San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1925-11-29
Ben Murillo Pursues His
Runaway Wife to Her
Own Home
CONTINUED From Page 1, Part 81

She saw her mothers tears. Her
mother would say: "Ah, Sandy, l
didn't expect such treatment as this. ="
And SANDY would try 10 tell ner
what a nightmare these months had
been-tell her she'd truly rather die.
she would die, before she'd live them
again. She would,
Her mother would look at her
shocked and grieved. She would say:
Us this any way for a wife to speak
of her husband? Is this any way to
turn from the VOWS you took? Sandy,
do you want TO break you mothers
hearth Isabel would say those
things
Then the sisters would come seeth-
ing with indignation. What new
scandal was this she was bringing
TO them? They'd not stand for it
There were others by the name Of
Mcneil. They'd see that she remem-
bered thisi
Up into sandy's face went sharp,
biishtering flames. Was this the way
they would receive her? And she
would be forced to return TO Ben
Nurillo or leave her fathers house!
She pulled her hat carefully over
her eyes, regarding her hands fixedly.
Perhaps she'd better not go home.
Get off the train at San Francisco
call up Judith.
She considered this. Judith's moth
er was Angus McNeils sister-a pos
tive, domineering woman. San dy
could hear he say: You must 20
home, Sandy. Think what your
mother will suffer when she hears
Of this. i must do my duty as / see
il. / must tell your father at once"
The whole world would try to push
her back again. She could almost
feel their hands showing her. Her
family would say she was a dis
grace. They would jeer when she
tried to explain. Little fool-what
was she dreaming about, anyway!
Sandy turned TO the window. A
barren stretch out there. Now a
glimpse of vater-some mountain
lake. Above the grinding Of the rails
she heard her breath rasping. She
was shaking with weakness-the heat
along her neck-the chill of her hands.
She would have to go home-it
was the only honorable thing to do.
Yes, tell them quietly and finally.
She was finished with Ben Murllo.
II this was marriage. she couldn't
endure il. She WOULDN'T.
And IL they wouldn't permit her
10 stay in the old home Oh, II that
clawing thing at her heart would only
be still q moment-well, IL they didn't
want her TO stay, why she would 20
10 the city. Judith would get her a
fob.
She sat quietly ncw-her hands
clasped. Passengers were going out te
the diner. A young man looknd at
Sandy in friendly way. She was
ready 10 cry.
1t was half past s. Soon Murillo
would be wakirg-he would be read
ing her note.
She became excited recalling the
hines. She said to herself. hotly: "Safe
-anyway-safe." he wouldn't want
her back-he would never come for
Der after reading that note!
Ar 9 o'clock Murillo reached Sleep
lily along the pillow, feeling for
Sandy's face. He sat up with q slow,
contented yawn, called her softly
called her again-the third time.
He got up. Annoying-this internal
energy Of hers. he liked looking down
at her, the black lsshes making shad-
ovs on her pale cheeks.
But she'd probably been up hours.
Suddenly he remembered the three
young men in the hotel lobby. He
frowned. Could she have rushed out
for an early walk with them? No
no, he didn't think that Of her.
BE went over TO the window. ex.
pecting TO see her on the lawn there
very radiant in some dashing sport
frock or other. She would look up
with q careless wave Of her hand. he
liked that arrogant breeze Of hers.
Then he went rather pettishly 10
the bathroom; noticed her bracelet
the rings-the card.
He took up the card. He read 1t.
BE grew white as death. Beads Of
perspirstion danced 10 his forehead.
His lips drew in, dotted with moist
ure.