Reno | Page 4

in dreamy eyes as if in pools of mystery... Bored in Reno?
How could one be?
This is only a cafe such as you might visit in any other city. One might
see the same banker and the same Oriental beauty in a New York cafe.
But there they would not be nearly so interesting; for such people to be
in Reno means either a domestic comedy, tragedy or romance. Each
one is a puzzle, and one finds 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