In Los Angeles' county jail last week greying, motherly Mrs. Louise Peete Judson began preparing herself for death. When the matron and her fellow prisoners wept for her, she said: "Don't be troubled, my dears. Death is merely an eventuality in all our lives." They were not comforted : she was so nice, so poised, so kind. But throughout her life, death trailed her like the fragrance of the expensive perfume* she used.
People had always liked Louise Peete. In 1919 her soothing manner had attracted a wealthy old Los Angeles oilman named...
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