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Show AS OTHERS HEAR US By IDA PATTERSON. Tho dictagraph, jou kno'v, la a mn chlno which records ovory word )ou say, omitting nothing, excusing nothing, noth-ing, softening nothing. It Is the world's great repeater, a professional eavesdropper, realizing In part llobert BurnB' wish, except that Instcnd ot seeing, It makes ug hent ourselves as others hear us, I was swinging along on top of a Fifth avenue stago on a moonlight night. Wedged between be-tween the bus railing at the left and a stout man asleep on the right, more bus railing In front and nn absorbed-In-themselves couple behind me, 1 could not avnld plnylng the dictagraph. dicta-graph. A woman's sweet, rather plaintive voice poured this into the ears ot tho man who Bat beside tho owner of the voice. "Yes. I don't know what will become be-come of me, n weak woman nil alone In the world." "She'll get him," I thought. "That kind of talk always goes with men If tho woman's pretty." "I was not brought up to do anything. any-thing. I've nlwnys hail gome ono to lean on." "Great," thought I. "She's a widow. I'll warrant he'B burntlng with a proposal pro-posal this minute." "When I found myself alone and with very little money I didn't know what to do," tho stream of stickily, sweet voice went on. "He'll know," I tried to send n thought wavo to her. "I wont to a hospital and was there six months." "Bad move," I started u warning thought wave toward her. "Men are economical for every one but themselves. them-selves. Tack your conversational ship." The thought wave missed, for she went on. "I had such a fine nurse, a big, strong woman who used to lift mo about as though I were a baby. Sho used to say: 'You poor little thing. You're Just barely alive. You might almost as well he dead.' " "Tack, tack," I inentnlly shouted to her. "Men hate Invalids, you know. While ono man will turn nurse ninety-nine ninety-nine will leave home when there's sickness In It." "They made n mistake when they discharged mo from the hospital. I wasn't out two weekB when I hud a relapse and had to go back. This time I had to take a more expeustvo room nnd had to have two nurses Instead In-stead of one. The doctor said I would never be strong again." "Oh, woman, woman," I thought waved. "When I left the hospital I took a nurBe homo with me. I wns so weak I could hardly walk. I kept her with mo n year. When I got n little better from tho heart trouble, I developed a case of uric acid. Tho nurse used to say to me: 'My dear, you have enough uric ncld in you to float a ship.' I had to tuko Turkish baths every day and massage with salt nnJ t had to go south for two winters." "Stop," I wigwagged, but In vain. "Then my nerves gave way. They've not been right since." I stifled n groan. Every ono knows that men are more afraid of nerves In n woman than of n grizzly bear In polar shows. "Yes. There was a time when I wasn't qnlto responsible for what I said or did." "You're not now." I tried nnother despairing thought wave. It was lost at sea. "I had frightful pains In my head and was so Irritable. I haven't gotten ovoi1 It yet. About that lime, my liver got out of order." "Wc'ro here." Tho man's voice, hearty, vibrntlng with health and "vigor, Interrupted. He offeied her his hard nnd guided her down the steps winding from the top of tho stago. The vehlclo obligingly waited for some panting, waving, halloing would-be would-be passengers hurrying toward us from tho side street. During that pause tho man guided his still tnlk-Ing tnlk-Ing companion up the steps to nn apartment house nrouml tho corner, lifted his hnt and hurried away ns though something wero pursuing him. She stood In tho doorwny looking after him, but ho did not look back. At the next turning ho wns lost from sight, forever, I doubt not, to that woman, Pity Is not nkln to love If the pity Is for bodily Ills. Cupid balks at medical med-ical records. No man, wants to marry a walking hospital. No proposal ever followed a recital of aches nnd pains except Ilobort Browning's, and Ilohert Iloh-ert Browning was of another ago mid country, Moreover, he was a poet, and pootB aro different. Moreover, still, this ono wns rich. |