The Waterbury Democrat., 1938-02-12

years?
 After while, Dorothy changed the topic. Perhaps she grew tirec of SybiPs persistent curiosity. But Sybil could follow a point relent- lessly and cleverly. And for some unfathomable reason, Joan real ized now, she was intent on dis covering every detail in her life.
 Perhaps MT. Hendry had asked her to do that, although that die not seem like him. He had taker her into his offices without ever 1 inquiring about references. Ht had never probed into her private affairs. Even if he were more interested now that Bob and she were to be married, Joan did not believe that he would have taker this curious method of learning more about her. When MT. Hen- dry wanted to know something he inquired directly and frankly He did not beat about the bush in Sybil's charming, subtle fashion.
 She recalled Sybils clever maneuver to detain Dorothy after the others had left. Dorothy had followed Joan upstairs, suggesting that they walk to the station to- gether. But downstairs, Sybil sought out Dorothys cousin Wont you and Dorothy wait just moment, Barbara?" she heard her suggest. T have little gift I want you to enjoy in Florida . Just a minute after the others leave?
 Joan could picture her, inquir- ing into details, drawing Dorothy out delicately, bit by bit, piecing facts together, guessing, confirm ing By this time, she knew everything - the whole horrible story.
 My reprieve is up,7 Joan thought. I've had two years 7. two perfect years
 She got up, walked to the win dow and pulled down the shade.
 Perhaps it was better, getting it all over quickly like this. At least she was spared the suspense of wondering, and eventually, the agony of last parting with Bob, It was easier now, while he was far away.
 She would write him a note and explain No, she could not do that. She could never explain in a way that he would understand :. Let him hear the story from Sybil He would. anyway, She would merely say goodby. $.
 She must write to MT. Hendry, too Somehow, she hated doing that more than anything. He would think she was coward for not coming and telling him her self. T like person who can stand up and face an issue" he always said. These alibis and excuses Bah!"
 Yet what good would it do to stand up and face this issue? MT. Hendry would be kind, as so many other men had beHn kind to her. AS Dorothy Starke's father had been kind. In the end, how ever, their reaction was the same. It was all unfortunate, terribly unfortunate. But what could they do about it? Her father had murdered a man at least, the courts had decided that he had The stigma was on her, too. Noth- ing would wash it away. Noth- ing.
 No matter how straight anc true she lived her life, the world would say, nevertheless: 'Hel father killed a man. It's in hei blood, too, to kill"
 Bob would love her, despite whatever the world said. She knew that. She knew that. as she knew the sun would rise again on the morrow. He would stand by her side against the world. But deep within his own heart, the words would ring: Her father killed a man. It's in her blood, too, to kill" If they had children, he would watch them too, with suspicion and fear, wondering if the curse had been handed down to them.
 No, she could not ask Bob to live through that shadow
 She took her bags from the closet, and slowly began empty ing bureau drawers. She did not have much to pack. Her mother and she had never acquired the habit of accommodating things.
 Where should she go this time? Boston? Somehow she felt afraid of Boston. Its people were in- terested in families and back grounds; they would ask ques- tionse, too. Philadelphia? Phila- delphia was the city of Friends Surely there would be a place for her among them
 With a sudden stiffness, the telephone on her wall rang, and