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Show Kathl een Norris Says: Don't Divorce an Unfaithful Father Bell Syndicate WNU Features. iftij lime my husband has regarded Alma as merely another child; now he wants her for his wifa and has asked me for a divorce. By KATHLEEN NORRIS I IN the many years during which I have been writing these articles, one question ques-tion has been asked frequently frequent-ly perhaps more frequently, than any other. It is "Is infidelity infi-delity a justification for divorce, di-vorce, when children are involved?" in-volved?" My answer has inevitably in-evitably been "no." The women who have no children don't ask this question. ques-tion. They simply get their divorces. It is when there is a small son or daughter in the family that the agonizing problem prob-lem presents itself, and that a woman's wom-an's decision to seek a divorce brings infinite misery to the innocent as well as the guilty. Possibly very high spiritual and religious re-ligious grounds might be cited as reasons against such divorces; but these are not the grounds upon which I base my position. It is based solely upon human happiness. A woman, who preserves the outward out-ward dignity of her home, saves her children the spiritual disturbance of losing faith in their father, maintains main-tains her position as wife, mother and house manager, despite inward heartbreak and disillusionment, is in the end far happier than the woman wom-an who breaks all ties, pulls up roots, scars and horrifies young minds with devastating revelations of the details of marital failure. Some Harsh Descriptions. The proof of this is all about us. To justify herself in the step she takes a woman describes her faulty spouse as nothing less than a monster. mon-ster. Keep check some time on the number of your divorced friends who describe their ex-husbands as fiends, mental cases, moral degenerates. Their own mothers can't stand them. Their clubs have expelled them. They ought to be in institutions. "Ann," I said once to a friend who was in course of being divorced, di-vorced, "how could you tell Tommy and Ellen that Tom struck you?" "Well," she answered defensively defensive-ly "he might as well have struck me as have said some of the things he did." This is typical. The accusing woman lowers herself; she becomes vituperative and spiteful. Only a new great love, accompanied with understanding and patience and gentleness gen-tleness can restore her to a normal attitude toward life. She does not often find that love; she is in no condition to find it. So my advice to her is to stick to it. To stop suspicion, to conquer sensitiveness, sen-sitiveness, to accept facts. Tom, the dear, attentive, delightful companion compan-ion of only a few years past, loves another woman. That part of Mary's Ma-ry's life is over; the joyous, beloved, be-loved, confident part. She has lived only for him, adored her son and daughter partly because they were also his. It hasn't been enough; it hasn't saved her. Nothing can save Mary from the bitter humiliation of knowing that she hasn't been able to hold her man. Divorce won't save her that; divorce will only advertise it to the whole world. Divorce hands all the trump cards to the new sweetheart; the latter grabs them easily, and a tew days after the divorce is granted grant-ed she marries Tom, to his enduring endur-ing wretchedness and hers. Mary is also wretched. Wretched if she lives a lop-sided, lonely life with the children, sharing their cereal ce-real and applesauce at six o'clock and going to bed at nine. More wretched if she marries someone who doesn't understand them or love them. j THE LESSER EVIL The woman who chooses divorce di-vorce as the solution of her marital problems runs the risk of having to face even greater unhappiuess. And if there are children, even infidelity is not sufficient cause for her to make such a choice. She must face heartbreak and suspicion and yet remain calm. She must not let the loss of the confidence confi-dence and love of the man she married disturb the comfort and serenity of his home. That is, of course, asking a great deal, but by following this course rather than the other one of divorce she will avoid adding her mistake to his. The mere semblance of a happy hap-py home is bad enough, but in this case it is the lesser evil. Today's mail brings me this letter. let-ter. "I am a woman of 34, married just ten years. I idealized Rob for years before we were married and for years afterward. We have two beautiful girls, eight and five. We four have been inseparable, loving, admiring each other, always happy together. Seven months ago there was a change. . "The girl who has taken my place in my husband's heart is only 18. She is orphaned, my husband's ward. She is very beautiful, innocent inno-cent and artless in manner, and rich. To Robert the thought of possessing pos-sessing all this loveliness, youth, charm and the added independence is evidently acting like an intoxicating intoxi-cating wine. He is completely bewitched. be-witched. Alma makes no secret of her passionate devotion to him. Since she was very small she has been in the habit of kissing him, sitting on his knee, ruffling his hair. She continues all this. All this time, until now, he has regarded her as merely another child; but now he wants her for his wife. It Never Lasts. "I know the wreckage of his life that would follow this step. Alma is shallow, flirtatious, self-centered as most little beauties of her age. She loves to pout and tease; she wants to go to Hollywood to study for the films and he has promised to take her, if only Sally will be an angel and say 'yes!' His infatuation for her will last only as long as she chooses to flatter him and be sweet; then some younger man will come along, and Rob, reputation and practice destroyed, wife and children alienated, will be left in the ruins of his own life. Rob is just 40. "The alternative to my shrieking at him, as I sometimes want to do, 'Take her and get out; I never want to see either of you idiots again!' is the bitter one of living with a silent, resentful man, whose attitude will be that I have destroyed his one chance for happiness in life. That my own life is destroyed, I know. But there are my girls, innocent inno-cent and sweet and completely unconscious un-conscious of all this. Until very lately their father's devotion to them, from the very hour of their birth, has been the admiration of all our friends. "I can send Alma away; indeed it is already arranged that she is to go to a dramatic school in southern south-ern California. But what sort of a husband would I have after all this? What am I to do?" I Divorce will only bring misery to I you, Sally, and in the long run to j him, too. |