Judge — June 16, 1917 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

IN THE SUMMER LANDSCAPE backs taken from an inside pocket. “Trot along and have a CLAR good time. It’s the old treadmill for mine, as usual.’” fy WITTER BYNNER Mrs. Binger kissed Binger with an impulse ttle strange ONDER’S a lady—I call her Clarissa to him. But yellow money, either in currency or coin, has a Because of a charm that I cannot explain. wonderful effect sometimes. She’s cating as though every tooth were a scissor Binger and Burleigh met at the Pennsylvania station an And yet with an exquisite, silent disdain. . . hour later. O, for a moment to hold her and kiss her! “You'll not forget to send a wire from Chicago now and then Sure of the pleasure and free of the pain— to Mrs. Binger in my name, old man? You know the usual Then to imagine at times that I miss her, forms. She'll be at Atlantic City. Address at the telegraph But never to know her or see her again! office I want the favor returned once in a while. You Still in the Wrong Spot know me, or ought to. If it isn’t a secret, where are you Oldbach—Does your wife give you much advice? going?” ‘ Henpect—YVes, except when I ask for it. “To Pinehurst, for a fortnight of golf. Good-b: 3 Pinehurst in its glory. When that happy state Nor Anywhere Near It ensues golf is on the bills of fare and in conversation and in Mrs. Jones—She wore a skirt made of the Stars and Stripes. dreams as well as on the links. Yet there are joys and Jones—Then I bet that the old flag never touched the ground. sorrows unrelated to golf at Pinehurst as there are every- where else. There’s nothing that begets mutual confidence like golf. Binger got in with a bunch of enthusiasts who were calling one another by nicknames the third day out. One fellow, Mont- gomery Murrie, an expert at the ancient game and a teacher of it about New York, became very intimate with Binger, who confided to him that he was playing hookey. They exchanged experience as friends sometimes do, and finally entered the field of sentiment. “T shall not be able to play with you after to-morrow fora few days,” said Murrie. “I expect a lady here, and must give her some attention.” “Lucky dog! i. “Rather. I met her in New York. She dances divinely, and is mentally lively. I promised her I would give her a few golf lessons here. She arrives on the first train in the morning. Murrie handed Binger a dispatch signed “Imogene.” “Married?” “No. And I wonder why she isn’t.” Binger delayed going out on the links the next morning. Hanging about the hotel, he hoped to glimpse Imogene. “If she’s what he describes,” he thought, “I might make a play to cut him out.” Binger was a conscienceless person where the fair sex were concerned, and it is strange how mas- culine friendships melt into nothingness when a woman intervenes. He caught sight of Murrie coming with the fair one, who saw him at the same time. It was Mrs. Binger. Listen to him, captain! He'd make a corking army mule driver!" comicbooks.com