The Waterbury Democrat., 1933-11-04

or. This strange room with its neat white dresser, white walls and white table with bottles of medicine and 0 roll of gauge. Joan was sitting near 0 window looking out. Pat thought her sis- ter looked very weary and sad.
 Pat closed her eyes and then suddenly memory came flooding back. Tears slipped from under her lashes and rolled down her white cheeks.
 "oh, Pat, dearest. don't!"
 "He's dead, Joan. I remember now. They said tho girl sure is lucky, but that poor fellow! Jerry's dead, Joan, and I'm liv- ing. And 1t was all my fault!" Pats hysterical voice rose.
 loans arms were around the shaken figure, holding Pat close. Don't, darling. You must be quiet. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have prevented It."
 "Then he is dead" Pat began brokenly. "Oh. my God!" Con- vulsive emotion swept her again ' hilc she clung to Joan.
 Ut was all my fault. Joan. Ho was angry with me. If we had stayed" i
 1t might have happened any way, Pat. You must believe that"
 But Pat couldn't believe it.. Her bright head. a mass of tan- gled hair, moved from side to side on the white pillow. Now and then moan escaped her parched lips.
 "oh. Joan, I want to die! Why didn't they let me die? can't bear to live, knowing killed Jerry"
 "Hush, dear. You weren't to blame. Jerry was driving like a madman, they said. It was q miracle you both weren't killed. :"
 Over and over the pitiful, broken voice, "Oh, Joan, if I had died too. I can't bear to live now!"
 A nurse in a crisp white uni- form came quietly into the room, lifted Pats head and placed q glass against. her lips. Drink this," she said kindly. "You'll feel better in Q little while"
 Joan wiping the tears from her own face, saw the stricken eyes closing. and watched peace slip ping like calm mask over Pats tortured face.
 Bob could not sleep. He had flung himself into bed around two o'clock, feeling that he was de- finitely through. Any girl who could continue to play around with n fr tstN Nn fSs.lf q wasn't worth worrying about. That was all. Now that everything was settled, he would go to sleep and forget her. Forget how her slim, young form had yielded to his arms during that waltz. forget her funny little smile, the smoky blue eyes and cloudy hair.
 But, despite his resolutions. sleep refused to come and he tossed from side to side, staring at the ceiling or wall. It was only after he had decided that 1t would be more sensible to have it out with Joan. to tell her pre- cisely what he thought of her be- havior, that the nervous tension relaxed. And then sleep was out of the question. He waited im- patiently for daylight and an hour when he could properly call Joan. Eight-thirty would be all right. 1t seemed impossible to wait longer. He would ask her to see him later in order to talk things over.
 Once this decision. was made. he felt better. Light-hearted. He was whistling softly when he turned on his bath. He should have talked to Joan before. Laid the cards on the table.
 "Good morning. Rob-" his father said as Bob entered the living room of the suite. You seem pretty spry for a young man who hasn't had much sleep" The elder Weston laid the morning newspaper on his lap as he spoke.
 Bob grinned. Wouldn't the old chap be surprised to know he hadn't slept at all!
 "Attractivc-looking girl you were talking to yesterday afternoon. Is she the one you wrote mo about?"
 Bob reddened. Sly old fox! Dad was clever.
 "Yes. that was Joan Warlng."
 "f was wondering if she mieIs be related to the girl in this auto mobile accldent-?"
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