other class. Yon might think you'd get over it. Maybe you would. Maybe. Y'ou diiln' kid yourself you was gonna forget it. Y'ou couldn't. I know you couldn't. "You was never married, I take It. No? Well, bein' with anybody night and day is a funny game. A lot o' moments come up what you can't look forward to. There's quarrels and kisses and dreary hours and sickness and other tilings what knocks the daylights out o' the regular and smooth routine o' life. In that smooth routine anything goes. But when you skid in any direction off o' that there ain' no tellln' if you're gonna land feet down or on your hands an' knees. "I've been through a few o' them slippery flops. I've been through 'em with Freddie. We had a battle or tvro. But It was a equal battle. He dldn' have nothln' on me what I dldn' have on him. "But with you! Say what chance would I have?" wii s uKtii i. juinpeu. jie waiKea to with r reaaie. we naa a Dame or iw. where she sat, took out a card and laid "V" But It was a equal battle. He dldn' It before her. She read it. glanced quiz- ' have nothln' on me what I dldn' have on zically up at him and said: "r f ': ' K S-i,. him. "Well what about It?" y ef.sT.-.'.v; &,:X '--- "But with you! Say what chance UF -Ov would I have?" .''. ; . - V -K' 't 1 f "J f1 s ' Don't,' laid he. "I'm serioas, and I want you to be, ' ' ' '' - 'vvrV too. I want yoa to be my wife." . ! ' j $ "Behave," said she, with a tittle hard laugh. "Do you '' ' w- sniff it, or shoot it in your arm?" .,,.1, "My dear, dear girl," interposed Gay-lord. Gay-lord. "Tou do not graep what I am offering: of-fering: you. I want to save you like a rescuer climbing a ladder into a burning building. You talk thus calmly with an easy sophistry about things that you do r.ot realize at all. I am offering you decency de-cency honor honesty a ,chance a name a future equality with law-abiding people security peace of mind and the greatest thing on earth, the right kind of love of a gentleman." I GOT you the first time," said she. "But it's like offerin' mince pie to a dyin' dyspeptic. Your offer is o. k.t but I can't digest Jt. "Now Freddie, he might marry a straight woman, and, maybe, got away with it. They tell me a man con do that. "But a woman can't. "You've heard about a man redeemln himself? Sure. He can soak up booze and rob graveyards and beat his old lady. Then he lets it out that hia wild oata is sowed and he's gonna mend his ways. He gets a political job, he cuts down the liquor and he changes his hangouts. And everybody stands off In wonder and awe and says: 'He'a made a man out o' himself.' "Did you ever hear of a woman mak-ln' mak-ln' a woman out o' herself? "Did you ever hear of a woman sow-In' sow-In' her wild oats? "Did you ever hear of a girl with a past havin a future? u "The prodigal son come back, all right. But they ain' no prodigal daughter daugh-ter in the Bible. Jesus lifted up the Magdalene and He says: "'Let him what's without sin chuck the first brick,' or somethin' like that. I seen it in a swell movie and it was beautiful. But the min- 1 ute He walked out o' the picture they all started heavin' bricks. And they've been slingin' 'era ever since. The Son o' God lifted that poor thing often her knees and He give her consolation. But the sons o' women, they worship Him for it on Sunday and they spit on His fallen female sinners the other six days. "Don' tell me, I was burned with that there buildin' you wanna save me from a long time ago. I'm ashes, I am. You can draw me with the face of a saint. But you can't blow life in the picture. pic-ture. You can love me and want me. I believe you're on the level with It. But you can't bring me back. You can't put a soul In a ghost. "Now, you're a nice feller. You've been right with me and I like you. And any time Freddie or me can do you a good turn, holler. "But on the day them doors swing open and my Freddie walks out, his Fannie Is gonna be there to give him the glad hand. ' "He don' wanna redeem me. He , knows better than to try if he wanted to. It ain't that I wanna go bad. But he nor you nor me can't get away from this: Tve gone bad. And they ain' no turnin' when a woman has faced one . way, If It happens to be the way I start-ed start-ed lookln' when I was a kid and didn't ' know no better. "The law says you can't send anybody to the pen if they're under age when they break the law. But the world don' say nothin' about forgivin' a girl becus she was under age when she broke its precious pre-cious laws. "I don' know what my finish Is gonna be. I'll probably never have another chance like the one what you offered me in your blind, well-meanin' way, jus' now. But I'll finish somewheres, somehow. some-how. "Maybe the hand o' the Lord Is gonna stretch out an' lift me up an' dare anybody any-body to throw rocks. But no man ain't gonna do it. Men ain't made outta that stuff. Even if they wanna, they can't. "Good-by." She rose, reached for her waist, and waited for him to release her hand. "I said good-by," she repeated, after she had put on her hat "Good-by," said Gaylord; with a hollow hol-low note. Copyright, 1016, by J. Keeley |