The Waterbury Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1917-1946, 1934-04-28

/ tears in her eyes. He said a quick,
apparently distressed, What is it..
| dear?"
She told him she was very un-
payy and that she was lonely.
He, too, had been lonely, he con-
| fided. Always he had been lonely
| until he had met her.
Z Privately he was thinking. $50
| it's going to be as easy as this!"
Then he stified what would have
| from the effort. Lord, he was dead
for sleep! But he had TO go on
with this farce.
"You haven't told me whether
my being near you annoys you,
Estelle. I really want to know. I
want to know terribly"
"Oh, it doesn't annoy me-" she
answered. Nothing seems to mat
ter much to me lately. But I don't
want you to hope that l will
change my mind about you, for I
can't. I'm never going to marry"
''If 1 believed that ia make a
lovely splash in the sea out thereW
she heard. She said almost petu-
lantly, "Oh, please don't talk like
that" And again she turned away
her face.
The yellowed calendar leaf above
Pablito's desk read June" He
tore the leaf off. Already 1t was
| the fifteenth of July and, for all
he knew, he might have become a
year older. He had no way to
count the years since he had no
certainty of his birthday.
He had been sitting at his desk
writing to the man he had come
| to know as Sir Aubrey. They had
| written several letters to each
| other. Now, his letter sealed in
its envelope, the old tangle was
plaguing him again. If he were to
escape, he would have to pull Beau
and Lottie into 1t. In their way
they were his friends. He had for
them both q genuine affection that
had persisted in spite of many
trials. Then, too, If he were will
ing to sacrifice them who would
believe him? The evidence was
clearly against him. Besides he
could not do this to Beau and Lot
tie-eyen for Estelle.
He wondered where she might
be now. He had had no word from
her. Each night he dreamed that
the next day might bring him some
message, but each day held nothing
beyond the usual routine. II must
stop hoping like this" he decided
on those bad days when the pain
in his heart seemed too sharp to
be endured. But he could not stop.
Gossip told him the Field yacht
had touched many shores and now
was under steam in the Mediter-
ranean. He thought of Estelle look
ing on fringes of palms, low pink
and blue houses. or a misty line
of far, blue mountains. But think
ing of her was not enough. He was
more the man and his hunger had
grown with his capacity for suf-
ferjng.
One thing he was spared and
that was any doubt of her. He did
not so much as question the fact
that she would wait for him. just
as he would wait, until they could
be together. es
The clubs were empty Of tourists
who enjoyed a god boxing match
and no one came to the gymna-
stun during the summer. There
was nothing to .do--nothing but, to
wander down to the harbor en-
trance to head the band play or
motor into the country. At neither
Of these pastimes could he es-
cape his thoughts.
with the idea that change
might do him good he took q trip
| to Camaguey and on to Santiago
| but the ache only increased. He
thought so frequently, "Estelle
would like this"
Twice he had visions of her that
seemed so real they made him
catch his breath on a sob as they
faded. He dreamed Of her contin-
| ually and thus waking became
agony. He would dream that she
was in his arms and then, awak-
ening, find them empty.
| He grew thin. His face was bag
gard and his eyes Swallowed.
Honest. you hardly eat any
thing, dearies,' Lottie complained
at every meal.
Ito Be ContinuedD