Reno | Page 4

oneself intent upon divining the mystery embodied in these personalities, as they come and go like shadows on a screen.
Now the waiter comes: there is something unusual about him also; one can't help noticing his big, powerful form as he bends over the table to take the order; he is a New York chauffeur working his way free from a nagging wife, so that he may marry a popular society belle. You can forgive her, can't you, for admiring his handsome physique; a Greek god he is in spite of his Irish brogue and bad ear for grammar.... But then she probably does not hear much of that, and won't if he is wise.
That little woman over there with the carmine lips and black eyes, she is the wife of a Methodist minister and is here for the "cure" of course, like the rest. She is going to hitch her matrimonial wagon to a vaudeville "star" by way of a change! "The very day I get my decree," she told me.
There comes an interesting couple. I think the woman is Moroccan. Doesn't she look a barbarous relic with those immense rings in her ears? You feel that there should be one strung through her nose, too. There is a story abroad that she is the consort of a well known millionaire of Chicago; after several unsuccessful attempts on her part at stabbing him, he is giving half his fortune in alimony to get rid of her. The other night at Ricks' she threw a plate at a man because for five minutes he paid more attention to her woman friend than to her.... A dangerous playmate, methinks!
That charming little lady in a symphony of blue, surrounded by a company of admiring friends, is Mme. Alice, a Broadway opera star; her story is very interesting indeed. No, I dare not tell; it is sufficient that you should know that she is a gentle, sweet little mother, although she looks a mere girl herself. She has a voice of unusual quality and dramatic sweetness. I have had the pleasure of hearing her sing at several concerts which she gave for charity. She is extremely generous in that direction and always draws a packed house. She got her divorce while I was out there and passed on like the other shadows on the screen. The last I saw of her was when she was singing the "Battle Cry of Freedom" in the Hotel Golden lobby, as her decree had been granted. Her face was just radiantly happy as she repeated several times: "I am free, I am free."....
At a table, back in the shadows of the palms by the piano, sits another interesting little lady from gay New York. She is also a singer of note and the wife of a well known author. She has taken a mansion on the banks of the Truckee, and brought along her retinue of servants. Of course she is beautiful, the golden haired, blue eyed type, with a complexion like tinted rose leaves....
Who is that lone man at the table just opposite? Ah! that bearded gentleman with light hair, wearing a black tie; an artist-looking sort of chap? That is a world-famous portrait painter. I had the pleasure of meeting him and his beautiful bride at Cannes, Southern France, some years ago. Yes, he does look rather forlorn; there is a pathetic droop to his mouth. No, he is not here for a divorce; one of the exceptions.
He arrived a few days ago from Tangiers; it was while there that he received by registered post his wife's summons in her divorce suit, and he took the first ship back to America to fight the suit and to try to win back his beautiful wife, who, by the way, is also a talented artist. But alas! Cupid is a stubborn little beggar; though blind as a bat and not very large, yet he has a will of his own, and won't be driven or led....
Though the man seated over there is apparently very interesting and is internationally known as a great artist and an exhibitor in the Royal Academy in London; though he must have loved his wife very much, to have traveled half way around the world from the northern coast of Africa to Reno, in order to try and bring about a reconciliation, still the beautiful wife has gone on with her divorce, which was finally granted, though bitterly contested!
And so there he sits as though lingering over the grave of a great love. Bow down, ye Gods, and weep....
The hotels also are filled with interesting types; the pretty girl at the news-stand today suddenly disappeared! Yes, she got her divorce! In her place is the homeliest man you have even seen, and all the