Judge — March 15, 1919 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

L = Draws by Reve “Warcnrut Warrixc” gotten there ever was such an occasion of joy. Come along!” “What is your disguise? “I’m going to tempt fate by appearing as the junior William, once of Germany.” “By George! I’m going just to see what happens to you!” “Any serious result may be avoided if you will mask as a Dutch woman in charge of me.” Charley mused. ‘What shall I tell my wif “Oh, you had to go out of town for the night on business, a hurried engagement. That’s easy. You ought to begin a little de It'll come so much easier when you're regularly casting about for excuses.” “What a cyni “Old man, after hon innocent of such things “Tt will never happen regularly with me. But—” he hesitated a moment—“I’m on. I shall take just this one flier.”” And so it was settled. ymoons even women are not They met late in the after- noon at a costumer’s, and then went to the studio of a friend who was out of town. Here they could don the costumes, and here again they could resume their clothes after the ball. It was an ideal plan. Charley did not trust himself to ’phone to his wife. He was so deeply in love with her that he knew his first attempt at a verbal lie would be a failure, even though she should not be looking athim. So he sent her a wire. She read it in amazement, for she never had heard Charley say anything about business that might take him out of town. Then she settled down for a night of misery. Was this the beginning of the end of her happiness? The ball was as gay, as uncon- ventional, as momentarily-stimulat- ing to many there as ever. But Charley’s thought and heart were on his wife from the moment he dressed himself as a Dutch woman, sabots and all—the mask would make his age indefinite—to the moment he entered the great space, brilliant with light, in which motion and grotesquerie dazzled, with Billy on his arm—and thereafter. Charley wondered if he could ever again look into his wife’s eyes without con- fession. Yet he realized he must hide the escapade from her. Everything was soon driven from his mind. _ Billy’s personation of the quondam prince turned the scene into riot. He was bumped and buffeted like a football until carried away in an ambulance, and as quickly forgotten by the rioters. Charley was wretched. Pangs of conscience supplemented the em- barrassement Billy’s ill-advised ex- periment had caused him, for he had not escaped violence, although he had managed to keep masked during the excitement. Finally he sneaked out and took a cab whose driver grinned as he got in. He would go to the studio, dress, and get home as soon as possible. It depended upon circumstances whether he should confess at once, or postpone the humiliation. The cab was stopped two blocks away from the studio building. The fire department was in action. The studio had been burned out. Disembarking, Charley made desperate efforts to pass the police line. His costume did not aid him. He explained who he was, what his errand was, and took off his mask for identification. The battalion chief knew him, and laughed, but told him it was useless. He could not pass anyway. It was early morning—too late to get clothes any- where. Charley, ruminating, got in the way of a plalying hase, and was saturated. Should he get to a hotel? That was out of the question. He went back to the taxi. Cabby demurred as to his getting in again. “You'd spoil the inside,” he said, pointing to his dripping fare. “Tl make it all right,” said Charley, slushing into the vehicle. “Where to?” asked Cabby. There was no place to go but home. Suspicious Jane Willis—Do you really think Charlie was true to you while he was away at war? Jane Gillis—I have my doubts. On two or three occasions since he came back he has absent-mindedly tried to make love to me in French. comicbooks.com