on me--and you'd hardly call me a "believer."

This so-called talent of hers led her into trouble on more than one
occasion. I remember in her senior year at college she fell under the
spell of a short, fat, greasy spook-reader with a strictly phony accent
and all but gave her eye teeth away, until I realized something was
amiss, got to the bottom of it, and dispatched friend spook-reader
_pronto_. If she should meet some unscrupulous person now, with no one
around to get her out of the scrape--but I didn't want to think of that.
I was sure this time everything would be all right.

When she didn't write at first, I let it go that she was busy. Finally,
six weeks' silent treatment aroused my curiosity. It also aroused my
nasty temper, and the next thing I knew I was on a plane bound for the
Continent. Within two hours after landing, I found her at a little inn
in Transylvania, a quaint little place that looked as if it were made of
gingerbread, and was surrounded by the huge, craggy Transylvania
Mountain range. I also found Tod Hunter.

"What's wrong, Maria? Why didn't you write?" I asked.

Her usually gay, shining brown eyes flashed angrily. "Why couldn't you
leave me alone? I told you not to come after me. I came here so I could
think this out. For God's sake, Bill, can't you see I wanted to think?
To be by myself?"

"But you promised to write," I persisted, wondering at this change in
her, this impatience. Wondered, too, at her wraithlike slimness. She'd
always been curved in the right places.

"Maria has been studying much too diligently," Tod said slowly. "She's
always tired lately. She hasn't been too well, either. Her throat
bothers her."

* * * * *

I wanted to punch his head in. For some reason I didn't like him. Not
because I sensed his rivalry; I was above that. God knows I wanted her
to be happy, above everything. It was just something about him that
irritated me. An attitude. Not supercilious; I could have coped with
that. Rather, it was a calm imperturbability that seemed to speak his
faith in his eventual success, regardless of any effort on my part.

I don't know how to fight that sort of strategy. I look like I am: blunt
and obvious. Suddenly I didn't care if he was there.

"Maria. Ria, darling. This guy's no good for you, can't you see that?
What do you know about him?"

She looked at me, her eyes surprised and a little hurt. Then she looked
at him, seemed to