The Waterbury Democrat., 1938-01-12
CHAPTER VII

the present again. T believe you would" he spoke slowly. Look here" deep color stained his dark face, don't get me wrong-I can see you prefer people to mind their own business, not ask questionS-1 won't do that. But if you aren't going any, where special, what I mean is, If you're up against it, I'd like to help you out"
 Connie said, That's kind of you but I don't need help, really" It was the first time in her ex- perience that anyone had ever of- fered to help her. It made warm glow spread all through her; 1t made her feel as though she had found a friend.
 Well, I didn't know be- sides you never can tell" He dug in the pocket of his tweed coat, pulled out a card. Before he handed it to her he wrote some thing across the back. Keep this. Just in case" he urged.
 She thanked him; put the card in her purse.
 Reckon we'd better be getting back" he suggested. And thank you ever so much, Miss Blyn - beg your pardon" He gave her a low, elegant bow. Miss Corby, I should have said. Thank you for dining with me. enjoyed it."
 T enjoyed 1t, too," she told him. Un,,f lat'c 11roto,1l oYy,r11nro p She did not want him to call her by her real name.
 T don't believe you want to be that rich girl, after all,' he chided.
 No, Connie thought, after the people had piled into their places and once more the wheels were turning round and round, hum ming their rhythmic song, he did not want to be herself, not until she was forced to again. Gone was that empty feeling; she no longer was sick of everything, tired of life. Why, it was gorgeous, just to be alive! It was heavenly 10 feel so peaceful, so content, to watch the blue sky darkening in- to black, the tiny lights flickering on ill the houses and villages as they sped by, the first star come out to blink solemnly down at her. This was the most beautiful time of all the day; an hour with an ache in it, loveliness almost un- bearable. Yet she did not feel lonely, or sad. It was true, what the young man had said, she was happy, really happy for the first time that she could recall.
 After a time she closed her eyes orca more, having adjusted the deep comfortable chair to its reclining position, for this was the only bed the coach provided for its passen- gers during the long night.
 Connie had thought she would be too excited to sleep, perhaps too uncomfortable, remembering the luxury of the wide Marie Antoinette bed. But before there could have been time to count many sheep, or to fuss about com fort, she had been lulled to a sleep so sound it was untroubled by any dreams. She must have slept thus far several hours. TheE she was awakened to a sense of confusion, a new stiffness in arms and limbs.
 The bus stopped. Two men, one a rough looking coarse individ- ual, the other scarcely more than boy, whom she remembered as hay ing been sitting in the back near the mother with the baby had whipped revolvers from their pock- cts. The boy had pressed his against the drivers back, the mans was leveled at the occupants in the coach.
 A woman screamed; man swore. Bret Hardesty started to his feet, his dark face flushing, his fists clenched.
 "Sit down, youl" The muzzle of the one revolver was trained threateningly at his chest. An other sound out of anyone, one move - and I'll fill the bunch of you with lead" The gunman looked capable of doing just that.
 Please sit downW Connie tugged at Bret Hardesty's coat. Her blue eyes entreated him. He sank back in his seat. but his face was still flushed, his dark eyes narrowed.
 Everybody stand up," the man ordered, now. "AS you file out. hand over your money - or take what we give you and like it!"