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Show L ! LOVE anlMAIQPD UFE ' Ihj. the noted author jj I Idah MGloBe GibsoB I IWulUcrt to the Mirror The words of my nurso save my mind an interest In another direction. I knew that she was right, although 'did not tell her so. I did have to i have an interest, an absorbhic inter-1 est, to keop my mind from growing morbid. In this I am only very human. I think most of tho unrest of thoj w.orld is caused by -lives which arej ( devoid of interest, I That women compose tho restless sex Is perfectly natural- because wo-' wo-' men have fewer interests that aro absorbingthan men. Most, of them: v are absorbed in some man and wheth- ,' er that nan is husband, son or lover, j the result does not always make for peace. In this transition period most women wo-men a io unhappy. We have lost a1 great deal of the home interest simply, bocause it is the ambition of every man to relievo his wife' of overy homo duty: and we have not yet become satisfied with the .frivolities and foolish fool-ish social amenities with which man would fill our existence. We arc not' :et sure enough about what we really tvant to seek lu KcaMz.cs Her Limitations ! . I fully realize that I am pot as I strong a woman as Alice, who is able to look forward and grasp all the j now ideas that come to the modern j ivoman. She Is a woman who is able j to vision life as a man sees it. Xeith- I cr am I as splendid as Helen in allowing al-lowing my emotions to be all in all to me. Helen practically has said to the; vorld: "J-ove is all there 5s of life," whllo Alice Insi-Jts that love Is only an I Incident. What I want and what seems to me ) that which can only make 'life enjoy-j able is a plane of existence where '' both heart and head arq satisfied, l! am quite sure that I only want John- to treat me as a comrade as well as, ' a' sweetheart. I want him to think of me as a womnn with a mind as well as a woman whp is all heart and who lias placed that heart irrevocably In , nls keeping. 1 I was still thinking all these houghts and trying to. adjust myself :o tho queer angle of life in which I ' .'ound I was huddled, .when John :ame up the stairs and exclaimed up-n up-n seeing me up and dressed: Ton are the most surprising little :reature, Katherine! One moment you ook and act as though you were at leath's door, and the next you arc quite the llvcst bit of feminity I know." With this he brought me toward him with a caressing gesture nnu fairly waltzed me over to the mirror. And what I saw 'there gave truth to. his words. I had dressed myself all IU white, for although I do not believe, be-lieve, as I have often said to all my friends, in mourning garments even when those nearest and -dearest arc taken, yei It seemed to me quite appropriate ap-propriate that I should wear white on my first public appearance after losing los-ing my mother. Dear sainted 3ouI the blackness of the modern mourning crepe, even more Inappropriate to commemorate her passing than it would be in most cases. I knew my mother was glad to go. For though she loved me devotedly de-votedly her heart had not been 'on this earth since my father had gone from it. As I looked at myself in tho glass, with John's face Just behind my shoulder. shoul-der. I could not help thinking that he had told the truth. Even to myself I seemed more alive than I had been since the automobile accident. There was color in my cheeks, my eyes were sparkling, and my lips were a scarlet bow. I also noticed that with my bobbed hair I looked much younger than 1 had done for many years. John's face was smiling, that smile i which always intrigued me and al-iways al-iways made my heart beat a little i faster. ! Questioned By John 1 Oh, girl, girl," he said, "why don't you fulfill the promise of your youthful youth-ful beauty. Why do you try to take I upon your shoulders ail those affairs I of life from which I would shield you. "Simply, John," I answered, "bc-I "bc-I cause however young my face may look, my brain has grown with the ! years. Why, do you know, dear, if I 'were what you would havo me be, 1 , would be one of those awful things that the reformers of the world are now studying and thinking and writing writ-ing so much about." "Goodness, gracious, what is that?" asked John with an indulgent smile. "A moron," I answered. '.'You do think of the most horrible things." said John, a little gruffly. "Why don't you know that a moron is an irresponsible member of societj?" "Isn't that what you would have me be?" I said as I slipped my hand in ills and pulled him gently toward the door. Tomorrow My Mother's Will |