The Coolidge examiner., 1932-03-25

picture of himself that was etched
in acid in the last sentences Of his
wife's letter. A fool. "All the more
a fool If she never was your mis-
tress." Welcome so long as he was
useful, cOntemptuOusly discarded
when he had ceased to be, the OBJ
ject at first of a tolerant and later
of an eXasperated contempt on the
part of a woman who neither val
ued nor understood the friendship
he talked about, a woman who
would have understood him better
If he had frankly sought from the
beginning the adulterous rewards of
a lover.
The hottest Indignation that he
could muster didn't protect him
against the twinge every now and
then Of an intolerable misgiving
that Julia was right.
At four o'clock that afternoon
he was alone, luckily, in his office
at the time-Ruth Ingraham tele-
phoned to him. With the recogni-
tion of her voice he began to
tremble violently. She accused him
playfully of having forgotten all
about her. 1t was so long, days and
days, she said, (really it was
weeks) since he'd been out to see
her. He must come, since she had
something awfully important to tell
him, and unless he came quite soon
it would be too late for her to see
him at all. She had just that morn
! ing sold her house and she was GO
ing away for good. There were a
few matters she wanted his advice
about, If he was still his kind and
helpful self. When would he come?
| Tonight?
1t was a queer thing. His body
was completely disorganized, but his
mind from the moment she began
to speak became suddenly un-
troubled, pellucid. The stuff that
had for so long befogged it dropped
into instantaneous precipitate. He
saw her now. Understood her alto
gether. The false plausibility Of
her voice. the crudely transparent
wish to summon him back now that
! he could once more be serviceable
| 1t no longer mattered TO her, now
that she was going away for good.
what prying neighbors might think
of their companionship. He noted
without surprise the lie she told
him. He was perfectly aware now
that she had often lied to him be.
fore. though this was the first mo-
ment of that awareness.
We'll" she demanded at last.
Haven't you got anything 70 say?
Have l struck you speechless? I'm
almost as surprised as that myself"
1t came over him now that he
must speak quickly. mo. I'm not
surprised" he said. "In fact | al
ready knew about it, but I'm afraid
| shan't be able to come out TO see
you before you go. I'm going away
myself today or tomorrow and I'll
hardly be back before the fifteenth" >"
There was a moment of silence.
Then a gasp, "Goodby," he said
and hung up the receiver.
He watched the instrument for a
! mo iY, rI IL i
call him back, but the bell was ST.
! lent.
Mr.. Vane, the general agent,
walked into his office a few min
utes later. half stated the errand
that had brought him in and
stopped short with a stare into his
cashiers face.
whats the matter?' he asked
with sharp concern. You look as
If you were going to faint"
Edward protested that he was all
right. What was it that Vane
wanted?
For the moment Vane let it go
| at lildl, Dul Idl6I Tie
he came back to Edward to urge
him to take a vacation. He was en-
titled to it, and he clearly needed it.
AS best he could, Edward argued
against the suggestion. The Office,
somehow, had become his city of
refuge. 1t protected him, in a way,
against both Julia and Ruth. The
thought Of being deprived of it,
turned adrift for the next two
weeks, filled him with terror.
Vane, Of course, suspected moth
ing like that. But he saw plainly
enough that valuable officer Of the
company was temporarily untitled
for business. and needless Of Ed
wards protests, he went ahead and
arranged for his relief. By Friday
noon it was all settled He went
out ostensibly for lunch, though he
knew he wouldn't be able to eat, in
state of complete decentralization.
Sixteen days They'd include Ruth's
departure and Julia's return. He
couldn't go to Julia. Couldn't and
wouldn't. Not after that letter she'd
written to him. And he misdoubted
his courage to stay away from