The weekly Iberian. (New Iberia, La.) 1894-1946, 1919-09-13
CHAPTER XIII.
The Wronu Man.

The Wrong Man.
Mrs. Hardin heard from every
source but the right one that Richard
had returned. Each time her tele-
phone rang, II was his voice she ex-
pected to hear. She began to read a
meaning into his silence. She could
think of nothing else than the strange
coincidence that had brought their
lives again close. Or was it a coinci-
dence? That idea sent her thoughts
far afield
She was thinking too much Of him,
for peace Of mind, those days of wait
ing, but the return of the old lover
had made Il wonderful break in her
life. Her eyes were brighter; her
smile was less forced. She spent most
Of her days at the sewing machine. A
lot Of lace was whipped onto lingerie
frocks of pale colors. She was a dis
ciple of an Eastern esthete. "Women,"
he had said. SHOULD buy lace, not by
the yard, but by the mile"
AS her fingers worked among the
laces and soft mulls, her mind royed
down avenues that should have been
closed to her, WIFE She would have
protested, had anyone accused her of
infidelity in those days, yet day by day,
she was straying farther from her hus-
bands side She convinced herself
that Toms gibes and ill-humor were
getting harder to endure
1t was inevitable that the woman of
harem training should relive the Law
renee days. The enmity of those two
men, both her lovers, was pregnant
with romantic suggestion. The drama
Of desert and river centered now in the
story of Gerty Hardin. Richard. who
had never married! The deduction,
once unveiled, lost all it's shyness And
every one saw that he disliked her hus-
bandi
She knew now that she had never
loved Tom. She had turned to him in
those days Of pride when Richards
anger still held him aloof. How many
times had she gone over those unreal
hours! Who could have known that
his anger would last! That hour in
the honeysuckles; his kisses! None Of
Hardin's rougher kisses had swept her
memory Of her exquisite delight-de-
lirious as was her JOY. there was room
for triumph. She had seen herself
clear OF the noisy boarding house. Her
self, Gerry Holmes. the wife Of pro-
fessor; able to have the things she
craved, to have them openly; no longer
having to scheme for them.
1t was through Richards eyes that
she had seen the shortcomings of the
college boarding house. She had ac-
quired keen consciousness of those
quizzical eyes. When they had isolated
her, at last, appealing to her sympa-
thy or amusement, separating her
from all those boisterous students, her
dream of bliss had begun.
In those days, she had seen Hardin
through the eyes Of the young instruc-
tor, younger by several years than his
pupil. Her thud of disappointed anger,
of dislike, when the face of Hardin
peered through the leafy screen! To
have waited, prayed for that moment,
and to have it spoiled like that There
had been days when she had wept be-
cause she had not shown her anger
How could she know that everything
would end there; end. just beginning
Her clearinghouse training had
taught her to be civil. 1t was still
h.r. intt hny. trxt
Hardin talking forever
Of a play he had just seen; Richard
sitter, angrier, refusing to
look at those lips still warm with his
kisses
And the next day. still angry with
her. All, the puzzled desolation of
hose weeks before she had salved her
hurt; with pride, and then with love
Those days of misery before she could
convince herself that she had been in
owe with love, not with her fleeing
lover! Hardin was there, eager to be
noticed. That affair, she could see
now, had lacked finesse.
Richard had certainly loved her, or
Why had he never married2 Why had
ne left so abruptly his boarding house
n midterm? Doesn't jealousy confess
owe? Some day, he would tell her;
what a hideous mistake hers had
been! She ought not to have rushed
INTO that marriage. She knew now it
lad always been the other. But life
vas not finished, yet
The date set for her summer
swidowhood" had come, but she lin
yered. Various reasons, splendid and |