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The BRONZEMAN            Nine

[[image - drawing of a woman and two babies, signed Charles C Dawson]]
[[caption]] She tucked her own baby, Pearl, in Bertha's bed, kissed her twice, then dashed from the room with Maybelle's baby close to her bosom. [[/caption]]

Her Own Daughter 
By JOY WHITE

A Remarkable Story of A Mother's Undying Love for A Wayward Girl

THERE had been a heated argument when nineteen year old Paul Montgomery, son of the very money crazy, prominent state's attorney, broke the news that he flatly refused to marry the ugly but wealthy Lillian Wilson, then or later.

Samuel Montgomery, Paul's slickly groomed father, concealing well his fifty-nine years, had raved and warned him that he'd regret not marrying the girl of his parents' choice. Mrs. Montgomery, a meek little, sad eyed woman, took the news gently. Naturally it was a shock to her for it had been arranged between the two families that Paul and Lillian were to be married when they became of age.

Despite his father's threats, Paul married Dane, the poor but honest little elevator girl whom he had known but two months. Dane cried a little as she kissed her Aunt Stella goodbye. Aunt Stella had been both mother and father to her since the death of her parents on her fifth birthday, twelve years previous.

With Paul's arms around her, supporting her weight and directing her to the big grey stone home of his father's, she steeled herself to face his parents.

Mrs. Montgomery accepted her warmly. Bert, Paul's brother, who was to be married to Maybelle Johnson, to please his father, was indifferent. He straightened his tie, mumbled something under his breath that no one could understand and turned quickly away. His father who had been standing on the far side of the room by the fireplace, chewing savagely the end of his half smoked cigar, was the last to face them. He was a large, powerful man, prone to sudden rushes of anger over little things.

Paul caught Dane's hand firmly in his and pulled her across the room.

"Dad," he started, but was interrupted almost at once by the sarcastic voice of his father:

"This is your wife, I presume? The little ----- girl who runs the elevator in my building?"

Paul shot a quick glance at Dane. He could see that she was hurt. Samuel Montgomery grumbled, threw his cigar into the fireplace, and started across the room. He turned quickly: "Let me add that your rooms are on the west side of second floor." He stopped again, searching for words that would be most effective. He was looking not at Paul but directly at Dane when he spoke again. "I shall expect you to remain there." Dane flinched, swayed a little and would have fallen against the marble top table had not Paul caught her and pulled her into his arms.

Though the rooms Dane was given to live in with her new husband were elaborately furnished, she felt as if it were a small crowded prison. She ate her meals alone. Occasionally Paul joined her. Seldom did she go out, and when she did, she would slip downstairs through the side door out into the street where she'd hang her head as she sought deserted streets to travel upon. Soon she didn't go out. More because she was ashamed to be seen sneaking out in the bright sunshine, than that she was afraid.

During these lonesome days she saw nothing of Samuel Montgomery. Very often Mrs. Montgomery, with a sweet voice full of patient tenderness, would slip upstairs and