The Wilmington morning star., 1940-12-01
drinking before coming to the

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dance.
"Ronnie doesn't drink" Wesley
murmured to himself, staring at
the paper. But this Girardeau-
retired capitalist it says"
There was the same old bugaboo,
money. A man with money is a
power. Wesley wanted but little
money for himself. His salary and
prospects he felt adequate to care
for himself and his mother, even
for a wife if ever he thought to
marry some humble girl. But
He didn't have very good lee
lures in class that day, and he
himself realized it. He dismissed
his students rather early in each
period. His mind just wouldn't get
back into its groove.
Tuesday wasn't much better. He
spent a great deal Of time alone in
the library. He saw nothing of
Ronica nor of Iona Montoya save
once when Iona crossed the cam
pus several yards away. He pur-
posely avoided meeting her.
He noted that she no longer used
her crutch. Without it she walked
with infinite grace.
Wednesday was his regular field
day, and at l o'clock he was driv-
ing his old sedan out toward the
Rainbow Canyon Cliff Dwellings,
IL miles from Pueblo, where he
was regularly doing excavation
work. The road out went near the
University polo field. He glanced
at a group of riders at practice,
then stopped his car.
From his shoulder pack he took
powerful binoculars and studied
the horsemen. One, he perceived
instantly F., was Andre Girardeau,
and another was Ronnie herself.
He could see her bright flash of
laughter and the color of her hair
and costume. Girardeau also was
dressed meticulously, as usual.
Morosely, Yves drove on.
=
The field day wasn't very fruit
full mainly because Wesley spent
most of the time meditating on
matters aside from work. Back
home, he settled to reading. Thurs
day was mediocre, too; and on
Friday morning from his third
floor office in the administration
building he saw Andre Girardeau's
new coupe stop at the entry then
take Ronica away.
Saturday was still no better for
him. BY being alert he had man.
aged not to come face to face with
either Ronnie or Iona this week.
Like the shy person he was, he
was both anxious and afraid to see
the two girls, especially Ronnie.
Saturday night he took his
mother to a movie. Afterward he
read a while, then walked out alone
at midnight to eat a sandwich and
coffee. Still moody, lonely, he con-
tinued walking down Apache street
and out onto the high semi-desert
land, and when he had meditated
there under the stars for an hour
he started slowly back home.
Some vague inner yearning led
him this time via Mescalero ave-
nue., so that presently he was near
Iona Montoya's residence. Her
apartment was the west side of a
duplex. 1t was dark, but he leaned
against a tree to stare at her door
as a girl-struck boy might do, and
was thinking of both Iona and
Ronica when Lona's door rather
abruptly opened.
Still no light shone, but a man
came quietly out.
Wesley's chin dropped in sur
prise. He recognized the figure at
once. Silently he watched while
Andre Girardeau crossed the
street, walked a block, got in his
shiny new coupe parked there and
drove away.
. Then Yves stretched his wrist to
catch the moonlight. His watch
showed 1:20 in the morning. !
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