Life — February 20, 1908 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

194 *LIPE: Lured, but Not Left A Thrilling Tale of the Metropolitan Inquisition as It Might Have Been I CANNOT marry any one who is not at least a Presidential candi- date.” As she uttered these words, Geraldine Saunters inclined her head decisively at Judge Banister, the youngest and most promising of our legal lights, but, alas! only just beginning his career. “As you will,” he said, in a strongly controlled voice ; “I must, of course, bow to your decision.” “But don’t think,” said Geraldine, sweetly, handing him her cigarette case, “that I shall not always esteem you. Your sterling qualities I thoroughly appreciate.” “Thank you,” he said. Lighting a cigarette, he passed out with great dignity into the cold air. Geraldine Saunters was one of our most brilliant and beautiful metropoli- tan belles. A familiar figure in the Waldorf, Sherry’s, Martin’s and the St. Regis, she dated her pedigree back as far as the laying of the Flatiron Building cornerstone. Il Judge Banister’s exit, together with his dejected look, as he left the Saunters Bary “1's THE LITTLE THINGS THAT COUNT” fur-lined apartment, was carefully noted by Guy Penster, the successful young real estate dealer, who had long loved Geraldine, and whose rich, passionate nature could brook no defeat. “Aha,” he muttered. “Now is my time.” In a few moments more he was pour- ing out his long pent-up love. Geraldine listened coldly. “Iam sorry, Mr. Penster,” she said, “but I cannot marry you, I could not marry any man who has, as I understand you have done, bought and sold property in Flatbush.” Forcing a smile, he said: “Very well, Geraldine, but at least we shall always be friends.” “Yes,” she murmured, pleasantly, “if you wish it.” Suddenly there had come to Guy an inspiration. This girl had ruthlessly opened up his past—had cruelly thrown him over for something he supposed was not generally known. He must have re- venge. “Ah,” he exclaimed to himself, “I will humiliate this proud beauty.” Then, smiling, he continued: “Will you and your mother take din- ner with me this evening?” “We shall be charmed, I am sure.” ul Evening in the quiet, religious atmos- phere of a New York restaurant. The brass band could be heard faintly at times above the sound of women’s voices. Geraldine, all unconscious of her im- pending danger—little dreaming of the new law which was even then going into effect—leaned back luxuriously in her gold plush chair. “Will you have acigarette?” said Guy, carelessly. “Do you think you'd better, dear?” said her mother, anxiously. “You know at the prayer-mecting debate the other night the cigarette-smoking motion was lost.” “Nonsense! That was only because some of the girls were jealous. They hadn’t learned to blow smoke through their noses.” Guy insidiously lifted a lighted match and held it toward her. The fatal act was done. In an instant the poor, unsuspecting girl was surrounded by officers of the law, armed to the teeth. “You are a prisoner!” “Oh, fudge!” Geraldine answered thus lightly, think- ing it all a joke. But when she was scized and hurried off to the Black Maria, her faithful mother by her side, then only she realized her peril. “Guy,” she exclaimed. “Oh, Guy, you are my friend. Will you not save me?” “ Awfully sorry. But I cannot go bail; the only property I have is in Flatbush, you know, and they won’t accept that. Good evening.” IV “Next case!” Judge Banister, sitting in his court, suddenly turned pale and clenched his gavel in his hand, as he looked up and saw Geraldine, who, although she had spent the night in prison, had sent for a sailor suit and a Tam O’Shanter hat, and was, therefore, dressed appropriately. His voice trembled as he spoke. Nevertheless, his stern sense of duty kept him calm. “What is the charge against this prisoner?” “Smoking cigarettes.” The officer leaned forward. “Your Honor,” he said, “she also exclaimed ‘Fudge!’ when arrested. Several wit- nesses will testify to this.” The Judge regarded Geraldine with Spartan courage, as he said: “Do you plead guilty or not guilty?” “Guilty, your honor. 1” — “You have transgressed the law by smoking a cork-tipped cigarette. You were also guilty of saying ‘Fudge!’” She tumed her beautiful eyes toward him. In the whole history of our common pleas, no more dramatic scene was ever witnessed. District Attorney Jerome, in one corner, wept with envy. “Have you no pity?” she muttered. “Oh! It cannot be.” The Judge raised his hand. “The cir- cumstances surrounding this prisoner,” he said, “are peculiarly distressing. Her extreme youth, her great beauty, her winning personality and her previous record are all in her favor. Were I to con- sult my own inclinations—but no!””—— He turned to the prisoner. Strong men, with callous faces, wept. Many women fainted under the unusual strain, Even some of the lady reporters seemed to be affected. “Tf you had not said ‘Fudge!’” he comicbooks.com