to wait for Lefty Godot."

She looked more disappointed than she hadany right to be. We parted on fairly good, mutually suspicious terms.

The fatal door I was watching opened atlast. Dolly backed out thanking the two Deans effusively, and practicallycurtsying. But I saw when she turned around and headed for the entrance thather face was white and set.

I went after her, feeling a littlefoolish. The situation reminded me of a girl I used to follow home from Junior High.I never did work up enough nerve to ask her for the privilege of carrying herbooks. But I began to identify Dolly with that unattainable girl whose name Icouldn't even remember now.

She hurried along the mall that bisectedthe campus, and started up the steps of the library building. I caught up withher.

"Mrs. Kincaid?"

She stopped as though I had shot her. Itook her arm instinctively. She flung away my hand, and opened her mouth as ifto call out for help. No sound came out. The other students around us, passingon the wide mall or chatting on the steps, paid no attention to her silentscream.

"I'd like very much to talk to you, Mrs.Kincaid."

She pushed her hair back, so forcefully that one ofher eyes slanted up and gave her a Eurasian look. "Who are you?"

"A friend of your husband's. You've given Alex abad three weeks."

"I suppose I have," she said, as if she hadonly just thought of it.

"You must have had a bad three weeks yourself, ifyou're fond of him at all. Are you?"

"Am I what?" She seemed to be slightlydazed.

"Fond of Alex."

"I don't know. I haven't had time tothink about it. I don't wish to discuss it, with you or anyone. Are you reallya friend of Alex's?"

"I think I can claim to be. Hedoesn't understand what you're doing to him. He's a pretty sad young man."

"No doubt he caught it from me.Spreading ruin is my specialty."

"It doesn't have to be. Why don't youcall it off, whatever you're doing, and give it another try with Alex? He'swaiting for you here in town right now."

"He can wait till doomsday, I'm notgoing back to him."

Her young voice was surprisingly firm,almost harsh. There was something about her eyes I didn't like. They were wideand dry and fixed, eyes which had forgotten how to cry.

"Did Alex hurt you in some way?"

"He wouldn't hurt a fly. You knowthat, if you're really a friend of his. He's a nice harmless boy, and I don'twant to hurt him." She added with conscious drama: "Tell him tocongratulate himself on his narrow escape."

"Is that the only message you have foryour husband?"

"He isn't my husband, not really.Tell him to get an annulment. Tell him I'm not ready to settle down. Tell himI've decided to finish my education."

She made it sound like a solitary trip tothe moon, one-way.

I went back to the AdministrationBuilding. The imitation flagstone pavement of the mall was flat and smooth, butI had the feeling that I was walking knee-deep in gopher holes. DeanSutherland's door was closed and, when I knocked, her "Come in" wasdelayed and rather muffled.

Dean Bradshaw was still with her, lookingmore than ever like a college student on whom light frost had fallen during thenight.

She was flushed, and her eyes were brightemerald green. "This is Mr. Archer, Brad, the detective I told youabout."

He gave my hand a fiercely competitivegrip. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. Actually," he said with anattempt at a smile, "it's rather a mixed pleasure under the circumstances.I very much regret the necessity of your coming here to our campus."

"The kind of work I do has to bedone," I said a little defensively. "Mrs. Kincaid ran out on herhusband, and some explanation is due him. Did she give any to you?"

Dean Sutherland put on her grim face."She's not returning to him. She found out something on their wedding nightso dreadful—"

Bradshaw raised his hand. "Wait aminute, Laura. The facts she divulged to you are in the nature of professionalconfidences. We certainly don't want this chap running back to her husband withthem. The poor girl is frightened enough as it is."

"Frightened of her husband? I findthat hard to believe," I said.

"She didn't pour out her heart toyou," Laura Sutherland cried warmly. "Why do you suppose the poorchild used a fake name? She was mortally afraid that he would track herdown."

"You're being melodramatic, youknow." Bradshaw's tone was indulgent. "The boy can't be as bad as allthat."

"You didn't hear her, Brad. She toldme things, as woman to woman, that I haven't even told you, and I don't intendto."

I said: "Perhaps she was lying."

"She most assuredly was not! I knowthe truth when I hear it. And my advice to you is to go back to that husband ofhers, wherever he is, and tell him that you haven't been able to find her.She'll be safer and happier if you do."

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009